Page 37 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Daphne and Shari froze. As Midwesterners, encountering dangerous animals wasn’t a foreign experience.

They could be afraid, but they couldn’t flail about in panic.

That earned you a nasty bite eight ways to Sunday.

The two women shifted as far away as they could from the winged cat without capsizing the boat.

Fiachna buried his head in the crook of Shari’s elbow and promptly urinated all over her dress.

The quiet crafter only pursed her lips tighter together.

Eyes riveted on the faelene—but not making direct eye contact, for that would be very rude indeed if this creature was anything like the felines of my realm—I hissed down at the hysterical male, “Kian. Shut. Up!” The power in my voice flattened him against the bottom of the boat, robbing his lungs of the air needed to caterwaul.

The faelene’s ears pricked forward at that, whiskers twitching.

Its wings rustled once, and I realized those feathers weren’t wholly black.

They had a purplish sheen like a grackle’s.

Such flashing color could be a distraction technique, and I’d fallen for it.

Thankfully for me, it didn’t attack. Yet.

Swallowing, I risked in a quiet voice, “I like your feathers.”

The faelene’s claws dug into the speckled pike, suspecting falsehood.

“Sorry if this is your hunting ground,” I continued, forcing my voice to remain steady.

I really, really didn’t want to get in a fight.

If it was impervious to the Blight, would my magic even work against it?

Besides, it truly never hurt to be polite.

“We’ll release the other fish we caught and be on our way. ”

The black cat didn’t move.

“Or we could give them to you,” I said quickly. “If you’re strong enough to handle that pike like it’s a perch, then three fish should be no never mind.” A sincere compliment never hurt either, especially with an animal.

“But that’s our dinner,” Kian squeaked.

“Are you honestly arguing about that right now?” Daphne whispered hotly.

“Here,” I told the faelene.

With a gentle sweep of my fingers, the fish still dangling on the lines lifted out of the water.

Another flick released an air current that removed the hooks from their mouths.

Marsh reeds rose as my command and wove themselves into a basket to hold the fish for easier transport.

Another air current deposited the basket at the base of the bow.

All the faelene had to do was release its grip on the pike, and the fish would join the others, neat and tidy.

“Please, go in peace with our apologies,” I urged.

The faelene did not release the fish. Instead, it did something very familiar. It cocked its head to the left like an inquisitive bird. And perched as it was upon the Violet figurehead brought to mind an image of a boulder and a waterfall. The same one my familiar had sent me.

“Sawyer,” I blurted. “Do you know my Sawyer? Stripes?”

Black wings snapped out from the faelene’s body and it launched off the figurehead with alarming speed.

It swooped low over Kian, either weighed down by the pike or devilish enough to antagonize him, before flapping into the sky.

The junior scholar screamed again, then jerked upright at his miraculous fortune of having escaped a faelene without a mauling.

Surely something for the history books, or at least his personal logs.

“Wait!” I twisted around after the creature so violently the boat rocked. Daphne and Shari yelped, grabbing the gunwales. “Please, come back! My cat?—”

“Shhh!” Kian grabbed me, cupping a hand over my mouth. “Are you insane?”

An elbow to his ribs only slammed into one of the books hidden in his overcoat, but he still released me, fearful I’d damaged the cover.

“You should be more worried about your opossum,” Shari said sourly. “I told you what would happen if he peed on me.”

“He has an excuse!” Kian rushed forward to retrieve Fiachna, nearly capsizing us.

A steadying gust kept the boat upright. “Everybody sit down,” I barked. I followed my own advice, twisting around in my seat to search the afternoon sky for the faelene.

“Why would you think that creature knew Stripes?” Daphne asked.

“Questions later,” Kian said. “Let’s get out of here. It left the basket, so at least we can have something to eat tonight. Only if we leave right now.”

“And only if your screaming didn’t alert any of the fae villages nearby!” I shot back. “Now be quiet. I need to concentrate. At this distance, I can only exchange images and strong emotions with Stripes. Words are too complex?—”

“It’s coming back!” Kian howled.

This time he really did capsize the boat and we all plunged into the water.

Instantly I felt a pull, a dragging down, and panic ripped through me that a kelpie had snuck out of the waterlilies to drag me to his castle in the watery depths where I’d become his next drowned bride.

But it was only the weight of the oilskin cloak, Faebane, my boots, and sodden clothes.

