“That property’s situated in the most fertile part of the island, and our records show it was one of the earliest cultivated orchards on the island, though it’s not as old as the Pearmains’.
“Here’s my property,” I said, pointing. Then I added the two squarish parcels owned by Doug sitting to the north and south of mine, and the two parcels to the east and west that were in a blind trust. The one to the east was a small triangle at the bottom of my land, and the one to the west, across Fortune’s Folly Road, was considerably larger.
“I’ve got to find out who owns these two lots,” I said, tapping the paper. “And we need to know more about the Pearmain tunnels, which properties they link to, and if they’re even being used.”
The longer I looked at the page, the more convinced I became we were missing something. I drew straight lines to connect all of the properties. Even with the help of L’Runa’s comments about geometry and its use in magic, not a bit of what I’d drawn looked meaningful.
“What’re you doing?” Tanner asked.
“When L’Runa was here yesterday, she drew salt circles in the dirt before we began the ritual in the cellar. Not one central circle, but three big ones and then five more in the corners.
“It’s an oddly shaped space,” I added. “She said a sacred space doesn’t always have to be defined by a perfect circle. This…” I pondered the sketch some more. “This is bugging me. I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Perhaps what’s missing is simply more data. More confirmed magical sites.”
“You could be right. The missing pieces could be right here.” I looked over my shoulder and surveyed the office, with its stacked oak filing cabinets and cardboard storage boxes and went back to my sketch. I tried to make it more three-dimensional. “And then there’s the underland.”
I had stepped inside the underland on Cliff and Abi’s property. From the outside, the structure appeared to be a very old, very abandoned grape arbor, its thickly intertwined vines dusky black and peeling with age, the leaves a deep purplish-green.
Maritza had acted as a kind of hostess that evening, as the druidess, Ni’eve, appeared, followed by the goddess, Idunn. Maritza and her apprentice, Alabastair Nekrosine, had been there, too. The witch and the necromancer had eventually disappeared into the back of the tunnel-shaped structure, swallowed by the impenetrable blackness, on their way to who-knew-where.
Underlands and tunnels shared a similar shape. In my experiences, the resemblance ended there. Tunnels were defined. Underground and claustrophobic but defined.
What set me on edge about the underland was its potential vastness. I turned to Tanner. “I can wrap my head around the idea of the tunnel system, even though I know this island is comprised of massive rocks—the amount of excavation that had to be done to connect the tunnels is mind-blowing. And I’ve experienced the portal system. I don’t get how that works, but…” I shrugged. “But the underland, that’s a whole other level of magic. I mean, I met Idunn that night, Tanner, a Norse. Goddess. Who probably lives in another realm. And she touched me. She spoke to me.”
“She gave us her blessing, Calli.”
The golden glint was back, dancing across Tanner’s eyes and around his head.
“She gave you and me her blessing, yes, Tanner, but she neglected to grant us the time to pursue what it means to have a—a—” I rubbed my sternum, remembering the delicate imprint of the tree that had appeared on my skin, then faded that same night.
“A Goddess-blessed relationship?” he interjected.
“Yes. That. A Goddess-blessed relationship. What does it even mean?” A drowning sensation filled me from the legs up. For an earth witch, I was developing quite the affinity with water, especially salt water and its habit of showing up at inopportune times was beginning to exasperate me.
I fought against what was happening to my legs. Clung to the thought I should be able to piece together all the data, follow all the maps and charts without getting pulled under the surface and being left to float, accompanied by memories and voices disconnected from shore.
I wiggled one bandaged foot out of the flip-flop, pressed into the carpet, and the wood below that, and searched for soil. It was time to ask someone about what kept happening to me, and soon. Tanner’s voice reminded me we had a more pressing task at hand.
“It’s all about rewards, Calliope. If we can solve this and put wrongs to right, our reward is time together.” Tanner had set his elbows on the edge of Kerry’s desk and rested the side of his face against his interlaced fingers. The look in his eyes as his gaze bore into mine was less about a sexual connection than it was about something I hadn’t really experienced.
Read about, yes. Real life? Nope. I closed my eyes in an anxiety-fueled bid to remain connected with the ground underneath the building. I’d done it before, especially if it was a particularly long or difficult day. The earth acknowledged my call, drained the uncomfortable buoyancy from my body, and restored my equilibrium. I opened my eyes.
“You’re holding something back,” I said, certain I was reading Tanner correctly. “This isn’t about a fated mates connection, is it? Because I don’t know that I believe that. It’s great in fiction, but nothing about my life has ever led me to imagine there was one person out there for me, if only we could just, I don’t know, solve some great riddle or make it through a series of life-or-death situations.”
Tanner had stood while I babbled and now stepped around the desk. He offered me
