Nice, Robbie said at last. Great location.
One bathroom? Raven sounded incredulous. For seven of us?
Bree shrugged. Its Manhattan. Space is at a premium. Actually, this place is huge by Manhattan standards.
I like the decor, Sky said. Its simple.
That was an understatement, I thought. Like the Warrens Widows Vale house, the apartment was austere. The walls were white, the upholstery, muted neutrals. The furniture was light and spare, with an L-shaped couch, a coffee table, and a flat-screen TV the only furniture in the living room. One painting hung on the north wall, an abstract block of brown fading into tan against a white canvas. There were no knickknacks, no photographs or vases. The room didnt feel very lived in.
We dropped our bags in a pile next to the couch. Hunter stood by the windows. In faded jeans that hung loose on his hips and an oversize wheat-colored sweater, he looked vaguely bohemian and wholly beautiful. The light made his eyes turn a deep jade. In the time that Id known him, Id spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about Hunters eyes. Sometimes they were the color of spring grass, sometimes the color of the sea.
Whats the plan, then? Sky asked Hunter.
Its just after ten, Hunter said. He hadnt bothered to check a clock. His witch senses included an uncanny sense of time. I need to call on some people, he went on. Briefly he explained his mission to the others.
Oh, right, Raven said sarcastically. No problem.
Hey, I lost a needle in a haystack last week, Bree chimed in. Think you could find that for me? You know, when youve got a second.
Do you want help? Sky asked Hunter quietly, and I had to suppress an irrational surge of jealousy. Shes his cousin, I reminded myself. They look out for each other.
Hunter glanced at me with a very slight smile, and I knew hed noticed my reaction. No, he told Sky. Not for this part of it, anyway. It will be easier for me to get people to talk if Im on my own. Well meet back here before dinner. Say, six oclock?
Works for me, said Raven. There are some stores near St. Marks Place I want to check out. Anyone want to come?
Sky, Bree, and Robbie signed on for the St. Marks excursion. I decided to stay at the apartment, my excuse being that I wanted to rest for a bit after the drive. Actually, I had a secret mission of my own in the city. I needed to come up with a plan of action.
When the others had left, I went to the wide double window that looked out over Park Avenue. I could feel the city humming beneath me, people in cars and buses and taxicabs; pedestrians and bicycle messengers. I felt a twinge of regret that I wasnt down there on the streets with the others. But I had work to do.
I opened my backpack and took out a book bound in dark red cloth and a dagger with an intricately carved ivory handle. They were part of my inheritance, the Book of Shadows and the athame, or ceremonial dagger, that had belonged to my birth mother, Maeve Riordan. The rest of her witchs tools were back in Widows Vale, hidden in my house.
I settled myself on Mr. Warrens living room floor and opened the Book of Shadows to an entry dated April 1982, a few months after Maeve and Angus Bramson, my birth father, arrived in America. Theyd fled Ireland when their coven, Belwicket, was destroyed by something called the dark wave, a deadly concentration of dark energies. Maeve and Angus were the only survivors.
With nothing left in Ireland and a clear sense that they were being hunted, Maeve and Angus came to New York City. Eventually they left the city and settled upstate, an hour or two north of Widows Vale, in a tiny town called Meshomah Falls.
The entry on the page Id turned to talked about how unhappy Maeve was in her Hells Kitchen flat. She felt Manhattan was a place cut off from the pulse of the earth. It made her grief for all shed lost that much sharper.
I held the athame to the page covered with Maeves handwriting. Slowly I passed the age-worn silver blade over the blue ink, and as I did, pinpricks of light began to form a different set of words entirely. It was one of Maeves secret entries.
I have been staring at this gold watch for hours, as though it were a gift from the Goddess herself. I never should have brought it with me from Ireland. Oh, its a beautiful object, passed down through the ages from one lover to another. Were I to cast my senses, I know I could feel generations of love and desire radiating from it. But it was given to me by Ciaran. If Angus ever saw it, it would break him.
