Sam and Alisa had an Oona moment when they came up to the house, Brigid said. A branch almost fell on Sams head.
Charlie turned to me in concern. Is he all right? he asked.
Hes okay, I nodded. But whats an Oona moment?
I guess you wouldnt know about Oona, he said. Have you explained, Brig?
Id just started, said Brigid. I didnt get that far. You can explain.
Oona, Charlie said, slipping off his jacket, is a relative of yours. I guess she would be your G5 grandmother.
G5?
Great-great-great-great-grandmother. Thats her relationship to Brigid, so it would be the same to you. Its her ghost that theyre talking about.
Ghosts. Uh-huh. What next? Did they have vampires in the cellar? Unicorns in the yard?
Youre telling me that ghosts are real? I said incredulously. Im still getting used to witches.
Shes an energy, he explained, popping the wrapper off a straw. A force. Shes been around for years, causing all kinds of little problems. She used to swat things off tables, break an occasional window, rip the curtains. That sort of thing. Now objects arent just moving or breakingthey seem to be attacking people.
Attacking people? Huh. The good part of this story was that it didnt sound like I was the one responsible for what had happened to Sam. At least, I didnt think so. The bad part was that I seemed to be walking into another series of scary situations. The fun never stopped.
The story goes like this, he explained. Oonas husband, your G5 grandfather, and their two sons died in a flu epidemic in the mid- to late 1800s. Oona lost her mind. Its bad when anyone loses his or her mind, but when it happens to a witch, its really bad. If the person cant be healed, the persons coven will perform a reining spell to protect everyone, including the afflicted. In really bad cases, the person will be stripped of power. Thats a horrible process. Máirin, her daughter, must not have been able to stand the thought of her mother going through it, so she tried to keep the illness hidden. It was a huge mistake. Oona ended up committing suicide.
Oh my God, I said.
No one knows what spells Oona cast after she lost her mind, he continued, but it seemed that one of them must have ended up lodging her energy in the house. Máirin describes all kinds of problems that started the minute Oona died.
How do you know all of this? I asked, feeling the hairs on my neck starting to rise.
Aunt Evelyn found Máirins Book of Shadows years ago, said Brigid, crushing a packet of crackers into her soup. But it disappeared from her room a day later. Maybe Oona took it.
From what Evelyns said, Charlie chimed in, there were problems when Evelyn was a child. Then they quieted down for years and started again in the, um, early seventies. After the other family problems.
He was saying that they had started around the time my mother left home. During an awkward pause that followed, the waitress brought our food. I had to admit that though the menu was a bit much, the chowder was amazing.
What happened after my mother left? I asked, taking a big spoonful and nodding for Charlie to continue.
It was bad at first, I think, Charlie answered, reaching for the bowl of crackers, I think there was a small fire and definitely some broken windows. Then the problem quieted down again. I think it only popped up occasionally during the late seventies and eighties. But in the last few months its gone off the charts. One of the walls developed a crack. Some banisters tumbled down from the widows walk. Two weeks ago the gas line to the oven was punctured when Brigid was alone in the house. It could have been really serious, but fortunately she smelled the gas and got out.
Weve done just about every kind of spell we can think of, Brigid added. Now Moms even trying to talk Aunt Evelyn into selling the house. But Aunt Evelyn wont do that. Weve owned the house for over a hundred years, and shes way too stubborn to give up trying to solve the problem. Shes sure that with our combined powers, we can do it. Oh, but She looked at my with what I thought was slightly exaggerated pity. You wouldnt know anything about that. You dont have any powers.
It wasnt a bad assumption since I shouldnt had had any powers. It just turned out that I did. I could have told her, but somehow, I just squashed a dark wave wasnt going to slide right into the conversation.
It must be terrible for you, Brigid went on. How long have you known that your mom was a witch?
Just a couple of weeks, I said, dragging into my chowder. I joined a coven, and then I found out later. It was a surprise.
Well, she said, I think its great that youve decided to join a coven. I mean, considering that you cant do what we can do. But even though youre not a real witch, you can definitely be a part of Wicca. Its open to everyone.
