CHAPTER 12Beauty Out
Imbolc, 1982
Oh, Goddess, Goddess, please help me. Please help me. Mathair, her hand rising up black from the smoking ashes. My little Dagda. My own da.
Oh, Goddess, I'm going to be ill; my soul is breaking. I cannot bear this pain.
Bradhadair
That night my parents tried to act normal at dinner, but I kept looking at them with questions in my eyes, and by dessert we were all staring at our plates. Mary K. was obviously upset by the silence, and as soon as dinner was over she went up to her room and started playing loud music. Ceiling-shaking thumps told us she was dancing out some of her stress.
I couldn't stand being there. If only Cal wasn't helping his mom. Impulsively I called Janice and joined her, Ben Reggio, and Tamara at the dollar movies up in Red Kill. We saw some stupid action movie that involved a lot of motorcycle chases. The whole time I sat there in the dark theater, I kept thinking, Muirn beatha dan, over and over.
On Saturday morning Dad went outside to rake leaves and cut back the shrubs and trees so they wouldn't be broken in a winter ice storm. Mom took off after breakfast to go to her church women's club.
I put on my jacket and crunched my way outside to my dad.
"When are you guys going to tell me?" I said flatly. "Are you just going to pretend nothing happened?"
He paused and leaned on the rake for a moment. "No, Morgan," he said at last. "We couldn't do that, no matter how much we wanted to." His voice was mild, and again I felt some of my anger deflate. I was determined not to let it go and kicked at a small pile of leaves.
"Well?" I demanded. "Where did you get me? Who were my parents? Did you know them? What happened to them?"
Dad flinched as if my words were physically hurting him.
"I know we have to talk about it," he said, his voice thin and raspy. "But I need more time."
"Why?" I exploded, throwing my arms wide. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, looking down at the ground. "I know we've made a lot of mistakes in the past sixteen years. We tried to do our best. But Morgan," He looked at me. "We've buried this for sixteen years. It isn't easy to dredge it up. I know you want answers, and I hope we can give them to you. But it isn't easy. And in the end, it might be that you wish you didn't know."
I gaped at him, then shook my head in disbelief and stalked back to the house. What was I going to do?
On Saturday night I dropped Mary K. off at her friend Jaycee's house. They were going to meet Bakker and a bunch of other people at the movies. I was going on to meet with our coven at Matt's house.
"Where's Bakker's car?" I asked as I pulled up in front of Jaycee's house.
Mary K. made a face. "His folks took it away for a week after he flunked a history exam."
"Oh, too bad," I said. "Well, have a good time. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Mary K. rolled her eyes. "Oh, okay," she said dryly. "Note to self: Try not to dance around naked, doing witchcraft. Thanks for the ride." She got out and slammed the car door, and I watched her go into Jaycee's house.
Sighing, I drove on to Matt's house, following his directions to the very outskirts of town. Ten minutes later I parked in front of a low-slung brick modern house, and Jenna let me in.
"Hey!" she said brightly. "Come on in. We're in the living room. I can't rememberhave you ever been here before?"
"No," I said, leaving my coat on a metal hook. "Are Matt's parents here?"
Jenna shook her head. "His dad had a medical convention in Florida, and his mom went, too. We have the whole place to ourselves."
"Sweet," I said, following her. We took a right into a large living room, a white rectangle with one whole wall made of glass. I guess it must have looked out onto the beck-yard, but right now it was dark outside, and all I could see was our own reflections.
"Hi, Morgan," said Matt. He was wearing an old rugby shirt and jeans. "Welcome to Adler Hall."
We both laughed as Sharon came into the room. "Hi, Morgan," she said. "Matt, what's with all the bizarre furniture?"
"My mom is into sixties stuff," Matt explained.
Ethan poked his head up from a red plush couch. It was so deep, it looked like it was about to swallow him. A white floor lamp shaped like a globe with one flat side curved over his head. "I feel like I've gone back in time," he said. "All we need is a conversation pit."
"There's one in the study," said Matt, grinning. The doorbell rang, and I felt a warm thrill of recognition even before Jenna went to answer it. Cal, I thought happily, a tingle going down my spine. Muirn beatha dan. Moments later I heard his voice as he greeted Jenna. All my nerve cells came alive at the sound and at the memory of yesterday, in his room.
