Fir trees were shrouded in summer-weight capes of light and dark greens, their edges decorated with ripening cones. Faint whisperings within the overlapping branches pricked my awareness, while an argument raged between the resident raven couple and a flock of interloping crows.
“Do you encounter a lot of witches in your work?” I asked Tanner once he settled in the opposite corner. “Or shifters and other Magicals?”
“Here and there. I’ve collected a core group I trust, including the two you met at the Pearmains’ and the two you didn’t, River and Rose.”
“Are they druids as well?”
“The three men are. Rose is River’s sister, and she’s a witch.”
“I know almost no one,” I confessed. “And today has been very unusual compared to most Tuesdays or any other day.”
A handful of persistent crows now had the full attention of the raven pair, and a storm of dark wings and sharp calls shattered the cozying twilight.
Tanner’s gaze went right to the section of woods off the deck, honing in on something I couldn’t yet see.
“What is it?” I asked.
He curved his left palm over my thigh, stilling my urge to stand and move closer to the railing. The birds flew off, taking their argument elsewhere and leaving behind falling feathers and a large splat of guano near the corner of the deck.
I picked up a low growl.
No, not a growl, a chant or incantation, and the sound was coming from Tanner. This day was getting more unsettling by the second. Darting my gaze from his face to the edge of the woods, I found the upside-down, bat-like creature that riveted his attention. Like a flag unfurling in a slow breeze, the animal unfolded one wing, smoky black and opaque, from where it wrapped a fir tree.
Behind us, the house shook with the pounding of teenage feet and bodies hurling themselves down stairs.
“Mom, something weird is…” Harper hurried the sliding screen door open and stopped, his brother plastered to his back.
Tanner kept chanting while the creature separated its other wing fully from the tree. Only the hold of its claws kept it from plummeting to the ground.
“What is that?” I whispered.
The boys froze. Tanner rose from our shared seat and vaulted over the railing. I bumped my shins against the table, toppling my glass in my rush to see if he’d injured himself on the eighteen-foot drop to the ground. He strode to the tree without limping or trailing a broken leg, his right hand aimed at the creature’s head with its pointy ears and elongated snout. The bat’s scrawny body wobbled as it climbed backward down the tree.
Thatch bent down closer my ear. “Mom, what is going on?” he asked, his voice quiet but harsh.
His natural curiosity fought against the palm I pressed to the center of his chest. “I’m not sure. Give Tanner a chance to deal with whatever it is he’s got there. Then we’ll talk.”
“You bet we’re gonna talk, Mom, because this is seriously weird shit.”
“It’s been a Seriously Weird Shit kind of a day.”
With his left hand, Tanner pulled a section of binding rope or vine out of the air and looped it over the creature’s neck. Harper backed out of the doorway and took the more traditional route to the yard. He slowed his approach to a stop when Tanner extended his arm behind him. Harper then crept forward when beckoned.
I was on the verge of hollering at him to stay away.
Low, masculine voices rose from below, their steady timbre punctuated by high-pitched keening. Harper knelt and touched the bat. The whimpering stopped, and the tension in its body released. Tanner raised both hands, palms up. Harper paused then straightened from his crouch. The creature used its claws to climb up his leg, and once it was high enough off the ground to extend its wings, it wrapped them around my son’s ribs and chest, blending the two into one in the gloaming light.
I covered my mouth with a shaking hand, one breath away from cursing Tanner into the middle of next week. Thatch grabbed my wrist and hauled me into the living room. He opened the screen door for Harper and his new companion, making soothing sounds as they entered.
“Calli.” Tanner slid around the trio and took my other hand, keeping his voice conversational as he spoke. “I think Harper has a natural empathy toward winged creatures. This looks like a fruit bat, but it’s nowhere near its natural habitat.” He continued, as though encountering giant fruit bats in coastal British Columbia was so common as to be passé. “I’ve seen a few, but I’ve never seen anything in the chiroptera family take to a human as fast as this one bonded with your son.”
Harper’s eyes registered shock and disbelief, coupled with a possessiveness I was not at all used to seeing. “Mom, what have you not been telling us?”
I darted my gaze back and forth between my sons. My weird day was getting weirder. I turned to Tanner. “Will that thing hurt Harper?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then can you please give us a minute?” Time was marching on, and I had a major, unplanned confession to make.
The giant bat rustled its wings, soft clicking noises coming from its mouth. I had to force myself not to insinuate my fingers between its claws and Harper’s chest or at least shove an oven mitt in there.
Tanner took his cue. “I’ll go outside and see if it’s brought companions. They’re shy, and they can’t echolocate. Maybe it’s…lost.” He shrugged and ducked out the door.
My youngest still had hold of my wrist. “Mom?”
“Do you believe in magic?” I asked.
Two sets of eyes stared at me, three if I counted the bat.
“That creature is not like other bats,” I started with the obvious. “And I’m not like other moms.” I touched both sons simultaneously,
