“Calliope,” Meribah started, “we heard you were having a party, and we hoped we might join you and share in whatever it is you’re celebrating.”
Chapter 22
I wanted to laugh at Meribah. Someone must have suggested the Merry Widow and her band of sycophants watch all three Men in Black movies and take notes: black pants and two-button jackets for the men; tight black skirts and form-fitting jackets for the women; pressed white blouses and shirts for all. Their faces feigned a stoic attitude and absolutely none of the movie’s underlying humor.
“I can’t imagine why you’re really here,” I said, palming my wand and securing the thicker end into one gauntlet.
And now that I knew she was Fae, everything that had always been flawless about her exterior, everything I had compared myself against and come up wanting, took on new meaning. My ex-mother-in-law had been hiding her true self from me the entire time I was a member of the Flechette clan. I should have paid more attention to the discrepancy behind her perfect mien and the venom in her words and actions.
“I’m here for my grandsons,” Meribah said. “Douglas informed me their magic has begun to rise, and they are Flechettes first and foremost and should receive their training under my aegis.”
“Will you be providing the same level of training you gave your sons?” I was ready to spar with Meribah—on my own turf, bolstered by the strength of my bonds to the soil under my feet and the reinforced wards around the property line.
As long as she and her crew stayed outside the wards and I stayed inside.
She cackled. “You’re the idiot who never suspected a tattoo had anything to do with your diminished abilities.”
Ouch. “He’s the idiot who lost his hand.”
“Douglas, show Calliope your hands.”
He stepped forward, pushed up his jacket and shirt sleeves, and turned the undersides of his forearms to face forward. The bones in his hands glowed dark blue, and one by one his fingernails elongated into pointed claws. He seemed mesmerized by his shiny new weaponry. “You did me a favor by allowing me to justify the expense of an upgrade.”
“Dad?”
Doug peeled his gaze off his hands and glanced past my shoulder to Thatcher. Spreading his arms and fingers wide, Doug asked, “Pretty cool, hey, son?”
“Put those away, Douglas. You’re scaring your children,” his mother commanded.
The speed with which he obeyed his mother was embarrassing. So much of our marriage was beginning to make sense.
“Meribah,” I said, my wand inching its way into my right hand, “you have no claim to my sons. They come and go between this house and their father’s, and if you want to see them, you should reconsider doing anything that would cause me to place restrictions on those visits.” I could sense people moving closer to my back. A quick check to either side showed both sons had stepped up beside me. “That said, I will also honor their wishes. Last we spoke, Harper and Thatcher wished to continue living with me and attending school on this island.”
The forward doors to the middle vehicle opened. A woman emerged from around the front, and a man stuck one leg out the passenger side while turning to face the back seat.
Meribah smirked. “You might change your mind when you see the special guests we’ve brought.”
The wards crackled and grew brighter. Man in Black Number Three opened the back door of the SUV, reached in with both arms, and tugged. When he stepped away, two males of shorter than average height, with bindings around their wrists and bags over their heads stood next to the vehicle.
“Bring them closer, Josiah,” Meribah said.
Josiah Flechette. Meribah’s brother. As soon as he’d taken two steps closer to where the wards held strong, I recognised the man’s face in the ambient light. And when the woman driver closed the car doors and took her place to the other side of the bound figures, her name registered in my brain—Garnet Flechette. These were Sallie’s parents.
“I will allow these two guests to remain on the island and continue the work they came here to do,” Meribah said, “if you release one of your sons into my custody. Mine, not Douglas’s.”
“Absolutely not. I have no idea who or what you’ve got under those bags, but my sons are not up for sale, barter, or trade.”
Meribah shrugged and lifted her right arm as though waving off a pestering bug. A blue glow, similar to the glow in the bones of Doug’s hands, only more concentrated, shot down her index finger and continued, revealing a long, thin blade with a pointed tip. She raised her arm above her head, touched the edge of the ward with the tip of the blade, and sliced a hole through the magic-charged air.
The woman accompanying her, who had yet to speak, grabbed one edge of the slit and held it to the side, allowing Meribah to step through and place one booted foot and then the other onto my land.
I sucked in my breath, expecting all hell to break loose, just like it would in the movies, with explosions and lasers and sound effects.
Silence.
“There are old wards here, wards that know my blood.” Meribah gave me her cold, brutal smile and a one-shouldered shrug. “They don’t like me, but they know me.” Reaching behind her, she held hands with the woman I didn’t recognize and pulled her through the opening.
With that, the wards shattered, falling like brittle glass curtains ringing a massive stage.
Josiah and Garnet each placed one hand at the back of the necks of their captives and pushed them forward. Garnet took the rope attached to the wrist bindings and handed it to Doug’s mother.
I sucked in a breath, certain I was about to drown. Saltwater filled my lungs, and overwhelming panic blacked out my ability to see a
