OriginsSweep Series, Book 11Cate Tiernan
With thanks to Silver, And with love for my children of the Barley and Snow Moons
Prologue
Hey, Morgan!
Afternoon sunlight bounced off the cars in the high school parking lot as I turned to face my best friend, Bree Warren. I knew that she was eager to catch up with meId been kind of cranky and out of sorts all weekbut at the moment I was in a huge hurry. I leaned against the drivers side of my huge 71 Plymouth Valiant, which Id nicknamed Das Boot.
Whats up, Bree?
Bree ran up and stopped a few feet away from me, gasping for breath. I just wanted to sort of check in, see how you were doing today.
I nodded. Well, I heard from Hunter last night. Im supposed to go to his house now.
Her eyes widened in comprehension. Oh. So Hunters back.
Apparently so. Hunter Niall, my boyfriend of two monthswas it possible it had been only that long? I couldnt imagine life without him. I loved him with all my heart and soul and was fairly certain that he was my mùirn beatha dàn, my soul mate. He had left a little over two weeks ago to find his parents.
Are you nervous? Bree looked at me sympathetically.
A little. I sighed. All the time Hunter had been gone, wed had only one conversation. Worried, I had scried for him and found him with another woman. Not kissing or anything romanticthank the Goddess for thatbut locked in a passionate conversation. I wasnt sure what to make of the whole thing. I was afraid to think too hard about it.
Im sure itll be okay, she said confidently. Hunter loves you, Morgan. You can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. You have nothing to worry about.
I looked up at Bree, feeling a little comforted. Thanks. I just love him so much. Well, you know how I feel.
She nodded. I dont want to keep you, then. She smoothed down a lock of shiny dark hair and gave me a concerned frown. Listen, I hope everythings okay. I know youve been worried. Let me know if you need to talk, all right?
All right. I smiled. It seemed like Bree had gotten even more beautiful, more caring, more empathetic since she had fallen in love with my other best friend, Robbie Gurevitch. Not that shed been totally selfish beforeshe just seemed warmer now, more open.
See you tomorrow.
Bye.
Bree headed back toward the school and Robbie, and I climbed into Das Boot and swung out of the parking lot. It was mid-March, and the sidewalks were still covered with glistening, melting snow. I tried to calm my nerves as I drove toward Hunters rented house on the other side of town. But the truth was, I was very afraid. Afraid of what Hunter would tell me. Afraid that I wouldnt want to hear it.
After I arrived, I sat in Hunters driveway for a few minutes with the car running, trying to collect my thoughts. On the one hand, this was Hunter. Hunter, whom I loved and had missed terriblyI couldnt wait to see him. But on the other hand, what if he had found something new and wonderful in Canada? What if that was why he hadnt called me? What if he had been afraid to tell me something hurtful over the phone?
Sighing, I pulled the key from the ignition and smoothed my worn cords. I ran a quick hand through my long brown hair and decided that taming it was a lost cause. Taking a deep breath, I climbed out of Das Boot and headed for the door. I reached out my hand to ring the doorbell, but before I could get there, the door opened.
Morgan.
Hunter. As soon as I saw Hunters faceserious, lovingmy fears and anger faded away. I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in the crook of his neck, and breathed in his warm, familiar scent.
I missed you, I murmured into his collar. I was so worried.
I know, love. I could feel Hunters hand rubbing my back, his other hand reaching up to stroke my hair. I missed you, too. I wanted you there with me every moment.
Every moment? I asked, unable to prevent myself from picturing him arguing with the woman from my vision.
Every moment. Hunter leaned back and looked at me, then turned and gestured to his living room. Sit down for a moment and let me get you some tea. Theres lots to talk about.
I nodded, pulling off my coat and looking around. Wheres your father? Our phone conversation the night before had been very brief, largely due to the fact that it was after midnight and my mother was standing beside me in the hallway with steam coming out of her ears because hed called so late. All I had learned from Hunter was that he had found his dad, who was in poor health, and that he had convinced him to come back with him to Widows Vale. His mother, unfortunately, had died three months earlier, around Yule. Hunter hadnt said as much, but I could sense his frustration at not finding her in time and his grief over losing the mother hed had so little time with.
