"That's great," I said to Brigid, who smiled proudly. "Do you need to do a lot of studying?"
"Some," she said. "A lot of it is exercises in channeling energy. Then you add the herbs and the oils, but only after you learn to feel out the problem or injury."
"You wouldn't understand, Alisa," Evelyn said, turning to me. "It involves magick."
Charlie looked at me meaningfully. I could tell he was wondering of one of us should tell them about my powers. I shook my head quickly. I really didn't want to get into it with them. He got the message and opted to change the course of the conversation.
"So," he said, "you're from Texas, right?" I'd just told him that this afternoon.
"That's right," I said, breaking open a steamy biscuit. "That's where I was born. We lived there until recently."
"How do you like the winters up here?" Sam asked cheerfully.
"I don't," I said with a smile, "except for the snow. I like snow, but my father can't drive in it. He never learned how. So if it even flurries, my future stepmontmother has to drive. If she's not home, we're stuck."
A polite chuckle from everyone but Evelyn, who was communing with her roasted carrots. Sam, Ruth, Charlie, and Brigid continued to ask me questions about my life. For the most part they were just making polite conversations, not going into anything too deeply. Evelyn pointedly said nothing. I noticed all of the others giving her sideway glances, but these didn't seem to penetrate her steely exterior. She wasn't interested in talking to me. Period.
I had just finished telling them a bit about my dad's job and my grandparents in Buenos Aires when Evelyn suddenly lifted her head and focused on me, hard and fast.
"How does your father feel about the craft?" she said.
"The craft?" I repeated. "You mean Wicca?"
"I do."
"I don't think he's happy about my involvement with it," I answered honestly. "But he doesn't really know that much about it. I think he assumes it's a fad at our high school."
"A fad at your high school?"
"A lot of my friends are in my coven." I explained, gripping my silverware fearfully. "He just knows that's where I go on Saturday's. We rotate hosting the circle, although I probably wont be hosting one. I bring snacks though."
"Snacks are good," Sam said with a nod. "Witches love snacks, especially sweets."
"So you contribute snacks at Wicca circles," she said.
This was a blatant twisting of my words, designed to make me look like a fool. I couldn't believe it. It was so unnecessary, this quiet violent behavior. She was so composed, passing around her roast and her gravy and just stinging the hell out of her granddaughter. Around me I felt these little tendrils of emotions as the others reached out to me. That was nice of them, but it didn't really take away the painful reality of the situation.
Then, in with those gestures of sympathy, something else came along. It wasn't in soundbut somehow it was as clear to me as if someone was shouting in my ear.
Something is wrong.
What the hell was that? A vicious chill ran all though my body, as if someone had just plugged an IV of ice water into my veins. There was a creaking sound and a snap of wind. Before I knew what was happening, Charlie jumped up and pushed Brigid away from the table.
"Ruth!" he shouted, throwing out his hand and pointing at her. A bolt of energy, pale white, came from his hand and threw Ruth back toward the wall. In the same second all the lights in the room went out in a cloud of electric sparks as the chandelier above us broke free and crashed down onto the table, shattering glass and splintering wood. The snapped wires danced above our heads like angry snakes, still pulsing with current. Evelyn, already on her feet, held up her hand and made them still. With another flash of movement she deadened all the sparks that still came from the chandelier. Now all was dark, and acrid burning smalls hung in the air.
"Is everyone all right?" Charlie called.
"I am," I said, my voice shaking. "Sam is."
Evelyn snapped to light some more candles an the sideboard. I could see that Ruth had been thrown far enough to spare her head, but her arms had still been too close. The thing had come down on them, pinning her to the table. Brigid was by her mothers side, crying, mumbling spells that had no visible effect. Ruth looked like she was in too much pain to speak. Her face was covered in tiny bloody trails, probably slices from the flying glass.
Sam joined Charlie, who had uttered a quick spell that seemed to make the heavy, tinkling fixture a little easier to lift. They gingerly moved it away from Ruth, taking great pains not to further her injury. Brigid started running her hands over Ruth, obviously trying to do some healing work, but Evelyn came and took her shoulder.
