“Sure is.” Harper exchanged a hug for placing his hands on my upper arms and turning me to face him. “I have something to show you. Don’t freak out, okay?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “Harper Jones, last time I heard that phrase, your brother was—”
“I know, I know, Thatch was letting you know I had sprouted feathers.” Harp let go of me, grinned, and spun around. “Take a look.”
I set my bag on the grass and took hold of the bottom of his baggy flannel shirt. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know what I wanted or hoped to see, and I had no time to moderate my reactions. When Harper and Leilani left for the Northwest Territories with my grandfather, my firstborn had to be sedated and the awakening process of his forming wings artificially halted. Anything had to be better than that.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Positive.”
His lower back was tanned, the skin healed from the injuries he’d sustained in August. I rolled the shirt higher and gasped. “Harp. You decided.”
“I did.” He hugged me again and waved at whomever was heading toward us. “I gotta go show Mal and James.”
Harper walked away with a newfound confidence. I was dying to speak with Christoph about what had swayed my kid into accepting the winged part of his genetic heritage and all of that decision’s potential repercussions.
Thatcher sidled next to me and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his shorts. “I want to make those kinds of choices, too, Mom.” He bent to pick up the raccoon waddling down the stairs and let it perch on his shoulder. “I want to know what I am, besides a sixteen-and-a-half-year-old kid.”
“Go look in the mirror,” I said. Pokey reached for the finger I offered, sniffed, and determined I bore him no treats. “You’re the Raccoon Whisperer.”
“Yeah, but I want to be more.” Thatch approached the Garry oak tree, extricated his four-legged companion’s delicate paws from his hair, and lifted the animal onto a shaded branch.
Harper and Leilani, along with Malvyn and James, strolled toward the house. James clutched the handle of a picnic basket, its contents covered with a red-and-white-checked kitchen towel. He waved and quickened his pace.
“Calliope,” he said, lifting the corner of the cloth and releasing the scent of fresh-baked lasagna. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. We wanted to see everyone and thought a group catch-up made sense.”
He was right, and it did. “I’m thrilled when anyone shows up with food.” I accepted his right cheek, left cheek kisses. Mal delivered the same, and Leilani gave me another tight squeeze.
“Malvyn, could I speak with you for a moment?” I asked.
James offered Leilani his elbow and said, “You two can have as long as it takes us to make garlic bread.” He planted a kiss on Malvyn’s lips and escorted their daughter up the stairs.
I tugged on Mal’s shirtsleeve and tilted my head away from the house. He followed me onto the grass and away from anyone overhearing. “Did something happen, Calliope?”
“I was in town this afternoon with Sallie. We saw a group of Fae walk into the Flechette building, the one Meribah owns that houses the real estate offices. I felt the group’s magical signature before I saw them—Sallie did, too. Weird thing is, I felt the same signature once before, earlier in the summer, when Meribah’s yacht was moored in the harbor.
“There was almost a military feel to the way they walked,” I added. Mal fisted his chin and nodded as I spoke. The complicated watch on his wrist kept catching the sun and flashing my eyes. “Six Fae, all about the same height, walking in step. Two males in front, two males in back, one female to either side of the guy in the middle. All of them dressed in dark blue or black. Oh, and the guy in the middle was shorter. He was definitely the one in control. His hold was invisible, but I could feel it, and I think the blues, deep purples, and pinks sitting atop the signatures I’m more familiar with were his personal stamp.” The more I relayed to Mal, the more details I remembered.
The multitalented sorcerer, jeweler, and enforcer for the province’s Board of Magical Governance rested his hands on his hips. His pressed khaki slacks were more pristine than anything I would ever wear. “Anything else stand out?”
I brought my hand to my throat. Even now, the sensation of the Fae’s magic triggered my gag reflex. “At first, everything came in through my feet. Then I could see the points and connecting strands whether my eyes were closed or open. The ickiest part was the sensation of being choked.” I swallowed hard. “Sallie said the one in the middle was personally involved with both Meribah and Adelaide.”
Malvyn stared at his tasseled loafers. “Calliope, you caught yourself a very rare glimpse of the scion of Clan Vigne. His father never leaves the lands they own in France. If there is a matter that requires his attention outside of his borders, he sends his son, and if Odilon Vigne is here in the flesh, we may have a problem.”
He sighed heavily and held up one finger, with its perfectly buffed nail. “Let me clarify. Chances are one hundred percent that we will have a problem. That man does not show up to fix things. His role is to instigate chaos and control its inevitable fallout. He will stay until his creation has taken root, then he will extract whatever it is he has come for by whatever means are necessary.”
“That sounds so creepy.”
“Creepy doesn’t begin to describe his methodology, Calliope. The family’s logo is a strangler fig.” Mal spun on his heel to face me. “Have you ever seen what hemi-epiphytes left to satisfy their urges and appetites can do to otherwise healthy trees?”
I nodded. I was aware of the destructive capabilities of invasive vines and had
