CHAPTER 10
Lunaris’s engine whirred like helicopter blades, a steady whomp, whomp, whomp rattling my teeth. The wraith shook, too, its form flickering like an old television losing signal, its furious screech dying as if we’d changed the channel.
The road, hedgerows, and sprawling rapeseed fields vanished, replaced by a buzzing miasma of magic like a black sky with far too many stars. The teleportation spell sucked us out of Shearwater and spat us out—
Somewhere else, presumably Coill Darragh, but my eyes weren’t on the landscape outside, they were on Kessian.
He clutched his chest, breathing hard and staring down at it. No blood leaked from between his fingers, but I still said, “Are you hurt? Let me see.”
I pried his shaking hands away, but he looked unharmed, his shirt intact. I thoughtlessly pushed it up to examine his chest and found it completely unblemished. His top surgery scars were the only sign he’d ever had an injury there.
In a shaky voice, Kessian said, “Trying to get me out of my clothes at a time like this?”
“I thought it was going to rip your heart out.”
“Assuming I had a heart to begin with?”
“Shut up. This is serious. How do you feel?”
The sweaty look of relief on his face turned inward.
Slowly, his gaze strayed out the window to the world beyond.
On his passenger side, I could make out a road wending between the hills into a village of thatched roofs and smoking chimney stacks, embraced by the arms of the forest around it.
Judging by the stone obelisk on the side of the road, we were just outside Coill Darragh.
If I concentrated, I could almost hear the low thrum of the ward magic walling us out.
Kessian gave his head a shake. “I feel … fine. Honestly, I’m as surprised as you are.”
I absolutely would look that gift horse in the mouth.
I didn’t believe the wraith had touched him without leaving some kind of mark.
I shuffled into the living room in search of my tithe belt and retrieved a few dried yew berries and larkspur leaves.
While not the most adept witch, I’d learned the things I needed to survive.
I pressed the tithes into Kessian’s heart and cast a spell to detect magic, hexes, curses, poisons, anything malicious the wraith might have left.
“Stick out your tongue,” I said.
With a quizzical look, Kessian did. There was nothing there. If the wraith had left anything harmful, runes would have appeared on Kessian’s tongue.
I slumped back in the driver’s seat, less panicked but no less concerned. “Well, you’re not in any imminent danger, but I still think you should see a doctor,” I said.
“We’re here for you, remember? Let’s worry about one thing at a time.”
I let it go for now, earmarked for later interrogation. “I can’t get through the wards.”
“I can.” Kessian waved the wrist that wore the runestone bracelet. “If you give me the keys, I’ll drive Lunaris in, convince them to let you through, and be back before sundown.”
“The wards won’t affect her?”
“She’s a creature of wild magic, isn’t she? Like the forest. But I don’t think the forest is in the habit of hurting animals. Or caravans.”
No one had ever driven Lunaris except me. I hesitated.
“If that’s all right with you and Lunaris,” Kessian amended.
Lunaris rolled down her windows, turned the radio on, and swished her windshield wipers once for yes.
Kessian grinned. “Does that mean she likes me?”
She was definitely driving at a point I was keen to ignore.
I waited on the roadside for an hour, trying to enjoy the fresh air rather than fixate on the near miss with the wraith or the way Kessian seemed to be the one rooting himself in my life rather than me putting them down anywhere.
Between repainting my bedroom door, conjuring a second mug, and letting Kessian drive her, Lunaris was playing matchmaker. She wanted Kessian to stay.
If I put aside my idle fantasies, it was a bad idea. Between my visions in the spring and the fixedness of the wraith on Kessian in particular—I had to remind myself its first appearance in Shearwater had been outside his bedroom window—no good could come of risking an attachment.
Realistically, I shouldn’t take him up on “round two.” Because of the wraith, and because I’d be lying to myself that it was nothing more than goodbye sex when the longer we spent together, the less I wanted to say goodbye at all.