"Does anyone want tea, or water, or a soda," Matt offered as Cal came into the room, holding a big, beat-up leather satchel. "We don't keep alcohol in the house 'cause my dad's in AA."
This frank admission startled me. "Water sounds great."
I crossed to Cal and gave him a quick kiss, marveling at my own boldness.
The doorbell rang again. A moment later Matt came back into the room, carrying some bottles of seltzer. Robbie was right behind him. "Hey," he said.
I stared. I guess I should have been used to it by now, but I wasn't. It was as if Robbie's personality and lame social skills had been transferred into the body of a teen star. "Where are your glasses?" I asked.
Robbie took a bottle of seltzer from Matt and popped the cap. "That's the funny thing," he said slowly. "I don't need them anymore."
"How could you not need glasses?" I demanded. "Did you have laser surgery without telling me?"
"Nope," Robbie said. "That's what all the tests this week were about. Apparently my eyesight has just gotten better. I was having headaches because I didn't need to wear glasses anymore, and the lenses were straining my eyes."
He didn't sound happy, and it took me a few moments to realize that slowly, everyone's attention had turned to me.
"No!" I said strongly. "I absolutely did not do another spell! HonestlyI swear! I promised Robbie, and everyone else, that I wouldn't do another spell, and I haven't! I haven't done any spells at all!"
Robbie looked at me with his clear, gray-blue eyes, no longer hidden by thick, distorting lenses. "Morgan," he said.
"I swear! I absolutely promise you," I said, holding up my right hand. Robbie looked unconvinced. "Robbie! Believe me."
Conflict showed in his face. "What could it be, then?" he asked. "Eyes don't just get better. I mean, the actual shape of my eyeballs has changed. They were giving me MRIs to see if I had a tumor pressing on my brain."
"Jesus," Matt muttered.
"I don't know," I said helplessly. "But it wasn't me."
"This is incredible," said Jenna, sounding short of breath. "Could someone else have put a spell on him?"
"I could have," Cal said thoughtfully. "But I didn't. Morgan, do you remember the actual words of your spell?"
"Yes," I said. "But I put the spell on the potion I gave him, not on him."
"That's true," Cal mused. "Though if the potion was supposed to act on him in some way what were the words?"
I swallowed, thinking back. "Um, 'So beauty in is beauty out," I recited softly. "This potion make your blemish nowt. This healing water makes you pure, and thus your beauty will endure."
"That was it?" Sharon asked. "God, why didn't you do it sooner?"
"Sharon," Robbie said in irritation.
"Okay, okay," said Cal. "We have a couple of possibilities here. One is that Robbie's eyes have spontaneously healed themselves due to some unfathomable miracle."
Ethan snorted, and Sharon shot him a glance.
"The second possibility," Cal went on, "is that Morgan's spell wasn't specific enough, wasn't limited only to Robbie's skin. It was a spell to eliminate blemishes, imperfections. His eyes were imperfect; now they're perfect. Like his skin."
The enormity of that thought was just sinking in when Ethan said brightly, "Great! I can't wait to see what it does for his personality!"
Jenna couldn't help snickering. I sank weakly into a chair shaped like a giant cupped hand.
"The third possibility," said Cal, "is that someone we don't know has put a spell on Robbie. That doesn't seem likelywhy would a stranger want to do that? No, I think it's more likely that Morgan's spell has just continued to fix things."
"That's kind of frightening," I said, chilled. Did I really have that kind of power?
"It's pretty unusual. That's why you're not supposed to be doing spells until you know more," Cal said. I felt terrible. "When we start learning spells, I'll show you how to limit them. Limitations are just about the most important things to know, along with how to channel power. When you work a spell, you need to limit it in time, effect, purpose, duration, and target."
"Oh, no." I dropped my head into my hands. "I didn't do any of that."
"And actually, now that I think about it you banished limitations at the very first circle. Remember?" Cal asked. "That might have something to do with this also."
"So what now?" Robbie demanded. "What else is going to change?"
