“Fair enough. You might be a little on the long side anyways. Calli, do you know where you want to start?”
I smiled at River’s reference to Tanner’s height and closed my eyes. Sniffing at the sun-warmed air led me to the grass, beyond its roots, and into what lay below the field and rocks. I shifted my weight, opened my eyes, and pointed to the tree tugging at my pant legs. “That one, the second one in.”
“If you were investigating this alone,” Tanner asked, once River was no longer within earshot, “what would you do?”
“Create a grid, take samples of plant matter and soil like we’ve been doing, and photographs too.”
“What else? What would you do, as a witch?”
I laughed. “I’d take off my boots and read the ground and the trees.”
“So do that.” He slipped his feet out of his flip flops and waited at the edge of the path for me to do the same.
“I think I want to keep my feet in my boots during my first foray underground.” I waggled my fingers in his direction. “These should be enough for now.”
Tanner smiled. “Okay, partner.”
Reassured, I detoured off the curving path to where I’d heard the humming the day before, the loud thump-thump in my chest a clear warning I was about to step out of my comfort zone. Way out. I had something to prove to Tanner and River—and myself. It was time to bring my magical talents to the forefront.
Clifford said the tunnels were places of refuge. I swept my flashlight’s beam over the interior of the tree trunk before directing it down the ladder.
Here goes nothing.
After a twist, a wiggle and a push, my feet met solid ground on the third or fourth rung down. I gripped the vertical beams of the ladder and paused to remind myself to breathe. At the bottom, carved walls bowed outward, giving the appearance of a barrel-like antechamber. The tunnel went off in one direction only, giving me no choice where to go; I just had to choose my method of locomotion: crawling, crouching, or scuttling sideways like a crab.
I chose a modified scuttle, directed the flashlight’s beam in front of me, and left the fresh air and weak light at the bottom of the ladder.
Sound was muffled underground. Rocks and roots bumped out of the walls, giving the surface a rough finish. I inured myself to the few crawly creatures I could see in the beam of my light and went deep into denial about how many more I might be missing. Progress was slow. My heart rate and breathing were slightly accelerated but steady. Mostly. When I stopped, musty air irritated my nostrils, and I sneezed twice, almost knocking my head against the wall to my left.
And that was when the presence inside the tunnel made itself known.
A creak and a pop and another pop went off, like a membrane stretched to the breaking point, between me and the ladder.
I flared my nostrils and inhaled through my nose, using my connection to the earth entombing me to keep me calm as I pivoted and dropped my butt to the ground. Tender. Green. Fresh. Curious. This was similar to the presence I had encountered earlier in the day.
I planted my left palm to the packed earth, fear and excitement flooding my muscles, and pointed my flashlight’s beam at the wall to my right. Little rootlets, three or four inches long, sprouted out of one of the exposed roots. I scrabbled closer, intrigued.
Not rootlets. Branches, with tiny stems and glossy green leaves. I went to touch them with a fingertip.
Mine.
The voice reverberated through the earth, shaking loose bits of dirt and pebbles embedded in the archway over my head.
Mine.
I dropped the flashlight and fisted both hands against my chest, the seared skin on my fingertips burning like lemon juice on paper cuts. The voice was terrifyingly close, and my legs wouldn’t obey my brain’s command to move. I retrieved the flashlight with shaking fingers. Dirt crammed under my fingernails, and flashes of my aunt’s dank cellar mingled with the stale underground air. Overwhelming claustrophobia and the voice, with its warning, possessive message, suffocated my curiosity.
“Calli, what’s wrong?” Tanner’s concerned face met my dirt-streaked visage once I made it to the base of the ladder.
I threaded one arm through the closest rung, my legs shaking.
“Panic attack,” I huffed. “I thought I outgrew a certain childhood incident. Guess I haven’t.”
Next time—if there was a next time—I’d come prepared, with one of those big, black police flashlights. And maybe a hard hat with a headlamp so I wouldn’t have to pick bits of bugs out of my hair. And knee pads and leather gloves and a counter-spell to prevent that voice from chilling me to the very marrow in my bones.
“You okay to come up on your own, or do you need help?” he asked.
“Give me a sec to get my legs back under me, and I’ll be fine.”
His head and shoulders disappeared, along with the light from his cell phone. I clung to the ladder, rested my forehead on my hands, and sneezed again. The dull thud of Tanner moving about overhead provided a lifeline to freedom.
“Tanner?” I called. “I’m coming up.”
Three closely spaced rungs rose above my head. Getting up the ladder and out of the tree’s innards entailed twisting the upper half of my body, ducking my head, and not caring at all how dirty my shirt was about to get. I didn’t stop moving until I’d crawled out from under the shade cast by the tree’s wide reach and dropped onto a patch of sun-warmed grass.
Dry stalks prickled the back of my neck and arms, but at least I could breathe. My knees gave silent thanks before they finally gave out.
Tanner crouched beside me and nudged my hip. “Have some water.”
I rolled to my side and cracked open one eye. The lukewarm