Hes asleep, Hunter called, heading for the kitchen. Hes been sleeping almost nonstop since we left his cottage. Im hoping that all the rest will be good for him. He certainly needs it.
I settled on the sofa, and after a few minutes Hunter joined me, holding two cups of chamomile tea. For you, he said, handing a cup to me and sitting down. I think we could both use some soothing after the past couple of weeks.
I sipped my tea, closed my eyes, and tried to let all of my fears, all of my insecurities and anger run out of me. Hunter, I said finally, feeling more calm, tell me what happened in Canada.
Hunters jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and I saw a darkness pass over his eyes. It was. difficult. He paused and sipped his tea. I feel like Ive been tested in ways I never could have predicted or imagined. My mum is dead. He looked at me briefly, and I nodded slowly. She and my da had been on the run from the dark wave for all those yearseleven years. He sighed. It was Selene, you know. Selene Belltower sent the dark wave after them because she couldnt forgive my da for leaving her and Cal.
I gasped. Selene Belltower and her son, Cal, had first introduced me to the world of Wicca. It was Cal who told me I was a blood witch. Id then realized that I was adopted, that I was the biological daughter of Maeve Riordan and Ciaran MacEwantwo very powerful, and very different, witches. I had thought that Cal was my true love, my mùirn beatha dàn, but it turned out that he was a pawn of his mother, who wanted to harness my power for her own dark uses. And Id learned that before Hunter was born, his father had loved and married Selene, making Cal Hunters half brother. Both Cal and Selene were dead nowSelene had died trying to steal my power, and in the end Cal had died trying to save me.
It was Selene? I asked finally, and Hunter nodded.
My mum scried for the dark wave in Mexico, and she got too close. She was never the same after that, and she died last December. After that my da moved to a tiny village in French Canada. He was living in filth, like a madman. I found out he was acting as a sort of medicine man to the local population, selling his services as a witch, which was bad enough. But I soon realized that he was also doing something much worsehe was contacting the villagers dead loved ones through a bith dearc and receiving payment for it.
I looked at Hunter in disbelief. Contacting the dead? I didnt think that was possible.
Hunter nodded again. It is. A bith dearc is an opening into the shadow world where spirits reside after they die. It doesnt naturally occur very often, and its very rarely used by good witchesonly when its imperative to get information. My father began using the bith dearc to try to contact my mother. Hes utterly lost without her. Hunters mouth twisted into a strange expressionhe looked angry, sad, and understanding of his fathers devotion all at the same time.
Wow, I said softly. How horrible for your dad. How horrible for you. I touched his arm, and he looked up at me gratefully.
Anyway, he continued, while I was there, he succeeded in contacting my mum. So I got to say good-bye to her, which waspriceless. But a bith dearc saps a living witchs strength, and my da was fading every day. I had to get him away from that village before he killed himself. The council gave me an assignment in a town three hours away, and I took him with me. While we were there, he agreed to come here to live with me for a while. Hunter turned to me and smiled and shrugged, as if to say, The end.
Thats not everything, though, I challenged. There was a woman. I saw you with her. I know you felt me scrying for you.
Hunters smile faded, and he nodded. Justine, he said quietly. Justine Courceau. She was my assignment from the council.
Hunter was a Seeker for the International Council of Witches, which meant that he investigated witches suspected of using dark magick. What was she doing? I asked.
Hunter sighed. Shes a kind of. rogue. Shes the only witch in her small town, and she believes that knowledge is pureany knowledge. She was collecting true names. of people. My eyes went wide. That was a major Wiccan no-no. I was sent there to stop her and destroy her list.
Did you? I asked, remembering the emotion on Hunters face when I had scried for him.
Yes. Hunter frowned, and his voice grew softer. Justine was very passionate about what she believed in. When you saw us, we were arguing about whether the list was inherently bad. I was under a lot of stress, and she was very. persistent.
I stared at him, dreading his next words.