"Probably not much more," Cal said. "For one thing, even though Morgan's really powerful, she's still just a beginner. She's not in touch with her full powers."
I was glad he hadn't referred to me again as a blood witch. I wanted people to forget about it for now.
"Also," Cal said, "this kind of spell is usually self-limiting. I mean, the potion was for your face, and you put it only on your face, right? You didn't drink it or anything?"
"God, no," Robbie said.
Cal shrugged. "So it's just fixing that general area, including your eyes, it's unusual, but I guess it's not impossible."
"I don't believe this." I moaned, hiding my face. "I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I did this. I am so, so sorry, Robbie."
"What are you sorry about?" Ethan asked. "Now he can be an airline pilot."
Sharon giggled, then stifled it.
"So you don't think it's going to do anything else?" Robbie asked Cal.
"I don't know," Cal said. He grinned. "Have you been feeling especially smart lately? It could be working on your brain."
I moaned again.
Cal nudged me. "I'm only kidding. It's probably over. Stop worrying."
He clapped once. "Well. I think it's time to start talking about spells and limitations!"
I couldn't laugh, though some of the others did.
"This is our first circle without Bree, Raven, and Beth," said Cal.
"I'm going to miss them," said Jenna softly. Her eyes flicked to me, and I wondered if she thought it was my fault that they had left.
Cal nodded. "Yeah. Me too. But maybe without them we'll be more tightly focused. We'll find out."
We sat in a ring on the floor around Cal. "First, let's go over clans," he said. "You know how they all have qualities associated with them. The Brightendales were healers. The Woodbanesthe 'dark clan'supposedly fought for power at any cost."
"Ooh," Robbie said. He gave me a mock-fearful look. But I just shivered. The very idea of the Woodbanes made me cold. I didn't think it was something to laugh at.
"The Burnhides were known for their magick with crystals and gems," Cal went on. "The Leapvaughns were mischief makers. The Vikroths were warriors. And so on." He looked around the circle. "Well, just as each clan had qualities associated with it so each clan also had certain runes that it tended to use. SoI think it's time we took a look at some runes."
Cal opened his large leather satchel and pulled out a sheaf of what looked like index cards. He held them up, and I saw that each one had a rune drawn on it very large.
"Rune flash cards!" I said, and Cal nodded.
"Basically, yes," he said. "Using runes is a quick way to get in touch with a deep, old source of power. Tonight I just want to show them to you and have you concentrate on each one. Each symbol has many meanings. They're all there for you, if you open yourself up to them."
We all watched, fascinated, as he held up the white cards one by one, reading the runes' names and telling us what they traditionally stood for.
"There are different names for each symbol. The names depend on whether you're working within a Norse tradition, or German, or Gaelic," Cal explained. "Later on, we'll talk about which runes are associated with which clans."
"This is so beautiful," said Sharon. "I love that people have used these for thousands of years."
Ethan turned to her, nodding his agreement. I watched as their eyes met and held.
Who would have known that Sharon Goodfine would find Wicca beautiful? Or that Ethan would dare to like her? Witchcraft was revealing us not only to ourselves but to each other.
"Let's make a circle," said Cal.
CHAPTER 13Starlight
March 17, 1982
St. Paddy's Day in New York City. Below, the city is celebrating a holiday they imported from my home, but I cannot join in. Angus is out looking for work. I sit here by the window, crying, though the Goddess knows I have no more tears left.
Everything I knew and loved is gone. My village is burned to the ground. My ma and da are dead, though it's still hard for me to believe it. My little cat Dagda. My friends. Belwicket has been wiped out, our cauldrons broken, out brooms burned, out herbs turned to smoke above our heads.
How did this happen? Why didn't I fall victim as so many others did? Why did Angus and I alone survive?
I hate New York, hate everything about it. The noise blunts my ears. I can't smell any living thing. I can't smell the sea or hear it in the background like a lullaby. There are people everywhere, packed in tight, like sardines. The city is filthy; the people are rude and common. I ache foe my home.
There is no magick in this place.
And yet if there is no magick, surly there is no true evil, either?
M.R.