Ciaran gave it to me the night we pledged ourselves to each other. He said that if you place it beneath the house, the tick of the watch will keep the hearts beating within steady and faithful. Is my holding on to it a selfish hope that Ciaran somehow will find his way back into my life? I must not even think such thoughts. Ive chosen to live my life with Angus, and thats all there is to it.
Next month Angus and I will leave this dreadful city for a new home upstate. I must end this heartsick madness now. I cant bring myself to destroy the watch, but I wont take it, either. Angus and I will move on. The watch will stay here.
Ciaran had been Maeves mùirn beatha dàn, but he had lied to her, betrayed her. And then, years later, long after shed rejected him, he had found her and Angus in Meshomah Falls, where hed trapped them in an abandoned barn and set fire to it. She was pure goodness, he pure evil. How could she have loved him? It was unfathomable. Yetyet Id loved Cal, who had nearly killed me the same way Ciaran killed Maeve.
I needed to know more. I needed to understand, as much to silence my questions about myself as to know Maeve more fully.
When wed made the plan to come to New York, it had dawned on me that while we were there, Id be only a subway ride from where Maeve and Angus had lived. If I could find their apartment, then maybe, just maybe, Id find the watch. Maeve had said she was leaving it behind, after all. I knew the odds were heavily against its still being thereit had been almost twenty years ago, and even if shed hidden the watch, surely someone would have found it. Still, I couldnt let the idea go. I wasnt even sure why I was so obsessed with the watch. Morbid fascination? I needed to see it, hold it.
Of course, I realized that anything touched by Ciaran was tainted, even potentially dangerous. Which was why I hadnt mentioned the watch to Hunter or anyone. Hunter would never approve of my doing anything remotely risky. But I had to try to find it.
I tucked the athame and the Book of Shadows back into my pack. At home Id tried scrying with fire for Maeves old Manhattan address. All Id seen was a vision of the inside of a dingy apartment. Granted, most witches considered fire the most difficult medium with which to scry, but I had a natural connection to it, another gift from Maeve. But what the fire revealed was only a second cousin to what I asked for, close but not quite right. Was I doing it wrong?
It was doubly frustrating because just before Yule, Id undergone a ceremony calledtàth meànma brach with Alyce Fernbrake, the blood witch who ran Practical Magick, an occult store near Widows Vale. Tàth meànma is a kind of Wiccan mind meld, where one witch enters anothers mind.
Tàth meànma brach takes it one step further: its an exchange of all you have inside you. Alyce gave me access to her memories, her loves and heartbreaks, her years of study and knowledge. In turn I gave her access to the ancestral memories that flowed through me from Maeve and her mother Mackenna before her.
I came out of the tàth meànma brach with a much deeper knowledge of magick. Without it Id never have stood a chance against Selene. It had focused me, connected me to the earth so powerfully that for almost two days afterward Id felt almost like I was hallucinating.
Since then Id gotten more used to the infusion of knowledge Id received from Alyce. I wasnt conscious of it all the time. It was more like Id been given a filing cabinet chock-full of files. When I needed a certain piece of knowledge, all I had to do was check my files.
Of course, the knowledge in those files was specific to Alyce. For example, I now had a wonderful sense of how to work with herbs and plants. Unfortunately, scrying wasnt Alyces strong point. That meant I had to resort to more mundane means to find out where Maeve and Angus had lived.
In Mr. Warrens study I found a Manhattan phone book. I got the address for the citys Bureau of Records, then consulted a subway map Mr. Warren had left out for us. The bureau was near City Hall. The number 6 train would get me there.
Id just put on my coat and scarf and grabbed one of Mr. Warrens spare keys when the door to the apartment opened and Bree came in.
Hey, she said.
Hey, yourself. Where is everyone?
I left them in an East Village art gallery. Theres some kind of performance going on involving a stone pyramid, two dancers dressed in aluminum foil, and a giant ball of string. Robbie was mesmerized, she said with a laugh. Are you going out?
I hesitated. I didnt want to lie to Bree, but I didnt want to tell her about my quest for Maeves watch, either. I was afraid shed try to talk me out of it. I was going to run a few errands, I said vaguely. And I thought we could use some candles for Saturday nights circle. Youre sure your dad doesnt mind us having a circle in his apartment?