I kissed her, Hunter continued, and my heart plunged. I knew as soon as I did it that it was a mistake. I was lonely and. sad. I missed you. I wanted you. Hunter groaned softly. I turned away. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I couldnt look at him right now.
How does kissing another woman. mean that you want to spend time with me? I stared at the wall. I couldnt imagine wanting to kiss anyone else, anyone but Hunter, for any reason. I struggled to get it all to make sense, but I just couldnt.
I could hear Hunters sigh. I dont know, Morgan, and Im sorry. So sorry. If there was some way that I could undo it, I would.
I shook my head. But you cant.
I know. I felt Hunters fingers touch my back, but I scooted away. Morgan, I dont know what to say, how to explain it all to you. I love you very much. Youre my mùirn beatha dàn, and I know that.
I let out a ragged breath, like I was about to cry. Dammitno! I took a deep lungful of air, not wanting to fall apart in front of Hunter. I wanted to hear what he had to say about this. I wanted to act like an adult.
Hunter went on. The whole drive home, you were all I could think about. If you want to know why in that moment I kissed Justine, I can scarcely figure it out myself. It happened quickly. I felt like everything in my life was going the wrong way. My job with the council, my father
and me, I finished for him. Because I scried for you. Without asking. And before you left My voice caught again. Before Hunter left, we had been planning to make love. But at the last minute Hunter had backed out. Hed said he didnt want to love me and leave mehe wanted to be there for me, my first time, on the morning after. I had felt ridiculous then, and I felt even more so now.
Hunter put his hand on my shoulder, and this time I was too busy trying not to cry to pull away. Morgan, this has nothing to do with what happened before I left. I love you, and of course I want to make love with youit just wasnt the right time. You know that. I was startled when you scried for me, and everything else was going wrong. I suppose I was angry. I was wrong, and Im sorry. Justine means nothing to me. Its you I love.
Sniffling, I tried to calm myself down. I reached for my tea and took a sip, then sighed and slowly turned my body to face Hunter. I know you do, I whispered. It just. hurts. And I still dont understand.
Hunter frowned, leaning forward to brush my hair out of my eyes. Maybe I cant make you understand, he said softly. I can only say again that I love you, and Im so sorry for hurting you.
I looked up into Hunters eyesthey were warm, filled with concern and love. But I still hurt. Maybe, I said softly. I cant say I forgive you yet. Youll have to give me some time.
Hunter nodded, and I could see sadness welling up in his eyes. Morgan, I cant say Im sorry enough.
I looked down at my tea, cradling the cup in my hands. I didnt say anything. I didnt know what to say anymore.
Hunter sat back in the sofa. Morgan, theres more newsif you want to hear it.
I turned the teacup in my hand, feeling utterly overwhelmed. What next? I asked sarcastically. I was dreading his next revelation. Everything up to this point had been awful.
First, he said after a moment, the council. Morgan, the council had been in contact with my parents months agoback when my mother was sick, before she died. They knew where my parents were and didnt tell me.
I turned to look at him. What? How do you know? Are you sure?
Hunter nodded. My da told me. He thought I already knew. My mentor, Kennethe sent a healer for my mum back in December.
I frowned. So
So they betrayed me. They probably wanted me here, to protect you. And I dont regret thattruly, I dont regret that at all. But they didnt give me the choice. They let me believe that my parents were still missing.
I stared at him, at the hurt in his face. I could see how this would affect him. He had missed seeing his mother alive because hed had to stay here and protect me. Hunter had placed all of his trust in the council since he had become their youngest Seeker a year ago, and this was how they treated him. What are you going to do?
Hunter shook his head. I dont know.
I slowly put my cup down. Was there something else? I asked shortly, dreading the answer.
Hunter nodded, looking stung. I knew he wanted forgiveness, but I wasnt ready to give him that. Stay here for a moment, he said as he slid off the couch and went upstairs to his bedroom. In a few seconds he thumped back down the stairs, holding an ancient-looking book under his arm.
Whats that?
Hunter came closer and held it out to me. This is very interesting. Its a record of sorts. My father found it in Justines library.
