Magic RedeemedA Calliope Jones novel
Coralie Moss
Copyright © 2019 by Coralie Moss
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, objects, and incidents herein are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual living things, events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Published internationally by Pink Moon Books, British Columbia, Canada.
ISBN 978-1-989446-01-0
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 1
When my ex-husband proposed we get matching tattoos, I thought Doug’s motivation was to celebrate the birth of our second son and recommit to our life together as partners and parents.
The tattoo—a rune—was imbued by a Spellbinder in my ex-mother-in-law’s employ. When the motif was inked into my skin the development of my magic halted. Fifteen years later, I was made aware of the tattoo’s true function when the ink began to burn its way deeper into my flesh.
A druid I’d recently met knew how to remove the rune without taking off more than layer or two of skin. He performed the procedure using a magic-infused chant and I had to scream into a pillow for lack of anesthetic.
I never wanted to go through that kind of pain again yet here I was, on a sunny day in the middle of September, face-down on a padded chair at a tattoo parlor. For strongly sentimental reasons, I was having bear paws inked at the base of my neck, to either side of my spine.
“Ready?” My friend, River settled onto the rolling stool and snapped on a pair of non-latex gloves.
“Ready,” I said, giving him a relaxed thumbs up. A local plant witch urged me to use a heavy hand with her proprietary blend of pain-relieving herbs. The drops, which tasted like crushed grass, were working wonders on my physical and emotional states.
River was one of a quartet of druids who were fast becoming fixtures in my life. When I found out he was a tattoo artist, I asked him to create a unique design that would honor my Aunt Noémi. She raised me from age six on and died suddenly two weeks ago.
The stories I had told myself about her were based on a series of profound misconceptions. The truth came to light in early August. Once the bear paws were on my body, I planned to find out more about Noémi, my mother, Genevieve, and my father, Benôit.
“I have to shave your upper back, Calli.”
The serious edge to River’s voice made me laugh. “Is that you telling me politely I have a hairy back?” I asked.
“No, no, not at all,” he said. “You’ve got peach fuzz. I just didn’t want you to be surprised at the sensation.”
“So far, everything about this experience rates better than my first.” I shivered as a droplet of cool water slid underneath my armpit. River patted my skin dry, sprayed another liquid across my neck and upper back, and pressed on the transfer.
“Stay still.” His fingers smoothed over the paper. He peeled it away. “Perfect. Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I jumped when he started the motor that powered his set up, and again when the needle first bit into my skin.
“Steady, Calli. The first few minutes are the hardest.” River set up a steady rhythm of applying a gentle pressure with both hands, lowering the needle, then drawing a line. I wanted to say it was soothing, but the constant drone of the motor set my teeth a bit on edge.
“I’m creating the outline first,” he said. “Then I’ll fill in the solid areas.”
“How long did you say this was going to take?”
He chuckled. “As long as it needs, Ms. Jones.”
I tuned out the noise and checked my phone. I had taken a leave of absence from the local agricultural commission’s office and my former assistant texted me frequently. Otter or cat gifs meant Kerry was having a good day. Terse messages describing my temporary replacement’s antics meant she missed me. Today was a kitten gif day. I had to admit I missed Kerry, the steadying presence of a forty-hour work week, and the regular contact with the farmers and orchardists on the island.
Upheaval had been the theme of my life since late-July. Once my sons and my niece, Sallie were settled into the routine of school and work, I planned to immerse myself in magical studies. There was also the task of integrating my paternal grandfather, Christoph into our lives. Harper, age eighteen and Thatcher, sixteen-and-a-half, had been slow to come into their magic—the tattoo that stifled my magic in turn dampened theirs. When Harper’s magic began to emerge, the speed of the change was physically and emotionally wrenching.
“What’s the latest on Harper?” River asked.
“You reading my mind again?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Seriously?”
He kept incising lines onto my skin and didn’t answer.
“You know, you druids really have a lock on this whole enigmatic thing,” I teased, keeping my body relaxed. “How’re things going with Airlie?” Airlie Redflesh was another local witch I’d met through the Elements of Magic courses.
“She and I have a date scheduled for Friday night.”
“Ooh, love is in the air.”
“Calliope, this is our first date.”
“Excited?”
“Terrified,” he said, lifting both hands off my back and leaning away. “She’s a water witch.”
“But otter’s one of your forms,” I pointed out, I had to resist the urge to push away from the chair and look over my shoulder. “It’s the one you shift in and out of the most. Airlie’s into water and you are too but in a different way…ouch…isn’t that like a perfect match?”
“That’s what terrifies me.” River again settled into his task. I breathed through the constant grating buzz of his machine and focused on