We purified our circle with salt and then invoked earth, air, water, and fire with a bowl of salt, a stick of incense, a bowl of water, and a candle. Cal showed us the rune symbols for these elements, and we worked to memorize them.
"Let's try to raise some energy and focus it," said Cal. "We'll try to focus it in ourselves, and we'll limit its effects to a good night's sleep and general well-being. And does anyone have any particular problem they'd like help with?" He met my eyes, and I could tell we were both thinking of my parents. But Cal left it up to me to ask for help in front of everyone, and I said nothing.
"Like, help my stepsister quit being such a pain?" Sharon asked. I hadn't known she had a stepsister. I was between Jenna and Sharon, and their hands felt small and smooth in mine.
Cal laughed. "You can't ask to change others. But you could ask to make it easier for you to get along with her."
"My asthma's been acting up since it got colder," Jenna said. I remembered her coughing but hadn't known she had asthma. People like Jenna, Sharon, Breethey ruled our school. I had never really considered that they might have problems and difficulties. Not until Wicca came into all our lives.
"Okay, Jenna's asthma," agreed Cal. "Anything else?"
None of us said anything.
Cal lowered his head and closed his eyes, and we did the same. The room was filled with our deep, even breathing, and little by little, as the minutes passed. I felt our breathing tune in to each other, becoming aligned so that we inhaled and exhaled together.
Then Cal's voice, rich and slightly rough, said:
"Blessed be the animals, the plants, and alt living things.
Blessed be the earth, the sky, the clouds, the rain.
Blessed be all people,
those within Wicca and those without.
Blessed be the Goddess and the God,
and all the spirits who help us.
Blessed be. We raise our hearts,
our voices, our spirits to the Goddess and the God."
As we began to move deasil, the words rose and fell in a pattern so that it became a song. We half skipped, half danced in our circle, and the chant became a joyous cry that filled the room, filled all the air around us. I was laughing, breathless, feeling happy and weightless and safe in this circle. Ethan was smiling but intent his face flushed and his corkscrew curls bouncing around his head. Sharon's silky black hair was flying, and she looked pretty and carefree. Jenna looked like a blond fairy queen, and Matt was dark and purposeful. Robbie moved with new grace and coordination as we spun foster and faster. The only thing I missed was Bree's face in the circle.
I felt the energy rise. It coiled around us, building and thickening and swirling in our circle. The living-room floor was warm and smooth beneath my socked feet, and I felt like if I let go of Jenna's and Sharon's hands, I would fly off through the ceiling into the sky. As I looked above me, still chanting the words, I saw the white ceiling waver and dissolve to show me the deep indigo night and the white and yellow stars popping out of the sky so brightly. Awestruck, I gazed upward, seeing the infinite possibilities of the universe where before there had been only a ceiling. I wanted to reach out and touch the stars, and without hesitating, I unclasped my hands and stretched my arms overhead.
At the same instant everyone else let go and threw their arms overhead, and the circle stopped where it was while the swirling energy continued to coil around us, stronger and stronger. I reached for the stars, feeling the energy pressing against my backbone.
"Take the energy into you!" Cal called, and automatically I pressed my clasped fist against my chest. I breathed in warmth and white light and felt my worries melt away. I swayed on my feet and once again tried to touch the stars. Reaching overhead, I felt myself brush a tiny, prickly firelight that was hot and sharp against my fingers. It felt like a star, and I brought down my hand.
With the light in my hand I gazed at the others, wondering if they could see it. Then Cal was at my side because I always channeled too much energy and had to ground myself afterward. But this time I felt finenot too dizzy, not too sick, just happy and lighthearted and full of wonder.
"Whoa," Ethan whispered, his eyes on me.
"What is that?" asked Sharon.
"Morgan!" Jenna said in awe. Her breath sounded tight and strained, and she was breathing fast and shallowly. I turned to her. I felt like I could do anything.
Reaching out, I pressed the light against her chest. She gasped with a small "Ah!" and I traced a line from one side to the other beneath her collarbones. Closing my eyes, I flattened my hand on her breastbone and felt the starlight dissolve into her. She gasped again and staggered on her feet and Cal put out his hand but didn't touch me. Under my fingers I felt Jenna's lungs swell as she sucked in air. I felt the microscopic alveoli opening to admit oxygen, tiny capillaries absorbing the oxygen; I felt it as, from the smallest veins to the thick, ridged muscles of her bronchial tubes, each one expanded in a domino effect, loosening, relaxing, absorbing oxygen.
