“Yeah, I tried to feel him out about going away for school and he shut me down fast. So did Lei-li.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets. “This family has had enough secrets, Mom. Be nice if it could stop here, now, with us.”
“I agree.” We hugged. “Think you can promise me that if I’m not available, or if you don’t want to ask me about something specific, that you’ll talk to Wes or Kaz or any of the other adults?”
“I promise,” he said, nodding. “And while we’re on the subject of honesty, what’s the story with you and Tanner?” My face must have registered more than surprise. Harper threw up his palms and laughed. “I don’t need all the details, Mom, just, y’know, are you guys—? Gah, this is so hard.”
I tried to save my oldest child—and myself, and Tanner—from further embarrassment. “Tanner and I like each other a lot.”
Just as Harper left to pick up his brother at school, L’Runa’s response pinged on my phone. She was in town shopping for supplies for her coven’s equinox celebration and could see me in twenty minutes. I swallowed hard. Debated if this was really how I wanted to spend the day. Figured since Tanner and Christoph were already engaged with renovations—and could assist if the witch and I ran into difficulties—today was as good a day as any to dig into my childhood trauma.
I shivered as I recalled what L’Runa said about the soil samples I collected in August. That some thirty-five years ago, a Fae female and two witches had shed their blood here at the same time. That the witches were related and one of them had shamanic training.
Thirty-five years ago, I was six. For part of that year, my mother was alive. How she died remained a void in my memory banks. Was I ready to have that blank space filled in?
Squaring my shoulders, I met L’Runa as she pulled into the driveway. She stashed her shopping bags in the house, returned to her car for her wood tackle box, and had me carry her satchel of supplies to the cellar’s entrance.
Christoph and Tanner had finished their first project and were hauling a wheelbarrow filled with roofing supplies to the bunkhouse. Underneath the back deck, the pristine lumber framing out the walls of our future workroom gave me hope. I wanted to love and feel comfortable with every bit of House and the rest of the property. The root cellar was my final frontier. Christoph’s proposition that we remove the soil and replace it with concrete was sounding better and better.
L’Runa rubbed my back. “Ready?” she asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grabbed the tarnished handle, pressed the latch, and drew the tottery door toward me.
Chapter 5
After I propped the door open with a rock, I stepped aside and gave L’Runa the option to enter first. She paused at the threshold. “Hold this, please,” she whispered. I set the satchel by my feet, accepted her giant tackle box, and cradled it against my chest.
Leaning into the space and sniffing the air, she then bent to secure the straps on her black cotton flats before placing her forward foot on the packed dirt, and her other foot on the concrete slab.
The witch raised her arms slightly, palms down, and stroked the air. “Fur over here,” she mumbled. Her left arm jerked before resuming its tentative circling. “Just fur.” She brought her other foot onto the dirt and continued to swipe horizontal circles, adding a rhythmic, shuffling step. I stayed glued to the newly poured walkway and its mute support.
“Here.” L’Runa tapped the ground with one foot. “The trail of blood begins here.”
Shaking my head, I reassembled what pieces I could remember, including Meribah’s confession. There was bear fur here, because of Bear. There was blood here, because of a conflict between my mother, her sister, and my ex-mother-in-law, Meribah. Whatever happened, it was not the first time the three had come to blows. Meribah had also spoken of something dire that had occurred when she and Noémi were teenagers.
My mother would have been under six.
If I had known all of this earlier in my life, I might never had the misfortune of knowing the Flechettes.
Which would also mean I wouldn’t have Harper or Thatcher.
I shook my head again to clear the emotions scudding in to cloud the moment, and hoped L’Runa could help me discern the truth, whatever it was, in the layers of dirt. I wanted to know, and I didn’t want to know. I didn’t need another reason to loathe my ex-mother-in-law. Nor did I want any reason to feel compassion for her.
“Calli?”
“Yes?”
“Is there something we can set my case on? I would rather my supplies not come in direct contact with the ground.”
Christoph and Tanner had left a neat stack of cut up two-by-fours next to the inner wall. I grabbed an armful and handed them to L’Runa. She placed foot-long lengths side by side in the middle of the cellar.
“Is there anything else you need?” I asked, retrieving her case from outside. “Your satchel?”
“Give me a moment.” She patted her chest and frowned. “There is so much sorrow in here, Calliope. When we’re finished, I think performing burial rites would be the compassionate thing to do. It is time to appease the restless and put an end to their grief.”
L’Runa allowed a handful of moments to pass before taking the tackle box from me and placing it on the boards. She undid the latches. The two sides fanned out and up like stadium seating, each row filled with vials and tins. Resting in the bottom were wrapped objects. The low light made it impossible to see any details. “Can you hand me the bag of salt? It’s in the satchel.”
I felt for a small bag within the bigger one. Its top was tied. “Would you like me to open this?” I asked.
“Yes.” L’Runa stood and rolled the
