Five
FIVE
A fter getting my bike as directed, I loaded it into the back, then picked up Argos, who was following along behind me, got into the passenger seat, and attempted to put him in my lap. He was not having it, preferring instead to sit at my feet in the darkness.
“These are the times when I wish you could speak to me,” I told him, then wondered if he’d retreated to the footwell because I’d turned on the car for a moment to roll down the window. To me, it really felt like he was hiding, but I had no idea what he could possibly be afraid of, and then, of course, I thought back to what Thero said, and my mind started running. Because Argos was a daemon, so maybe he was sensing whatever the big bad thing was, and it was making him jumpy. When I got home—or more likely in the morning with how late it was now—I would need to hit the books in the library to see if I could find anything about sealed rifts. Perhaps there was something that could help me figure out how strong of an entity would have to cross to cause a sealing.
Sitting in the car, I ended up dozing, listening to the wind outside, the trees as the breeze blew through the leaves, until the CSI people arrived. I watched as the four-person team split up, two walking around the ruins of one side of the house while the other two disappeared into the part still standing.
I leaned my head on the frame of the door and, still watching everything, took a deep breath of the fragrant summer air and decided to close my eyes for a few minutes.
“Hey.”
It took a moment, because I wasn’t sure where I was for a second, but then I turned my head to the sound of his voice and opened my eyes. I found Lorne standing next to my door, hand on the open window, smiling at me.
“The techs are done, and the state police are here, so you ready to go home?”
“What?”
He snickered.
“Why’re you—they just started.”
“No, they showed up an hour and a half ago. They’ve been gone about ten minutes now,” he said warmly, reaching for me, cupping my cheek in his hand for a moment. “You passed out from boredom.”
I smiled at him.
“I should have had you go home, but I don’t want you to be alone until I figure out what’s going on,” he explained before walking around the front of the vehicle and getting in. “I can tell you that the forensic team didn’t find anything out of place in her basement, and everything was undisturbed, so I’m fairly certain we can rule out robbery as a motive for the killing.”
“That’s good, one less thing,” I said as he put on his seat belt, started the car, threw it into gear, and pulled away from the curb. He made the U-turn in the street, and then we were headed for home. After a moment I coughed softly.
When he glanced over at me, seeing my face, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong besides the obvious?”
“Obvious?”
“The murder,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah, I—I am. And I should have said something earlier, but your murder was more pressing than mine.”
Pulling over after going through the sole traffic light in town, he turned to me. The incendiary scowl was not good. “ Your murder?”
Quickly—because the look on his face, coupled with his tone, told me I would be next on the chopping block for not sharing sooner—I gave him the rundown of meeting Thero, her news that Nott had been murdered, and that something sinister had entered Osprey through the secondary rift. “And Thero thinks,” I ended with, “that whatever came through might be something really bad.”
It took him a second. “ Might be something bad? ” he roared, which was really loud in the small space despite the open windows. “ Might be? ”
Crap. “Listen, I?—”
“Are you kidding?”
I had no idea his voice could go up a whole other decibel without my brain exploding, but I remained alive, at least for the moment. “I just?—”
“This woman tells you that something was so powerful, it burned up the rift when it came through and mutilated her friend, and you think it might be bad?”
“Okay, no. Sorry. That was wrong. I know it’s bad.”
“Then why aren’t you freaking out?”
It was my upbringing. The issue was, I’d been trained, for years, not to panic. Dealing with all things paranormal required one to stay calm, especially in the face of danger, and not come unglued until every possible outcome had been exhausted. Having heard about the threat to Osprey, but not coming face-to-face with it, I was on guard but not terrified. When I was scared down deep in the marrow of my bones, only then did I panic. I wasn’t there yet. Lorne on the other hand…
“What the fuck, Xander!” he roared again, grabbing hold of my hand. “What if this thing is what killed Kathy Hayes?”
“Why would some evil entity be after Kathy?”
“The hell if I know, but something is in our town, and two weeks ago a nymph was torn apart, and now a woman is dead! Think about it. Isn’t this how it started when Megan Gallagher was killed?”
“Yes, but that was done to try and take control of the rift on Corvus. Whatever this is already came through.”
“But all those wolves and the people who came with them that initially attacked you last time—this is the same thing.”
“You can’t simply jump to that conclusion.”
“And why not? To me , it seems like this thing is planning to use our rift to move on.”
He spoke so matter-of-factly, it was doubtful he had any idea how happy he made me. But even as furious and worried as he was, still, in the middle of all that, he called the portal I guarded with my life ours .
