Kaz, Wes, and Tanner kept up a conversation, punctuated by forks and knives butting against stoneware plates. I led Rowan to Harper’s door, gripped the handle tight, and turned it slowly. Matching shades were drawn on the windows. Thatcher, garbed like the other males in the Jones’ house uniform of sweats and a T-shirt, was sprawled belly-down across the mattress he’d dragged in from his bedroom. The two bodies on Harper’s bed were covered by a sheet. I opened the door further, intending to count three more bodies and finding Sallie spooned into Leilani’s front, with no sign of Harper. I pulled the door closed and slowly released my grip on the handle.
“Harper’s not in there.” I went to the room diagonally across the hall. The bathroom was empty. Both the sink and bathtub were dry.
“He’s not in the other bedroom,” Rowan said, joining me in the doorway. “Did you hear anyone leave this morning?”
I shook my head as the all-too-familiar stone of dread dropped into my belly.
She jerked her head toward the stairs. “Let’s go find him.”
Rising fear grabbed at my collarbones and hauled me to the first floor. I had to keep my hand on the railing and concentrate on my knees not buckling. “Harper’s not upstairs. Have any of you seen him?” I asked. I couldn’t swallow. “Or Christoph?”
“I think your grandfather’s on the back porch,” said Kaz, pushing his chair away to stand. “I noticed him settling there while Wes and I were in the woods. I’ll check out front.”
I stumbled around the table and tugged on the slider door. Warm August air caressed my face. The bird-man was perched atop the corner post of the railing, legs crossed in lotus, spine straight, feathers ruffling in the morning’s breeze. His eyes were closed.
“Calliope,” he said, his voice a strong whisper that mingled with the other sounds rising from the forest behind my house.
“Have you seen Harper this morning? He’s not in the house.”
Christoph pointed toward the fir we’d come to refer as the Bat Tree. “He’s up there. Sleeping.”
The tight knots of maternal worry loosened, and I ducked my head inside the house. “He’s here,” I said, pointing blindly behind me. “In the tree.”
Wes waved. Tanner started to clear the table. Needing space, I shoved the outdoor table aside and stood at Christoph’s side. Stroking his feathers soothed me as I searched the branches for Harper.
“You did that the first time I met you,” Christoph said. “I don’t think you were much older than one, one-and-a-half, and you tried to hide under my wings.”
“I have no memory of wings or feathers.” At that moment, I wanted desperately to give in to childhood’s longing and call him Grandpa.
“What weighs at your heart, my Calliope?”
“I’m unprepared for this thing I’m in the middle of. My sons, my magic, my ex-husband, and all the lies. All the family stuff I didn’t know. Makes me wonder what else is out there.” I gripped the railing with both hands. My knuckles turned as pale as the calamus joining each of Christoph’s feathers to the underlying structure of his wings. “Because I know there’s more coming. People might get killed. On my watch. And I feel woefully inadequate in the role of protector and defender. I mean, that comes with being a mother, but this is protect and defend on steroids. With deadly weapons. I’m not trained, and nobody’s handed me the rule book.”
I felt better for my confession, but freeing the words stuck in my chest and letting them splatter like loose marbles all over the porch didn’t grant me an instantaneous boon of knowledge.
“You’ve felt alone for a good deal of your life, yes?”
I nodded. The lump of truth swelling in my throat made it hard to swallow.
“And now, this morning, when you look around you, look around the breakfast table, what do you see?”
The reflection in the glass doors didn’t allow me to see much more than the vague shapes of heads and shoulders moving about the kitchen area. But I got what he meant. “I see friends. Friends and allies who will help me protect my sons, defend my house, and strengthen my magic.”
I wanted to ask the questions pinching my heart, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t feeling strong enough to handle knowing what had provoked my mother to leave Maine in such a hurry and why her parents and Christoph hadn’t been around for us when I was growing up.
“I am here now. Use me. Use my knowledge.” Christoph lifted himself off the railing and landed beside me. He held my upper arms gently, worried eyes the shade of aged pewter searching my face. “Nothing will ever take away the guilt I feel for choosing a life that did not include being close to you, but when Kazimir sent out the call for a gyrfalcon shifter, I knew it was time for me to see my family again. I am here for you and Harper and Thatcher.” He squeezed my arms. “Look at me, my dear.”
I did. I let the tears flow, let the outermost blockages around my heart break off, and hoped all of them would keep going and flowing until they’d passed through me and dissipated into the ground.
“Let me help you. Let me stay here with my great-grandsons. Harper’s going to need the kind of guidance I can give.” He looked over his shoulder, high into the branches of the fir tree where my oldest son rested. “I can help him through his anger and his fears. And you…” He leaned back, assessing me. In that moment, I understood that he did not find me wanting in any way. Another piece of the wall around my heart broke off. I’d erected the damn thing to keep out the relatives who’d abandoned me and my mother. “You,” he continued, “deserve to take this time to study and find out everything you can about who you really are.” Christoph’s eyes glistened. He
