The stool squeaked and the cushion gave a funny sigh as River’s weight settled. “Okay, where were we?” he asked.
“You were giving me the background on Tanner and Jessamyne.”
The druid’s hmm competed with the buzzing of the machine. “My understanding is Jessamyne wanted the status of being her mother’s daughter and the arcane knowledge that came with being a Keeper. She made promises left and right regarding her fidelity—to Iduun, to the Keepers, and to Tanner—and she failed on all of them. She’s got the biggest case of wanderlust I’ve ever come across.”
I let River’s assessment sink in. Tanner had yet to explain exactly how long his association with Jessamyne had gone on, and when he had ended their intimate relationship. “Is that Wanderlust the yoga festival, Wanderlust with a capital W, or wanderlust with a small W?”
“That is wanderlust in all caps, Calli. And it’s a very real condition, afflicting those who are constitutionally challenged to put down roots.”
“From what I’ve seen of her,” I said, muttering my opinion into the towel covering the face rest, “she could be wanderlust’s poster child.” And if the Apple Witch ever decided the cure was to settle on my island, she had another think coming. I knew the best root-ball specialists in all of Canada and they owed me a job.
River stopped again and laughed at my comments. “I would give a decade of my life to sit in on their negotiations. Far as I can put together, Idunn was not happy with either Ni’eve or Jessamyne.”
I met Idunn in early August and I continued to rehash that encounter. The Norse Goddess intimated she had much to say to the mother-daughter duo charged with protecting the lineage of the trees that produced her magical apples.
The words she saved for Tanner and me were the ones I remembered. According to Idunn—and her beloved apple seeds’ enthusiastic awakening—Tanner and I might have a future. If he could get his butt out of France and back to British Columbia.
“And we’re done,” said River, quieting his machine. I’d been reviewing my otherworldly and unforgettable encounter with the Norse Goddess while he finished. He blotted the design and held out a wide, oval hand mirror. “Have a look.”
I stood, clutched my T-shirt to the front of my chest, and shook out my legs. I turned my back to the big mirror running the full length of the wall and checked River’s work.
Even though I knew Aunt Noémi was dead, and her animal familiar along with her, I wasn’t prepared for seeing the likeness of Bear’s paw prints. River had positioned them precisely where I had often felt the creature’s presence as they guarded and guided me.
My sinuses tingled, warning me tears were on their way. I returned the mirror before my shaking hand dropped it and sat on the stool. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “And it’s perfect.”
River’s smile was genuine and pleased. “Let me get you cleaned and bandaged. Then you can head out.”
“Hey, Aunt Calliope!” My almost nineteen-year-old niece, Sallie waved from across the street. She waited for a break in the traffic before dashing across the road to where I was unlocking my car. “Can I see it?”
“River says I have to keep my skin covered for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Okay.” She gave a half-hearted pout and slipped her arms around my waist. “I’m trying to be out in public more. But it’s really hard.” Sallie had been homeschooled since she was twelve or thirteen. Technically, she had all the needed credits to graduate high school. But neither her parents nor her tutors had filed the paperwork required by the province. She was in limbo until we got it sorted. Though now that public schools were in session and offices were fully staffed, I expected Sallie would have her diploma soon. In the meantime, she had taken Harper’s Monday through Friday shifts at Brooks Family Farm and helped out with the Tuesday and Saturday Farmer’s Markets.
We stood in the parking lot, close to my car, with her arms around my waist and my arms circling her shoulders. I hadn’t known this reserved young woman all that well prior to the summer’s events. Her family, the Flechettes, frowned on rubbing elbows with the Joneses. Sallie was revealing herself to me—to all of us—slowly while processing her overwhelming and at times incapacitating feelings of shame.
Her parents, Josiah and Garnet, were in jail, probably for the rest of their lives, for murdering at least two hidden folk. The hidden folk on Salt Spring Island and throughout the Pacific Northwest tended to the apple orchards, connecting them to Iduun as well as the Keepers.
The Flechettes were Fae. Josiah and Garnet had collared Sallie starting when she was twelve using spelled ribbons and jewelry to hide her unusual features and mute her magic. She was just now coming to grips with who she was, what her nascent magical skills might be, and where she belonged. As far as I was concerned, my niece could call my old A-frame house home for as long as she needed.
With his brother away, Thatcher was thrilled to have his cousin living under the same roof.
“Are you ready for this weekend?” I asked, happy to see her off the property and out in public. The coming Friday marked the start of the first Magical mentoring weekend of the academic year. Sallie and Thatcher planned to go. Harper and Leilani would attend if they got back from the Northwest Territories in time.
“Yeah? No? Maybe?” she said, staring out at the street. The six blocks to either side of the main thoroughfare, though bustling, were quieter than during the summer rush. I doubted Sallie saw any of it. “I wish I could bring Jasper.”
Jasper was the Maine Coon cat on extended loan from yet another witch in my expanding circle of Magicals. Jasper helped mitigate the effects