I shuddered at hearing her name again, but I composed myself and took the book from him carefully, so that I didnt have to touch his hands. I ran my hands over the cover, which was made of torn and faded leather. Opening it, I could see that the pages were handwritten. A Book of Shadows?
Not a Book of Shadows, exactly. Hunter flipped the pages back to the beginning, where a handwritten title page read, A Book of Spelles and Memories, by Rose MacEwan. Its more like a memoir.
Rose MacEwan, I whispered. Do you think.?
Hunter nodded gravely. She lived in Scotland during the Burning Times. Its very likely that she was an ancestor of yours. This book could be invaluable for what it can tell us about the dark wave spell and how it came into being. My das read most of it, but I havent looked at it at all. He closed the cover of the book and looked up at me hopefully. Would you like to read it with me, Morgan?
I looked into Hunters clear green eyes. I could see his love for me, pure and unbending, along with the pain hed suffered and his hope for the future. My heart still ached with the knowledge of what hed done, but I hoped that wed be okay. eventually. I turned my attention to the book. When I ran my hand again over the worn embossed cover, I felt a rush of energy. My ancestor. I knew it.
Yes, I said finally. Lets read it.
1. Scotland, April 1682
The rose stone.
It glimmered brightly in my palm, catching the few rays of light allowed in by the drab portals of the church. The reverend mumbled on, glorifying the Christian God. My thoughts were far from the church altar as I considered the spell I would cast over this precious gem.
Beside me, my mother lifted her head from pretending to pray. I closed my fist suddenly, not wanting her to see the stone that Id borrowed from her cupboard of magickal things. The crystal, with its soft, pink hue, was known to evoke peaceful, loving feelings. It was a wonder to me that I shared the same name as the stoneRoseyet I had never come close to falling in love. Ma raised her brows, chastising me without words, and I dropped the stone back into my pocket and clasped my hands the way the Presbyterians did.
Would Ma mind that I had borrowed the stone for Kyra? I wondered. Ever since my initiation my mother had encouraged me to work on my own magick, practice my own spells and rituals. But somehow I didnt think she would appreciate that one of my first attempts would be to cast a love spell for my best friend. My mother had warned me against using spells that tamper with a persons free will, but a love spell was for the good, I thought. Besides, Falkner had been oblivious to Kyra for so long, and I knew she was getting desperate.
A few rows ahead Kyra turned to me, her mouth twitching slightly before she turned back to the front of the church. I knew what she was thinking. That church was tedious. Nothing like our beautiful circles in the woods, gatherings lit by candles, sometimes festooned by ribbons, blessed with the magickal presence of the Goddess. Not that I had any quarrel with the Christian God. Time and again Ma had reminded me that they were all the sameGod or Goddess, it was one force we worshipped, albeit different forms. The problem was the ministers, who could not open their minds to accept our homage and devotion to the Goddess. Consequently the kings men and the Christians were ever crossing over the countryside in a mad witch-hunt that brought about dire results.
Makeshift trials. Hangings. Witches burned at the stake.
And so every week my mother and I knelt in this church, our heads bowed, our hands folded. We pretended to practice Presbyterianism so that we might avoid the fate suffered by other members of the Seven Clans who had been persecuted for practicing magick, for worshiping the Goddess. The puritanical wave that had been moving through Scotland had claimed many a life. The toll across the land was frightening, with tales of so many witches persecuted, most of them women.
Just last year a woman from our own coven, a gentle wisp of a lass named Fionnula, had been found killing a peahen with a bolline marked with runes. Those of us who knew her understood that the hen was not intended as an offering to the Goddess but as a very necessary meal. Still, the townspeople could not see beyond the fact of the strange markings on the small knife she used to kill the bird. Fionnula had been charged with sacrifice and worshipping the devil.
I lifted my eyes to the altar, staring at the robed back of the murmuring reverend who had been so instrumental in Fionnulas fate. At her trial Reverend Winthrop had testified that the young woman missed his sermon every week, defying the Christian God. He had called her a vassal of Satan.
I clenched my hands, recalling the horrified look in Fionnulas eyes as she was sentenced to death. Christians had come from nearby villages to witness the triala ghastly spectacle in these partsand although every Wodebayne had wanted to save her, no one spoke in her defense. Twas far too dangerous.
