The CallingSweep Series, Book 7Cate Tiernan
Prologue
A wolf, silver-tipped fur, ivory teeth glinting in the candlelight, padding across a dark, polished marble floor to a stone table. The room huge, black candles flickering in wall sconces. Leaves and vines in ornate plaster molding. A cougar, muscles rippling beneath a tawny pelt, bounds toward the table, golden eyes glittering. Black drapes covering tall, narrow windows. A great horned owl, its wings and talons outstretched, hovering over the stone table. The air rank with the smells of the animals. A viper coiled on the table, fangs exposed. An eagle, an enormous bear. A jaguar, tail lashing. The air crackling with dark power. An elaborate silver candlestick with black candles burning on top of an ebony cabinet. A hawk circling. An athame set with a single bloodred ruby. A jackal, a weasel, both greedy with hunger. The wolf ravenous. All closing on the great round stone table where a wolf cub lies bound, its eyes wide with terror, its small body trembling. One by one the candles gutter out. The darkness becomes thicker, complete. And the wolf cub howls.
I bolted upright, my heart hammering. I could still hear the echo of the cubs agonized scream, and the darkness around mewas only the darkness of my bedroom in the middle of the night. I was in my own room, in my own bed, yet the dream was still with me, vivid and terrifying.
Hunter, I need you! Without thinking I sent a witch message to my boyfriend, Hunter Niall.
I felt his instant response: On my way.
I glanced at my alarm clock. It was just past three A.M. I padded downstairs in my flannel pajamas to wait for Hunter.
It took him only ten minutes to arrive, but it felt more like ten hours as I paced the living room nervously. The nightmare wasnt even close to fading. It still seemed present, as if all I had to do was close my eyes and Id be right back inside it.
I looked out the window as I felt Hunter approach, crunching across the crust of old snow on our lawn. His pale blond hair stuck up in spikes around his head, and my mage-sight showed me the traces of pink the cold wind had whipped into his pale, chiseled face.
What happened? he asked without preamble as I opened the front door.
I had a dream. I pulled him inside, opened his coat, and buried my face against his sweater-covered chest.
He stroked my hair back from my forehead. Tell me.
I told him, standing within the circle of his arms, speaking in a whisper so as not to wake my family. As I spoke, the images from the dream seemed to hover in the air around me, the wolf slavering, the owls yellow eyes searching, searching. I wanted to hide from those yellow eyes, wanted to stop them from hunting me out.
Stop. Its not real, I told myself.
I dont know why it scared me so much, I finished lamely. It was just a dream. And I wasnt even in it.
But Hunter didnt say the comforting things people usually say. Instead he was silent a moment, tapping his fingers gently on my shoulder. At last he said, I think I should report it to the council.
My heart contracted. The council? You think its that serious?
He shook his head, his green eyes somber. I dont know. Im not experienced in interpreting dreams. But there are things in it that worry mea lot.
I swallowed. Oh, I said in a small voice.
Morgan? I heard my dads sleepy voice coming from the top of the stairs. Are you down there? What are you doing up at this hour?
I turned quickly. Just getting something to drink, I called. Go back to sleep, Dad.
You too, he mumbled.
Hunter and I looked at each other.
Ill call you, he whispered.
I watched him disappear back into the darkness. Then I went back up to my room and lay there, sleepless and full of dread, waiting for the dawn to come.
1. Prophecies
March 2, 1977
I dreamt of Ireland again. As always, the dream left me with a longing that makes no sense. Its just an image, deceptively simple, innocent really: a small childs dress of cream linen, blowing on a line against an open blue sky. Behind it the grass slopes up to the base of Slieve Corrofin, with the great rock at the peak in the shape of a lizards head. I remember the locals calling it the Ballynigel dragon, though I reckon that was more for the tourists than anything else.
So why does Ballynigel still haunt my dreams? And what do I make of the fact that the dream returns when I am eighteen, two nights before Im to marry Grania? If, as we are taught, everything has meaning, then what does this mean? Am I being warned away from the marriage? No, that seems impossible. Ive been dreaming of that dress since I was eight.