"Go start the car, Brigid," she said. "She needs to go to the hospital. Charlie, can you carry her?"
Charlie nodded and ran for his jacket.
"I think we should call the council," Sam said. "This had gone far enough."
"I know a Seeker," I found myself saying. "If I call him, he could be here in a few hours."
Evelyn looked at Sam and looked in my direction.
"I think you'd better leave," she said. "We'll take her to the hospital."
Charlie came back just in time to catch the tail end of this conversation. His eyebrows rose, and his naturally cheerful expression faded into one of surprised disgust. I had the feeling if the situation hadn't been so dire, he might have spoken up on my behalf. But this wasn't the time. He bent down and picked Ruth up in a cradle lift. She quietly wept in pain and fear, and I heard him reassuring her as he took her through the hall to the door.
Sam, thunderstruck at our dismissal, stood there staring at his mother. She turned on her heel and followed Charlie down the hall. Sam put his arm around my shoulders and led me through the front door. We stood on the porch and watched as Brigid pulled out and sped the car down the street and out of sight. Sam quietly pulled a key from his pocked and locked the door.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he said.
"I'm fine," I assured him. "What about you?"
"It could have killed her," he said, instead of answering what I had asked. "Thank the Goddess Charlie's quick."
We got into his car. For a moment Sam just sat in the driver's seat, hands on the steering wheel, looking too tense to put the key in the ignition.
"Evelyn seemed angry when I mentioned calling a Seeker," I said. "Why?"
"Not everyone likes the council," he answered, his expression dark. I got the feeling this was a regular bone of contention. "Some people are offended that one group of witches should take it upon themselves to govern other witches, to pass judgment. I think the council has done some very good work. We could use their help."
He sighed, beat a little rhythm onto the steering wheel, then started the car. I looked out at the people walking along the beach path and heading to the pubs for the evening. Apparently some people in this town had normal lives.
"Charlie and Brigid told me about Oona," I said. Sam glanced over at me.
"They did?" he said. "Good. I was wondering how to explain what just happened."
"Stuff like that has happened before?" I asked.
"This was the worst so far," he replied. "But the phenomena have been getting more serious just lately. I certainly seems my mother wants to wait until someone gets killed before she'll ask for help."
His undercurrent of rage was palpable, so I fell silent and let him have a few minutes to think things over.
"I'm sorry, Alisa," he said just as we pulled into his driveway. "I'm sorry about the way your grandmother treated you. I don't even know what to say about it."
"It's like you said, I guess," I answered, trying to be diplomatic. "It's just strange to have me show up."
"Still, she has no right to behave like that. I just want you to know that she and I feel very differently about your being here. You can stay with me as long as you likeand as long as your dads lets you."
This triggered my memory. Twenty-four hours the watch sigil on my neck. I had to call Morgan.
"Oh," I said, as casually as I could, "would it be all right if I used your phone? I just need to check in. It's long distance, but I'll be quick."
"Take your time," Sam said. "I'm sure your dad would like an update."
A strange expression crossed his face, but I decided not to try and read into it too much. For all I knew, Sam had had been onto me from the first.
"I leave for work pretty early in the morning," he said. "Sleep in. I'll leave you the keys so you can come and go as you please. I'll be home around five. We'll do something different tomorrow night, like see a movie."
"Thanks," I said. "That would be great."
Astrophe and Mandu pounced on us the moment we stepped into the door. Sam fed them, then went upstairs. I took the phone into the kitchen for some privacy. I got lucky. Morgan answered, not Mary K.
"It's me," I said. "Alisa. I know I'm almost out of time, but I made it."
"Oh, hi," she said casually. I heard her quickly moving into a quieter place and shutting a door. "Alisa," she said in a low voice, "how are you? Is everything okay?"
"Um," I said hesitantly. "A little weird, actually. My uncle is great. My grandmother looks at me like I'm a escaped convict that is hiding in her house. And there's some kind of killer ghost on the loose"
"What?"