Jenna panted.
My eyes opened, and I smiled.
"I can breathe," Jenna said slowly, touching her chest. "I was starting to tighten up. I knew I'd need my inhaler after the circle, and I didn't want to use it in front of everyone." Jenna's eyes sought Matt, and he came to put his arm around her. "She opened up my lungs and put air in with that light," Jenna said, sounding dazed.
"Okay, stop," Cal said, gently taking my hands. "Quit touching things. Like on Samhain, maybe you should lie down and ground yourself."
I shook off his hands. "I don't want to ground myself," I said clearly. "I want to keep it." I flexed my fingers, wanting to touch something else, see what happened.
Cal looked at me. Something flickered in his eyes.
"I just want to keep this feeling." I explained.
"It can't stay forever," he said. "Energy doesn't lingerit needs to go somewhere. You don't want to go around zapping things."
I laughed. "I don't?"
"No," he assured me. Then he led me to a clear place on the polished wood floor, and I lat down, feeling the strength of the earth beneath my back, feeling the energy cease its whizzing around inside me, being absorbed by the earth's ancient embrace. In a few minutes I felt much more normal, less light-head andI guess, less drunk. Or at least, that's what I imagined feeling drunk was like. I didn't have much practice with it.
"Why can she do this?" Matt asked, his arm still protectively around Jenna. Jenna was taking deep, experimental breaths.
"It's so easy," she marveled. "I feel soso unconstrained."
Cal gave a wry chuckle. "It freaks me out too, sometimes. Morgan does things that would be amazing for a high priestess to dosomeone with years and years of training and experience. She just has a lot of power, that's all."
"You called her a blood witch," Ethan remembered. "She's a blood witch, like you. But how is that?"
"I don't want to talk about it," I said, sitting up. "I'm sorry if I did something I shouldn't haveagain. But I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I just wanted to fix Jenna's breathing. I don't want to talk about being a blood witch. Okay?"
Six pairs of eyes looked at me. The members of my coven nodded or said okay. Only in Cal's face did I read the message that we would definitely have to talk about it later.
"I'm hungry," complained Ethan. "Got any munchies?"
"Sure," said Matt, heading toward the kitchen.
"Too bad we can't go swimming again," Jenna said regretfully.
"We can't?" Cal asked with a wicked smile at me. "Why not? My house isn't that far away."
Cringing, I crossed my arms over my chest.
"No way," Sharon scoffed, to my relief. "Even if the water is heated, the air's way too cold. I don't want to freeze."
"Oh, well," Cal said. Matt came in with a bowl of popcorn, and he helped himself to a big fistful. "Maybe some other time."
When no one could see me, I made a face at him, and he laughed silently.
I leaned against him, feeling warm and happy. It had been an amazing, exhilarating circle, even without Bree.
My smile faded as I wondered where she and Raven were tonight and who they were with.
CHAPTER 14Lessons
May 7, 1982
We're leaving this soulless place. I've been working as a cashier in a diner, and Angus has been down in the meat district, unloading huge American cows and putting their carcasses on hooks. I feel my soul dying, and so does Angus. We're saving every penny so we can leave, go anywhere else.
Not much news from home. None of Belwicket is left to tell us what happened, and what little bits and pieces we get aren't enough to figure out anything. I don't even know why I write in this book anymore, except as a diary. It is no longer a Book of Shadows. I hasn't been since my birthday, when my world was destroyed. I haven't done any magick since being here, nor has Angus. No more will I. It has done nothing but wreak destruction.
I am only twenty, and yet I feel ready for death's embrace.
M.R.
The next morning during church I suddenly had an idea. I glanced over at the dark confessionals. After the service was over, I told my parents that I wanted to make confession. They looked a little surprised, but what could they say?
"I don't want to go to the diner today," I added. "I'll just see you at home later."
Mom and Dad looked at each other, then Dad nodded.