I’d resolved to keep things friendly but platonic when Kessian drove back up the hill, leaned out the window, and wolf whistled.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing alone when it’s getting dark?”
It took a lot more conviction than I anticipated not to reply, Waiting for you.
I said, “Did I get their stamp of approval?”
Kessian held up a cord of leather tied to a runestone.
At a cottage with blue shutters surrounded by flowers and clucking chickens, Kessian knocked on the door, and a man who filled the threshold opened it.
He wore a flannel shirt in a tartan pattern and greeted us with all of a dozen words (“Ah, there you are. I’m Rowan. Nice to meet you, Tal. Come in.”) and from there on out answered most questions with, “You’re grand.”
He led us into a conservatory extension where a blond witch with the energy of a hummingbird was bent over a sewing machine, stitching together something with an offensive amount of pink tulle.
Rowan put a hand on his back and said, “Kessian’s back, love.”
Watching the casual familiarity and affection of that touch, I’d never felt so terminally single.
The blond spun to face us. “Well, that was quick. I’m Briar Wyngrave. Give me a moment. I’m almost done making a tutu for my niece’s ballet recital, and I’d rather not face the wrath of a thirteen-year-old.”
“I’ll make tea,” said Rowan.
Briar talked absently between whirs of the sewing machine. “You’re both witches. We don’t have many in Coill Darragh. Tell me, what’s your speciality?”
“I make ceramics,” I said. “Teapots that never let the tea go cold. That sort of thing.”
“And I’m, eh, not technically a witch,” Kessian said.
The magpie perched on Briar’s sewing machine squawked.
“Vatii says you’re ‘some kind of magic whotsit,’ so that’s witchy enough for me,” Briar said, backstitching the final inseam of the waistband and pulling the garment free to fluff it up and spread on his work table.
Rowan returned. “Tea’s ready.”
“Right. Let’s sit and have a proper chat,” Briar said.
He started to rise, hands and knees trembling until he took up the cane leaning against the door. They made their way to the sitting room.
“Thank you for inviting us—me,” I said. “I don’t know how much Kessian told you.”
“He said you’ve been in a bit of trouble with wild magic. The Shearwater strid, was it? He didn’t mention how it affects you in particular. Magical drainage? Headaches? Muscle weakness?”
“A wraith follows me everywhere and drowns the people I love in the strid.”
Rowan’s teacup clattered as he set it down too heavily in surprise.
Briar looked genuinely aggrieved. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“It’s fine. Up until now, I got around it by moving around a lot. If I’m never in one place too long, and don’t form any close connections, it can’t quite find me.”
“But you must have lost someone, to know what the wraith does,” Briar said.
I swallowed. “Laurelie. My twin.”
Kessian was sat next to me on the sofa. Wordlessly, he pressed his knee into mine.
The sofa wasn’t overly large, and there were three of us on it, so the contact was inevitable due to how squished up we were, but the pressure was an unmistakable show of support.
It was comforting and uncomfortable. I wanted it, but I didn’t think I could have it.
Gruffly, Rowan said, “I’ll make something stronger,” and reached into a liquor cabinet by the sofa for a bottle of whiskey.
Briar said, “Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”
I recounted it all. The night a song had lured me into the strid, alongside several other residents of Shearwater.
How I alone emerged, alive but changed. How the wraith began appearing immediately, and no matter what the healers or sages tried, nothing worked.
The first time I saw the wraith, how it took Laurelie, then tried to take Uncle Marlowe, how I then left home for good.
Up until yesterday, when I’d returned for a funeral.
Briar listened intently while Rowan whisked together some hot concoction of potion ingredients and whiskey—the red flowers turning the drink a blushing color. He said in his gruff voice, “And your family let you go?”
“They didn’t have much choice,” I said.
“Your man Kessian’s alive and well. So you’ve found some way to avoid it, like.”