Besides, Grania is three months pregnant with my child. And shes a good match. Her family is one of the wealthiest in Liathach, our coven. More to the point, her mother is the high priestess of Liathach and has no other children, and Grania has no ambition to lead the coven herself. Shes happy to let me take that role. Ive always known that one day Liathach would be mine to lead. Being Greer MacMuredachs son-in-law will make the passing of power that much easier. Together Grania and I will raise a dynasty full of true Woodbane magick.
Neimhidh
At eight-thirty the sky still held the paleness of early morning as I drove south on the New York State Thruway. There were almost no other cars on the road, and the world seemed still and hushed in the chill January air. In the backseat of Das Boot, my enormous 71 Plymouth Valiant, Bree Warren, Robbie Gurevitch, Raven Meltzer, and Hunters cousin, Sky Eventide, were crammed together. All were sleepingRaven half collapsed against Sky, Bree snuggling with Robbie. The only other person awake was Hunter, who sat in the passenger seat beside me. I glanced at him, saw his chiseled profile intent as he studied a map. Sometimes I wondered if Hunter ever lived a moment without that focused intensity. Did he even sleep intensely?
Maybe I would find out over the coming weekend. The six of us were about to spend four nights in New York City. Id never spent that much time with Hunter, and something deep inside me thrummed with pleasure at his being so close to me. Things were still new between us, but I knew without question that I loved him. Most of the time I felt pretty certain that he loved me, too, although sometimes I got insecure about that. I had told him how I felt weeks ago, but he had never said it back to me. Who knewmaybe he just didnt feel it was necessary. I hadnt had the nerve to ask him.
Morgan, youll need to take the Palisades Parkway to the George Washington Bridge, then get the Harlem River Drive to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt motorway, he said, sounding very British.
We call them highways here, I said, unable to resist ribbing him.
The highway, then. It will take us straight down the east side of the city.
I know. Id never driven to New York City before, but Id gone with my family plenty of times. From Widows Vale, about two hours north, it was a pretty direct route.
How fast are you going?
I glanced at the speedometer. Seventy-five.
He frowned. I smiled. Responsible Hunter. At nineteen, he was the youngest member of the International Council of Witches, a Seeker, charged with ferreting out witches who used their power inappropriately and administering punishment. It was a serious job. Too serious, I sometimes felt. Since Id met Hunter, Id seen more of Wiccas dark side than I cared to.
About two months earlier Id learned that I was in fact not the biological child of the people Id always thought of as my parents. Rather, I was adopted and a blood witch, the descendant of one of the Seven Great Clans of Wicca. Whats more, I was heir to an incredible legacy of power.
Magick had brought me searing grief. It had made me question absolutely everything Id ever believed to be true. But magick was also the most amazing gift: an opening of the senses, a surfacing of ancestral memories, an exhilarating connection to the earth, and a strength Id never imagined possible. And it had brought Hunter into my life. Hunter, who I loved more than Id thought possible.
Youre almost up to eighty, Hunter said, sounding disapproving.
I slowed down to sixty-five. Theres no one else on the road, I pointed out.
Except perhaps a police officer, he warned. I felt his green eyes on me, and when I glanced at him, he smiled. Pity we dont travel by broomstick anymore, he said.
Did we ever? I asked, honestly curious. It sounds like fun.
Hunter shrugged. Really? I suspect it would be awfully uncomfortablehard seat, no heat or air-conditioning, bugs constantly flying into your mouth.
I glanced at him again and saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. I felt a rush of delight that made me break into a goofy grin. I guess Ill stick to driving for now.
We rode in silence for a while. The haze of thin clouds in the sky was starting to burn off, the sky settling into the pale, crystalline blue so typical of winter skies. There were a few more cars on the road now.
Hunter was the reason we were all going to New York City. Hunter, my dream, and the ancient boiler in Widows Vale High, which had broken down the Wednesday before Martin Luther King Jr. Day, miraculously extending a three-day weekend to five days.
