“I know now isn’t the time to talk about living situations, Calli, but River and Wes and Kaz and I have been low-key looking for a place to rent here on the island.” He folded two pairs of jeans over one hanger and put it on the space I’d cleared on the closet rod. “Not only is it expensive, there’s not much housing stock to pick from.”
I undressed, then tugged an old T-shirt over my head. “Now that the four of you have sampled the local witchy offerings, you’re thinking about putting down roots, making a claim?” I tickled Tanner’s side and he swatted my hands away.
“Kaz and Belle dove in the deep end from the beginning,” he said, dancing away from my wiggling fingers. “There’s definitely something going on between Wes and Ro, but he’s not talking, and River—” he shook his head and pinned my arms to my sides while trying to get his jacket onto the last hanger “—River hasn’t been with anyone in a long time.”
“Is there a story there?”
“There’s a story there and it’s not mine to tell.”
Light rain pattered against the window at the head of the bed, lulling me back into sleep. Every joint in my body had softened. Tanner was sleeping on his side, with one arm lying across my waist. I rolled so my back was to his chest and succumbed to the watery lullaby.
When the underland called, I was ready. The pull of the tide rolled me under, as so many of my dreams did, and took me to the cold waters of the Atlantic where I swam with my mother—and maybe my father.
This time, I followed the fronds of her long dark-brown hair to a secret place, an underwater cave protected by a breakwater. Mama ran her hand over a string of translucent egg-sized pearls protected by a clear, gelatinous sleeve and clumps of rockweed. Trailing after her, I draped the pearls around my neck, giggling, bubbles streaming from my mouth, almost out of air. My mother’s gentle scolding, her reverence when she took the slippery pearls from around my neck and replaced them in the common seaweed.
I awoke to the scent of the beach in the morning. The air was still, and the tide was on its way out. Tanner wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. From one breath to the next, I went from sea to sun-baked grass and the wildness of a wolf on the run. I felt for my druid. He reached past me, placed a condom in my hand, and whispered his desire to join me in my dreaming.
With him inside of me I returned to the waters where this time my body responded to the push and pull of shallow waves smoothing the shoreline, ebbing and flowing, ebbing and flowing until one strong wave pulled me out, and the next one drove me to dry land.
“I could get used to having you in my bed,” I murmured.
We overslept and breakfasted without company. Christoph hauled Tanner outdoors for more hammering. Maritza arrived promptly at ten, requested herbal tea, and after I brewed a pot using fresh-picked peppermint leaves, I went to my desk.
L’Runa’s email popped out at me with the subject line, “YOUR BLOOD IS UNUSUAL.”
My right hand and arm buzzed faintly. I shook out both arms, looking to slough off the sensations that had been present ever since the thorn on the Old One had taken my blood and the shards of glass had cut my palms and the bottoms of both feet.
I read further, to L’Runa’s offer to bring me the results and her interpretation. I let her know I expected to be home all day. I didn’t mention I had a date, only that I would not be available after four.
Still feeling the pull of my dreams, I slid my weighty grimoire off my bureau and carried it to my bed. The strongest image from last night, of pearl after giant pearl connected within the clear, slippery sac, warranted recording.
Situating myself atop my duvet, I stroked the ruby-colored leather cover. Maritza had said she would bind the mostly blank book to me. Could she do that today? Now? I traced the slender river of silver gilt as it swirled around the top, bottom, and sides of the cover. Extra flourishes decorated each of the four corners.
I peered closer, looking for faces, or anything that might turn out to be a hidden clue. When a repeating motif triggered a faint memory, I scooted off the bed and went out to my car. I had two magnifying glasses in my sample-collecting kit and brought them both into the house.
“Is that you, Calliope?” Maritza asked, her head bent over her work.
“Yes,” I answered. “Did you need something?”
“No. Do you?”
I turned the larger magnifier over in my hands. “Would you have time to bind my grimoire to me today?”
“It will want your blood.”
“Doesn’t everything want my blood these days?”
“You are a du Sang, my dear. Now that you—and everyone else it seems—know that, you’re going to have to get used to the fact that in the magical world, blood is currency, and yours is worth more than most.” Maritza lifted her head. I wasn’t sure if something outside the sliding glass door had drawn her attention or if she was simply getting a kink out of her neck.
“This is news to me,” I said.
“You have more power now than ever, Calliope. May you use it well.” She turned in the chair. “I have another panel to embroider then I shall take a break before Leilani arrives. Bring the
