I wiggled backward until I was fully out of the tree and could sit. A clump of sticky spider web, stretching from inside the trunk to the back of my head, set my skin to crawling. Tanner reached for my ponytail, removed the stringy mess, and wiped his fingers on the grass.
Pressing both hands to the ground, I closed my eyes and surfed for input. Every point of body-to-earth contact buzzed softly. “Bees. Happy humming. Like they’re getting ready for sleep at the end of a long work day.”
I lifted my palms, blinking at the transition and the oddness of not actually seeing any bees.
“Happy humming?” Tanner stared, his voice echoing the skepticism telegraphed by his posture.
“Yes.” I nodded hard, once, certain of what I’d felt, though uncertain of the why. “When I explored the area near the salt circle,” I continued, eager now to share because honestly, when was the last time I’d talked about my magic with anybody, “I felt nothing, like the ground had been…vacated. Here, it’s like the tree and the ground are happy, content. The feedback I get is these trees, this entire section of the orchard, is being cared for. Nourished.”
I was practically bouncing in place.
“So we have a section of the property that feels dead and a section that feels alive.”
“Very alive,” I agreed. “But I wouldn’t say dead, more like asleep.”
“Which could be a side effect of the catatonia spell.” He’d put it together before I did, but I was seconds away from the same conclusion. He continued, “I’m betting you’ll fight me on going into that hole, but would you agree to wait until the other agents are here? Please?”
I could give him that much, but joy, and one small success, made me ambitious. “In the meantime, I’d like to look more carefully at every other tree in the area.”
Tanner stood and offered his hand. “Agreed.”
He snapped a photo and noted the tree’s approximate location. I put my hands on the trunks of others nearby. We found two more with hollowed cores, both with wood-framed entrances to tunnels of similar depths. And both trees matched the photographs sent anonymously.
“Tanner, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
We had meandered far out of sight and sound of the farmhouse and outbuildings. The apple trees in this section were gnarled to the point of appearing exhausted, unable to bear the weight of fruit-laden branches. None were completely dead, and most had at least a few branches—shiny green and optimistic—reaching straight to the sky from limbs propped by rotting crutches or stacks of large stones.
“These don’t look so healthy,” he offered.
“Or maybe they’re just very old. And tired.”
The terrain was rockier, and the angle of the afternoon sun created more shadows and shade. The bee-like humming I heard at the first tree had morphed into a steady drone of sound.
“A heartbeat,” I whispered. “A very slow heartbeat.” A very slow, melancholic heartbeat.
Tanner slid his thumb down my forearm and took hold of my wrist. “Calliope, stop. What did you just say?”
I didn’t turn to look at him, but I did stop, softening my knees and spreading my fingers, palms down. He released his grip. I blurred my gaze, loosened my joints until my body was a more fluid conduit of information and followed the beat. The ground gave a series of slow, rolling undulations and settled. I held my breath.
This was it; this was what I had been waiting for. The earth was talking to me again, and the beat was faint but present.
“Did you feel that?” I turned to face Tanner.
Gold sparks flickered at the tips of his hair, along the exposed skin of his arms, and around his eyes. “Yes.”
“It’s like this part of the orchard is alive, not just the trees and the bees but…everything.” Scanning my memories, I could find nothing that mirrored this moment. At least nothing I could verbalize. But I’d felt this before, and that achy, uninhabited place in my heart leapt. Whether in hope or recognition, I wasn’t sure.
More faint reverberations made their way from the ground into my legs. My joints loosened in anticipation of another undulation, another clue, another connection. Instead, the beats thundered closer to where we stood.
“Those’re my agents,” Tanner said. “Be right back.”
I floundered then sank to the ground. When I’d seen the salt circle and pressed my hands to the nearby dirt, I was certain the lack of sensation meant my magic was weaker than ever. Now, I was ready to reverse that opinion. Something was alive under this very ground, and its life-beat had reached up and made a connection to mine. I stroked the crushed grass, ran my hands over desiccated clumps of moss, murmuring to myself and to whatever might be listening.
“I’ll protect you,” I whispered, giving the ground another pat before standing, wobbly-kneed and covered in hitchhiking grass seeds, at the sound of approaching footfalls.
Tanner squeezed my elbow and let go. “Calli, this is Wessel Foxwhelp and Kazimir Wickson. Wes, Kaz—Calliope Jones. She’s with the island’s ag commission.”
The men had firm grips and clear eyes. Wes’s brilliant red hair flopped in tight curls around his ears and across his forehead. Kaz stood shorter than his two coworkers, with a wrestler’s build and an unstoppable grin.
“How’re Clifford and Abigail?” I asked.
“Resting,” said Wes. “We got them into their beds. River and Rose are here too.”
Both Tanner’s eyebrows lifted. “Rose tagged along?”
Kaz crossed his bared his forearms over his broad chest and shrugged. “River wanted her for medical support. We agreed it was best to encase the Pearmains in a slow-release sleeping spell, given their age. Those two’ll stay with them until they’re awake and settled. River’s promised to let us know if they say anything.”
“Thanks,” Tanner said, before turning to me. “Ready to show these two what we found?”
At my nod, we retraced our steps to the first tree.
“Kaz, how are you with tight spaces?” I asked, comparing his height and girth to mine.
He grinned, coppery flashes igniting