He probably wouldnt, but hell never know, Bree assured me. Hes seeing some woman who lives in Connecticut, and hes going out to her place this weekend. She pulled out her wallet and checked for cash. Im going to stock up on some foodif I know my dad, his idea of food in the house is one wedge of gourmet cheese, a jar of imported olives, and a bag of ground coffee.
Brees prediction was accurate except for the cheese, which was nonexistent. Why dont we go together? she suggested. I know all the good stores in the neighborhood.
Sure, I said. I realized I was glad of the chance to spend a little normal time with Bree, even though it would delay my trip to the Bureau of Records.
Bree and I had been best friends since we were little kids. That, like nearly everything else, had changed this past fall when Cal Blaire came into our lives. Bree fell for him, Cal chose me, and wed had a horrible fight and stopped speaking to each other. For a hideous couple of months we were enemies. But on the night that Cal tried to kill me, Bree had helped save my life.
Since then wed begun to rebuild our friendship. We hadnt yet found our way back to being completely easy with each other. On the one hand, she was the friend I knew and loved best. On the other, Id learned there were parts of Bree I didnt know at all.
Besides, I was different now. Since Id learned I was a blood witch, Id been through experiences that were both amazing and horrifying. Once Bree and I had shared everything. Now there was a huge part of my life she could never understand.
We walked toward Irving Place. The wind was brisk and cold. I gave myself a moment to adjust to being on the streets, massive buildings towering overhead, people hurrying by. It was as if New York moved at a pace faster and more intense than the rest of the world. It felt both intimidating and wonderful.
Pretty cool, huh? Bree said.
It feels like were light-years away from Widows Vale.
We are, Bree said with a grin.
Sothings are good between you and Robbie? I asked.
I guess, she said, her grin fading. We went into a supermarket. Bree grabbed a basket, headed for the deli counter, and ordered macaroni salad and sliced turkey breast.
You guess? You two seemed pretty much in sync on the drive down.
We were, she said. She shrugged. But that doesnt mean anything.
Why not?
She gave me a look that made me feel like I was seven.
What? I asked. Whats wrong with Robbie?
Nothing. We get along great. Thats the problem.
We moved to the aisle with chips and sodas, and I tried to make sense of what Bree had just said. Id seen Bree break up with dozens of guys for all kinds of reasons. One was too self-absorbed; another too controlling. One bad-mouthed everyone; another couldnt talk about anything except tennis. One guy was such a lousy kisser that Bree got depressed just looking at his lips.
Okay, I finally said. Maybe Im dense, but what is the problem with a relationship in which the two people get along great?
Simple, she said. If you love someone, you can get hurt. If you dont, you cant.
So?
SoRobbie wants us to be in love. But I dont want to fall in love with Robbie. Too risky.
Bree, thats ridiculous, I said.
She grabbed a bottle of Diet Coke and turned to me, anger flickering in her dark eyes. Is it? she said. You loved Cal, and look where it got you.
I stood there, stunned. She could be so cruel sometimes. That was one of the things I hadnt really realized about her until our falling-out.
Im sorry, she said quickly. II didnt mean that.
You did, I said, struggling to keep my voice calm.
Okay, maybe I did, she admitted. The hand that held the basket was trembling. But I also meant that loving someonereally opening your heart to themis just asking to have your heart smashed and handed back to you in little pieces. I mean, love is great for selling perfume. But the real thing, Morgan? It just trashes everything.
Do you really believe that? I demanded.
Yes, she said in a flat voice. She turned and strode down the aisle.
Bree, wait, I called, hurrying down the aisle after her.
I caught up to her at a rack full of assorted potato chips. She was staring at them with a frown, apparently concentrating on just which flavor was the most desirable.
Is this all because of your parents? I asked in a tactful, subtle way. Brees parents had split up when she was twelve. It had been uglyBrees mom had run off to Europe with her tennis instructor. Bree had been shattered.