The following day she was hanged as a witch.
Sometimes when I catch suspicious gestures of the townspeoplea curious stare or a whispered commentI cant help but recall the fear in Fionnulas dark eyes. Her execution brought a new veil of secrecy to our circles. More rules passed down by my mother, who was sometimes a bit overbearing in her role as high priestess. Ma wanted me to see less of my friend Meara, a kind girl who loved to laugh but was born into a staid Presbyterian family. Everyone in the coven had been warned to take great care in all their associations, whether it be trading baked goods for mutton or simply washing garments in the brook. No one outside our all-Wodebayne coven was to be trusted.
Tools were to be well hidden and guarded by spells that made them unnoticeable. Skyclad circles were no longer safe, and when we gathered for an Esbat or a sabbat circle, coveners went into the woods in small groups of two. We were so afraid of being caught that we tried not to be seen gathering together at market or in the villagenothing beyond a cordial greeting. And now every member of the coven attended church every Sunday.
We were prisoners in our own village. By night we practiced our craft in secret. By day we played at being just like the rest of the townspeople.
The injustice of it fired up a fury within me. That my motherSíle, high priestess of our covenshould have to kneel amid their wooden pews. It was a travesty, to be sure. Just one of the heavy burdens upon my shoulders, making me feel like a trapped animal in a dark sack that was closing in around me. There were so many rules governing my world. I had to hide the fact that I was a blood witch from the townsfolk. I had to avoid contact with other clans, whose members considered themselves our rivals although we were all witches and worshipped the same Goddess. (This was a tedious war, I felt, but I had been told the rivalry among the Seven Clans had worn on through many generations.) I had to make entries into my Book of Shadows, gather and dry herbs, learn to make healing tonics and candles, bless and inscribe my own tools.
Aye, the life of Rose MacEwan was filled with constraints. Was it any wonder that I felt suffocated by them?
When I thought of what would make me happy, the answer was not forthcoming. I wasnt quite sure of my own hearts desire; however, I knew that my destiny was not to spend the rest of my life concocting spells and practicing witchcraft secretly in this remote, provincial village.
At last the prayers ended and townsfolk began to file out of the church. I waded into the aisle, hoping to catch Kyra before her parents whisked her back to their cottage. Kyra was my lifelong friend, a member of my clan and coven, though she was not as adept at casting spells as I was said to be.
Wouldnt she be surprised to see what Id brought for her? I reached into the pocket of my skirts and closed my hand around the small gem. My fingertips felt warmed by the stone. I planned to give it to Kyra to help her attract Falkner Radburn, a boy from our own Wodebayne coven. Falkner was all Kyra had spoken of since the children jumped the broom-stick at Samhain. All winter long I had heard of Falkners strength and Falkners eyes. Falkner this and Falkner that. Bad enough that poor Kyra was captivated by him, but to make matters worse, Falkner was unaware of her love.
I had agreed to help my friend, though I didnt really understand why she favored him. Then again, I had never known any attraction like that. In my eyes boys were silly galloping creatures, and men had nothing to do with me. They seemed to me like the wolves who roamed at night, pouncing on their prey without warning. I was a Wodebayne of seventeen years, initiated into the ways of the Goddess at fourteen, and as most girls my age were already betrothed or wed, I had come to the conclusion that I would never meet a man who caught my fancy. Since it hadnt happened as yet, I felt that the Goddess didnt intend it to be.
Outside the church, Ma greeted the Presbyterian villagers cordially. I kept my head bowed, not wanting to meet their eyes or see the cruel faces that had so quickly sentenced Fionnula to death. Some time had passed since her trial, yet I could not forgive these people for their crime. I would never forgive them.
Good day to you, Rose, said a familiar voice.
I turned to see Meara, her freckled face wrought with shadows. Meara, I didnt see you inside.
Da and I were late getting in. Ma was up all night with the pains, but shes back resting again. Da said we should come to church and pray to Christ Jesus for her recovery.