Charlie started rocking his spoon on the table and stared at the wall next to us. I dont think he liked the patronizing tone that Brigid was using but didnt really want to intervene.
Ill show you something, Alisa, she said. Want to see me work with the rhythm of the waves?
Brig, Charlie said, his eyebrows shooting up, Are you, um
Dont worry, she said. This is a new spell Ive worked out. Sending the energy out to the water. Its really mild version of a return-to-me spell. Id just like to show Alisa some magick. Shes probably never seen any.
Since Id just been through enough terrifying magickal phenomena to last a life time, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. And considering that my uncle had accidentally killed several people while trying to help with the rain, this seemed like the worst kind of arrogant, foolish magick in the world. A party trick using the ocean? I wasnt a trained witch, but I had enough sense to know that this was a bad, bad idea.
Charlie blanched. Apparently he didnt think much of the idea, either.
Hunter had taught me a few basic deflections while I was learning the dark wave spell. I tried to find them in my memory, where they were stuck together. Nal nithrac, tar ais di cair na, clab saoil which were the right words? It was as if I was grabbing at hundreds of jars of exotic unmarked spices, each tantalizing and overwhelmingly pungent, and trying to figure out how to best combine them.
Suddenly I heard Morgans voice somewhere in my mind, just as I had when wed joined our minds, giving me words to a spell Id never heard before. They ran through my head, like an old song: Sguir bhur ire, cunnartach sgeò, car fàilidh, agus eirmis tèarante sgot. I had no idea what the words meant, but I understood how they worked. I was to look for a safe place to redirect the energy that Brigid was sending to the waves. I happened to be looking at the salt, so I put it there.
The saltshaker began to bounce. Brigid, who had been focusing on the waves lapping at the seawall outside the window, looked down at the noise. The shaker wobbles down the table and the floor. From there it rolled unsteadily to the wall near the window and stopped, unable to go any further.
When I looked up, Charlies amber eyes met mine and didnt flinch. His expression was unreadable, not unfriendly but definitely serious. I felt a wave of electricity ripple through me, giving me goose pimples. He had power, lots of it, and he was sending some of it my way, casting out his senses like Morgan and Hunter had. I suddenly felt very self-conscious.
Within a second the event had passed. Brigid was flushed with embarrassment.
Well, that didnt work right, she said.
It was fine, Charlie said graciously. The salt was trying to reconnect with the seawaterit was affected because it was lighter and closer to you. Working with the ocean is tricky.
It was good, I nodded in agreement. It was cool. Anything to make her stop.
Brigid started moving everything on her place mat around, seeming uncomfortable. Conveniently her cell phone rang. I wondered if shed manage to spell it, too.
Damn, she said, hanging up after a quick conversation. That was Karen, my boss. She needs me at the shop. Sorry, Alisa. I guess I cant show you around after all. Can you do it Charlie?
Sure, he smiled at me. Im off today.
Good, Brigid said, stuffing her phone back into her purse. Alisa is coming back for dinner, six o clock.
Is this okay with you? he asked, pulling out his keys.
Sure, I said, hoping I didnt sound too eager. Lets go.
10. Charlie
June 23, 1951
I woke up this morning to the sound of a great tearing. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Oona had torn the front of my bridal roberight from the collar down to within six inches of the bottom hem. My beautiful robe!
I couldnt help myself. I started weeping uncontrollably. Mother ran upstairs and came right into my room. I felt so hopeless, but she knew just what to do. She sewed up the great jagged rip with lasting stitch. It looked like a Frankenstein robe, with ugly scars. Then she put me in a hot bath filled with rosemary and lavender and instructed me to stay there for one hour, repeating the wedding day blessing. When I emerged and returned to my room, the gown was as good as new. In fact, it looked more beautiful than before. Mother had cast a glamour that concealed the tear. I am ready now, and we will be leaving soon. There is no more time for me to write.