As it turned out, the council had taken my dream very seriously. They considered it a prophetic vision and had ordered Hunter to investigate. They think the animals in your dream were actually members of a Woodbane coven called Amyranth, Hunter had told me when hed gotten the councils directive.
Amyranth? I frowned. Where had I heard that name before?
Of the Seven Great Clans, the Woodbanes were known for their tendency to covet and abuse power. But there were also Woodbane covens, like Belwicket, the one my birth parents had belonged to, that had forsworn evil.
Amyranth is not one of the good ones, Hunter told me. Its one of the worst. Its the only coven believed to practice the forbidden magick of shape-shifting. Actually, another coven, Turneval, also used to shape-shift. But Turneval was disbanded in the early seventies, after their core members were stripped of their magick by the council. Amyranth has avoided the same fate by operating in deep secrecy. Members usually maintain membership in another coven; Amyranth is their secret coven. He gave me a sideways look. Selene Belltower was a member of Amyranth.
Oh. Thats where Id heard the name Amyranth before. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Selene. So were talking very scary.
Hunter had been sent to Widows Vale last fall to ferret out a group of Woodbane witches who were using dark magick to destroy their opponents and increase their own power. Their local leader had been Selene Belltower, the mother of Cal Blaire, Hunters half brother and my first love. Though I was Woodbane myself, Selene had wanted to drain me of my power, and shed used Cal to get to me. When that plan had failed, Selene had kidnapped my younger sister, Mary K., forcing Hunter and me into a horrible showdown with her, just before Christmas. Shed nearly killed Hunter and me both, and I worried that Mary K. might still be suffering some subtle bad effects from having been her captive.
Cal had stepped in front of me and taken the bolt of dark energy shed aimed at me. Now Cal was dead, killed by his own mother. Although hed used and betrayed me, in the end hed given his life for me. I was still coming to terms with that: both with the fact that the beautiful boy Id loved so much was gone and that he was gone because of me.
Selene had also died that nightand though I certainly hadnt meant to kill her, I was haunted by the fear that my magick had somehow contributed to her death. Id never seen death up close. It was so final and empty and awful. Seeing Cal and Selene alive one minute, dead the next had changed something inside me. For all of Selenes and Cals formidable powers, they were as mortal as anyone else. Ever since that night Id looked at everyone I knew and loved with a new awareness. We were all so fragile, all capable of being so easily extinguished. I couldnt help thinking of that again as I drove on this beautiful morning.
Are you all right? Hunter asked softly. If you grip that wheel any more tightly, youre going to wrench it off the steering column.
Im fine. I forced my hands to relax.
Are you thinking about Selene and Cal? Hunter guessed. He was very sensitive to my emotions. No one had ever read me with such precision. Sometimes it made feel vulnerable and exposed. Sometimes it was weirdly comforting. At that moment it was a little of both.
I nodded as we whizzed past an exit. No love had been lost between Hunter and Cal. Theyd never known each other except as enemies. But Hunter knew Id loved Cal and was doing his best to be respectful of that. More than anyone, he understood how much coming into my powers had cost me.
Lets talk about something else, I said. Can we go over the details of this vision one more time? Im still not clear on what it is were supposed to do.
Were not supposed to do anything, Hunter said. Youre staying out of this. I dont want you taking any risks, Morgan.
I felt a prickle of annoyance. Wed had this argument several times in the two days since the council had contacted Hunter. Because I was the one whod had the dream, the council had asked that I accompany Hunter, just in case he needed to consult with me. I, of course, wanted to go. It was my dream, after all. Besides, I loved the idea of spending time in the city with Hunter.
Hunter hadnt been so keen on the idea, though. Its too dangerous, hed told me flatly. For you of all people to go walking into a nest of Woodbanes
He explained that the council believed Selene had been acting on behalf of Amyranth; it was possible I still was a target. I couldnt pretend that prospect didnt frighten me. But Selene was dead now, nothing bad had happened to me in the weeks since her death, and I was starting to feel safer. Safe enough that my desire to go with Hunter outweighed my fear.
The council thinks I should go, Id argued.
The council are a bunch of He broke off, pressing his lips together in irritation. My eyes widened. Was he really about to bad-mouth the International Council of Witches?