With an irritated grunt, I cast my magic wide.

The clear water swirled and encased me in a large bubble.

I stole only a breath before casting watery currents to snag my sinking friends and drag them into the air pocket.

Soaked, they slumped together at the bottom of the bubble and coughed the water out of their lungs.

When Kian had assured himself that Fiachna was unharmed, he wailed, “My books.”

Daphne seized his ear much like Flora had done and gave it a pinch. “Get ahold of yourself.” She released him and retrieved Shari’s glasses. “Are you okay, dear?”

“The pee’s out of my dress now,” the crafter said, wringing the water from her skirt.

The bubble lifted us to the surface, and I maintained it as I sent more magic towards the overturned boat.

Tha Dòchas Ann righted itself, magic drying out its insides.

More magic retrieved our packs and the basket of dead fish, setting them in a weeping heap by the bow.

Then the bubble popped and dropped us the few remaining inches to the benches.

Once seated, I smeared the hair out of my face and performed a frantic sitrep.

The filigree key, the amazonite pendant, and the Celtic shield were still around my neck, Arcadis’s ring snug on my finger, Faelene strapped to my back.

My witchy bits and bobs were still secure in my bra pockets.

Everything accounted for, I scanned the marsh for the faelene.

Kian spotted it before I did, but just as he opened his mouth to scream again, my magic erupted.

Glittering green vines trussed him up like Thanksgiving turkey, one massive leaf plastering over his mouth.

Rooted to his bench, the junior scholar could only close his eyes as death swooped down from above.

The faelene wasn’t alone.

Gripped in all four paws was a tabby tomcat clutching the speckled pike.

My heart nearly burst as I jumped to my feet. “Stripes!”

The faelene turned a tight circle around the figurehead, wings flapping madly as it managed the extra weight. The second my cat’s paws touched Violet’s head, he dropped the fish and leapt through with the air with a joyous trill.

The boat rocked as Sawyer rocketed into my chest. “Misty!” Then he was a blur of stripes as he wiggled under my hands and rubbed his head against my stomach and squirmed with delight. “Why are you blonde all of a sudden?”

I couldn’t answer him. Tears ran freely down my cheeks as his kneading paws pricked me all over, but I wasn’t in pain.

My heart was nearly whole again. Climbing up, he gave me one of his aggressive head bunts, grinding the top of his skull on the underside of my chin.

There were no words to say, just love and relief gushing through our bond and kneading paws and stroking fingers.

When our reunion was over I would be covered in bruises and scratches and fur, but my magic would sooth those all away.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” I asked. “Do you need any healing? I’ve missed you so much, kitty.”

“Glad to have you back, Stripes,” Daphne said warmly.

Sawyer grinned at her. “You look good in red hair.”

Daphne beamed.

He turned to Shari, recognizing her only from the wing-tip glasses perched on her nose. As he left my lap for hers, he threw over his shoulder, “When you charged those illusion amulets, you didn’t hold back, did you?”

The quiet crafter eagerly slung him up to her shoulder so she could press her face into his warm fur. He purred extra loud for her. I watched on a little enviously but truly happy that Sawyer was so sensitive to Shari’s needs.

“Hey, where did the faelene go?” Daphne asked suddenly.

We all looked around, Kian doing his best despite still being fused to his bench with vines. His beautiful eyes were massively round as he tried to look past his periphery. The Violet figurehead was suspiciously bare.

“She’ll be back,” Sawyer said confidently.

“She’s not going to hurt us, is she?” I asked, more for Kian’s benefit than my own.

“She shouldn’t.”

Kian whimpered.

I didn’t quite like that answer either, but a voice shouting, “Incoming” distracted me from pressing the issue.

“Don’t move and I’ll promise to dry all your books without smudging them,” I barked at the junior scholar.

Kian immediately stilled.

“Honey!” Daphne cried, pointing to the sky.

The garden gnome was indeed in the faelene’s grip, but only for a moment longer. The winged cat released the garden gnome midair, quitting her shuttle service duties mid-fare.

An air current caught her and spiraled her down onto the bench beside Shari. The garden gnome gave us a wide-eyed look, as wary of our new appearances as Sawyer had been.

“It’s them, I swear,” he assured her. To us, he said proudly, “Found her following you on a little raft half a day’s journey behind and I convinced Thistle to give her a lift.”