Aoibheann
I instantly figured out which car was Charlies. It was a small green Volkswagen, obviously a few years old. There was a near like of stickers on the back for different Irish and Celtic bands, including the Fianna. The thing that really gave it away though, was the one that read, 2 + 2 = 5for Extremely Large Values of 2. I just knew that was his. Dont ask me why.
We drove around the harbor, looking at the fishing boats and the activity on the docks. He told me all about Ròiseal, how they worked a lot with the energy of the sea, and how they often had circles on the beach in the moonlight. He also explained how the coven was set up and how they worked. Because they were all experienced blood witches, they did a lot more complicated things than we did at Kithic circles. I began to wonder if Hunter found it frustrating to work with us. In comparison, running Kithic must be like watching a bunch of kindergartners, trying to make sure they dont eat the crayons.
We each have a general background in magick, Charlie explained, "and we each have an area of expertise to help balance out the coven. We're all lifelong students, of course, because we're Rowanwand. This way we split up the burden of studying. Ruth does a lot of healing work. Brigid is being trained to do the same. Evelyn works divination. Kate and James work with defensive and deflective magick."
"What about you?"
"Spellcraft," he said. "How they're written, how they're broken, how they're restricted. My dad works in the same area but on a less practical level than I do. I usually work with everyday magick. He works with mathematical stuff relating to astronomy, sigil drawing, the Key of Solomon, things like thatright into the realm of abstract math, where numbers turn into sounds and colors and shapes really hard stuff, and he also studies some very dark stuff for reference. Academic magick."
He parked the car, and we walked down Western Avenue, along the water, then up into the shopping area. As we walked, I saw that I was passing by many of the places my mother had described in her Book of Shadows. There was the chocolate shop where she used to get chocolate turtles and peanut butter fudge. There was town hall, with the library across the street where Sam had found Harris Stoughton's book. I smelled the delicious aroma coming from Rocconi's Pizzeria on Middle Street, where she used to meet her friends after school. And at the old floral shop on Main Street, the window was filled with lilacsher favorite flower. It was all so strange, so unreal. I felt so close to her. For the first time in a long while, I missed her with a physical ache.
It began to rain again, catching us completely off guard. It wasn't a warning trickle that lead to a bigger downpourit was like thousands of buckets had been kicked over at once, sudden and freezing. Charlie grabbed my elbow and steered my down the street through the rain into a nearby coffee bar. We squished up to the counter and surveyed the offerings. When I reached for my purse, Charlie held up his hand.
"Please," he said. "It's on me. What do you like?"
"Thanks," I said. "Just coffee. Lots of milk and sugar."
"Got it," he said.
I snagged a cozy table by the window with two plush seats and sat down to consider the significance of his action. No guy I knew had ever just bought things for me. I didn't even know that many people who where bought things on dates. What was this about? You don't buy coffees for someone you don't like, right? Charlie must like me. Not like me, like mebut he could tolerate me. Or so it seemed.
I occupied myself with this stupid internal dialogue until he came over with two grotesquely large mugs of frothy something and two biscotti wrapped into a napkin.
"What are these?" I said, accepting one of the heaping cups with a smile of thanks.
"I have no idea," he said, poking suspiciously at the foam, as if he was testing to see if it was alive. "Grande cappufrappes or something. I told them to make something big and steamy, with lots of milk. They gave me these. I'm assuming they are coffees."
He held up his foamy stirrer and grimaced theatrically. I had to laugh.
We sat at the coffee shop for hours, talking. Usually I'm not great around people I don't know very well. I'm that shy girl, the one who goes through a crisis every time she even has to ask someone where the ladies' room is in a restaurant. So my ease around Charlie was odd. For some reason, I felt like I could talk to him about anything. I loved the way he could be so serious, and then something funny would occur to him, and he'd jump from his seat and lean forward in excitement, his whole face bursting. During one story he became so animated that he knocked the sugar canister off the table three times.
"So," I said, continuing our conversation from the walk, "your dad's some kind of genius?"
"More or less," he said. "He's a number theorist. He's your classic absentminded professor. Brilliant beyond belief, but he literally forgets himself."
