He took a deep breath. “And pesticides, genetic manipulation, global warming and other things are destroying the old varieties, which means…”
“Which means,” I interrupted, “it’s of utmost importance that we protect those ancient varieties and the people who continue to safeguard the stock. Like the Pearmains.”
Tanner nodded. “Exactly.”
“But how could a commonly grown apple tree produce the apples of immortality?”
“That’s where the Apple Witch comes in.”
“And is the Apple Witch the reason for all this?” I asked, sweeping my uncut hand across the area in front of us.
“Yes,” Tanner whispered, “and I am so sorry.”
I didn’t know if I wanted to thank him for presenting an opportunity to learn or yell at him for endangering me, my sons, and my house. “Tell me more.”
“The earliest caretakers of the seeds of Idunn’s apples were culled from her female followers, and in return for safekeeping the lineage of the fruit, this group of thirteen were gifted with the ability to change their form.”
“Like shifters?”
“Not exactly.” Tanner returned to his self-soothing habit of threading his hair between his fingers and tugging it tight to his skull. Every time, his features shifted slightly and another layer of who he was came into focus and disappeared again. “The females can transform into trees—apples trees—and most of the early safekeepers chose to make that change just once, as their human lives were ending. While one of the Keepers was making her final change, a younger one was beginning her initiation into their ways. This allowed the thirteen to stay constant.
“Fast forward a few generations. The Keepers had to look farther and farther for women willing to commit to the rigors and responsibilities of their role and work harder and harder to keep them. A handful of the younger ones decided to experiment with changing back and forth while they were still in their fertile years. They discovered that as long as they bled monthly, they could shift between human and tree, thereby keeping a semblance of a normal, human life. But even with this development, their numbers dwindled until only three of these women were left. They began to eat the apples, which they were warned never to do...”
I snorted softly. “Because isn’t that how so many fairy tales begin, with someone being warned not to do something, which they promptly do?”
Tanner nodded. “You could probably finish the story for me at this point. The Keepers’ DNA had begun to morph into a hybrid of human and tree. Which meant they could bear human children, and some of those humans carried the capacity to bear the apples of immortality.” While he spoke, he’d released his hair and begun caressing the pouch he wore around his neck. The leather—at least, I assumed it was leather—was burnished to the color and sheen of a chestnut. “One of my first druidic teachers was one of these women.”
And things just got even more complicated.
“Have you eaten the apples?” I asked. Please say no.
His unbandaged thumb slowed its circling. “Somewhat willingly—out of curiosity—and somewhat against my will.”
“Are you immortal?” July twenty-fifth, though barely two hours old, was starting as strangely as its predecessor had ended.
“Not exactly.”
“How old are you?”
He shrugged. “Eternally thirty-seven?”
I tucked his admission away for a time when I wasn’t so tired that ‘eternally thirty-seven’ didn’t sound so perfectly plausible. “And I’m going to venture a guess that you do the work you do, so you can have access to apple growers. And the apples.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But only in part.”
“So how does this explain what happened half an hour ago?”
Tanner groaned. “My teacher had a daughter—all three of those Keepers had daughters, who themselves grew up as Keepers. They had no say in it, given the dire straits, and my teacher’s daughter and I became lovers for a time. And then we parted ways.”
“Is this daughter here, on the island?”
“If not here, then she’s close.”
“Why the strong reaction?”
“She wants something from me I can’t give.”
“Why?”
“She’s become corrupted.” There was more. I could see it in the way the corners of his eyes tightened. His features stopped shifting and hardened into the Tanner I’d met at the Pearmains’.
“Do you think she has something to do with the catatonic orchardists and the severed heads?”
“I’m not willing to rule out her possible involvement.”
“You have to admit it’s an odd coincidence.”
He nodded. “I agree. It is. But jeopardizing the orchards also works against her, so…” His words drifted off into the far corners of my sleepy house.
“Tanner? I need to be able to trust you.” I was desperate for my bed.
His eyes looked genuinely wounded that I even questioned his intentions. “I’m not here to hurt you, Calliope. We’ve known each other what, twelve, thirteen hours? Every instinct I have is to protect you and this house and your sons. There’s more I can do to shield all of us from her influence—and I’ll do it, I promise.”
We leaned against each other and lapsed into silence. The story of Idunn and her apples and the Keepers was a lot to absorb. Add in the parts about women morphing into trees and Tanner’s old girlfriend being the jealous type…
I shook my head. I needed to sleep.
“Do you think we can go to bed now? I haven’t felt a thing since you started telling me that story.” I closed my
