Tapis, tapis rouge
Pomme de reinette et pomme d’api
Tapis, tapis gris
By the fourth round, we were clapping hands and bouncing along. At a shared yet wordless signal, we stopped on a sustained “gris,” our fluttering hands rising in unison toward the earthen ceiling like so many little birds or flower petals caught up on a windy day.
The notes had nothing to echo against. Silence filled the space.
“Thank you,” Peasgood whispered. “Hyslop and I had hoped we could send Bellflower and Sweetbough off with a song.”
Once she released the dead, Maritza directed the three witches, me included, in a post-conjuring clean up. She charged Tanner, River, and the four other men with seeing the bodies were re-interred. Before removing them from the circle, they wrapped the reunited pieces of Sweetbough and Bellflower with the shroud made from the pieces of cloth that had cloaked Maritza’s true form when she first walked up to the farmhouse.
Every time we witches left the circle, we used the North door, and every time we re-entered, we stepped through the East. Maritza’s final act was to sweep her arms in a widdershins circle, over and over, until she had gathered her magic-charged particles. Once they reformed into the animated cone, she guided the cone into a pouch pulled from her bottomless purse and tugged the cords tight.
We exited the burial mound, with Kazimir stepping out last. He drew the sod-covered door toward him using magical means, pinched a handful of herbs from the pouch at his waist, and sprinkled the flakes at the threshold. Moving from the lower right up and over and ending at the lower left, he erased all signs of the door.
“What do we do now?” I asked, exhaustion flooding my legs. I tried to grab some energy from the ground, but we were still within the confines of the druids’ magical dome and my quick search again came up empty.
“I must return to my brother’s home,” said Maritza. “There is much to do.” She walked away, words meant for me floating over her shoulder. “I shall see you soon, Calliope Jones. In the meantime, locate your grimoire.” She lifted a bare arm and disappeared.
“How did she do that?” I asked.
“That’s the border between the orchard and where the magic roots into the ground to hold this place hidden,” said Kaz. “Join hands and follow me.”
We did. The same sensation of entering a different biosphere, a less temperate zone, passed across my skin. We were met by a sky littered with stars and cell phones trilling and beeping with messages. Peasgood and Hyslop were offered the cart. They declined, choosing instead to lead the return to the farmhouse.
I hung back to retie my boots. We’d raised the dead. The dead had presented us with testimony that pointed toward one man and three women, and the only candidates in my mind were Josiah, Garnet, Adelaide, and Meribah. Bellflower and Sweetbough hadn’t given us a last name, but I had been married to a Flechette and I knew flechettes were small, arrow-like darts. I had to scrub my face to erase the image of the Fae coming at the hidden folk, their glamour dropped and their nails and fingers extended into the deadly blades they had drawn at my house.
I raised my forearm to my nose and sniffed. My skin held traces of the ocean. I tested a patch with my tongue. Salt. Maybe my sweat was saltier than most. Or maybe the in-between was a place I could access at will. I smoothed the fine hairs on my arm. More pressing matters required my attention first.
“Tanner, River, Rose,” I said. “Everybody. What are we going to do about finding Abi and Cliff?” The faces turned toward me revealed I wasn’t the only one wavering at the edge of being too tired to move.
“Let’s go back to the farmhouse,” said River. “If by some extraordinary chance Abigail and Clifford have been returned, we celebrate. If not, we check in with Christoph and James and the others. We eat. We make a plan. Those who need sleep can sleep. And we keep going until we have an answer.”
The windows running along the backside of the farmhouse were dark. As the Pearmains’ grandsons approached, lights came on at the corners of the overhanging roof. The rocking chairs were empty.
We trudged up the porch steps in silence, the first person inside the house flicked the switch to the kitchen, and the rest of us fanned out to turn on lights in every room, on both floors. We broke into teams of two without discussion to look under beds, rummage through the root cellar, and check the attic. When we reconvened in the kitchen, emptyhanded and lacking clues, Kaz and Belle fired up flashlights and volunteered to check the outbuildings. The others elected to stay in the house and fix food while Tanner and I went out the front door to check the cars and the driveway.
Maritza’s bright pink Volkswagen was gone.
Ambient light from the nighttime sky created navy blue shadows. I loved the hours after dusk and walked through the dark without fear. This night, a crawling sensation kept the fine hairs on the back of my arms and neck alert.
Tanner’s silhouette glowed in the light emanating from deep inside the house. He lifted his gaze skyward, throat and shoulders outlined in soft yellow, the back of his head and body limned with chalky blue-black. He searched the sky then the darkened woods to either side of the rutted driveway and cleared his throat.
“When I went after Jessamyne last night, I thought I would find her here—or nearby—and there would be an exchange, that she would entrust me with Cliff and Abi, or leave me with a guarantee they were safe.” He shifted, searched his bared forearms, with their uniform patches of reddened skin, and flexed his fingers. Long, loose hair and shadows masked his facial features. “When I ended up at the tree and felt
