"Hmmm," said Mary K. disapprovingly. She picked out some carrots, cabbage, and onions and conspicuously left the meat. Lately she'd been on a major vegetarian kick.
"It's delicious." I said brightly, just to needle her. Mary K. sent me a look.
"So I think Eileen and Paula have decided on the York Street house, in Jasper," my mom said.
"Cool," I said. "Jasper's only about twenty minutes away, right?" My aunt and her girlfriend had decided to move in together and had been house hunting with my mom, a real estate agent.
"Right," Mom said. "An easy drive from here."
"Good." I stood up and carried my plate to the kitchen, already anxious for my family to be asleep. I had work to do.
The spell for binding tools to oneself was complicated but not difficult, and it didn't involve and tools or ingredients that I didn't have. I knew I would need to work undisturbed and I didn't want to do it outside. The attic seemed like a good place.
At last I heard my parents turn in and my sister brush her teeth noisily in the bathroom we shared. She poked her head into my room to say good night and found me hunched over a book discussing the differences between practicing Wicca on your own and within a coven. It was really interesting. There were benefitsand drawbacksto both ways.
"Night," said Mary K., yawning mildly.
I looked at her. "Next time you're late, you might want to make sure your shirt is buttoned right," I said
She looked down at herself, horrified. "Oh, man," she breathed.
"Just be careful." I wanted to say more but forced myself to stop there.
"Yeah, yeah, I will." She went into her room. Twenty minutes later, sensing that everyone was asleep, I tiptoed up the attic stairs with Maeve's tools, the spell Alyce had written out for me, and four white candles.
I swept one area clean of dust and set the four candles in a large square. Inside the square I drew a circle with white chalk. Then I entered the circle, closed it, and set Maeve's tools on one of my old sweatshirts. Theoretically, it would be full of my personal vibrations.
I meditated for a while, trying to release my anguish over Hunter, trying to sink into the magick, feeling it unfold before me, gradually revealing its secrets. Then I gathered Maeve's tools: her robe, her wand, her four element cups, her athame, and things I wasn't sure were tools but that I'd found in the same box: a feather, a silver chain with a Claddagh charm on it, several chunks of crystal, and five stones, each one different.
I read the ritual chant.
"Goddess Mother, Protectress of Magick and Life, hear my song. As it was in my clan, so shall it be with me and in my family to come. These tools I offer in service to you and in worship of the glory of nature. With them I shall honor life, do no harm, and bless all that is good and right. Shine your light on these tools that I may use them in pure intent and in sure purpose."
I laid my hands on them, feeling their power and sending mine into them.
The same way it had happened in the past, a song in Gaelic came to my lips. I let it slip quietly into the darkness.
"An di allaigh an di aigh
An di allaigh an di ne ullah
An di ullah be nith rah
Cair di na ulla nith rah
Cair feal ti theo nith rah
An di allaigh an di aigh."
Quietly I sang the ancient words again and again, feeling a warm coil of energy circling me. When I had sung this before, it had drawn down an immense amount of powerI'd felt like a goddess myself. Tonight it was quieter, more focused, and the power flowed around and through me like water, going down my hands into the tools until I couldn't tell where the tools left off and I began. I couldn't feel my knees where I was kneeling, and giddily I wondered if I was levitating.
Suddenly I realized that I was no longer singing and that the warm, rich power had leached away, leaving me breathing hard and flushed, sweat trickling down my back.
I looked down. Were the tools bound to me now? Had I done it correctly? I had followed the instructions. I had felt the power. There was nothing else on the paper Alyce had given me. Blinking, feeling suddenly incredibly tired, I gathered everything up, blew out the candles, and crept downstairs. Moving silently, I unscrewed the cover for the HVAC vent in the hallway outside my room and put my tools, except the athame, back into my never-fail hiding place.
Back in my room, I changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth. I unbraided my hair and brushed it a few times, too tired to give it any real attention. Finally, with relief, I got into bed with Maeve's Book of Shadows and opened it to my bookmark. Out of habit I held my mother's athame, with its carved initials, in my hand.
I started to read, sometimes pointing the athame to the words on the page, as if it would help me decipher some of the Gaelic terms.
