Magic Redeemed Read online

  Magic Redeemed

  A 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 the music coming from the café across the alley.

  Scrolling through emails, I found nothing urgent and decided I should get to know Airlie better. “Oh, to answer your question, according to Christoph, Harper is doing well. Leilani’s reports are a little less rosy, but I get the sense going north was a good decision for her too.”

  Christoph had lived in the Northwest Territories for decades. The sparsely populated territory was perfect for Shifters and others like him. Magicals who retained their form, or aspects of their physical form, on a permanent basis had a tendency to frighten the general public. His wings were permanent, though he could molt his feathers.

  Since early August, Harper had been with Christoph, working to stop the growth of his first set of wings until he was ready to accept them fully. Leilani had gone along for support.

  “You can get up and stretch, take a bathroom break if you need to,” said River. “Then I’ll fill in the shaded areas.”

  “Thanks.” In the bathroom, I tried to peek at the design and gave up. The space was too tight to maneuver.

  Back in the chair, I had to ask River my burning question. His friend—and my maybe-boyfriend—had been off the radar for six weeks. I was beginning to wonder if I’d been dumped. “Have you heard anything from Tanner?”

  “Sec,” he answered. “Let me get this going.”

  Gaah. I had to close my eyes and focus on breathing until my skin acclimated to the sensation of the needle. If the
news was bad, I wanted River to get it over with and tell me straight.

  “You know Tanner’s teacher is one of the oldest living druidesses, yes?” he said.

  I went to shake my head, when River lifted the needle and reminded me to stay still.

  “I didn’t know that. But I don’t know much about druids.”

  River exhaled through his nose, “Ni’eve du Blanc comes from a different time and she continues to live and teach at her own pace.”

  “Is that your way of saying you have heard from Tanner?”

  “I’ve heard through the grapevine that negotiations between Idunn, Ni’eve, and what’s left of the Keepers have reached a very delicate balance.”

  Oh.

  “Calliope, druids become druids because they survive their training, not by an accident of birth.” He lifted his inking gun and released the foot pedal. “I need to take five,” he said. “My hand’s cramping.”

  River’s timing was perfect. Talk of Tanner agitated me. I tried tracing the chipped edges of the linoleum floor squares then closed my eyes and remembered the way Bear’s paws had always—always—been a reassuring weight against my skin.

  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 many promises 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 the Apple Witch had been going on. “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 Jessamyne,” 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 specialist in all of Canada and she 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. The goddess intimated she had much to say to Jessamyne and Ni’eve. The words she saved for Tanner and me were the ones I remembered.

  According to Idunn—and her beloved 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 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, clutching my T-shirt to the front of my chest, and shook out my legs. I turned my back to the big mirror on the wall and checked River’s work.

  Even though I knew Aunt Noémi was dead, I wasn’t prepared for seeing the likeness of Bear’s paw prints. River had positioned them precisely where I had often felt Bear’s presence as they guarded and guided me.

  Hand shaky, I returned the mirror to River, sat on his 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!” 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 at least twenty-four hours.”

  “Okay.” Sallie gave a halfhearted pout and slipped her arms around my waist. “I’m trying to leave the house 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 or her tutors had filed the paperwork required by the province. She was in limbo until we got it sorted.

  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. Her arms around my waist, my arms circling her shoulders. I hadn’t known this reserved young woman all that well prior to the summer’s events. The Flechettes frowned on rubbing elbows with the Joneses. Sallie was revealing herself to me—to all of us—slowly and at the same time processing her overwhelming feelings of shame. Her parents, Josiah and Garnet Flechette, were in jail, probably for the rest of their lives.

  They were Fae, and had collared Sallie starting at age twelve, using spelled ribbons and jewelry to hide her unusual features and mute her magic. The now almost nineteen-year-old was 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 her home for as long as she needed. And 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 were going. Harper and Leilani would attend if they got back from the Northwest Territories in time.

  “Yeah? No? Maybe?” she said. The six blocks to either side of the main thoroughfare, though bustling, were quieter than during the summer rush. “I wish I could bring Jasper.”

  Jasper was the Maine Coon cat on extended loan from Shamaha, another witch in my expanding circle of acquaintances and friends. Jasper helped mitigate the effects of withdrawal Sallie had been experiencing. Her parents had been remanded to a subterranean holding cell and were no longer able to mask or control their daughter or her magic.

  “Have you asked Wes and Kaz about taking the cat along?”

  “No,” she responded, biting one of her already stubby nails. “Should I?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. But I would ask Shamaha first.” The witch had more than one magical Coon cat, and overnight Jasper had become a favorite of Sallie and Thatcher’s.

  “Okay.”

  Seeing as it was still officially summer, with the autumnal equinox but two days away, I was wearing flip flops. Tanner wore the flimsy footwear all the time. I missed him and had adopted the look after he left for France. The thin soles kept me in more intimate contact with the ground than my leather boots. When an oily, viscous sensation hit the bottoms of both feet, I took a quick breath and tamped down the desire to run.

  “Sallie,” I said, assessing our immediate area for possible threats, “do you feel that?”

  She tightened her grip, the bones of her forearms almost bruising my ribs. “I do, Aunt Calliope, and I don’t like it. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

  The Magical signature echoed one I felt the same day I met Tanner and began this whirlwind odyssey into a world of magic and Magical beings. Once again, the signature blinked in and out from the vicinity of the marina, where float planes, fishing boats, and yachts docked alongside one another.

  Sallie’s battered fingernails contracted and elongated, switching erratically between her chewed-at human version and the claws Fae trained themselves to use as weapons. I swept away the shoulder-length hair she kept deliberately shaggy. Her ears were turning too.

  “Get in the car,” I said. “Lock the doors and lie d
own. Now.”

  Chapter 2

  Sallie had been schooled into round-the-clock obedience by the series of collars her parents forced her to wear for over six years. She no longer wore a collar; even without the magic-imbued restraint, she reacted to my command quickly and without question.

  We were going to have to talk about that later. I pointed to a strip of bushes and trees separating the public parking area from the section of businesses. “I’ll be right over there.” I could dig my toes into the soil and keep Sallie in sight.

  Sallie’s face was streaked with splotches of red and white. She mouthed, ‘Okay’.

  The sickening sensation heralding the Magical’s presence was growing stronger, and the tree I ducked under was someone’s camping spot. I pressed my hand into the deep grooves of the bark, scuffed away leaves and a crushed can, and slipped one foot out of the flip flop. Toes in the soil, I kept one eye on my car and attempted to pinpoint the oddly colored spot.

  The blackish area swirled with a rainbow of colors, like a shallow puddle on an oil-slicked bit of road. Hating to have Sallie out of my sight, but not knowing how else to do what I needed to do, I settled all ten toes into the soil and closed both eyes.

  A circuit board of Magical spots spread against the inside of my eyelids and through my brain. Familiar ones, as always, connected to store owners and other workers, ones I often saw when I read the downtown area.

  Added now were a handful—five maybe, or six—of the oily swirls, all moving together. My eyelids flew open. The group was approaching the building backing onto the parking lot. The building belonged to the Flechette Realty and Property Development Group.

  I forced my dirtied feet into my flip flops and hurried to my car. I didn’t press the unlock button on my key fob until I made sure Sallie saw me.

  “Sallie,” I said, whispering. Which was entirely unnecessary. “Sit up slowly. I’m going to move us out of here and drive around the front of the realtor’s office.”