“He did.”
I was more curious than ever to see Malvyn’s metalworking studio, though I had been hoping for something less deadly looking for my first piece of the jeweler’s artistry. “What did you mean by first blood?”
“The one who feeds the first needle becomes the true owner of the dress.” She hovered her fingertips over the fringe of metal and sighed. “I suspected this would be yours as I made it, Calliope. May it never draw more blood than is absolutely necessary.”
I held up my pricked fingertip. “Guess this means I am the true owner,” I said.
Maritza slipped a pair of reading glasses over her nose, reached for my hand, and assessed the cut. “Your saliva will help remove any blood that might stain the fabric.” She peered at me; her eyes icy blue. “Only your blood, that is. Do try to keep the dress clean.”
Oh, the charm of the magical world.
“Tanner, if you would please proceed to the circle of flowers and lower the dress directly into the center,” Maritza said, waving him forward. “Calliope will step inside and stay absolutely still as you bring the straps over her arms.”
Sounded simple enough. “Calliope, beforehand you will disrobe completely.”
And there was the catch. I shuddered at the thought of the needles pricking the more sensitive areas of my body.
We walked to the circle of flowers and herbs as a trio. Tanner stepped inside and waited. My usually calm and steady druid was nervous. I paused to take a breath before undoing the side buttons and buckles on the straps to my overalls. The worn denim slid down my legs to the ground, followed by my T-shirt, then underwear.
I stepped over the low wall and steadied myself with a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. The bottom of the dress pooled on the plant matter, while the top half was ready to receive its wearer.
Me.
My heart was beating against the backside of my rib cage. Pointing my toes and exaggerating my movements, I lowered one foot through the opening, then the other, and covered my breasts with my hands. Tanner drew the heavy muslin up the sides of my thighs and over my hips. “One arm at a time,” he said. I drank in his reassuring presence. “You’ll be fine,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here.”
I lowered the shoulder he wanted first, then the other, and without further fanfare or bloodletting, I was adorned in a dress trimmed with thirsty needles. Tanner stepped out of the circle at Maritza’s nod.
“Now, you twirl,” she said, flicking her hand in an arc.
“Twirl?” I asked. I lifted my arms overhead, elbows bent, in an awkward approximation of a ballet dancer.
“Try this.” Tanner’s arms were outstretched but not stiff. He turned one palm to face the ground, raised the other toward the sky, and began to move his feet. Small steps sent his body into a counterclockwise movement. “Focus on your hand and you won’t get dizzy.”
Maritza tapped her cheek and added, “Relax your arms, Calliope. Start as Tanner showed you or just hold your arms away from your body. Let the land speak to you through your feet. Close your eyes when you feel ready. Your body will become a conduit.”
I could do that, the listening through my feet part, and the moment I relaxed my gaze I understood what I needed to do.
Lifting my heels allowed the needles to brush over the scattered flower petals and other bits of nature’s detritus without getting snagged on the grass. I began to step in a tight circle while using my arms for balance. The bottom of the ankle-length A-line dress swung out as I gained momentum.
It didn’t take more than a dozen revolutions before the weight of those hundreds of slivers of sharpened metal created a perfect blade with which to shred the plant matter. Within minutes a growing susurration heralded the appearance of thousands of tiny flecks. They floated around my ankles and calves and headed upward. Instead of losing myself to the wonder, I figured out where to look, and when, to keep from getting nauseous or falling over.
Tanner and Maritza stood on opposite sides of the stone circle. Their mouths were moving, though I couldn’t hear their words, and their gazes sought something only they could see.
Secure finally in my footing, I spread my arms wider, lifted my chin, and opened my eyes to the sky. The same fishing-net-like structure I had seen forming over the burial mounds at the Pearmains’ now wavered overhead. This time, the strings encased only me. Squarish holes anchored translucent fields of light, shimmering the way the wards around my house did when they were activated.
The structure was breathtakingly beautiful. I continued spinning, the needles kept cutting, and more and more bits filled the air within the bubble until they stuck like confetti to its inner surface and even to my skin. When the overall effect passed from yellows into greens and the last strands of my hair unstuck from the back of my neck, I could have been suspended below the surface of the ocean.
Mama.
Had my mother danced her way into other circles, bare feet trampling this same ground?
At a tug from beneath my toes, I asked the question again.
Mama, did you dance here with Noémi and your sister-witches? Did you answer the call of the soil and the plants, or did the nearby ocean with her myriad creatures hold your allegiance?
Magical words flitted like tiny fish alongside the particles floating in the air. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. I licked at my skin, tasted salt on my tongue, relinquished earth for water as the salt triggered a change in sensation. I went from toes on grass to ankles tangled in seaweed.
Bubbles streamed from my mouth. Tanner and Maritza, still ensconced outside of my net, failed to notice I was suspended in water. The needle dress was weightless. The sea filled the space between my
