I stifled my protest, felt along the wall for the switch to the floodlights, and flicked. Intense blue-white light bathed the backyard, prompting whatever was beyond the edge of the grassy area to let out a low growl. The hair on my body lifted at the sound. I clutched the railing and managed to croak out a garbled, “Boys!” before my vocal chords clamped down. None of them turned at my strangled cry.
Think, Calliope. Protect my house? My land? My sons?
The floodlight illuminated the backsides of my three defenders, all of them barefoot, in shorts and T-shirts, wielding no weapons other than intellect and bravado.
Tanner’s shoulders and arms were doing that rippling thing I’d seen earlier in the evening when he’d had Doug by the throat. A trio of adult raccoons, tails fluffed and raised, chittered over to Thatcher and rounded their spines. Winged creatures, at least two, circled overhead, the translucent areas of their wings shimmering. I gripped the rail tighter.
Owls added strident, back-and-forth calls simultaneous to the arrival of Harper’s bat friends. Wood snapping in my hands let me know I was squeezing the railing a little too hard.
I know what to do. Startled, I inhaled through my nose and began to chant.
“Ivy wind; Ivy bind. Ivy wind; Ivy bind…” Fighting like with like, I called to the invasive dog-strangling vine, the one preparing to overtake one section of my garden. I called to the barberry vines, armored with thorns, and to the pea shrub a well-meaning neighbor—in love with everything bearing yellow flowers—had planted, unawares it, too, was an invasive species.
I called to these non-native plants, asking they redeem their presence by finding and binding whatever stalked my children, my house, and my very body.
A slithering sounded beyond the reach of the porch light. Leaves fluttered, trees wavered, and the raccoons and bats stayed alert. Tanner’s back continued to ripple, even as he leapt into the woods once a series of strangled screams and cries for help rang through the trees.
I let my arms hang at my sides and relaxed my legs. First Doug, then the tattoo, and now this, whatever this was.
“Dad? Uncle Roger?” Harper’s voice registered the shock I knew he must have felt as he and Thatch rushed to help Tanner drag two vine-wrapped bodies from the woods. Even from the deck, I could see it was, indeed, Douglas Flechette and his twin brother Roger.
I wanted to laugh, a long, maniacal peal that would halt the current weather pattern dropping these unwanted visits from my ex at my door. Instead of laughing, maybe I’d ask Tanner to call in his cohorts and let them deal with the mess. I’d open another beer and watch the circus from the sidelines.
Before I could do either, swirling lights at the end of the driveway informed me the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had arrived.
“Not a moment too soon.” Muttering under my breath, I paused at the front door to center myself before sauntering to the end of the drive. “Evening, officers. What can I help you with?”
“Good evening, Calliope. Sorry to disturb you, but we’ve received two calls about,” Officer Jack scrolled through his cell phone and looked at me while he read, “a disturbance in the woods. Have you heard anything unusual this evening?”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head, slow and relaxed, like I really was considering their question. “No, nothing unusual. The owls have been a bit cantankerous lately and I think the mountain lion that hunts up our way might have gotten a deer, but other than that…no, nothing.”
Lewis, the other officer, peered beyond the blinding light. It was an honest effort. The communication device he wore strapped to his shoulder crackled with an incoming missive from Gladys Pippin. At least, I assumed it was Gladys. She’d been the nighttime dispatcher, Sundays through Thursdays, for as long as I had lived on the island, and it was clear only death would get her out of her special chair.
“Got a call about drunk and naked hippies on Bader Beach again,” Gladys said. “Probably a bunch of those WOOFer kids just arrived from Europe or the States.”
“We’re on our way.” Lewis arched his eyebrows, tilted his head toward their car, and said, “C’mon, Jack, we gotta go.”
Jack looked at me and smiled his sweet smile. I’d always liked him. He’d made it clear on a number of occasions he liked me too. “G’night, Calliope.”
“G’night, Jack. And ’night, Lewis. Thanks for checking it out, guys. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” Detection diverted, I turned toward my house, my insides quaking.
As soon as the officers drove off in their white mini-SUV, I picked up the pace, hurrying around the house to the backyard and coming to a stop in front of a pile of bodies.
Two bodies, my ex’s and his brother’s. Lucky for everyone involved, these bodies were breathing. Even in the dark shadows cast by the flood light, I could see Doug’s cheeks were puffy and red, with long welts crisscrossing his face and neck, arms and lower legs.
“Get. This. Off me,” he sputtered.
“Sorry, Doug. I only know how to cast spells. My tutors haven’t covered undoing spells,” I admitted, more to Tanner than to either of the vine-bound men.
One of Thatcher’s raccoon buddies was nibbling at the leaves and berries on his way to mounting Roger’s chest. I was delighted to see how uncomfortable the man was under the poking and prodding of the animal’s delicate paws.
Harper was visibly upset. I stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Harp. Look at me. I want you to go into the house and let me and Tanner handle these two.”
He shook his head hard, his hair sticking to his sweaty face. “Mom, something’s going on, and I want to know. I’m eighteen. I can handle it.”
I squeezed his shoulder and turned my