Ours.
Most people might not want to be stuck on a tract of land in upstate New York in a tiny town for the rest of their lives. It couldn’t possibly be where anyone wanted to end up. Even if you were fine living a simple life, most people still wanted to have some adventure. They wanted to see the world and reach for the stars. If you were born into my family, however, you didn’t get a choice.
There were the gifts that came with being a witch or mage, but no one would ever know beyond your family and friends. While it was true that people in town called me a witch, the fact was that very few had ever seen me do anything even remotely magical. In all honesty, it was more of a derogatory term than anything else. The thing was, though, I’d been entrusted with a sacred responsibility, and I would never abandon my post. And now, amazingly, I had a man I was in love with, who was happy to remain in this little corner of the world with me for the rest of his life. Furthermore, he wanted to marry me. I had no idea how I’d won the life lottery, and because of that, I was both deliriously happy and terrified he would change his mind. It was one of the reasons I found the idea of a justice of the peace so appealing. I wanted to put a ring on his finger as soon as possible. Not that he couldn’t ask me for a divorce down the road, but whereas normally, I would worry and obsess about that, thinking perhaps five years from now he’d want out, there were things he did that made me think he was in this for the long haul.
Like, every morning before he rolled out of bed, he would hug me and tell me he loved me. And it wasn’t one of those quick ones; instead, he would wrap me in his arms so tight, I could feel the beat of his heart. Best way to start a day.
Before he poured his coffee, he’d thank his home for sheltering and protecting him. He’d told me it wasn’t something he’d ever done before moving in with me. But he never missed the chance now. Amazingly, his words would bring on a deep, earthy, sort of song-of-fall aroma that wafted through our home.
There had always been wonderful scents in the cottage, from lemon and verbena, petrichor and old books, to hot cocoa and oud. But for Lorne, because we’d met in autumn and he’d first visited in that season, even in the middle of summer, there would come a burst of pumpkin, but like outside, in the dirt, more pulp than pie, a hint of vanilla, the forest in the fall, chai, and baking bread. He would stand there, cup to his lips, hand on the counter, and grin at me. There was no doubt that both me and his home were madly in love with the man.
And finally, before he left the house, he waited while I sprinkled salt on the floor and had him walk over it, put a sprig of lavender in his back pocket, and then gently dusted him with cinnamon, all the while speaking softly, asking for protection while he was out in the world. Never once did he complain, and there was only a kiss before he closed the door behind him. Small rituals that told me he was grounded in his new life. I couldn’t have been any happier.
“Are you listening to me?” he asked harshly, bringing me out of my gossamer thoughts. He was clipping his words as we turned down our cul-de-sac, Cider Lane, where Corvus, the Johnson Apiary, and the Wingate Farm were, except we didn’t have a circular end that made it easy to turn around. The street simply stopped at trees. “Xan?”
“I am,” I promised, noticing Pete coming toward us in a police vehicle. Normally, on a Friday night, just a bit before midnight, the only thing on the two-lane road were assorted animals—deer, opossums, rabbits, and the occasional black cat.
“What the hell,” Lorne grumbled, stopping to find out what Pete wanted. “What’re you doing out here?”
“I came to get you,” he answered, and I saw how tired he appeared.
Argos jumped from the floor to my lap and then out my window. He landed lightly on the cobblestone driveway that led from the street to the small spot we had cleared for Lorne’s vehicle. Argos sat on the path for a moment, then darted left, trotting around the side of the house and disappearing into the shadows. He had definitely wanted to be home, and while he tended to ramble all over Osprey, tonight he seemed to have a singular destination in mind.
Taking off my seat belt, getting out of the car, I left Lorne and Pete to talk shop. Walking up the cobblestone drive, not following Argos’s path but instead striding to the right, I slipped between two of the many enormous hydrangea bushes lining the driveway.
Sinking to the ground, I pushed my hands into the dirt and thanked the land for answering my call earlier in the night.
You were away , the land said.
Safe now , I replied.
It was important for Corvus to know it had not failed me.
We are well , the land said.
We are well , I echoed.
Removing my hands and standing, I walked to the edge of my property, not taking the last step onto the road, but waving so Lorne would see me.
“Hey,” he called through the open passenger-side window, “Pete was catching me up on some stuff that happened at the carnival, various altercations, and idiots on Main Street trying to smash up windows, but just now he got a call that there’s some issue at Lynette Fornell’s house. I’m gonna go see what’s happening while Pete checks on the officers guarding Kathy’s house.”