"And you ended up finishing high school early? You must be pretty smart yourself."
"It's not a big deal," he said, stirring what was left of his coffee. "I did really well, but it was nothing exciting. And my dad's been a really, really good math tutor."
"What about your mom?" I asked.
"Oh"he shrugged uncomfortably"she died a few years ago."
"Sorry," I said, understanding his reaction. "My mom died, too, and I hate having to explain it to people. They always give you the look. It's kind of sympathetic, but mostly it's really nervous. It's like they think they've torn open an wound, and you're going to start screaming or something."
"That's the one," he said, grinning thankfully.
"So you spend a lot of time alone, then," I said.
"No." He shook his head. "I spend a lot if time with Brigid and her family. I have a standing invitation to dinner every single night, which is nice."
He put his feet up on the empty chair at our table and leaned back to look at me.
"So," he said, "what about you? Your dad doesn't know anything about Wicca at all?"
"He knows that it freaks him out," I said. "That's about it. I'm sure he just thinks it's some kind of phase I'm going through. A better-Wicca-than-drugs kind of thing, I guess."
"If he doesn't like Wicca, why did he let you come here?"
"Um my dad doesn't exactly know where I am," I confessed.
"What does that mean?" he asked, one eyebrow arching.
"It means I ran away."
Okay. There. Someone knew. I twirled my biscotti in the dregs of coffee foam as nonchalantly as I could, wondering if Charlie was going to jump up and start yelling for the cops. Instead he exhaled and leaned back into the red velvet seat.
"Why?" he asked calmly.
"A lot of reasons. Mostly because things were happening to meI was having dreams about this place. My mother's Book of Shadows appeared out of nowhere. Sam's letters fell out of a broken box. So I wrote to you, and I made contact. It all felt like it was meant to be."
"And, of course, you couldn't tell your dad about any of it."
"Right," I said, running my hands through my hair. "There were other reasons, too"
"Like what?"
"I have powers," I said. "They came on me all of a sudden and kind of freaked me out."
He dropped his feet down to the floor and leaned in to me.
"How's that possible?" he said, his eyes glowing with wonder. "Your father's not a witch, and your mother" He stopped himself and shook his head. "Wow... I'm an ass. I can't believe I just said that. Sorry."
"It's all right," I said, waving my hands dismissively. "I know it's weird. My coven leader's father thinks it might be that since my mother stripped herself of her powers, they were all somehow concentrated in me. I definitely have more than I can handle. They tend to do things on their own. The last thing I did before running away was cause some kind of water explosion in my coven leader's house. We were doing a release spell to get rid of negative emotions, and"
I hung my head. Charlie was so experiencedI was a moron. Still, he was listening attentively, and I knew I could tell him what had happened to me. Again, don't ask me why.
"I almost flooded his house. It was awful. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life, and that's saying something. I started crying, and just couldn't stop."
He was quiet for a minute. I couldn't raise my head. I just stared to the table.
"Trust me," he said, "I know how difficult and embarrassing it can be when you're first trying to use your power. Everyone screws up. All witches know this."
"I can't imagine the people who run my coven screwing up," I replied, envisioning all of the experienced blood witches I knewHunter, Sky, Mr. Naill. They were probably born cool, calm, and talented. And sure, Morgan was erratic, but she was also superpowerful, and I'd seen some of the wonders she was capable of when we'd put our minds together. I was just regular and inept.
"They did," he said with conviction. "I promise you. I know I was a master at it."
He could see I doubted him.
"I'll give you an example," he offered. "A lot of covens get together to hold circles and lessons for preinitiates. Our assignment one week was a simple nochd. A nochd is a revealing spell. Our teachers would hide something, and we would each use the spell to find it. When I was a kid, I always used to try and prove to everyone how smart I was. I wanted to do the most amazing and complicated nochd in the group. I searched through all of our books for a whole week. I finally found one that was hundreds of years old that I was sure no one else would have. I can still remember it. It was very long and involved. Everyone was impressed. Unfortunately, what I didn't realize is that not all nochds are alike. The term has many meanings, and the spells have many purposes. I wasn't smart enough to figure out that until it was too late."
