“Mom, this is Malvyn Brodeur and James Brodeur. Mal and James, my mother, Calliope Jones,” Harper said. Leilani unlinked her arms from her fathers’ elbows, her eyes twinkling with pride, and stepped behind Malvyn to embrace Harper.
“Malvyn, I’m delighted to meet you,” I said. “Especially now that we’ve figured out we have a few things in common.”
Both men greeted me in the European fashion, a kiss on either cheek, and both smelled absolutely divine, a citrusy scent that could have been custom-blended.
“Congratulations on making your Blood Ceremony, Calliope,” said Malvyn. “Sorcerers have something similar, but we are tied to an object, not a place.” He leaned in and undid one more button of his immaculate shirt, revealing a collar of linked metallic pieces. The collar sat low enough to hide underneath a regular T-shirt. “This never comes off.”
“And I studied botany,” said James, “bolstering my half-witch status with a great deal of science and an intuitive approach to plants and propagation.” He wore a similar collar under his open-necked, caftan-style shirt, only his links were delicately tooled renditions of leaves. His sleeves were folded to above his elbows, and a hammered gold cuff wrapped each wrist.
“May I?” I asked, gesturing to his adornments. “Do these have a specific function?”
“Simply to show my affection for my husband,” said Malvyn. “And I might have added a little something to ward off overly inquisitive men.”
The husbands shared a quick kiss and a heated private look.
“Your daughter has a very intuitive approach to her baking,” I said. “But you knew that already.”
“We did know Leilani has a gift for imbuing. The most obvious transference occurs when she’s in the kitchen; she can’t seem to keep her emotions out of the ingredients as she’s mixing them,” agreed Malvyn. “We’re working on helping her moderate that, and we’ve also been at somewhat of a loss as to how to educate her further.”
“It’s a question we knew would need addressing come her eighteenth birthday,” added James. “Given she’s nearing eighteen-and-a-half and with the recent revelations happening under your roof, we need to begin her magical studies as soon as possible.”
While we were chatting, Harper and Leilani wandered over to another section of the yard, and Tanner had made his way over to me.
“You’ve met Tanner Marechal?” I asked, slipping my arm around his waist.
“We have, and earlier today we were reviewing his material for the mentorship program. I suspect Leilani will be enrolling for this September. We would like to make ourselves available in some capacity as well,” said James.
“I would be honored to have both of you as mentors, and as it happens, we’re low on male witches,” said Tanner.
“Malvyn, I wonder if I might turn our conversation to a different topic?” I asked.
“Certainly.” He redid the button that would hide his collar. “Would you mind if we chatted while James and I filled our plates? I came over straight from the ferry, and I’m famished.”
“I was told you work in the financial sector,” I began. He nodded and distributed plates to the four of us. I kept going. “Would you happen to know anything about the Flechette Realty and Development Group?”
“I know quite a lot about the Flechette Group,” he said, filling his plate with savory puff pastries and assorted tapas. “Very little of which I can share with you.”
“Then let me ask you this—is there anything you can tell me about their current property acquisition plan?”
“I can only share with you that which is already in the public domain, which is the founders, two sisters and a brother who worked their way west from Toronto, were known to have snapped up parcels of land that should not have been for sale in the first place, and they essentially built their empire on a foundation of stolen goods. I will also add—and you may not quote me on this—that same ethos appears to be guiding the current Board of Directors.”
“Can you tell me what their magic is?”
Malvyn stared at me a good bit longer than was comfortable. “Fae,” he answered, “and not the hidden folk-type you’ll find in pockets here and there throughout the Salish Sea Islands. Fae from the Old Countries, with the ability to hide their true visages and weapons using glamour. As an officer on the Province’s Board of Magical Governance—and as a new friend—I would advise you to tread very carefully around any organization bearing the Flechette name.”
The bite of spinach and feta pastry heading toward my mouth went back to my plate. “Douglas Flechette is my ex-husband and Harper and Thatcher’s father. I’m afraid he’s been the cause of some of the challenges we’ve had this past week.”
James spoke up. “Leilani mentioned there was tension between Harper and his dad, but we didn’t put all the pieces together. I’m feeling rather guilty at the moment. My research has had me practically sleeping in my greenhouses, and Mal’s had to spend a lot of time in Vancouver.” His shaking hands underscored his concern. “I don’t want to go so far as forbidding our daughter from seeing your son, but…”
“James and I have not had to call on our magic for much of Leilani’s life,” interjected Malvyn. “But if a storm is gathering in the Magical realm, we would appreciate being brought up to speed.”
“For a celebration, this party is starting off on a low note. At least for me.” I pulled Tanner aside after we parted ways with Mal and James, who had offered to host a gathering the following night at their house for us and any other druids and witches we saw fit to invite. “Although I’m dying to see what a sorcerer’s home looks like.”
“Probably much bigger than yours,” said Tanner, “with a tower or a widow’s walk and at least one room dedicated to his collection of objects and one to his books. They’re the crows of the magical world, with an innate pull to acquire shiny things.
“Shiny, magical things,” he added.
I scanned
