The tourmaline hues under both girls’ cheeks sped to the rosy side of the spectrum.
It was my turn to steer the conversation in the direction that would ensure their help.
“Primevère, Vadim. My sons, Harper and Thatcher, have been taken by their father, Douglas Flechette. I was married to Doug for fifteen years.” I took a cooling sip of lemonade. “Four days ago, Meribah attempted to trade these two young men, Hyslop and Peasgood Pearmain,” I pointed to the hidden folk, “for my sons. My ex-mother-in-law is extremely interested in acquiring Harper and Thatcher, now that their magic has begun to manifest.” I explained the rest of the details as succinctly as I could. “Our plan is to draw Doug and whoever else is involved in my sons’ kidnapping here, to this orchard.”
“Where do we fit into this plan?” asked Primèvere.
Wes stepped closer and introduced himself. “We would like you to visit with Meribah and accept her help recovering your daughters. When you end up here, there will be many more of us than them.”
We hoped.
Vadim and Primevère headed for the portal. Kaz accompanied them and would provide each with a portal key. The Fae’s dozen guards were tasked with seeing to Néne and Sil’s safety and assisting the rest of us with what I was calling battle prep. We managed to gather everyone in the sitting room.
“There are two places on the property where we could hold an advantage,” Wes said. “The burial mounds because of their proximity to the portal. And the underland. Let’s start with where we are and acquaint our guests with the lay of this land.”
He had taped together lengths of butcher paper and placed them on the floor in the sitting room. The hooked rugs were rolled and stored against a wall. He waved the end of his stick at the hand-drawn map and talked us through the Pearmains’ extensive property.
I fidgeted, made antsy by my growing anticipation for this to be over and to have the boys safely home and unharmed. Vadim and Primèvere’s easy acceptance of our proposal rang true and gave me faith that Fae could love their offspring as much as any other Magical.
And not simply see them as ammunition or bargaining chips. I returned my attention to Wes.
“The farmhouse sits fairly close to the road, but it’s blocked from sight due to the embankment and the invasive plants that have been allowed to flourish. I was questioning Cliff’s choice in an otherwise well-maintained orchard, but I’m beginning to see the wisdom in his negligence. This is the only section of the property that’s been left to its own devices, creating a dense, natural barrier. One not easily passed by humans. And this area follows the L-shaped curve in the road. To this side of the property are the outbuildings that house equipment and livestock—though there are no animals at present. Here we also have the younger fruit trees, including that section dedicated to the tall spindle method I believe Clifford began to experiment with at Hyslop and Peasgood’s urging.”
They nodded.
Wes swept the stick to the right. “Over here are the older trees. The farther from the house, the older they are. In the middle here, at the far end of the property, farmland abuts protected forest. It’s in this central section,” he paused, the tip of the stick circling, “where Clifford found two burial mounds constructed by First Nations people. He and others built the three mounds that more resemble those found in the British Isles and are therefore more familiar in structure to the Fae.” He moved the stick again. “And here is the underland.”
I had no idea what an underland was, but the word sent a ripple through the Fae and Hyslop and Peasgood. I was getting comfortable with being the most clueless Magical in the room and asked the obvious question. “Can you explain what the underland is?”
“The underland is different things to different people—be they humans, Magicals, or other creatures,” he began, placing his stick on the floor and turning to face me. He used his hands to help me understand. “Picture a tunnel-like structure, the purpose of which is to hold…emotions, concepts, even physical constructs, all related to what we fear or wish to hide. Or wish had remained hidden in the first place. These have the potential to become places of great power. The power to destroy bodies as well as minds. And the power to transform.”
“And there is an underland here?”
“There is. It looks like a small grape arbor from the outside. Quite innocuous and unimposing, due to the brilliance of the hidden folk who thought to create a tunnel that lies both below and aboveground. The underland is simultaneously an earthen crypt and crucible, minus the fire.”
“How will this help us get Harper and Thatcher back?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Chapter 22
We had bodies. The bodies had magic and weapons and were willing to insert themselves into whatever was coming.
We had the underland, burial mounds, tunnels under apple trees, and at least one portal.
And no plan. No weapons. My shoulders sagged with the weight of my frustration. Here we were, attempting to manipulate Meribah into showing herself, when she had been moving me—and her sons, I could give them that much—like game pieces for as long as I had known her.
“If we got hold of Meribah and whoever comes with her—like, physically holding them—can we portal them someplace off planet?” I asked, in a moment of wishful thinking.
That got
