“And talk to him.”
“Maybe. A little.”
“Good.”
Val stood, and glanced over at Card again. “You okay with him for a bit?”
“I’m fine. Go. Talk to your brother.”
“Call me. You know I can be here in an instant.”
I nodded and made shooing motions with my hand. “I’ll come looking for you if you don’t check in.”
“Fine. Have fun while I’m gone. But, you know, nottoomuch fun.” He grinned and it was all wolf. Then he blinked out of existence.
I finished off my lemonade, enjoying the quiet. I was thinking about drinking the glass I’d brought out for Card when the wind picked up, rattling through the branches, and the tree Card sat under bent, fluid and easy, as if pulled gently by the breeze.
The crown of branches shifted away from the shop space and stayed there. It hadn’t been so much magic that made the tree move this time, just pure dryad persuasion.
The wind died down. The air settled with heat and moisture again, making the day heavy, drowsy.
Card finally stood, brushed off his knees and butt, stuck his hands in his back pockets, and strolled my way.
“The tree understands,” he said. “She’s happy to grow a little more that way so you can build the shop. I promised her you’d hang a wind chime on her branch. She likes the idea of music that isn’t bird music.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Your reward is one slightly tepid glass of lemonade.”
He grinned and picked up the glass, then downed it in one go.
“So, what are you going to do next?” I asked. “Continue looking for your sister?”
He turned and sat on the other sawhorse, staring out at the shop foundation and the trees beyond. “Fate says she’s sleeping. Rooted. If I haven’t been able to feel her or find her yet, I don’t think I’ll be able to find her until she wakes.”
Both worry and a little bit of hope threaded his words. But he seemed calm, and much more centered than when he’d first shown up on my doorstep just a day ago.
“Until then?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’m decent with a hammer and know how to use a saw. I could clean the gutters. Help you install that trapdoor to the basement.”
“For the bodies?”
“For the bodies.”
The quiet between us stretched, making the unspoken question loud: Was he staying? Did he want to build a life here? Would I let him?
“Let’s talk about the tattoos,” I said.
“Okay.”
“The Crossroads doesn’t mind being connected to you. It doesn’t mind knowing where you are.”
“But?”
“But that means I’ll know where you are too. I think I could pull magic from you, and that’s not equal, since you can’t draw magic from the Crossroads.”
“Maybe. We haven’t tried doing much with the link yet. The Crossroads knows where I am?” He gave me a sideways glance.
“Always. Like I said, it’s happy about that. It likes being connected to you.”