"What happened?" I asked, looking up with interest.
"Just as I came to the end, silence. Everyone just stared at me. I mean, stared. And then they all started to laugh. The I realized that the room had gotten really cold."
"Did you do some kind of weather spell?" I asked.
"A nochd," he said with a grin, "is also a spell for nakedness, a complete revealing of self."
I gasped with sudden laughter and put my hand over my mouth.
"Well," Charlie went on, "because I was yound and dumb, I didn't realize right away that I was standing in front of my friends completely naked. I was so busy looking around to see what I had revealed that it took me a second to look down at myself to see what people were staring at."
"But aren't Wiccans okay with that?" I asked, still laughing. "I mean, being naked?"
"Sure," he said. "It won't get you in trouble. But we were still just a bunch of thirteen-year-olds. And being thirteen and naked in front of all your friends, both male and femalethat's the same for everyone."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"I froze," he said. "I had no idea what to do. One of the teachers quickly undid the spell, but I was standing there long enough for everyone to get a nice long look at me. There I was: brilliant, naked Charlie."
He didn't seem to mind that I was rolling with laughter over the stories of his childhood trauma's. He even took a little bow.
"So messing up is one thing. The real trouble comes when you're just trying to impress people with magick you don't know how to control. Like what Brigid was trying to do back at the restaurant," he said, looking directly into my eyes, "before you stopped her."
I almost fell of my chair. Even though it happened again and again, sometimes I just couldn't get used to the fact that other witches always seemed to know what you where doing and thinking.
"II didn't" I stammered. "I mean, I did, but I wasn't trying to embarrass her"
"No," he said, waving his hand. "It's all right. It was a good thing that you did. It could have been dangerous."
"How did you know?" I said.
"I felt your energy coming out. I could sense it redirecting hers."
Funny. He and I could both sense energy, but Brigid didn't appear to be able to. I wondered if something was wrong with her powers. Maybe they were weak. Maybe that was why she was trying to prove herself so much.
"How did you do it, exactly?" Charlie asked. "What spell was that?"
"I don't know," I replied, shaking my head. "It just kind of came to me. I did this thing about a week ago a tàth meànmasomething I kind of locked minds with someone, a very powerful witch."
"A tàth meànma brach?" he said, his eyes wide.
"That was it. I didn't realize it at the time, but I just kind of learned things, I guess. When I saw what Brigid was doing, I was afraid, and I wanted to stop her. Suddenly it was if I heard my friend's voice somewhere deep in my mind. I just knew what to do."
Charlie was staring at me ad if I had just sprouted wings and a beak.
"What?" I asked anxiously, looking myself over. "What did I do?"
"You did a brach?" he repeated.
"Is that weird?" I asked, feeling myself hunch down in my chair.
"No," he said, pulling absently at a handful of his loopy curls, "Well, not in a bad way. It's rare. And difficult. And dangerous. Why did you do a brach?"
"Oh. It wasn't my ideait was my coven leader's, and he's crazy careful. He's a Seeker."
"Your coven leader is a Seeker?"
"Yeah," I nodded vigorously. "He's the youngest Seeker. He's nineteen."
Charlie stopped speaking. His mouth just hung open slightly. He waited for me to go on.
"There was an emergency," I said. "Something really bad had happened, and they needed me too help with a spell. The only way I could do it was by getting information from my friend. So we did a tàth meànma brach."
Charlie sat silently contemplating this for a moment. I glanced up at the clock. It was six-ten.
"We're late," I said, alarmed. "It's after six."
He nodded, still deep in thought, and we grabbed our things and ran out towards his car. The rain was coming down hard, and the streets were full of foggy mist. After we slithered, soaking, disgusting wet into the car, I turned to him. His hair was very dark, and one or two curls clung to his face very attractively. I wanted to ask something, but the sight of him made my tongue go all numb.
