Rose and L’Runa patted my back. Belle hustled them aside. “Maybe it’s time for you and your former mother-in-law to sit down and have a nice cup of tea,” she said. “I make a special blend that could contribute to her experiencing a rather extreme attitude adjustment.”
The look of innocence on her face would work—on those who didn’t know her.
Her grin turned serious. “With the right plant material, I can do almost anything. Which is my way of saying, how can I help? The afternoon is marching on, and it’s time to hunker down and talk strategy. L’Runa, you’re one of our blood experts. Calli can read soil like nobody’s business. What can she do to defend herself?”
“Do you have your wand?” L’Runa asked. When I nodded, she continued. “What about portal stones?”
“No stones.”
“Belle, remind the druids we should all have a stone.”
“Duly noted.” Belle pulled a notepad and pen from her apron.
“As much as possible, I avoid portal travel.” L’Runa—tall, strong L’Runa—shuddered. “Makes me so damn nauseous.”
“Me too,” I said.
Belle raised one finger. “I have remedies for Portal Induced Nausea, P. I. N. When this is over, stop by my shop, both of you.”
The hands of the kitchen clock moved into place with a faint buzz. Four o’clock. I checked my phone, even though it hadn’t vibrated or rung since I’d hung up with Clyde. No messages or texts.
Voices calling from outside brought us to the back door. Wes and the Fae were carrying an array of tools. Hyslop and Peasgood strode to the foot of the steps, grinned at Nène and Sil, and lifted their arms. In their hands were heavy-duty wire cutters and a pair of those claw-like scissors used to cut shapes out of pieces of metal.
My gaze went from their hopeful, dirt-smeared faces to the tools.
We were so fucked. Though the LaFleur’s guards, anticipating Meribah’s armaments, had brought their swordbreakers, making us a little less fucked. I hoped.
“Sorry that took so long,” said Wes. “We used the opportunity to oil and sharpen every cutting surface. Let’s eat and get this operation set up.”
The kitchen witches and Fae sisters had made platters and platters of sandwiches, pitchers of iced tea, and a carafe of hot coffee.
I poured a glass of the tea and sipped while perusing the selection of sandwich fillings. Sil pointed to a large oval platter. “Those are fresh goat cheese,” she said, “and whatever herbal magic Belle used to enhance the dressing.”
“Thank you for the recommendation.” I plated the two halves of my second sandwich of the day and avoided making eye contact, hoping to send the message I wanted to be alone. I left the porch, passing the big leaf maple on my way to the wizened fruit trees beyond.
No one followed me.
I kept going, down the path I had first walked with Tanner, the path that took us past a cluster of Ashmead’s Kernel apple trees in our search for clues about the dead and the missing.
Now, it was my sons, and Cliff and Abi, who were among the missing. Tanner was in France on a rescue mission for the Pearmains and for his wolf. And once again, the family I had married in to was proving themselves to be devious and manipulative and…
Eating and walking while my eyes filled with tears wasn’t going well. I’d left my boots in my car, and my barnacle-cut arches kept landing on sharp-edged rocks. I choked down what I could of the sandwich and put one foot in front of the other.
If my friends could rally around me, I could put up with a little physical discomfort.
Kaz’s silhouette came closer as he walked the path from the older trees.
“Calli,” he said, stopping a good ten feet away.
I waved and held out the plate with the untouched half of my sandwich. “Hungry?”
“Yes, thank you.” His smile lines softened when he looked at me. “You look worried. Care to walk with me to the house and fill me in?”
I probably over-explained all the voices in my head and what had transpired over the past couple of hours, and I was sure I talked too fast. By the time the farmhouse came into view, lunch had been cleared away. The wide steps and faded rocking chairs were covered with resting bodies and farm tools consigned to weapons duty.
Wes interrupted what he was saying to wave at Kaz and me. “Nène and Sil received word from their parents that we should expect them to arrive here in the hour before dusk, which at this time of the year is…” He made a mental calculation. “Eight-forty-five, giving us just under two hours to digest, rest, and recharge. Druids, to the woods. Witches, do what best serves your powers. Fae and hidden folk, same goes for you. I expect us to be alert and ready to move—with weapons and whatever else you deem necessary to be at your best—an hour before the Fae are expected. Any questions?”
“Have you decided where we’re going from here?” asked the imposing Fae I’d begun to regard as their de facto leader.
“To the burial mounds.”
Chapter 23
My gauntlets composed the entirety of my battle dress. Oh, and the cargo pants with dirt ground into the knees and the sleeveless shirt, once pink-and-white-striped, now forever stained. I reached into my front pocket and patted Christoph’s three feathers. In a back pocket I found a hair elastic then grabbed sticky strands of bothersome hair away from my face and pulled it all into a high ponytail.
We had each followed Wes’s instructions to the extent we could. I had chosen to stick close to the farmhouse, lingering in Abigail’s flower gardens where bees and sweet scents lulled me into something resembling a nap.
Now, we walked, and when the burial mounds came into view, my breath caught in my chest. With the angle of the