I told her the grim tales as it unfolded so far.
"You were right," she said. "Something weird was definitely going on up there. Do you think this is what the dreams were about?"
"I don't know," I said as Astrophe leapt into my lap. "I'm going to have to stay here a few more days to find out. I figure I have spring break week, at least. So, how bad is it down there?"
"Well," she said with a sigh, "your dad is upset. Frantic, actually. He called here about an hour after I got back." My stomach turned. "I also told Hunter what happened," she continued. "He understands what you're doing, but he's really worried, too. He'll be glad to know you've called."
I had to promise to call back soon before she let me get off the phone. You can always get out of something your parents try to make you do, but when a powerful witch puts a sigil on your neck, you're pretty much stuck.
A while later, after I had settled down for the night on Sam's couch and was flipping through my mother's Book of Shadows in preparation for going to sleep, the phone rang. After a minute Sam called down for me to pick up the phone.
"Hey," said a voice. "Sorry to be calling so late."
It was Charlie. He sounded tired, and I could hear him climbing into bed as he spoke. Thank God he couldn't see meI was grinning like an idiot. Charlie was calling me!
"I just thought you might like to know," he went on, "Ruth's arm is broken, but she is okay otherwise. Banged up and upset, of course, but intact."
"II'm glad," I said, stuttering in my excitement. "I mean, I'm glad that she'll be all right."
"What about you?" he asked.
"What about me? It didn't land on me."
"The chandelier didn't, no," he said. "But that whole dinner was kind of rough."
"Oh. I'm fine," I said, pretty unconvincingly. "No problem."
"I guess you haven't realized yet that it's pretty much useless to lie to witches," he said.
Actually, that much I had figured out on my own. I knew that most other witches could read me like a book. But what surprised me was that I could read him as well, and his concern amazed meit was deep. Deep to the point that I could feel it all the way across the town, physically, as if a warm embrace could travel down the telephone line. "It wasn't the welcome I wanted," I confessed. "But it was nice that you were there. Thanks for coming."
He let the line go quiet for a moment. He didn't try to tell me that it would all be fine, because it didn't appear that it would be.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.
"Sam's working," I said, throwing my legs over the top of the couch and hanging upside down. "I don't know. Staying here, I guess. I don't think Evelyn wants to have me over anytime soon"
"Want some company? We're on spring break, too, and I have a day off from the shop."
A whole day with Charlie? I couldn't think of anything I wanted more. But was that weird? This was my cousin's boyfriend. Should I be spending that much time with him?
"What about Brigid?" I asked. "Doesn't she have off from school, too?"
"She does," he said, "but she is working." When I didn't respond straight away, he came back a little nervously. "We don't have to," he said. "I just thought"
What the hell was wrong with me? Just because Charlie made me weak at the knees didn't mean he was going to ditch my cousin and ran off with me.
"No, no," I backpedaled quickly. "I want to. I mean, I'd like to. Actually, I'd like to so some research on my background. There's a lot of stuff I have questions about, family stuff. There's a library my mom keeps talking about in her Book of Shadows. It's in the house. That would be perfect, but it sounds like it's a secret."
"Research!" he said. "That I can help you with. As for the library, I've never seen it, but I'm sure there is one. All Rowanwands have a collection of books somewhere, and as head of the coven, I'm sure Evelyn has thousands of books. The door is probably spelled, so you can't see it unless someone shows you where it is. I'll bet we can find it. It might take a while, but it can be done."
"How?"
"Spells leave traces. There'll be runes or sigils to mark the doorway. We'll just need to narrow down the area of the house where to look because it can take a long time to find them. Does she say anything about where it might be?"
By now I knew the book almost by heart, and I automatically flipped through the pages that mentioned the family library.
"Well," I said, finding a page, "She says one that that she was writing in the study, and then she went down to the library."
"So it's in the basement," he said. "Great. That's where we'll start."
"Start?"
"We're going to go in there and find it," he said matter-of-factly. "If Evelyn's not willing to help you, I am. I'll pick you up first thing in the morning."