Now she shrugged. My parents are just one example among many, she said. Look, its not really that big a deal. Im just not into the whole love thing right now, thats all. Im too young. Id just rather have fun.
I could tell the subject was closed, and I felt a pang as the realization of how far apart wed been pulled hit me yet again.
I sighed. Listen, theres somewhere I need to go. Ill be back in a couple of hours.
Bree looked at me, and I could read regret on her face, too. Once she would have asked where I was going, and I would have invited her along.
Ill get the candles and some salt for the circle, she said. Sure youll be okay on your own?
Yeah, I said. Ill see you later.
3. Witch Dance
September 6, 1977
My son was born ten days ago, and I know I should be the proud, happy da. The boy is big and healthybut Goddess, hes a loud, needy little bugger and Granias still so fat. When will she get back to normal? And when will someone pay some bloody attention to me for a change?
Tonight, after little Kyle screamed his lungs out for three solid hours (Poor wee thing has colic, Grania said, as if that made it bearable), I couldnt take it anymore. I went out to the pub and had myself a few pints and a good sulk. On the way home a bony old cat dashed straight in front of me and I toppled onto someones rubbish left out for the trash man. I didnt even think about it. I muttered a spell and blasted the damn cat. I couldnt see it die, just heard its scream in the darkness. Now I feel a fool. I know better than to vent my spleen in such a childish way.
Neimhidh
I found my way to the Lexington Avenue subway line, bought a MetroCard, checked my route with the map posted in the station, and was soon speeding south beneath the city streets. Id ridden the subway a couple of times before with my family. My sister, Mary K., hated it, but I loved the speed, the relentless rhythm. It felt like I was surging through the citys veins, being propelled by the beat of its heart.
I emerged from the subway at the City Hall stop. With a bit of asking around I found the Bureau of Records and the fifth-floor office where records of the citys rental properties were kept.
The air smelled of old paper, the floors of ammonia. A wooden bench lined the wall by the door. Half a dozen people sat on it, a few reading, the rest staring into space with glazed eyes and blank expressions.
I walked up to the counter at the front of the room. Behind it were stacks of shelves filled with ledgers bound in black. A clerk stood behind a computer on the counter.
Excuse me, I began.
She pointed at a sign that said Please Take a Number. So I took a number from a dispenser and sat down on the bench next to a man with a thick mustache. Have you been waiting long? I asked.
Ive spent less time waiting in line at the DMV, he told me.
I took that as a yes, but since there were only seven people ahead of me, I figured the wait couldnt be too long. I was wrong. The clerk not only moved in excruciatingly slow motion whenever she was actually helping anyone, but she seemed to need lengthy breaks between finishing with one person and calling the next.
The minutes ticked on. I tapped my fingers on my leg, trying not to let dark images creep into my mindimages of Cal being struck by the bolt of dark magick, of his body lying there on the floor of Selenes study. Since that horrible day, those pictures often came to haunt me in moments when I wasnt actively thinking about something else.
I distracted myself by recitingunder my breaththe properties of all the healing plants I knew. After that I went through rocks and minerals. Then I began counting the tiles in the floor, the cracks in the ceiling, the scuff marks on the plastic chairs. If only Id thought to bring a book.
It was almost two hours later when my number was called. Im trying to find the address of an apartment that was rented by Maeve Riordan and Angus Bramson in 1982, I explained.
The clerk looked at me like Id just asked her to sprout wings. Thats not possible, she said. This system doesnt find apartments by the tenants names. You give me the address, then I can tell you who lived there.
All I know is it was somewhere in Hells Kitchen, I said.
She tapped fuchsia nails against the counter. Then youre out of luck, she told me. There are hundreds of apartments in Hells Kitchen. I cant be searching every building listing for the Bransons.
Its Bramson and Riordan, I corrected her, trying not to lose the few shreds of patience I had left. Isnt there some kind of quick computer search you can do?
She glanced at her computer. Programs not set up that way.
I glanced at the rows of ledgers behind her. There were dates on the spines. Do you think I could look through the 1982 books? I asked.
Not without a note from my supervisor, and shes on vacation for the next two weeks. The woman gave me a malicious smile. Why dont you come back in February? she suggested.
