Chapter 11
I plucked a mish-mash of porcelain cups and saucers from one of my harder-to-reach kitchen cupboards and set them on the island, along with a stack of sticky notes and a Sharpie.
“Here’s what I need,” I said to the family and guests answering my call to assemble.
As I spoke, I scribbled a name on a note, tore it off, and affixed it to one of the objects in front of me. I ran out of names before I ran out of cracked and stained saucers.
“And Harper, Leilani, are you two there?” I had asked them to join our family meeting via phone.
“We’re here,” said Leilani.
“I’m here too,” said James.
“Great. I’ll get started.” I added their names to three pieces of paper, took in a big breath, let it out, and began my pep talk. “We’ve gone from being a family of three to an extended…family’s not quite the right word.” I counted and looked up. “There are about two dozen people I now feel the need to keep tabs on. I don’t know much about many of them, or you,” I said, pointing the capped end of the Sharpie at Christoph, “and some of these Magicals I’d rather not have in my inner circle.”
I placed Jessamyne’s saucer to the left and added the six adult Flechettes.
Sallie Flechette’s dainty cup stayed in the cluster in front. I made sure she saw me nestle her closer to me and my boys.
“I need everyone’s help and input on creating the strongest magical protections we can provide. There are three eighteen-year-olds in this mix, Thatch is sixteen-and-a-half, and all of them are at the bare beginnings of finding their magic. I don’t think any of them yet know how to use their magic when they’re in trouble.”
“I’m eighteen-and-a-half,” Lei-li piped in. I smiled. She was soft-spoken by nature, and hearing her use her voice more and more would only help her—and all of us—as we went forward.
“Duly noted, Lei-li.” I kept going. “We have at least four adult Fae on the loose. We know Meribah is powerful, Adelaide too. My ex-husband is now weaponized. I have no idea what his twin brother’s specialty might be, and they made it clear their intention is to bring one, if not both, of my sons into their…what’s a group of Fae called? A coterie?”
“That might be vampires, Mom,” said Thatcher. I could only open my eyes wide and pretend to shudder. I never, ever needed to meet a vampire.
“The term is court,” said James. “Based on her aggressive tactics the other night, I would place Meribah in the Unseelie Court. She has every appearance of being a ringleader. I would not, however, dismiss the idea she is working under the aegis of a higher authority. The Fae courts spend an inordinate amount of time trying to one-up each other.”
Oh boy. “Thank you, James.
“Even knowing that, the old Calliope would have insisted she could do it all by putting this house and everyone in it on lockdown until the Flechettes forgot about us. Between what my garden produces and grocery delivery and online learning, my boys and I could hold out here for a very long time. Or…”
I had no idea what or looked like, but it probably wasn’t pretty. I waved that idea away.
“However.” I eyed every person gathered around the kitchen island as I spoke. “The new Calliope has some catching up to do. I want to be able to leave this property for trainings and workshops. I need to know that Harper, Thatcher, Sallie, and anyone else living here is as safe as they can be without feeling like their lives are on hold. I know what it’s like to live that way, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” Tapping my fingers against the countertop, I let that confession sink in.
“Granddaughter, may I speak?” Christoph asked.
“Please. Yes.”
“I’ve not spent much time with little ones. In my position amongst the Magicals in the north, I was given the responsibility of mentoring teenagers and those who bloom later, even into their early twenties. Now that our family is reunited, there is nothing, nothing, that would please me more than to stay here and guide my great-grandsons into their unique magics.”
Oh, Goddess, I was going to need to build an addition to the house, complete with an aerie.
“I want to say yes, Christoph, but one thing concerns me.” I pointed to the arches of his richly feathered wings rising behind each shoulder. “Your wings. You can’t go out in public, even here on Salt Spring Island. I’ve seen people with wings cavorting around downtown. They ain’t real wings. Your wings…” I’d taken the cup with his name on it and turned it over and over in my hands. “Your wings exude magic.”
Wes coughed. “Christoph?”
My grandfather worried at the rings on his thumbs and cleared his throat. “I can force my wing feathers to molt, everything but the coverts. With Wes’s help and a bit of ingenuity, we can manufacture a flexible, removable garment that will hold the wing bones to my arms, from the humerus,” he pointed to his upper arm, “all the way down to the metacarpals and phalanges.” He wiggled his fingers. “It’ll mean I have to wear long-sleeved shirts or sweatshirts all the time, maybe gloves, but that’s manageable.” He chuckled. “The change takes my ability to fly out of the equation, but I have other magic I can tap into. The boys’ll just have to help me practice. I haven’t molted in years. It’ll be fun.”
Mischief lit up