12. Revealing
Mabon, 1952
Five years of scrying for Oona have been fruitless. Every spell has been tried and retried. There is only one other option: I must open a lith dearc, and opening to the land of the dead. This is a difficult and dangerous procedure, but it is the only option left that I can see. I have been researching this process for over a year, and I feel it is time to proceed.
Tioma wants me to ask the council's permission. The council? Who are the council but a bunch of busybodies with nothing better to do than pry into the business of others? Their time would be better spend honing their own craft. As a witch and as a Rowanwand, I take the responsibility for my own decisions and actions.
The need is real. Oona is trapped here, and she must be released, for all our sakes. By opening the dearc, we may be able to provide her with a channel through which she can return to the spirit world. The ceremony will take place in two days' time, when the moon is full. Great care has been taken to restrict the spell, so it must be written with absolute precision. Claire Findgoll has been assisting me with this task. Her collection of books on lunar spellcraft and spell restrictions is unparalleled.
I had planned on telling Mother about the dearc, but she has not been well recently, and I do not want to worry her. Better she remain unaware.
Aoibheann
I woke up to the sound of the door shutting. I heard a car engine start and the sound of the car pulling off down the street. Sam was gone, off to work. Astrophe and Mandu were tangled together and sleeping in the space between my back and the sofa. Carefully, so as not to disturb them, I slipped out from under the afghan.
I wanted to be completely ready whenever Charlie showed up, and I had no idea when that would be. I rushed into the tiny bathroom and took a shower. It was obvious when I went through my bag that I had been pretty distracted when I packed. Eight pairs of underwair, three sets of pajamas, three bra's, and one T-shirt. No clean socks or pants. Good job, Alisa. I pulled on the T-shirt and grabbed the socks, jeans and hooded sweater that I'd been wearing for the last thirty-six hours, and did my best to fix myself up a bit.
Dressing complete, I headed for the kitchen. On the table I found the keys, a neat list of local points of interest, a small hand-drawn map, and a note with Sam's work number. I made myself some scrambled eggs and toast and turned on a morning talk show. I was just coming to the exciting conclusion of a discussion on new trends in lighting fixtures when the doorbell rand. Through the curtain I could see the little green Volkswagen out on the street.
Panic. Did I have jam on my face? Would he notice that I was basically wearing the same outfit, which was still kind of nasty from the day before? No time to do anything about that now. I opened the door.
Charlie had on a well-worn fisherman's sweater, and his hair was still slightly damp, which brought out the curls. He was waiting on the step, holding out two paper cups from the coffee shop that we'd stopped at yesterday.
"Coffee," he said, smiling and holding one out for me. "Four sugars. Extra milk."
"Perfect, thanks." I eagerly accepted the cup. "What happens now?" I asked after I'd had a sip. "How do we know when everyone at Evelyn's house will be out?"
"They're out now," he said. "I checked. Ruth and Brigid are both working. Evelyn went out to Boston for the day. She meets with other witches there once a week to study new divination spells. We can leave whenever you are ready."
"Are you sure about this?" I asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous.
"Completely," he said.
We headed out to his car. Operation Find the Library was under way.
We parked well down the street from the house and walked back. Charlie casually did these little spells he called see-me-nots, which he assured me would keep us from being noticed by anyone.
"So," I said with a nervous grin as we stood on the porch of Evelyn's house, "how do we get in? Magick?"
"Yup." He smiled back, reaching into his pocket. He fished around for a moment and produced a key. "Ta da!"
I shook my head in mock disgust.
"This is my key," he admitted. "I'm pretty much allowed to come and go as I like. I fix the computer, shovel the snow, get herbs from the garden. I pretty much live here half the time. Getting in won't be quite as exciting as I might have made it sound."
"Please," I said as he unlocked the door. "Give me boring any day. I have enough excitement in my life."