I wont be here in February, I protested.
She started typing on the keyboard. Id been dismissed.
I turned toward the door. Then I turned back again. If this woman wanted to play a power game, I decided angrily, Id be happy to play, too. And Id win. I hesitated only a moment, though I knew I was about to do something I wasnt supposed to do. Well, city employees werent supposed to be totally unhelpful, either, I reasoned.
I licked my lips and glanced around. The only person still waiting on the bench was a worn-looking elderly man who dozed as he sat. He wouldnt notice anything.
I used a very simple spell, one of the first that Cal had taught me, one I had used to retrieve Maeves tools. Im invisible, I whispered. You see me not. I am but a shadow.
The spell didnt really make me invisible. It simply made me unnoticeable, trivial. When I used it, people would focus on other things instead of me. I jumped up and down a few times to see if it had worked. The clerk didnt react, so I summoned my nerve and walked behind the counter. I hesitated when I reached for the first 1982 volume. Even if the spell made me unnoticeable, I wasnt sure it would do the same for the book.
I focused on the clerks computer. Electricity was a form of energy and, as Hunter had taught me, energy was fairly easy to manipulate. I sent out my own energy, focusing until I picked up the emanations from the motherboard. Then I sent my energy into it, forcing the electric current into a series of irregular spikes.
Damn, what is wrong with this machine? the woman muttered.
Quickly I flipped open the 1982 book to the addresses in the West Forties and began scanning the cramped columns. On the seventh page I found it: Bramson. 788 W. 49th Street, Apt. 3.
I glanced at the clerks computer screen. Lines were flickering madly across it. Quietly I replaced the book and started out of the office.
The clerk looked up as she heard me open the door. You, she said, sounding surprised. I thought youd left.
I smiled at her. You were a real help, I said. Thanks.
I hurried out, enjoying her look of blank confusion.
As I waited for the subway that would take me back to the apartment, I wondered if the clerks computer had recovered. Even if it was permanently fried, I had no regrets. Okay, Id used my magick on an unsuspecting person, something I wasnt supposed to dobut shed deserved it. Besides, I hadnt hurt her.
I knew, of course, that if Hunter ever found out what Id done, hed be angry. But this situation had been special. Using magick to get my birth mothers address seemed justified. No real damage had been done, and Id gotten the necessary results.
I felt good. My magick was growing stronger and more sure, and I loved it.
That evening we ate dinner at a bustling diner on lower Second Avenue. All six of us were squeezed into a booth with red vinyl seats. Hunter was on one side of me, Robbie on the other.
So, what does everyone want to do tonight? Bree asked.
Ive always wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, said Robbie. It must be gorgeous at night when you can see all the lights of Manhattan.
Bree waved a dismissive hand. Excellent way to get mugged. Besides, its freezing.
Actually, Ive got a lead I need to pursue, Hunter said. Theres a club not too far from here, a bit of a hangout for witches, and Im told one of the DJs might know something about Amyranth. How would you all feel about going to a dance club?
Raven grinned at Sky. I could live with that.
Sky nodded, Bree said, Sounds good, and Robbie said, Cool.
I was the only one who seemed to have mixed feelings about going. On the one hand, I was dying to go to a cool New York club, especially one where other witches hung out. But on the other, I was terrified Id be rejected at the door, or if I actually got in, everyone would know I was from the boonies. Besides, Ive always been too self-conscious to enjoy dancing.
I have one condition, though, Hunter went on. If we go to this club and someone asks where youre from, just say upstate. Also, no one says anything about Selene and Cal. I dont want any of you associated with what happened to them.
Raven made a face. Do you have to get all cloak-and-dagger on us?
I saw Sky stiffen. Hunter, though, merely said, We dont take risks with each others safety. His voice was quiet but firm.
Raven looked away. Forget I said anything.
Fine, Hunter agreed, and let the subject drop.
The club was in the East Village, just beyond Avenue C. On the way over, Hunter hooked his arm through mine, and I felt absurdly happy. When we reached Avenue C, he nodded toward a large industrial building with big, opaque glass windows. Thats it, he said.