In this entry Maeve was describing a spell to strengthen her scrying. She mentioned that something seemed to be blocking her vision: "It's as if the power lines are clouded and dark. Ma and I have both scryed and scryed, and all we get is the same thing over and over: bad news coming. What that means, I don't know. A delegation is here from Liathach, in northern Scotland. They, like us, are Woodbanes who have renounced evil. Maybe with their help we can figure out what's going on."
I felt a chill. Bad news coming. Was it the mysterious dark force that had destroyed Belwicket, Maeve's coven? No, it couldn't be, I realized; that hadn't happened until 1982. This entry had been written in 1981, nearly a year earlier. I tapped the athame against the page and read on.
"I have met a witch."
The words floated across the page, written in light within the regular entry. I blinked and they were gone, and I stared at Maeve's angular handwriting, wondering what I had seen. I focused, staring hard at the page, willing the words, the writing to appear again. Nothing.
I drew in my breath, staring at the page. The words appeared beneath the athame. When I drew it away, they faded. I passed the knife over the book again. "Among the group from Liathach, there is a man. There is something about him. Goddess, he draws me to him."
Oh my God. I looked up, glanced around my room to make sure I was awake and not dreaming. My clock was ticking, Dagda was squirming next to my leg, the wind was blowing against my windows. This was all real. Another layer of my birth mother's history was being revealed: she had written secret entries in her Book of Shadows.
Quickly I flipped to the very beginning of the book, which Maeve had started when she was first initiated at fourteen. Holding the athame close to each page, I scanned the writing, seeing if other hidden messages were revealed. Page after page I ran the knife down each line of writing, each spell, each song or poem. Nothing. Nothing for many, many pages. Then, in 1980, when Maeve was eighteen, hidden words started appearing. I began reading, my earlier fatigue forgotten.
At first the entries were things Maeve had simply wanted to keep hidden from her mother: the fact that she and a girlfriend were smoking cigarettes, about how Angus kept pressuring her to go "all the way" and she was thinking about it, even sarcastic, teasing remarks or observations about people in the village, her relatives, other members of the coven.
But as time went on, Maeve also wrote down spells, spells that were different from the others. A lot of what Maeve and Mackenna and Belwicket had done was practical stuff: healing potions, lucky talismans, spells to make the crops perform. These new spells of Maeve's were things like how to communicate with and call wild birds. How to put your mind into an animal's. How to join your mind to another person's. Not practical, perhaps. But powerful and fascinating.
I went back to the passage I had found a few minutes ago. Slowly, word by word, I read the glowing letters. Each entry was surrounded by runes of concealment and symbols I didn't recognize. I memorized what they looked like so I could research them later.
Painstakingly I picked out the message.
"Ciaran came to tea. He and Angus are circling each other like dogs. Ciaran is a friend, a good friend, and I won't have Angus put him down."
Angus Bramson had been my birth father. Ciaran must be the Scottish witch Maeve had just met. Previous entries had detailed Maeve and Angus's courtshipthey'd known each other practically forever. When Belwicket had been destroyed, Maeve and Angus had fled together and settled in America. Two years later I had been born, though I don't think they ever married. Maeve had once written about her sadness that Angus wasn't he
I believed Cal was mine. I'd never felt so close to anyone beforeexcept Bree.
"Today I showed Ciaran the headlands by the Windy Cliffs. It's a beautiful spot, wild and untamed, and he seemed just as wild and untamed as the nature surrounding him. He's so different from the lads around here. He seems older than twenty-two, and he's traveled a bit and seen the world. It makes me ache with envy."
Oh, God, I thought. Maeve, what are you getting into?
I soon found out.
"I cannot help myself. Ciaran is everything a man should be. I love Angus, yes, but he's like a brother to meI've known him all my life. Ciaran wants the things I want, finds the same thing's interesting and boring and funny. I could spend days talking to him, doing nothing else. And then there's his magickhis power. It's breathtaking. He knows so much I don't know, no one around here knows. He's teaching me. And the way he makes me feel
"Goddess! I've never wanted to tough anyone so much."
My throat had tightened and my back muscles had tensed. I rested the book on my knees, trying to analyze why this revelation shook me so much.