"What's up?" he said, immediately sensing my question. He brushed some of the water from his face and rummaged around in the glove compartment. He produces a handful of tissues, which we used to dry off.
"Are you coming tonight, or are you just dropping me off?" I asked quickly. He looked up with interest.
"I could come," he said. "Why? Can't get enough of my amazing company?"
"Sort of," I laughed. "It's just that Evelyn my grandmother she doesn't seem to like me. She seems angry that I'm there. It would be nice to have a friendly face."
This didn't seem to shock Charlie.
"Sure," he said, "I'd be happy to come. I'll help you get through it."
Though I must have looked like hell, I felt about a million times better as we headed back toward the house.
11. Shatter
Juli 30, 1951
Father died of a heart attack five days ago. It came on suddenly, and no one was at home. Nothing could be done.
Hugh and I have stopped looking for a house. We will live here. Mother will need support and help with Tioma. To make matters worse, this has stirred up Oona. She shredded the curtains in the living room and broke the panes of glass in our front door. Mother and I watched as it happened. She wept endlessly. I need to be strong.
Goddess, I know you give, and you must take. I revere you, though my heart is broken.
Aoibheann
"I came along," Charlie said, peeling off his sopping jacket as we stepped into the foyer. "I hope that's all right."
"Of course," Ruth said with a smile. "Always. I'll set another place."
"I'll get it," he said, slipping back toward the kitchen. "Don't worry about it, Ruth."
Ruth nodded, looking at me kindly. "Alisa, the bathroom is right by the front door. You can wash your hands and dry off a bit there."
"Thanks," I said. Ruth returned to the kitchen, and I found the powder room, which was just big enough to fit a toilet and a very small sink. I looked like a drowned rat. My hair was completely soaked, and it clung to my head. My clothes were getting really swampy. There were beeswax soap and a jar of salt crystals for washing hands. I used both, rubbing the crystals into my skin anxiously, as if I could impress my grandmother by having the cleanest hands of anyone she'd ever met. By the time I came out, I'd turned my hands red from the effort, and everyone was gathered in the dining room, waiting for me.
The room was filled with a long oval-shaped table and a massive sideboard, both of which looked like they were probably well over a century old. The table was heavy with food, served up on delicate pieces of blue and white china. There was an incredible-smelling roast, with big bowls of fluffy potatoes, asparagus, and roasted carrots. The gravy was so thick and aromatic that it had to be completely homemade, and the soft biscuits were already dripping with butter. From what I'd seen so far, the Curtises were very good cooks.
We all sat down. I had been put next to Sam. Charlie set his place next to Brigid. Evelyn and Ruth gad the opposite ends. With a snap of her fingers Evelyn lit the two tall taper candles in silver candlestick. I had a feeling that little trick was for my benefit.
"When are you returning home, Alisa?" Evelyn asked me, rather properly, as she passed Ruth the potatoes. Nice. I'd just gotten here, and she wanted to know when I was leaving.
"In a few days." I said. "It's my spring break."
"Well," said Sam, "I hope you stay for our circle on Wednesday. It's our annual celebration of the founding of Ròiseal. We're getting together the night before as well, for Ruth's birthday. It's a big week."
"Yeah," Brigid agreed. "You have to come."
"I'd like that," I said, not really sure if that was true. Sam, Charlie, Brigid, and Ruth were greatbut Evelyn was so seriously scary that I had to wonder how long I really wanted to stay here. Well, at least the circle on Wednesday gave me something to plan around.
Evelyn said nothing, just eyed the progress of the food around the table. When everyone had filled their plates, she nodded, and I saw others take up their silverware. I followed suit. My mother hadn't mentioned how formal the family dinners were. She probably hadn't noticed. Unlike me, she'd had no Hilary leaving the table to barf every fifteen minutes. She had no basis for comparison.
Evelyn started talking again but to everyone but me. She asked Charlie about school, his job, his father, and his plans for college. She asked Brigid if anything interesting had happened at the shop and how her training was going.
"Brigid has been training with a healer," Sam explained to me, attempting to include me into the converstation.