Tanner shot me a quick look and adjusted the headlights. “Want to talk about it?”
“My father—Benôit—feels more like a figment of my imagination.” I closed my eyes and pressed the back of my head against the seat. “I don’t have a lot of memories of my mother, but at least I have them. I have nothing for him, not even…an emotion.”
“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Calli. You know that, right?”
“I do. And I’m still terrified to meet him.”
“Try looking at Benôit as someone who needs medical attention, first and foremost.” Tanner slowed into the next turn. “We have no idea what his story is. Maybe he’s done terrible things or heroic things or both. At the least, we can all give him a chance to explain himself. Plus, Christoph’s a wreck.”
I nodded. “I noticed. I’ve been trying to imagine what it would be like if Harper or Thatch just disappeared one day.” I sat up straight, tucking my lower legs to one side to face Tanner. “It would break me.”
Letting myself reach for my druid, I added, “Which is why I can’t cut the boys off from their father completely. At some point, they’re going to want to talk to Doug and I’m going to have to let that happen.”
“You’re good mom, Calliope. And we’re here.”
Belle’s home was one of the island’s few Victorians. It was certainly the prettiest. To walk through her front gate was to enter a place where plants reigned and were revered. Lights shone from every ground floor window. Tanner and I followed the trio of druids to the porch. Kazimir knocked lightly before he pushed on the door and let us in. “Shoes off,” he said, his voice low.
Rowan appeared and went straight to Wes. He molded his body to hers and kissed her full on the mouth. “What do you need from us?” he asked.
“More of that,” she answered, “later, when the patient’s stabilized and Christoph’s awake.” Ro let Wes hold her hand as she included the rest of us in her report. “The primary patient—Benôit Courant—is in pretty rough shape. He’s dehydrated, malnourished, and has sustained traumatic injuries. Belle and Airlie and I are working on him. Christoph’s asleep in one of the other rooms. He was having a hard time staying out of our way and agreed to let Belle treat him for stress. He’s been out about ten minutes.
“Calli, Christoph confirmed Benôit is his son, and therefore your father. Do you want to see him?”
My response stuck in my throat.
Rowan let go of Wes and took me into her embrace. “If it’s any help, we have Benôit sedated. Right now we’re working on getting his core temperature up and getting fluids into him.”
“I’ll come,” I said.
“Help yourself to anything you find in the kitchen. Belle brewed a special tea for all of you.” Rowan waved Tanner toward the kitchen, drew me to her side, and guided me down the hall. “Benôit’s body has been altered, Calli. I want you to prepare yourself.”
She opened the door. In the dim light, I noticed Belle and Airlie first, standing on either side of the hospital bed in the center of the heated room. A fire crackled in the woodstove and a kettle added steam to the air.
The body—Benôit—was lying on his side, facing away from the door, with a pillow cushioning his head and a blanket covering his lower half. Airlie had her hands on his head and his hip. Belle dipped her fingers into a container on the bedside table and rubbed something over his bared back. “You can stand near me,” she said.
I stepped to Belle’s side. Smelled her gentle, floral presence. Traced my glance from her shoulder, down her arm to her small, but strong and capable, hands. Underneath the thick salve coating the man’s back was a web of scar tissue and newer cuts. Near the shoulder blades, the scars gave way to broken bones. Wing bones. The big ones that would have connected his wings to his underlying human bones. Above the bones and across his shoulders grew small bits of seaweed and clusters of barnacles.
Unshed tears ran down my throat. I went to touch him. Belle grabbed my wrist. “Wait, dear one. Your touch could startle him out of his healing process.”
I nodded my understanding, and asked, “Is he in pain?”
“Benôit is in many kinds of pain. I’m treating the physical. Airlie is reading his emotional condition.” Belle reached for more salve. “She’s the perfect ally for him right now. She may not know the sacrifice he’s made—or that was forced upon him—but she understands beings who are called to the waters. She can soothe him as well as any herbs and topicals I have to offer.”
“Do you know what she’s doing?”
“Singing the songs of the many seas and riverways in this hemisphere of the world. With her hands, she feels when he reacts to any one verse or song in particular. That allows her to go deeper. When she’s done, we’ll know where he calls home.”
“May I see his face?” I asked. I reached for the apron strings tied in a loose bow at the back of Belle’s waist. She reached behind, found my hand, and drew me forward.
She pressed a finger to her lips and nodded.
I held my breath. Took a step closer to the bed. Benôit’s left arm had been amputated below the elbow. Hanks of his hair fell over the side of his face, leaving only his jaw and mouth visible. There were bald spots on his scalp where hair had been ripped out.
He opened and closed his mouth, over and over again, like a stranded fish, then stopped, his lips parted. Airlie stifled a sob. The tears streaming down her face dripped onto his head.
“Did you get what we need?” Belle whispered to her. Airlie nodded. Moving with what looked like a preplanned sequence of
