“Home.” The letters of the word fanned over the bark. Warm breath assured my fingers this was not a dream. My forehead bumped against the tree, and as I breathed, the bark withdrew itself from my touch.
Darkness filled my gaze when I cracked open one eye.
Crap.
I went to whisper again, inhaled, and caught scents I knew. Ripened crabapples waiting patiently for me to harvest the fruit. Pizza, from the Italian place downtown. Shouting. Car doors slamming. Engines starting. I spat out my wand, peeled my uninjured hand off the bark, and turned to run toward the house. I must have been gone for hours.
As one foot and then the other hit clumps of grass I knew by heart, I winced. There was glass in the soles of my soft leather shoes.
“Help!” I yelled, and then again, louder, unsure if I would be heard over the voices and the cars.
“Calliope!” With a whoosh and a thump-thump, Christoph landed beside me and hauled me to his chest, squishing my bag between us.
“I’m back. I’m back. I’m okay.”
My grandfather held my biceps tight enough to stop circulation and tried to urge me to follow him to the house.
“I can’t walk,” I said, my knees buckling. He fired a concerned look, scooped me into his arms, and took off.
And up. Into the air.
He landed at the end of the driveway in time to stop the line of vehicles readying to head off of the property. Harper and Thatcher hopped out of their Jeep and ran toward us. I didn’t have time to warn them about my feet. I accepted awkward hugs as long as I could then I had to let them know. “Guys, I’m hurt.” I rested my head against the front of Christoph’s shoulder and asked, “Can you carry me into the house?”
“Need help, Gramps?” Harper, not waiting for an answer, simply slid one arm under my knees and waited.
Christoph nodded. Under his instructions, the three of them got me up the stairs, into the house, and settled on the couch. My mangled yell let them know it was my feet that were hurting every time they bumped the bottoms of my shoes.
Thatcher stuffed a bed pillow under my head and untangled the strap across my chest. He went to drop the bag next to the couch. “Put that on the table, Thatch,” I said. “No, not that one. Right here.” I waved toward the stack of plates and pizza boxes. “Don’t touch anything inside.”
“Mom, where were you? Do you have any idea how worried we were? You were gone for hours.”
This was a new experience, being the one causing others to worry.
I didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry. I had this idea that I would go and use the portal by myself and I—” I tensed as Christoph cupped my ankles and lifted my legs “—I took the wrong one.”
Harper was about to butt in when Christoph said, “Let’s get your mother fixed up first. Harper, get me a plate. Thatcher, find me a pair of tweezers.”
“I’ll get mine,” said Azura. I looked toward the kitchen. The two girls stood with their backs to the island, their eyes round as saucers.
“Sallie, could you make tea for Calliope?”
“I’d rather have a beer,” I said, intending to lighten the mood. Christoph was not amused. “Okay, chamomile, please.”
“Thatcher, I could use a stronger light than this lamp.”
“Gotcha. Be right back.”
Christoph’s glare grew more pointed. His eyes started to go gyrfalcon; all-black irises surrounded by a band of yellow-gold. “Tell me what you did.”
I blew out a breath and repositioned my hips. “I went to introduce myself to Odilon Vigne, scion of Clan Vigne and—”
“I know Odilon. And I know his father. Why would you take the portal and go looking for a man like that?”
I shook my head. “No, I met him earlier today. In town.”
Christoph tensed. Thatcher showed him a flashlight and Sallie came around the couch, holding a mug. “Can you guys clear the table?” she asked. “Quick. This is hot.”
Harper gathered everything into one tall pile and carried it to the counter. Sallie nudged the table closer and set the tea within reach. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you. This is perfect,” I said. I raised my arms, adding, “Hug?”
Sallie dropped to her knees beside the couch and hugged me tight. Her whisper, meant for my ears only, chilled me. “I hate that clan. They’ve already taken too much from me. They can’t have you.”
She let me go but stayed curled on the floor. Azura handed the tweezers to Christoph and sat near Sallie.
My grandfather lowered one of my legs to the armrest on his end of the couch and motioned for Thatcher. “Hold the light so I can see the bottom of your mother’s foot. Harper, help me get this shoe off.”
I gritted my teeth in preparation. They were careful, and it was only when Christoph began to remove the glass that the pain refreshed with every pinch of the tweezers and pull of my grandfather’s steady hand. He dropped the pieces on the plate, repeated the procedure on the other foot, and instructed Harper to leave the plate and my shredded shoes on the back deck.
After my feet were cleaned and patted dry, coated with salve and bandaged, I finished my tea. “Do you want to hear about what happened?” I asked, looking over the rim of the mug.
Christoph turned his chair and straddled the seat, facing me. His wings stretched out once, then again, before settling. He rolled his shoulders, propped his elbows on the back of the chair, and cleared his throat. “Granddaughter, what is the first rule of experimenting within the network of magical travel?”
The four teenagers chimed in at once. “Tell a responsible being where you’re going, test your communication device before you depart, and set a return time.”
My cheeks turned hot. “I was upset,” I said, offering one of the weakest excuses in the book.
“Can you imagine what it was like for