Mearas mother had not truly recovered from the birth of her sixth child a few months earlier, and as the oldest daughter, the burden of taking over her mas responsibilities fell on Mearas shoulders. I felt sorry for her, having to tidy up the cottage, mind the young bairns, and cook enough porridge for the whole brood of them.
Whos caring for the children, then? I asked her.
Mas sister, Linette, has come from the south to help for a while. Her eyes were hollow, and I wasnt sure if it was simply tiredness or fear over what might happen to her mother. Ma had visited Mearas mother once, hoping to help. She told me theyd talked awhile and she had tried to raise the womans spirits, but twas all Ma could do. She didnt dare pass on healing herbs or place her hands on the ailing womans worn belly to perform a spell. And that was the shame of it; Ma had the power to perhaps cure Mearas mother, but since that very act could get Ma hanged as a witch, it would not be done.
I havent seen you down by the brook lately, Meara told me. Do you not draw water for washing?
Ma sends me later now, I said awkwardly. She says the morning chill is too much. It was a lie, and I hated telling it to Meara, who had always been a good friend. But the truth was, Ma had told me to find a different place to draw water so that I wouldnt meet Meara every morning. Its too dangerous, the two of you talking with such ease, Ma had told me. One of these days youre liable to slip and speak the Goddesss name or mention the coming Esbat, and that sort of breach I cannot allow.
Mearas father summoned her from the edge of the crowd.
Id better go, Meara said reluctantly. Godspeed.
I nodded, wondering what would happen to my friend if her ma passed. Already Meara was acting as mother to the large family. My own father had died when I was but five years of age, and though I often wished for the protection a father could offer, I remembered so little of him. Losing a mother had to be worse.
Tell your ma... I wanted to espouse an herbal tea that would help her mother feel better, but I knew it was too dangerous. I sighed. Tell your ma I will pray for her.
Meara nodded, then went off with her da.
Ma was speaking with Mrs. MacTavish, an elderly woman from our coven whod been suffering from a hacking cough. As she spoke, I slipped away from Mas side to find Kyra.
Gently I took my friends arm and led her away from her ma and da. Feeling whimsical, I touched the stone in my pocket. I have something for you, I said quietly. Something to attract your certain someone.
She stared at me, uncomprehending.
I glanced around to make sure that none of the villagers were paying us any mind. Folks were engaged in the usual chatter, complaints of the long winter and worries over the spring planting. I turned back to Kyra. Can you guess whats in my pocket? When she shook her head, I whispered in her ear, Ive brought an amulet for you to attract Falkner.
Her cheeks grew pink at my words, and I wanted to laugh aloud. Kyra was so easy to embarrass. She took my hand and pulled me off the stone path, away from the churchgoers. Would you have everyone in the Highlands hear of my secret love?
Harmless words, I said, adding in a whisper, though I dare not show you the magickal gem before everyone in the village. The sun was still rising in the sky, promising a warm spring morning. Only days before, the last of the snow had melted from the ground. Come with me to the woods, I said. I need to collect herbs. Well do the gathering ritual together, and afterward well charge the rose stone.
Oh, I wish I could, but I promised Ma I would help with the baking. Kyra pressed a hand over her heart. Are you sure the stone holds power?
Ma used to let me hold it whenever we quarreled. Its powerful enough.
Turning slightly, Kyra glanced toward the crowd still spilling out of the church. I knew she was looking for Falkner, a beanpole of a boy who had yet to show any signs of intelligence in my presence. Nothing seems to work on him, she said wistfully. He cant even spare me a glance. Its as if Im just a passing dragonfly, hardly worthy of notice.
I pressed my lips together, wishing that Kyra wouldnt go into it again. It was precisely the reason I had borrowed the rose stone from Mas cupboard: to put an end to my friends pining and suffering. Come to the woods with me, then, I said.
Kyra! her mother called. Her parents were ready to leave.
She nodded at her ma respectfully, then tilted her head. I cannot go, she told me regretfully. One chestnut braid slipped over her sapphire cloak. But I do want the stone. Can you leave it on my doorstep? In a basket by the woodpile?