“As it should. Think of this dress as sartorial armament.”
“Lives are at stake, Calli-lass. We all know this.” Christoph entered into our discussion with stealth and promptly veered toward the hall. “I will join you after I shower.”
“How do you know how to do all of this?” I asked, sweeping my hand over the open cases spread out around the tables and chairs.
Maritza glanced at Malvyn and cocked an eyebrow. “We were born into a long line of embroiderers. Our parents—who live in Mexico—carry the family name, Bordador, though they both gave up needlework long ago. Malvyn thought Brodeur as a last name was better suited to life here in Canada. Brodeur is simply the French variation. My brother may be right, though our father complains about it to this day.”
Alabastair placed a tray holding a teapot, cups, spoons, and everything else needed for afternoon tea. “May I serve anyone?” he asked, his gaze on Maritza.
“Please,” she said. “You know how I take mine.”
My favorite necromancer, whose skin was a pale green when I first met him and was now closer to pale tan, blushed the faintest shade of pink. There was definitely something going on between those two and seeing the infusion of color in his cheeks reminded me I wanted to talk to Bas about the bloodthirsty portal tree.
Maritza picked up where she left off, no difference in the tone of her skin or her delivery. “When one is born into a family with magical elements on both sides, the child stands a better chance of inheriting the prime ability. For Malvyn and I—and our sister, Moira, who passed seven years ago—that prime ability is binding. My niece has an adjacent talent, imbuing.
“Alabastair, for example, was born into a family of necromancers on both sides, bestowing on him an almost guaranteed genetic predisposition. He is one of the most adept naturals I have ever come across.” With that, she accepted the cup of tea Bas handed to her and beamed a smile in his direction. He went from pink to deep rose. Maritza patted his cheek. “Now, I must turn my full attention to Calliope’s dress. I have decided that my niece, Leilani, will assist with its creation.”
Malvyn looked up quickly, exchanged a look with his sister, then nodded. “I agree. After hearing her report about the weekend, we must support the next steps she takes. James and I have already discussed how her ability to imbue food could be transposed to other mediums. Given her heritage, thread and fabric are a probable medium of magical expression, especially under Mari’s tutelage.”
“We would like to help, too, if we can.” Sallie and Azura had snuck in behind Christoph at some point and situated themselves near Malvyn. “May we take a look at your jewelry, Mr. Brodeur?”
“You are welcome to call me Mal, or Malvyn, and yes, see if there is anything in there that speaks to you.” He reached out to touch Sallie’s chin and give her his full attention. “I haven’t forgotten your request.”
Sallie paled. “I wish I had a clear idea of what I wanted my collar to look like. That,” she said, pointing to the vine he had sketched for my bracelet, “suits Aunt Calli perfectly. I know my collar should be something symbolic, something with meaning, like a pretty butterfly, but butterflies and flowers have never really been my thing.” She wasn’t able to keep the sarcasm out of her words.
“Lift your chin.” Malvyn slid a pair of glasses onto his nose, peered at Sallie, then set the glasses on the table. “Before there is a butterfly, there is a chrysalis. You are in the stage of becoming, Sallie Flechette, and I think—” he uncapped one of his pens, roughed out something on his sketchpad, and showed Sallie and Azura “—this, perhaps rendered in silver or pewter, would be perfect. Once you have clarity about what you are becoming, we can design a new collar to reflect your growth.”
He passed the drawing to the girls, who clustered close to me. Using silver ink, Malvyn had drawn three stylized chrysalises in side-view, each with four or five abdominal segments linked by a black cremaster. “Mechanitis polymnia,” he said. “The clear-winged butterfly that grows within the safety of a chrome-like chrysalis. The covering is an effective defense weapon because its surface reflects its surroundings.”
He tapped the page with his pen. “Your parents spent years hiding your magic, Sallie. Perhaps there is some gift to be found in that pain, one that you have not yet uncovered.”
Both girls and I were wiping tears from our eyes by the time Malvyn finished. “What did I do?” he asked, looking up. “Did I upset you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to and we can design something better—”
“That design is perfect, Mal. I love it. And you’re right. I am becoming and this design will remind me of that. Thank you.”
Azura reached for Sallie’s hand and squeezed once their fingers were interlaced. “Let’s go finish setting up the bunkhouse,” she said.
They left through the front door, arms around each other’s waist. Maritza unrolled a measuring tape and faced me. “Calli, let’s go somewhere more private and get your measurements. I would like to have the dress cut and pieced together by this evening.”
We passed Christoph in the hall. I urged him to begin filling Alabastair in on the outline of my portal adventure. “And thank you for wanting to protect me,” I added.
“It’s one of my jobs, Calli-lass. You know the guilt I carry.”
“I do,” I said, planting a kiss on his scruffy cheek. “I carry a bit of that myself.”
When Maritza and I reentered the living room less than ten minutes later, only Bas’s extreme sense of propriety kept him from hauling me outside.
“Calliope,” he said, folding his six-foot-plus frame onto a wooden dining chair. “You made an extraordinary discovery. Now, I have a few questions…” Bas’s concept of a few questions became a detailed interrogation that he