A husky guy in black jeans and a black leather jacket stood in front of a rope at the door. I was suddenly nervous again. What if they dont let us in? I asked.
Theyll let us in, Hunter said with the assurance of the effortlessly beautiful.
It occurred to me that I was the only one in our group who might have trouble. Bree was gorgeous, and Robbie was, too. Raven definitely made a fashion statement. As for Hunter and Sky, in addition to their luminous blond hair, fine, even features, and cheekbones to die for, they had a certain indefinable cool. Im not ugly or anything, but I dont stand out, either. My hair, which I actually like, was in a single, messy braid. Plus Id dressed for the cold, not a trendy club.
But the time for worrying was over. We were suddenly at the door and the bouncer was opening the rope for us, with a nod to Hunter.
I felt a burst of triumph. I almost blurted, I did it. I got in!
Oh God, I thought, Im such a nerd.
I didnt realize you were the club type, I said to Hunter.
Im not, he assured me with a smile as we walked into an enormous room. Near the door was a bar that opened onto a vast dance floor where two DJs were spinning house music. At the far end of the room I saw an area with cozy bench seats. Hunter pointed to it. The café serves cappuccino and pastries. Want something?
I shook my head. Not yet.
We checked our coats. I gazed at my clothes doubtfully. Faded brown cords, one of my dads oversize wool sweaters, heavy, winter hiking boots. Clearly I hadnt been thinking straight when Id packed for this trip.
Theres someone I need to talk with, Hunter said in my ear. Do you mind if I leave you on your own for a few minutes?
No, of course not, I said, though I did mind. I was feeling more insecure and provincial by the second.
Hunter blended into the crowd. I tried not to feel irked by the fact that Sky went with him, no questions asked. I stood there, trying to look casual and feeling completely out of my element.
I walked back to the edge of the dance floor. In an effort to stop focusing on my insecurities, I opened up and let my senses explore.
There was a thick, throbbing feel to the air. After a moment I realized it wasnt just the musicthe club was actually pulsing with magick. Id never felt anything like it before. There must be dozens of blood witches here, I thought. I could pinpoint a few of them even in this crowd, not so much because of what they were doing, but because power streamed out from them in a way that was almost tangible.
Most of the blood witches I knew must keep their power damped down, I realized suddenly. But not these people. Not the tall, thin African American man with the shaved head who stood on a low stage, dancing. The skinny kid in the oversize green suit. The sleek, blond woman in the low-cut, slithery dress and her dance partner, a rangy, loose-limbed guy with a beard. I frowned. Wow. There seemed to be some kind of weird psychic duel going on between the two of them. I could practically see the crackling energy that passed between them. Another woman, with long gray hair and the most extraordinary amber jewelry, danced by herself. She was surrounded by an aura of deep, vibrant greenit was so strong that I wondered if even those who werent blood witches could see it.
Cal came to my mind again, unbidden. He would have loved this, I thought sadly, all these beautiful witches using their magick so freely. He would have felt at home here.
Robbie came up to me, looking slightly stunned. Is it just me, or is there something weird in the air here? he shouted over the throbbing drums and bass.
Well, that answered my question. Its not you, I told him. Its magick. A lot of these people are blood witches.
I think Im a little out of my depth, he murmured.
Me too, I admitted. Seeing the downcast look on his face, I asked, Wheres Bree?
Robbie gestured silently toward the café. I spotted Bree talking to a tall, handsome man with copper-colored hair. As we watched, she turned to a younger guy, maybe seventeen or so, and with a hand on his arm she drew him into the conversation, giving him a teasing smile.
Robbie groaned. Tell me the truth, Morgan. Am I a masochist or simply out of my mind? I mean, why do I even bother?
I know it looks bad, I said, trying not to get angry at Bree, but I really dont think it means anything.
Well, it feels awful, Robbie said. It He was cut off when a girl wearing body glitter, a gold sports top, and tiny little gold shorts took his hand. Dance with me? she asked.
Robbie gulped, nodded, and let himself be led out onto the dance floor.