They dont always consider the risk to individuals, he said after a minute. Theyre not out here, doing the legwork. Anyway, you cant go, he went on. Youve got school. Your parents arent going to let you take two days off to go down to the city just because a bunch of witches in London think you should. He was right about that, I had to admit.
But then the school boiler had broken down, and Bree had suggested that we combine Hunters mission with a road trip to her dads New York City apartment. After a long discussion my parents had said I could go, and after that even Hunter couldnt come up with any more good reasons for me not to. I smiled, thinking about it. It must have been fate.
By late Wednesday night our road trip had expanded to include six members of Kithic, our coven. Sky was coming along because she and Hunter, who were cousins, always looked out for each other. Raven wanted to be with Sky, and Robbie had come to be with Bree.
Traffic thickened as we headed down the Palisades Parkway toward the George Washington Bridge. I slowed. So the animals in my dream were actually Amyranth witches in their animal formshave I got that right?
Right, Hunter confirmed. We think so. We know they use animal masks in some of their darker rites. Its rarer for a witch to actually be able to take on animal form, but they are capable of that as well. The council thinks that the wolf cub on the table must represent the child of the witch who appeared as the wolf.
My mouth fell open. ButI mean, it looked like the cub was about to be sacrificed. Are you saying a motheror fatheris out to kill their own child?
Hunter nodded. Thats the theory, he said quietly. The most likely scenario is that the victims power is going to be drained. Which usually means death.
What else? I asked after a moment, trying to match his calm.
Well, now we get to what the council doesnt know, Hunter said. First of all, we arent sure which cell of Amyranth is planning this event.
How many cells are there?
Hunter blew out a long breath. Four that we know of. One in San Franciscothat was Selenes groupone near Glasgow in Scotland, one in northern France, and one in New York City. Weve managed to get spies into the other three cells, but unfortunately, the one in New York is the one that the council knows the least about. Basically, all we know is that it exists. We dont know the identity of any of its members, cant even connect it to any specific incidents of dark magick. Its the most shadowy of all the branches.
I tried to make sense of all of this. So the council doesnt know who the wolf really is.
Or who the cub is, Hunter said. We believe that he or she is a young witch in terrible danger. But we have no idea who this witch is or why he or she has been chosen as a victim.
And your job? I asked.
As I said, weve already got agents inside the other three Amyranth cells, who will find out as much as they can, Hunter said. Since we have so little information about the New York coven, Im to try to fill in the gaps, find the witch whos targeted, and, if it turns out the target is here in New York
Weve got to find a way to protect him, I said, finishing his sentence.
Ive got to find a way to protect him, Hunter amended. Youve got to relax and enjoy the city. Shop, see museums, eat bagels, visit the Statue of Liberty.
Oh, come on. Youre going to need help, I argued. I mean, youve got nothing to go on. Where do you even begin to find this stuff out? Can we scry or something?
Dont you think the council has already tried all the methods of getting information by magick? Hunter asked gently. Were at a dead end. Its a matter of legwork now. And you cant help me on this. He laid his fingers gently on my lips as I started to protest. You know it as well as I do, Morgan. Its simply too dangerous for you. He looked troubled. Which reminds me of the other thing the council couldnt figure out.
Whats that? I whacked the horn impatiently. Traffic had slowed to a crawl, even though we were still miles from the exit for the bridge.
We dont know why youre the one who was given this dream.
A cold finger of fear traced its way down my back. I swallowed and was silent.
Gurevitch, get your elbow out of my ribs, Raven murmured. There was a general stirring in the back, then Robbie leaned over the blue vinyl bench seat. Morning, he said to us. Where are we?
About five miles north of the city, Hunter answered.
Im starving, Robbie said. How about we stop for breakfast?
I brought muffins, Bree announced. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her holding up a large white paper bag, managing to look both sleepy and cover-girl beautiful. Bree was tall and slim, with dark eyes and sleek, mink-brown hair. She and Robbie, our good friend since elementary school, had recently started going outsort of. Robbie was in love with Bree, but when hed told her that, shed gotten all squirrelly, as Robbie put it. Yet she continued to see him. What, exactly, she felt for him was a puzzle to me. Not that I was any expert on coupledom. Hunter was only the second guy Id gone out with.