Just as a precaution, Charlie called into the house to see if anyone was home. When there was no reply, we slipped inside and locked the door behind us. The house was still and sunny. We hurried to the basement door, which was in the kitchen. A narrow, steep flight of stairs led into the unfinished basement. The low-ceilinged space was full of snow shovels, sleds, old boots, and a few well organized sets of shelves holding ordinary household items like flowerpots and bags of potting soil. There was a rickety old toboggan in the corner and a small box with a badminton set.
I was tingling from the moment we entered this part of the house. It seemed as if my mother's presence hadn't been washed clean from here. Some of these things, I knew, were hers. Even though it was rather strange and painful, I felt my senses expanding, as if I was growing stronger with her energy. There was something down here that seemed to be screaming out to me.
"It's here," I said suddenly.
He looked back at me.
"You feel it?" he said.
"Yeah," I replied, looking around for some sign of a doorway. Unless they were keeping it in an old box under the lawn darts, I didn't see anywhere they could be hiding a library in this place.
"Okay," he said, glancing around, too. "We've got to move all of this away from the walls."
With a quick motion he pulled off his sweater. Underneath he was wearing a dark blue T-shirt printed with just one word: FRED. I noticed that his arms were covered in very light freckles as well and that they were surprisingly well-defined. I guessed he did more that just work on math problems, or else he had some really heavy pencils. Then I decided to stop gawking at his arms and look like I was actually here to help. I pulled off my sweater as well and threw it down on his.
Together we shifted everything away from the wall by at least a foot or two. When we were done, Charlie pulled his athame out of his messenger bag. It was entirely made of highly polished silver, with a Celtic engraving around the handle and a round piece of black onyx set at the very top. Slowly, working right under the ceiling, he ran the athame around the walls, moving a bit every time he made a complete pass. He had to go around about two dozen times to cover the whole area.
When that revealed nothing, he started on the floor, passing the athame carefully over every inch. He had to stop every few minutes so that we could rearrange the furniture. Again nothing, the straightened up and stared down at the floor, puzzled. The he slouched against the wall and squinted around with an intent expression, tapping his athame in his palm.
"I have an idea," he finally said. "But it involves the both of us. It's possible that because you're a blood relative, the door will be revealed to you more easily. So together we're going to do a nochd."
"Should I close my eyes?" I said, keeping a very straight face.
"I expected that," he replied with a wry grin. "Here." He held out the athame to me, handle first.
I pointed to the athame. "Can I hold that? I mean, is it sacred or something?"
"Well," he said, "it's a magickal toolso, yes. It's sacred. But it belongs to me, and I have no problem with you using it. Whether or not it works pretty much on you. Magickal tools function when the user brings their magick to them."
"You mean, like the toaster only works when you plug it in? Then it can use its bread-charring powers."
"Exactly." He nodded with a smile. "The tool is the toaster. You're the socket."
I accepted the athame, and he fished through his bag and removed a white candle and a piece of chalk.
"I'll cast the spell," he said. "We're going to see of your energy can guise us. I'll lead you as we go, so don't worry."
"Okay," I agreed, feeling weird with the heavy athame in my hand. "How do I hold it up? Up, or down, or out"
"Just let your arm fall naturally by your side," he said, expertly drawing a circle around us. Then he placed the candle in the middle, between us, and drew a series of runes around it in chalk. Standing, he lightly took hold of my right wrist, gripping just below the handle of the athame. He flashed me a look to see if I was ready, and I nodded.
"Aingeal," he intoned.
The candle snapped to life. I guess I shouldn't have been so startled. I'd seen both Morgan and Evelyn do that. Still, to see Charlie do it surprised me.
"Sinn sir ni keillit," he continued. The metal of the athame grew warm. He tightened his grip on my wristnot enough to hurt me, but enough to have a firm grasp. "Tar er ahs, seòl heen."
I saw now why he had tightened his hold. My arm began to quake, and for a moment I thought I might drop the athame. He locked his hand around mine and looked down at me. Magick was flowing through us, between us. I could feel his strength as he controlled its flow. Im not sure if it was the magick or simply being so close it him, but my heart started beating like crazy. It seemed so loud that I actually thought he would be able to hear it.
