“Then you have glimpsed what he and his clan are capable of.” Mal’s phone buzzed. He slid it out of a back pocket and glanced at the screen. “The troops are famished, and our presence is required.” His gaze bored into mine again. “This is not a positive development, Calliope. But now that we know he is here, we can create better defenses. I’ll make a few inquiries.” Mal turned to leave, then paused. “It can be no coincidence that Odilon has arrived so close to Meribah and her sister being put under house arrest.”
“All the more reason for you and me to keep in touch,” I said, thanking him. Digging up more information on the Flechettes and their connection to Clan Vigne was added to my burgeoning to-do list. It occurred to me that I might have to return to my old job one or two days a week. Though I could run searches from any computer, the Agricultural Commission’s local office had the added bonus of housing decades’ worth of paper files.
I had the added bonus of my assistant, Kerry Pippin, and her family’s extensive connections to every aspect of the island’s commercial life.
Lest I forget, I sent myself a text, hurried toward the house, and scraped the side of my foot on yet another mineral offering. This one, a chunky cluster of tangerine- and cream-colored ferrierite, sparkled at the base of the steps. I palmed the specimen, smiled to myself, and made my way to my house’s small, outdated kitchen.
The area seemed to shrink in size when more than three people tried to simultaneously reach for dishes and utensils, pour drinks, and get whatever else was needed to set the table and serve the food. Harper, Leilani, and Thatcher, arms and hands filled, squeezed by. I skirted the center island, placed the chunk of crystal on the windowsill, and raised my voice. “Outside, everybody. Picnic time.”
Christoph, Malvyn, and James were already headed toward the front door, their arms loaded with picnic supplies, including tablecloths they’d pulled from who-knows-where. A honk from the driveway announced another arrival. Lifting my heels off the floor, I peeked out the window over the sink. My friend Rowan, a witch and physician with a busy OB-GYN practice, emerged from a familiar sedan, followed by Wes. The druid hefted a wood case filled with bottles onto one shoulder, and Ro lifted a big wooden bowl above her head.
Laughter and the clanking of bottles trailed alongside the house and across the lawn. Harp and Thatch set up chairs and an old bench in the flat area near my herb and vegetable garden, and then spread an old quilt under the adjacent crabapple tree. That, plus a couple of the tablecloths layered over the prickly grass, would have to do.
Surveying the scene, I came up one body short. Sallie was missing. If my niece wasn’t joining us for dinner, I had a feeling I knew why. I left the back deck, headed upstairs, and knocked on the bedroom’s closed door. Pressing my ear to the wood, I barely heard Sallie’s soft voice when she said, “Come in.”
“Hey. Ro’s here. She came with Wes. I know they’d both love to see you.” I hoped mention of those two would prove more tempting than staying on her side of the room she shared with Thatcher.
Sallie shook her head, the uneven ends of her hair swishing around her jaw and neck. “No. It’s hard for me to be around Leilani and her fathers.”
“I bet it is,” I said. The night of my post–Blood Ceremony party, Malvyn had invoked his authority and taken charge of restraining Sallie’s parents in a dazzling show of magic. The sorcerer had then taken the two Fae into his custody, as mandated by his position as the Enforcer. Sallie witnessed the entire spectacle.
A cell phone chirped from inside the fringed bag by her knees. Her sad-eyed gaze lingered on me before she pawed through her purse and read the message. “My girlfriend’s on Fortune’s Folly Road and she can’t get past the wards. She can’t even see the house. Can I ask her in for dinner? Please?”
Sallie’s brief flare of happiness lit up the room.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Azura.”
“I would love to meet Azura.” I extended my arm and wiggled my fingers. Earlier in the summer, Wes and Kaz had added a layer of protective wards that allowed humans to see my house while keeping everything hidden from Magicals. Our newest visitor was—obviously—on the magical spectrum. “C’mon. There’s food enough for everybody.”
Sallie linked her fingers through mine and hefted her feline shadow onto her hip. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Zura,” she said. “I didn’t know how to ask if she could come for a visit.”
I kissed the side of Sallie’s head and accompanied her to where an irritated young Black woman in a retro dress and heels paced at the end of the driveway. “Let me hold Jasper while you reach for her,” I suggested, eying the two vintage suitcases standing next to the girl and wondering where we might find a mattress for yet another visitor. “I assume she’ll recognize your hand?”
Sallie nodded and swallowed. “My nails look like shit, but she knows my rings.” She transferred the furry Maine coon cat to my arms, grabbed my hand, and beckoned through the shimmering wards.
Azura screamed and slapped at Sallie’s fingers. Taking a step back, she darted looks to her left and right and up to the sky, then peered at a spot right beyond Sallie’s shoulder.
“Do that again, Flechette,” she said, tentatively extending her arm. Sallie reached into the curtain of green light, grabbed Azura’s wrist, and tugged.
“Hey,” she said. “You look so pretty.”
Azura shook off the compliment and kissed Sallie. The