Is love ever simple? I wondered. I thought about Mary K. and Bakker, boy most likely to be a parolee by the time he was twenty; Bree, who went out with one loser after another; Matt, who had cheated on Jenna with Raven was completely discouraging. Then I thought about Cal, and my spirits rose again. Whatever troubles we had, at least they were external to our love for each other.
I blinked and realized my eyelids were gritty and heavy. It was very late, and I had to go to school tomorrow. One more quick passage.
"I have kissed Ciaran, and it was like sunlight coming through a window. Goddess, thank you for bringing him to me. I think he is the one."
Wincing, I hid the book and the athame under my mattress. I didn't want to know. Angus was my birth father, the one who had stayed by her, who had died with her. And she had loved someone else! She'd betrayed Angus! How could she be so cruel, my mother?
I felt betrayed, too, somehow, and knowing that I was perhaps being unfair to Maeve didn't help. I turned off my light, plumped my pillow up properly, and went to sleep.
CHAPTER 6Knowledge
I'm going to have these scars forever. Every time I look at my wrists, I feel rage all over again. Mom has been putting salves on them, but they ache constantly, and then skin will never be the same.
Thanks the Goddess Giomanach won't bother us anymore.
Sgath
"If you hum that song one more time, I may have to kick you out of the car," I informed my sister the next morning.
Mary K. opened the lid of her mug and took a swig of coffee. "My, we're grumpy today."
"It's natural to be grumpy in the morning." I polished off the last of my Diet Coke and tossed the empty can into a plastic bag I kept for recyclables.
"Tornadoes are natural, but they're not a good thing."
I snorted, but secretly I enjoyed the bickering. It felt so.. normal.
Normal. Nothing would ever be normal again. Not after what Cal and I had done.
There'd been no mention of a body in the river in this morning's paper, either. Maybe he'd sunk to the bottom, I thought. Or snagged on a submerged rock or log. I pictured him in the icy water, his pale hair floating around his face like seaweed, his hands swaying limply in the current A sudden rush of nausea almost made me retch.
Mary K. didn't notice. She looked through the windshield at the thin layer of clouds blotting out the morning sun. "I'll be glad when vacation starts." I forced a smile. "You and me both."
I turned onto our school's street and found that all my usual parking spaces were taken. "Why don't you get out here," I suggested, "and I'll go park across the street."
"Okay. Later." Mary K. clambered out of Das Boot and hurried to her group of friends, her breath coming out in wisps. Today it was cold again, with a biting wind.
Across the street was another small parking lot, in back of an abandoned real estate office. Large sycamores surrounded the lot, looking like peeling skeletons, and several shaggy cypresses made it feel sheltered and privatewhich was why the stoners usually hung out there when the weather was warmer. No one else was around as I maneuvered Das Boot into a space. Wednesday, after school let out at noon, I had an appointment to take it to Unser's Auto Repair to have the headlight repaired.
"Morgan." The melodious voice made me jump. I whirled to see Selene Belltower sitting in her car three spaces away, her window rolled down.
"Selene!" I walked over to her. "What are you doing here? Is Cal okay?"
"He's much better," Selene assured me. "In fact, he's on his way to school right now. But I wanted to talk to you. Can you get in the car for a moment, please?"
I opened the door, flattered by her attention. In so many ways, she was the witch I hoped someday to be: powerful, the leader of a coven, vastly knowledgeable.
I glanced at my watch as I sank into the passenger seat It was covered with soft brown leather, heated, and amazingly comfortable. Even so, I hoped Selene could sum up what she had to say in four minutes or less since that was when the last bell would ring.
"Cal told me you found Belwicket's tools," she said, looking excited.
"Yes," I said.
She smiled and shook her head. "What an amazing discovery. How did you find them?"
"I saw Maeve in a vision," I said. "She told me where to find them."
Selene's eyebrows rose. "Goodness. You had a vision?"
"Yes. I mean, I was scrying," I admitted, flushing. I didn't know for sure, but I had a feeling scrying was another thing I wasn't supposed to do as an uninitiated witch. "And I saw Maeve and where the tools might be."
"What were you scrying with? Water?"
"Fire."
She sat back, surprised, as if I had just come up with an impossibly high prime number.
"Fire! You were scrying with fire?"
I nodded, self-conscious but pleased at her astonishment. "I like fire," I said. "It speaks to me."
