anything this time.”
“Thank you.” Lionel bowed his head, then looked back up at Devlin. “I’m sorry about your sister. That’s got to be rough. What Rhianna did to her was… I can’t even think of a word for it.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” Devlin said.
Gar chuckled. “At least Rhianna’s one thing we don’t have to worry about. She’s dead, gone, and never coming back.”
“Shh…” Chandler silenced everyone as a boisterous group of customers swarmed across the restaurant toward the table next to theirs. A second later, the waiter arrived with their drinks and the mountain of appetizers Chandler had unwittingly ordered.
Devlin frowned. “Maybe we should focus on eating for now and finish this conversation at the complex?”
Lionel nodded. “I would like that.”
“I agree,” Chandler said. Something else occurred to her, but she bit her tongue until the waiter left to get their meals. Then she leaned toward Lionel and whispered, “You should have a protection charm. A triskelion. Peregrine wears one. It doesn’t work against all fae and, judging by what’s happened lately, it may be less effective than I was led to believe. But it’s supposed to make the fae—things like the black dog—less inclined to attack the wearer. It wouldn’t take long for me to make one for you.”
He reached across the table and brushed her wrist with his fingertips. “I’d appreciate it.”
The warmth of his touch and wholehearted smile sent a ripple of joy threading through her. If only something as simple as a triskelion could keep him permanently safe from the fae. It might help, but unfortunately it was still a long way from a real solution.
Chapter 8
The triskelion, like the number 3, is sacred and powerful. Its root is ancient, appearing in cultures and religions around the world. It is a symbol of the never-ending cycle. It represents the aspects of the Goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone…
—S. Jocelyn, “Numbers & Symbols” (lecture 2, Greylock Academy)
On the way back to the complex, Chandler took Peregrine and Devlin in her car, and Gar rode in Lionel’s cluttered VW Beetle.
Rather than waiting until later, she took advantage of the ride to give Peregrine a lecture on how his actions had endangered himself as well as the rest of the group. Devlin stayed out of it for the most part, but he agreed when she suggested Peregrine’s martial arts lessons should be preceded by an additional ten minutes of quiet time focused on learning self-control. Peregrine scowled at that, which made Chandler happy.
“Also”—she glanced at him as they stopped for a red light—“today’s TV time is going to be replaced by reading in the Book of Good Folk about the dangers of fae encounters.”
He didn’t scowl at that, which was good as well. The Good Folk textbook wasn’t easy reading. Chandler hadn’t tackled it until she was several years older than Peregrine. But he seemed to enjoy the challenge, the same way he enjoyed school in general more than she ever had.
Once they got back to the complex, they discussed with Chloe and Em the idea of looking in Merlin’s Book for a spell that would reverse the damage Rhianna had done to Lionel at the same time as they were hunting for one to heal Aidan.
As everyone started talking in more depth about the two issues, Chandler got to her feet. “If nobody minds, it’s time for Peregrine and me to head home.” She looked at Lionel. “I’m going to work on that triskelion.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he said.
It took only a minute for her and Peregrine to get back to their apartment. She hauled the Book of Good Folk from the cabinet under their altar and opened it to the section that gave an overview of hazards. “I want you to make a list of the top ten places you’re likely to run into dangerous fae. Before tonight’s full-moon ritual, we’ll go over the list. Tomorrow, I’ll have you do some reading on detection and protection.”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll be an expert like you in no time.”
She smiled. If only the expert part were true. She knew a fair amount about the fae, more than many witches. Between her and Brooklyn, they’d have no trouble getting through the basic and intermediate levels. Still, she wished they had more than book knowledge to rely on. Peregrine’s father was the obvious choice when it came to hands-on experience with the fae, but he was a Pandora’s box of trouble they were better off leaving firmly closed.
As Peregrine headed for his room with the book, Chandler snagged a Switchback from the fridge, put on her favorite do-rag, its sides embroidered with flaming salamanders, and went out to her workshop.
Once there, she took a refreshing sip of beer, then got out a miniature cauldron and set it near where the iron monkey heart still lay on her workbench. The cauldron was the size of an orange, perfect for bespelling charms.
Next, she retrieved three extralong horseshoe nails from their storage bin. The nails would form the physical portion of the triskelion charm. The iron wouldn’t repel all fae, but it would ward off some, and the protective magic she’d imbue them with would, at a minimum, be a signal that Lionel was under the protection of those with abilities, namely a witch who worked with fire and earth.
She put on her safety glasses and settled down, half-sitting on a barstool up close to her vise with the nails and her tools within reach. She secured one of the nails into the vise’s jaws, then alternated applying magic to heat the nail’s center to red-hot and using pliers to slowly work it into a hook shape. Sometimes—like when she’d created the monkey heart—she used standard equipment and safety gear. Other times, like now, she used her magic to protect her hands and work the metal. It was totally a matter of her mood and if she had extra, pent-up magic from lack of use or keyed-up emotions.
She heated and bent a second nail, falling into a rhythm as she finished that one and started to shape the third into a hook. Her mind wandered to thoughts of when she was Peregrine’s age and her abilities first emerged, a gift for working with fire that she’d shared with her father. She remembered every moment of the night when he’d first showed her how to build a bonfire and call the Great Salamander. She also recalled every moment of the horrific day not long after that, when her father burned to death saving a family from a house fire.
Tears prickled in Chandler’s eyes. She stopped working and took a deep breath. She couldn’t have prevented her father’s death, any more than she could have done anything other than witness her mother fall apart afterward, piece by piece, like a glacier giving way to the crash of the ocean. She didn’t remember anything from the day her mother killed herself. But she clearly recalled the funeral and her mother’s best friend holding her, the first time anyone had held her since her father’s death. Holding her and choosing to adopt her. A strong, single woman not afraid to love fiercely and never let go, even when life wasn’t easy.
Chandler wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She missed her adoptive mom with every inch of her being. But they’d had a lot of good years together. And Chandler had been there two years ago in the Council’s palliative care unit when her adoptive mom had passed. She and Peregrine had kissed her mom and held her hand as she took her last breath and left this life.
Blinking back another round of tears, Chandler returned to work. She secured one of the hook-shaped nails in the vise. With her magic, she fused another hooked nail onto that one and then added the last, joining them together to create the shape of a triskelion. Nails reformed into something new, like a little girl’s shattered life reinvented into something even more powerful by the unwavering love of a witch who had chosen to be her mom.
Chandler set the triskelion into the miniature cauldron, then sprinkled a layer of salt and blessed earth over it. On top of that, she placed a cone of Brooklyn’s protection incense.
“Ignis ignite,” she said, lighting the incense with her magic. As the heady scent of sage and sandalwood drifted