“No,” she answered, “my lab, the one at my house. There are times when I must exercise utmost caution with my clients. This is one of those times.”
“It’s getting late. Do you want me to come to you?”
“No. You stay home. Those cuts need to heal. If they don’t, call Belle.” L’Runa paused. “Did you happen to apply a poultice, something that would draw out any residue from where you were punctured or cut?”
“No. But Christoph cleaned everything thoroughly and smeared balm on my hands and feet.”
L’Runa sighed. “Please call Belle right now. Explain what happened and let her know I’ll be there soon. And in the meantime, wipe off anything you put on your skin, wash again, and leave the area bare.”
I hung up, dialed the plant witch, and filled her in. She promised to be on her way within fifteen minutes. Christoph waited for me to hang up, then offered to search through my mother’s books once he’d wiped the salve off my hands and feet. Anger made his touch less gentle this time around.
“Sallie? Azura? Do either of you have an account on Faebook?”
They looked at each other, then me. “Of course we do,” Azura said. “Show her.”
Sallie came to her knees and turned her phone to face me. “We were just messaging a friend of ours.”
Like other social media apps, this one allowed its users to choose an avatar as their profile picture. Sallie’s black and white image sported kohl-lined eyes, dark-stained lips, and a collar around her neck. “You haven’t changed your picture,” I noted.
“I’m still kind of in hiding, Aunt Calli.”
“So how does someone non-Fae like me access Faebook?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
Good question. I draped my arm over my eyes. I was having a hard time thinking clearly. “I had this idea that if I could see the real faces behind the glamour I would—” I let the thought go, then continued. “I’m trying to learn more about the du Sang lineage. Magicals have directories but my name isn’t in any of the ones from across North America. Neither is my mother’s name. So I guess what I’m really asking is how do the Fae keep records of who’s who?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening.” I lifted my arm, opened my eyes, and readjusted the pillow supporting my head. The boys were listening, too.
“Well, for starters,” said Azura, “many Fae families are not the heteronormative nucleus of one male, one female. Some family lines are matrilineal, some are patrilineal. As far as I know, I am the result of my father’s sperm and my mother’s egg, but…?” Azura shrugged. “They sure didn’t think twice about leaving me in Victoria to fend for myself when their clan leader asked them to move to some town out in the middle of nowhere.”
I let that sink in before asking, “Sallie, you said Meribah and Adelaide were both seeing Odilon?”
Sallie snorted. “Yep. Which I have no problem with, but he’s a lot younger than both of them and Meribah’s been very vocal at the Flechette Clan gatherings about wanting a daughter.”
“She can still get pregnant?” I asked. When both girls nodded their heads, I added, “That’s a scary thought.”
“Unless Malvyn sealed my parents’ house, I can get in, Aunt Calli. And if I can get in, I can bring you the book that has the names of all the Fae clans’ family members going way back.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Azura. “Text your work. Tell them you need the day off tomorrow for family business.”
“Tomorrow’s Tuesday. It’s the farmers’ market. They’ll be pissed.”
“We’ll fill in for you,” said Thatcher, okaying the offer with Harper. “My last class is over at two thirty.”
“Can you take a portal?” I asked the girls.
Azura pursed her lips and shook her head. “Definitely not safe for either of us. The only portals we know of are on the Flechette estate outside of Victoria, and the only reason we know that is because when the clans gather, they travel to and from Court from there.”
I nodded like this was old news. “Take Tanner’s truck. And be careful.”
L’Runa arrived. The teens greeted her before heading upstairs and Christoph offered her tea and a snack. She declined food and said yes to tea. “Rooibos, if you have it. With honey.”
“I’d love something to eat,” I said. “I’m starving.” Christoph glared at me.
L’Runa pulled a chair close to the couch, placed her tackle-style box on the low table, and brought my empty mug to the kitchen. When she returned, I pointed to my cross-body bag. “Inside is my water bottle, and inside that are pieces of the glass that sliced up my hand and a few of the unbroken glass balls I found at the base of the tree in the—the weird place.”
“Did you call Belle? And did you clean your hands?” When I nodded, and nodded again, L’Runa opened her case, then unzipped my bag and lifted out the reusable bottle. She held it an arm’s length away, unscrewed the cap, and waited. Satisfied, she brought the cap to her nose and sniffed. She did the same to the thermos, shaking it gently as she inhaled. The balls hit against the interior metal surface.
“Do you have a sieve?” she asked.
“In one of the lower kitchen drawers.”
L’Runa took the bottle to the sink, added water, and poured the contents into the mesh sieve. She repeated the process three times before asking Christoph to hand her a dinner plate. She inverted the strainer over the plate, tapped, then set the strainer on a paper towel. “Leave this,” she said, “until we know the composition of the material we’re dealing with.”
Christoph poured hot water into a teapot and murmured his agreement. A car’s horn sounded. “I’ll see who’s here,” he said, heading out the front door.
L’Runa settled herself on the low table next to the couch and held the plate in her hands. “I imagine you were in pain,
