Page 11 of Woods of the Raven

She gasped. “Elsie moved home? How could I not know that?”

“You were in Paris last week,” I reminded her. “You just got back the other day from your business trip.”

She grunted. “I would take you, but I know it’s hard for you to travel.”

“Only until early spring. Once I know that all the souls got through the winter all right and don’t need any help, I could go.” Certain flora and fauna needed looking after until then, and as steward of the land, it was my duty to make sure everyone and everything was well.

“Then you tell me when, and we’ll do late spring or early summer in the City of Light.”

“Sounds wonderful.” I sighed, still grinning at her.

“Now,” she said, going to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. “Tell me all about Elsie. I’m dying to know.”

I tried really hard to stop smiling.

“Oh my God, tell me!”

We had a lovely, gossipy, slightly evil morning.

TWO

Three days later, I was at our local youth center, helping Millie Cho and her team lead the yearly craft class on wreath making. Many classes were taught there throughout the year, but this was the only one I participated in, even though Millie had asked me a hundred times to do more.

“You could teach knitting and crochet, or about runes, or crystals, or natural remedies, or how to dry herbs.”

That all sounded horribly boring. Or, more to the point, I was certain, I’d have people passing out or slipping into comas. I had no idea how to make something I did constantly—like create home remedies or knit—sound fun in any way. At least the wreath making was enjoyable and interactive, and everyone had that feeling of success at the end of having something tangible to take away with them. I could not be responsible for people nodding off while I was teaching something less exciting. That was all I needed. Chief MacBain would write me a ticket for causing narcolepsy.

Funny that I hadn’t been able to get the chief out of my head since I’d seen him last. It was the shoulders, I decided, and all that hard muscle on his solid frame. I understood why people stopped and stared at the man; I might have as well if he wasn’t always growling at me.

Someone asked a question, jogging me out of my thoughts, and that was a good thing.

“Okay, everyone,” I began, “in front of you at your tables are eighteen-inch grapevine wreaths that myself, Millie, and others made yesterday and let dry overnight. If you want to do this yourself in the future, grapevines are the best, and we get ours donated by the wonderful Blue Water winery in Seneca Lake—that’s Millie’s hookup.”

Everyone hooted and whistled, and Millie blushed.

“Not that kind of hookup,” she chided before turning to me. “Xander Corey!”

I just laughed, and then there were questions about the process of making the wreaths, and I explained about soaking the vines in water for thirty minutes, making circles, using side branches to wrap around bigger ones and make it as uniform as possible.

“You can use other vines as well, and I have a list if anyone wants them after class.”

On each table were things that I had foraged for a month in advance. I explained that before they started, everyone had to close their eyes and imagine the wreath they wanted in their home.

“Once you see it,” I told them, “then you can begin.”

As they all got to work, every table of six with three hot-glue guns—an item I had never used in my life—the conversations began.

I had been taught to use melted beeswax if an adhesive was needed—nothing unnatural was used on any wreath I’d ever made. My magic, the earth magic I used, relied on the natural world.

Millie took me aside and said, “This is supposed to be an excursion for those who came here instead of going to class this afternoon.” She tipped her head toward the patio overlooking the river, where two girls were deep in conversation. “I think we have some class-cutting happening out there. Can you check what’s going on?”

I looked at her. “Why do I have to go?”

“You teach this class too,” she snapped at me.

“Yes, but you’re the actual art teacher.”

Her look told me to get my ass out there.