“And when is that?” I asked.
“Tomorrow at the close of the business day.”
Odilon released his hold and left my side, walking to the very back of the boat to where a miniature dock was attached. Beside it was another tender. “Come,” he called, gesturing to the boat, “I’m taking you to Chocolate Beach.”
Stunned, I picked up my clutch and shawl and followed him. I held the hand he offered, not bothering to hide how badly I was shaking, and sat where directed. Odilon wrapped my shawl around my shoulders when his observation that the temperature was dropping elicited no response.
We neared the midden beach. Odilon cut the engine. As we drifted closer, he handed me a plastic bag. “Put your shoes and your other things in here.”
I clutched the metal gunwales and looked over my shoulder at the carved marble planes of his face. “Why?”
“Because this, Ms. du Sang, is where you get off.”
Chapter 20
Had I brought my wand and cell phone, I doubted Odilon would have returned them to me even after helping me alight in the shallow water. I kept the plastic bag above my head and placed each foot with care, weighing the barnacled surface of every rock against the slipperiness of the seaweed until I made it out of the water.
Odilon wasted no time returning to the yacht, pulling anchor, and motoring toward the marina. I was left with a darkening sky and a rising wind that presaged a change in the weather. The wine from dinner soured in my belly and the tomato and mint that had seemed so well suited in a soup tasted vile on my tongue.
Calliope, be careful with those.
But, Mama, they’re so pretty.
We have to give them time to grow.
What will they become?
Mama’s smile was sad. Your sisters, she said.
I had sisters. I dropped the plastic bag and glanced at my empty palms. No, I had a dream and in that dream my mother said things.
Yes, but Odilon said things, too. And Benôit was on the boat. And I had a decision to make, though there was only one acceptable answer to the question.
My feet stung. I had to find a place to sit and think.
The pearly vertebra of my spine snapped into formation. I stayed vigilant as I crossed the beach, with its deep bed of crushed shells, to a pile of driftwood and sat on the damp hunk of wood. The bottom eight inches or so of my woolen dress was soaked and dripping, adding weight to the already heavy garment. The elements Maritza and Lei-li had stitched into the dress resumed bidding for my attention.
Yes. Yes, I would give my blood to the Melusine.
On my terms.
I brushed chips of broken shells off my hands, set the plastic bag next to me on the wave-smoothed log, and dug into the dress’s side pockets for my father’s rings. They were cold to my touch and had shrunk so much in circumference that I couldn’t get them on over either thumb’s top knuckle. I tried every other finger on each shaking hand until I was able to wedge the metal rings down my pinkies.
Closing my eyes, I worked to soothe the wings struggling to free themselves from the backside of the dress. I recalled Christoph’s feathers and how it calmed me to run my fingers over them until all of the barbs lined up and lay flat.
Vines growing on the narrow island where I was currently marooned responded to the presence of my feet on their soil. Whispered with one another, back and forth, hesitant about reaching out to me. But I couldn’t see how vines could get me out of this predicament, unless they joined tendrils across the narrows to create a sort of bridge—I shook my head.
No uproot. No offshoot. Not yet.
Instead, I embraced Odilon’s exquisite timing. My first portal adventure was nothing compared to the second, which was far simpler than being stranded on a small island in the middle of the night, with only my magic and a sentient dress to get me home.
I could do this.
I stroked the dull gold sequins scattered over the dress. They awakened and warmed to my touch, glowing brighter as I pictured Tanner in the moment we met, the front of his body in shadow, his head haloed by golden flecks of light.
I recalled my initial mistrust. The intensity of those early days and all that I learned about myself and the magical world I had been separated from for so long.
My lips warmed at the memory of our first real kisses, the ones not influenced by the Apple Witch’s machinations. I pictured the morning after my Blood Ceremony, when Tanner brought me home, bathed me, and waited for all of my bits and pieces to return. And later that evening, at my party, helping me dress, celebrating the woman I was and the witch I was becoming.
Tanner’s wolf, unflinching in his protection.
“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m okay.” I wanted Tanner to get the message I was out of danger and as I floated my arms away from my body, I let go of any thought of needing to be rescued.
I reached to the sky, crossed my arms and bent my elbows, positioning my lower arms behind my head. I placed my palms over my tattoos. Lifting my heart beyond the steel gray clouds, to the constellations, I thanked Bear for her protective spirit. Walking my fingertips lower, as much as my shoulder joints would allow, I stroked the wing feathers sewn into the dress.
“Grandfather. I’m okay. You will know if I need you.” I held the image from the night before, of Christoph soaring above the trees as he flew to my house. Reaching for the stars again, I spread my arms, imagining my sleeves were wings.
When I finished sending my message to Christoph, I paused. Maritza had stitched a repeating motif along the bottom of the dress, the section that was now soaking wet. Bull kelp, with