Mom put her hand on my shoulder. "Morgan" she began, then shook her head. "Nothing. I'll see you later, at home."
Mary K. looked at me but didn't say anything. Her face was troubled as she left with my parents.
I waited impatiently in line as parishioners went in to confess their sins. I realized I could probably tune into what they were talking about, but I didn't want to try. It would be wrong. Father Hotchkiss heard some pretty steamy stuff sometimes, I'd guess. And probably some really boring, petty things, too.
Finally it was my turn. I knelt inside the cubicle and waited for the small grated window to slide open. When it did, i crossed myself and said, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been, um" I thought back quickly. "Four months since my last confession."
"Go ahead, my child," said Father Hotchkiss, as he had all my life, every time I had confessed.
"Um" I hadn't thought ahead this far and didn't have a list of sins ready. I really didn't want to go into some of the things I'd been doing, and I didn't consider them sins, anyway. "Well, lately I've been feeling very angry at my parents," I stated baldly. "I mean, I love my parents, and I try to honor them, but I recently found out I was adopted." There. I had said it, and on the other side of the screen I saw father Hotchkiss's head come up a bit as he took in my words. "I'm upset and angry that they didn't tell me before and that they won't talk to me about it now," I went on. "I want to know more about my birth parents. I want to know where I came from."
There was a long pause as Father Hotchkiss digested what I had said. "Your parents have done as they thought best," he said at last. He didn't deny that I was adopted, and I still felt humiliated that practically everyone had known but me.
"My birth mother is dead," I said, pushing on. I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable, even nervous talking about this. "I want to know more about her."
"My child," Father Hotchkiss said gently. "I understand your wishes. I can't say that I would not feel the same, were I in your place. But I tell you, and I speak with years of experience, that sometimes it really is best to leave the past alone."
Tears stung my eyes, but I hadn't realty expected anything else. "I see," I whispered, trying not to cry.
"My dear, the Lord works in mysterious ways," said the priest, and I couldn't believe he was saying something so clichéd. He went on. "For some reason, God brought you to your parents, and I know they couldn't love you more. He chose them for you, and He chose you for them. It would be wise to respect His decision."
I sat and pondered this, wondering how true it was. Then I became aware that other people were waiting after me and it was time to go. "Thank you. Father," I said.
"Pray for guidance, my dear. And I will pray for you."
"Okay." I slipped out of the confessional, put on my coat, and headed out the huge double doors into bright November sunshine. I had to think.
After so many gray days it was nice to be walking in sun-light, kicking through the damp, brown leaves underfoot Every now and then a golden leaf floated down around me, and each one that fell was like another second ticking off on the clock that turned autumn to winter.
I passed through downtown Widows Vale, glancing in the shop windows. Our town is old, with the town hall dating back to 1692. Every once in a while I notice again how charming it is, how picturesque. A cool breeze lifted my hair, and i caught a scent of the Hudson River, bordering the town.
By the time I got home, I'd thought about what Father Hotchkiss had said, I could see some wisdom in his words, but that didn't mean I could accept not knowing the whole truth. I didn't know what to do. Maybe I would ask for guidance at the next circle.
Walking two miles had warmed me up nicely, and I tossed my jacket over a chair in the kitchen. I glanced at the clock. If I assumed my family followed their usual routine at the diner, they wouldn't be home for another hour or so. It would be nice to have the house to myself for a while.
A thump overhead made me freeze. Weirdly, the first thought I had was that Bree was in my house, possibly with Raven, and they were casting a spell on my bedroom or something. I don't know why I didn't think of burglars or a stray squirrel that had somehow gotten inI just immediately thought of Bree.
I heard scuffling sounds and the loud scraping noise of a piece of furniture being jolted out of place. I quietly opened the mudroom door and picked up my baseball bat Then I kicked off my shoes and headed upstairs in my stocking feet.
By the time I reached the top of the landing, I could tell the sounds were coming from Mary K.'s room. Then I heard her voice, saying, "Ow! Stop it! Damn it, Bakker!"
I stopped, unsure of what to do.
"Get off me," Mary K. said angrily.
"Oh, come on, Mary K.," was Bakker's response. "You said you loved me! I thought that meant"