Got any lemon poppy seed? Raven asked as she rooted through the muffin bag. Want one, Sky?
Yeah, thanks, Sky said, yawning.
Sky and Raven were a study in contrasts. Sky was slim, pale, blond, with a penchant for androgynous clothing and a delicate beauty that belied her considerable power. Raven, Widows Vales resident goth girl, favored a bad-girl wardrobe that left very little to the imagination. Her current outfit featured a tight black vinyl bustier that revealed the circle of flames tattooed around her belly button. A purple stud in her nose flashed as she turned her head. The interesting thing was that Raven, who had set a record for seducing guys, was now seeing Sky. And Sky was in love with Raven. It was definitely an attraction of opposites.
Hunter took a cranberry muffin from Bree and fed me a chunk of it as I navigated the torturous bridge traffic. Thanks, I mumbled through a sticky mouthful, and he reached out to wipe a crumb from the corner of my mouth. Our eyes met and held, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I saw the desire in his gaze.
Um, Morgan? Robbie said from the backseat. The road is that way. He pointed through the windshield.
Still flushed, I wrenched my attention back to the road and tried to ignore what being so close to Hunter was doing to all my nerve endings. But I couldnt help wondering what it would be like to stay with him in Brees fathers apartment.
Mr. Warren was a successful lawyer with clients in the city and upstate New York. I knew his city apartment was in the East Twenties. Even if we werent going to have the place to ourselves, being in a New York City apartment with Hunter seemed wildly romantic. I pictured us in the master bedroom, gazing out at a night view of the Manhattan skyline.
And then what? I asked myself with a twinge of alarm. Hunter, sensing it, took his hand off my thigh. Whats wrong? he asked.
Nothing, I said quickly.
Are you sure?
UmIm not really ready to talk about it, I said.
Fair enough. I could feel Hunter deliberately turning his senses away from me, leaving me to examine my own thoughts in peace.
Cal had been my first boyfriend. Hed been so beautiful, so charismatic and seductive. Not only that, hed introduced me to magick and all its beauty. Hed told me we weremùirn beatha dàns, soul mates. And Id wanted to believe him. Every fiber of my being had wanted to be with him, yet I hadnt felt ready for the final step of going to bed with him. Now I wondered if part of me had known all along that Cal was lying to me, manipulating me. It made my grief for him into a more complicated thing, layered with resentment and anger.
But Hunter was different. I loved him, trusted him, and was completely, soul-shakingly attracted to him. So why did it scare me to think about actually sleeping with him? I glanced in the rearview mirror, studying my friends. Robbie was a virgin like me, but I was pretty sure that wouldnt last long, now that he and Bree were together. He wanted her desperately. I didnt know about Sky, but I knew that Bree had lost her virginity in the tenth grade, and Ravenwell, I couldnt imagine Raven ever being a virgin.
What was wrong with me, that I was seventeen and still so inexperienced?
Youll want to take the next exit, Hunter murmured, and I was grateful for the gentle prompt. I merged into the traffic on the Harlem River Drive, and we swept across the top of Manhattan to the FDR Drive and the East River.
Quite suddenly the open view of the winter sky disappeared. The air became tinged with gray, and billboards and tall brick projects rose to my right. The traffic, already slow, became stop and go; impatient drivers leaned on horns. A van in front of me spewed a cloud of black exhaust. I caught a glimpse of lead-gray river water to my left, with industrial buildings on the far side. A taxi driver yelled unintelligibly at me as he passed on the right.
I felt a surge of raw, boisterous energy. We were in the city.
2. Searching
March 3, 1977
My wedding garments are laid out. The white robe embroidered in gold with the runes to summon power. The belt woven of gold and crimson threads. The grooms wristbands, beaten gold set with rubies, that I inherit from Granias father. Everything is spelled with charms for strength and fertility, with protections against whatever might harm us, with blessings for wealth and long life.