In one movement our arms rose togethermine started to come forward, pushing his back. It was pointing the athame to a spot on the floor. He couldnt see it because it was behind him, but a square appeared in that spot. It was made of symbols, very finely drawn in a bluish light. I wanted to say something, but I thought it might ruin the spell. As it was, he seemed aware that something was happening, even though he couldnt see what I saw.
Giving thanks to the Goddess and the God, he ended the spell, but he held on to my hand for a moment. We said nothingjust stood there, looking at each other. I felt the warmth of his body and could smell the faint smell of laundry detergent, some kind of spicy mens deodorant, and faint traces of sage smoke. Charlie smell. So nice. As he gazed down at me, I realized that he was the only person who could really stare at me like that without my wanting to turn away or hide my face. I could actually look him right in the eye and not flinch. Even though his expression was serious and intent, his mouth still retained its wide, happy curve. It was as if he was born to smile and make others smile. Such a nice mouth.
Such a what? What was I thinking?
Unintentionally I pulled away. He backed up, as though I startled him. His face was flushed, and he didnt seem to know where to look for a moment.
Theres a thing on the floor, I mumbled, pointing.
Good! he said, quickly kneeling down and snapping out the candle flame with his fingers. Thats what was supposed to happen. We did it. Good work.
I brushed the chalk circle away as Charlie sprawled flat on the floor to examine the symbols up close. I saw him working his way all around the square. By now my mind was everywhere it shouldnt be. I could only see the length of his body, the way the sleeves of his T-shirt tightened around his upper arms, the speed of his movements.
Cousins boyfriend, I kept saying to myself over and over and over.
Okay, he said, getting up to his knees. This shouldnt be too bad. Finding it was the hard part. The seal itself isnt a tremendous piece of work. He reached back for his bag and started rooting through it again, producing a handful of runes.
Have you got a whole magick shop in there? I asked.
No maam, he said. Just the basics. Some candles, chalk, athame, runes. All the things a witch should never travel without, especially when theyre trying to break into other witches private library.
I gulped, feeling a pang of guilt as he set a rune in each corner of the box, then put the white candle in the center. He muttered a spell quietly to himself. The candle winked to life again, and over the next few minutes, as he spelled and tapped his athame around its perimeter, the dusty patch of floor revealed itself to be a wooden door with a round handle.
Voilà, he said, looking up in satisfaction. One trapdoor.
That was amazing, I told him, completely awed. Youre like a safecracker. He didnt reply, just gave a nervous little laugh.
When we opened the wooden door, we found a switch that turned on a set of overhead lights. They revealed a set of tiny steps that dropped almost straight down into a darker room. Charlie went down first, then offered up his hand to help me down. He had to bend down, as the low ceiling didnt give him much clearance.
Youd think a room under a house like this would be musty and dirty, but it was spotlessly clean. The walls and floor where made of smooth stone. There was an air filter and dehumidifier. Every inch of space was carefully utilized. The walls were completely set with shelves, and several freestanding floor-to-ceiling bookcases sat back-to-back in in eight rows, the pathways between the rows of books were narrow, just large enough for one person to pass through with a step stool. In one corner there was a small antique reading table with a lamp and two chairs.
This place is great, he said, his expression melting into one of amazement at the sight of all the books. It was like watching a little kid at an amusement park, so deliriously excited that they dont know where to head first. In his enthusiasm he stumbled but caught himself on one of the bookcases.
Its my ballet training coming through, he said with a smile as his face turned charmingly pink. The he bounded off into the stacks.
As Charlie devoured the titles on the shelves, I walked around quietly, taking in the magnitude and splendor of the collection. Many of the books, though ancient, werent particularly frail. Theyd been so well taken care of that age had only affected them slightly. There were books in strange blocky print, dating well back into the 1600s. There were books in all kinds of languages, in mysterious prints and symbols. Some sections were full of dry, academic-sounding titles. Others were filled with books so exotic looking that I was actually frightened to touch them.