“What if you need help?”
“Then I’ll call him,” he said like it was obvious, clearly annoyed with me. “Go in the cottage and stay?—”
“Not that kind of help,” I said flatly, moving fast, scrambling back to the vehicle, only to find the door locked. “And no, I’m not going to wait for you here. Open the door.”
“I don’t need you to?—”
“Are you kidding?” I snapped at him. “You don’t go to a problem at another witch’s house without me.”
“Yeah,” Pete said, and I noted his quick shiver. “Maybe let him go with you.”
Lorne looked between me and Pete, but then relented, unlocking the door. “You realize it’s probably nothing, right?”
“Of course,” I agreed, retaking my seat and belting myself in.
He looked over at Pete. “Why’re you being weird?”
Quick shrug from the deputy. “Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m a bit edgy because of it.”
“Then go home and get some rest.”
“See, that’s the issue. Me and Marina, we’re staying over at the Birch Lodge while we’re having some renovations done on our house. And I dunno what’s going on, probably it being a different place and all, but—we’ve both been up most nights.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Pete shrugged. “Not your fault, but if I’m worrying about you on top of not being able to sleep, then I?—”
“Why would you worry about?—”
“You will for sure take Xan with you, yeah?”
“Yes,” Lorne answered sharply, waving Pete off.
His deputy, and my friend from elementary school, gave a wan smile and then drove away.
After a few moments of silence, of us sitting together in the vehicle, Lorne cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry I yelled at you before when you told me about Nott.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re worried.”
“Yeah, but I should be able to do that without getting loud.”
I chuckled. “Or maybe just don’t get loud in the car.”
“Police utility vehicle,” he corrected me, and turned his head so I couldn’t see the smirk I knew was there.
“Yes, yes, whatever you say.”
He scoffed. “That’ll be the day.”
“Sorry?”
“Whatever I say,” he teased, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not made that way. You don’t listen to anyone when you think you’re right.”
“I do about things I know nothing about,” I reminded him.
His grunt was soft.
“I never second-guess you about anything related to your work.”
“True.”
“I don’t meddle with things between you and your brother or you and Cass, and when people in town give you trouble, I don’t hex them.”
He laughed then. “You don’t believe in hexing anyone. What was it again, only for the highest and best, that’s the sole reason to perform magic.”
My turn to grunt.
“You don’t fool me. I know how your heart works.”
“So you say.”
“Now tell me again what you’re getting ready for.”
I chuckled. “Sometimes your brain makes jumps I can’t follow.”
“Sorry. I mean, what witchy holiday is next?” he asked as he pulled away from our cobblestone drive.
“Lammas,” I answered with a sigh. He was working on remembering things that were important to me, and I appreciated that more than he knew. “Or Lughnasadh, if you prefer.”
“What do you say?”
“I say Lammas because my grandmother did.”
“And that’s a sabbat, right?”
“It is.”
“And there’s eight of them.”
“Very good.”
“I listen.”
I knew he did. It was one of his very best qualities.
“And back in the day, these neo-pagan religious festivals marked the changes in the seasons and they stuck.”
“That’s correct. Lammas, in particular, is still celebrated all over the world.”
“By pagans.”
“By lots of people.”
“I love how so many celebrations, like Yule, got turned from being pagan holidays into Christian ones. I never knew that growing up.”
“Well, it’s nice you’re open to learning about it all.”
“Don’t I have to be? Isn’t that what it means to love a witch?”
For that, at the next stop sign, I kissed his neck softly, with only a slight nibble.
“Knock it off, you’re gonna give me goose bumps,” he muttered. “Now, what all do you hafta do for Lammas?”
My sigh was long. “In another week, week and a half, I have to start baking bread, but Amanda and Declan will help me.”
“How much bread are we talking?”
He had no idea. To prepare for the first of August, I would need many different kinds. I also had corn dollies to make, decorations to put up, like the wheat and lavender wreaths, and much like I’d done for the solstice back in June, ones made of St. John’s wort for protection. “So much,” I whimpered. “Not only bread. Biscuits and muffins and lots of jam.”
“Jam?”
“I make persimmon and strawberry jams every year. You’ll love them.”
“I’m sure I will, but honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a persimmon in my life. I would have no idea what one looked like.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll educate you on all kinds of fruits and herbs.”
“Oh, gee, I can’t wait.”
The sarcasm was not lost on me.