I wonder about love, though. Grania teases me, saying that nothing truly touches my heart, and maybe shes right. I know I dont love her, though Im fond of her.
Yet my mind lingers on last summers fling with that American Woodbane, Selene. Now, I know that wasnt love, but Goddess, it was exciting, the most intense experience Ive ever had. And that includes all the times Ive been with Grania. Still, Grania is a pretty thing and very pliant. And shes strong in her magick. Our children will be powerful, and thats the most important thing. Power. Woodbane power.
So why do I hesitate as I prepare for our wedding? And why do I keep dreaming of that damned white dress?
Neimhidh
Brees fathers apartment was on Park Avenue and Twenty-second Street. Bree gave directions, and I maneuvered Das Boot off the FDR, across Twenty-third Street, and finally onto Park and into the garage beneath the building.
The garage attendant gave me a strange look as we pulled in. With its two front quarter panels covered with gray body filler, its slate blue hood and shiny new metal bumper, Das Boot was not looking its most sophisticated.
Bree cranked down her window and spoke to the guard. Were guests of Mr. Warren in apartment thirty-sixty, she said. Hes arranged for a guest pass.
The guard checked a computer screen and let us in. The garage was filled with BMWs, Jags, Mercedes, and top-of-the-line SUVs.
I patted Das Boot on its piebald fender. Youre good for this place, I told it. They need to see how the other half drives.
Its the perfect city car, Robbie assured me. No one would ever try to steal it.
Loaded down with bags, we walked to the elevator. Bree hit the button for the thirtieth floor, and I felt Hunter clasp my hand. This was so glamorous, like something in a movie.
Raven smiled at Sky. This is very cool. I love the city.
Sky smiled back at her. Think I could persuade you to visit the Cloisters?
Hell, yes, Raven said. Its a medieval museum, right? I love that stuff.
The elevator opened, and we walked down a narrow hallway to the apartment at the very end. Mr. Warren opened the door before we knocked. Like Bree, he was tall, slender, and very good-looking. He was dressed in an elegantly tailored suit and silk tie.
Come on in, he said. He pointed to a little video monitor by the door that revealed the thirtieth-floor hallway. I saw you arrive. He pecked Bree on the cheek, then gave me a smile. Hello, Morgan. Havent seen you in a while.
Hi, Mr. Warren, I mumbled. He had always made me a little nervous.
He hit a button, and the scene on the monitor switched to the garage. Another button showed us the buildings lobby and doorman. Ive told the security people that youll be here through Monday, he said. Did you have a good trip?
Bree stretched. Perfect. Morgan drove. I slept most of the way. Oh, Dad, youve met Robbie, Raven, and Sky. And this is Hunter Niall, Skys cousin. Ive mentioned him to you.
I wondered what, exactly, Bree had told her father. Did he know that Hunter and Sky were witches, that his own daughter practiced Wicca? Probably not, I decided. Mr. Warren was a pretty hands-off parent. Half the time he was in New York City instead of Widows Vale, and even when he was home, Bree didnt have a curfew, didnt have to be home for dinner by a certain time, didnt have to call to say where she was. My parents had been a little leery of letting me come on this trip because of that.
Mr. Warren glanced at his watch. Im afraid Ive got to run, kids. Meeting. Bree, Ive left a couple of extra keys in the kitchen. Show everyone around and help yourself to whatevers in the fridge. You can sleep anywhere except my room. Ive got a dinner out on Long Island tonight, so I wont be back until quite late. He brushed her cheek with a kiss and reached into the hall closet for his coat. Enjoy the city!
When he was gone, Bree smiled and said, Come on, let me give you the grand tour.
The grand tour took all of two minutes. Mr. Warrens apartment consisted of a decent-size living room whose windows looked out over Park Avenue, a master bedroom, a small study, an even smaller guest room, a bathroom, and a tiny efficiency kitchen.
Everybody oohed and aahed, but I couldnt help feeling disappointed, and I suspected the others did, too. Bree had told us the apartment had only two bedrooms, but somehow Id expected something bigger, grander. Privacy was going to be tough.