“Oh, we’re not—”
“You have an amulet, don’t you?” Kessian said. He touched the coin hanging from my ear, all my focus on the brush of his knuckles against my neck and the weight of him against my side. “I saw you reach for it a couple times when the wraith nearly got us.”
“It only has a single charge,” I explained. “I try to save it for a scenario where I have no other option.”
Briar leaned across the coffee table to get a better look. “How was it made?”
“I don’t know,” I said, embarrassed by how flustered I sounded. “My uncle Marlowe gave it to me when I left home. He’s good at tracking down old magical artifacts.”
“If it’s one of a kind, it makes sense not to use it until absolutely necessary.” Briar leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck.
Rowan slid the drinks he’d been brewing in front of us. While Kessian’s was the usual amber color, mine was tinged red.
Briar said, “If what you suffer from is a curse, then this will cure you. I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but it sounds like no curse I’ve ever heard of. I have to ask: Is there no one in Shearwater who safeguards the strid? Its Keeper?”
Keeper. I’d heard that term before. Warwick had mentioned something about it at the wake.
“Er … not that I know of, but then I don’t know what a Keeper is.
Generally, we try to safeguard everyone from the strid, not the other way around.
Anyone who’s lived in Shearwater knows not to go near the banks. ”
“Mm-hm. Sounds familiar,” Briar said, glancing up at Rowan, who’d come to stand at his shoulder and massage his neck. “I defer to my husband on this subject, though I have a hunch we’re of one mind.”
Rowan said, “I’m the Keeper of the forest in Coill Darragh.
Means I’m tasked with safeguarding the wild magic from those who’d do it harm.
I sensed something when you both arrived here.
” He tilted his head and closed his eyes as if listening to a distant song play in another room.
“The forest and your strid, they’re like brothers.
If you’re its Keeper—and you could be; it tends to pass down in families—and your grandfather passing away so recently, well …
Wild magic has a way of drawing us back home. ”
I didn’t know how to absorb that. “My grandfather never said anything about that.”
“Could be he didn’t have much mentoring, like me,” Rowan said.
“How will I know if I am or not?”
Briar tilted his head. “We could be wrong. Maybe you aren’t the Keeper of Shearwater.
Maybe that’s someone else’s responsibility, and all this is a curse.
It can’t hurt to drink the cure. But if you are, the forest will know.
We can take you to it, but, ah, I can’t tonight or I’ll miss Ciara’s ballet recital, so tomorrow morning? ”
Rowan rumbled an agreement. “The forest is a sight better at getting down to the root of the matter.”
Kessian laughed at the pun, but it seemed Rowan hadn’t made it intentionally. He looked befuddled by the laughter.
“And if it turns out you’re not the Keeper, you’re welcome to call Coill Darragh your home,” Briar finished.
“I have work tomorrow, but this is important,” Kessian said. “I can come with you.”
“You don’t have to. I could enchant a portal for you to go home,” I said.
Kessian traced the rim of his whiskey glass with a finger, studying the contents before meeting my eyes. “I’m connected to the strid’s magic, too. I should go.”
I didn’t object to the idea immediately. While I found all this talk of wild magic and Keepers unsettling, it would be a relief to get some answers. But …
It meant Kessian would stay the night.
Lunaris could provide a guest room, but I’d still be in close proximity to a man I’d tried and failed to get out of my head. What’s more, every encounter with the wraith thus far had happened around him.
I gave him a questioning look, hoping he’d take the decision out of my hands. “Are you sure?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
I gritted my teeth, took my glass from the table, and knocked it back.
Briar said, “We’ll see you in the morning, then.”
I used the bathroom before we left. As I emerged, I overheard Briar saying to Kessian, “I know someone who could make you one, too. There’s no shame in it.”
And Kessian responded, “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Really.”
But he didn’t sound fine. He sounded annoyed.
For the second time, I wondered how Kessian had come to be so well-acquainted with Briar Wyngrave.