There was a moment of silence, and I started to feel uneasy. I had been bending the rules and following my own path with Wicca practically from the beginning.
"Not many witches scry with fire," Selene told me.
"Why not? It works so well."
"It doesn't for most people," Selene replied. "It's very capricious. It takes a lot of power to scry with fire." I felt her gaze on me and didn't know what to say.
"Where are Maeve's tools now?" Selene asked. I was relieved that she didn't sound angry or disapproving. It felt very intimate in the car, very private, as though what we said here would always be secret.
"They're hidden," I said reassuringly.
"Good," said Selene. "I'm sure you know how very powerful those tools are. I'm glad you're being careful with them. And I just wanted to offer my services, my guidance, and my experience in helping you learn to use them."
I nodded. "Thank you."
"And I would hope, because of our close relationship and your relationship with Cal, that you might want me to see the tools, test them, share my power with them. I'm very strong, and the tools are very strong, and it could be a very exciting thing to put our strengths together."
Just then a familiar gold Explorer rolled into the parking lot. I saw Cal's profile through his smoked window, and my heart leapt He glanced toward us, pausing for a moment before pulling into a spot and turning off the engine. Eagerly I rolled down my window, and as I did, I heard the morning bell ring. "Hi!" I said.
He came closer and leaned on the door, looking though the open window. "Hi," he said. His injured wrists were covered by his coat sleeves. "Mom? What are you doing here?"
"I just couldn't wait to talk to Morgan about Belwicket's tools," Selene said with a laugh.
"Oh," said Cal. I was almost puzzled by the flat tone in his voice. He sounded almost annoyed.
"Um, I feel like I should tell you," I said hesitantly. "I, uh, I bound the tools to me. I don't think they'll work to well for anyone else."
Cal and Selene both stared at me as if I had suddenly announced I was really a man. "What?" said Selene, her eyes wide.
"I bound the tools to me," I said, wondering if I had acted too hastily. But Alyce had seemed so certain.
"What do you mean, you bound the tools to you?" Cal asked carefully.
I swallowed. I felt suddenly like a kid called in front of the principal. "I did a spell and bound the tools to me, sending my vibrations through them. They're part of me now."
"Whoa. How come?" Cal said.
"Well," I said, "you know, to make it harder for others to use them. And to increase my power when I use them."
"Heavens," said Selene. "Who told you how to do that?"
I opened my mouth to say, "Alyce," but instead, to my surprise, what came out was, "I read about it."
"Hmmm," she said thoughtfully. "Well, there are ways to unbind tools."
"Oh," I said, feeling uncertain. Why would she want me to unbind them?
"I would love to show you some hands-on ways to use them." Selene smiled. "You can't get everything from books."
"No," I agreed. I still felt uncertain and indefinably uneasy. "Well, I'd better get going."
"All right," said Selene. "Congratulations again on finding the tools. I'm so proud of you." Her words warmed me, and I got out of the car feeling better.
I looked at Cal. "You coming?"
"Yeah," he said. He hesitated as if he were about to say something else, then seemed to change his mind, calling merely, "Talk to you later, Mom."
"Right," she said, and the window rolled up.
Cal set off for school. His strides were so long that I practically had to run to keep up. When I glanced at his profile, I could see that his jaw was set. "What's wrong?" I asked breathlessly. "Are you upset about something?"
He glanced at me. "No," he said. "Just don't want to be late."
But I didn't need my witch senses to see that he was lying. Was he angry at me because I'd bound the tools to me and now no one else could use them?
Or was he angry with Selene? It had almost seemed like he was. But why?
My day went downhill from there. While I was changing classes at fourth period, I accidentally walked in on Matt Adler and Raven Meltzer making out in an empty chem lab. When our eyes met, Matt looked like he wanted to vaporize himself, and Raven looked even more smug than usual. Ugh, I thought. Then it occurred to me that I could never judge anyone again about anything because what I had done was so terrible, so unnatural. And as soon as I thought that, I went into the girls' bathroom and cried.
At lunchtime Cal and I sat with Cirrus at our usual table. The group was quiet today. Robbie was tight faced, and I wondered how it had gone at Bree's house yesterday. Probably not well since Bree was across the lunchroom sitting on Chip Newton's lap and laughing. Great.
Jenna was even paler than usual. When Cal asked her where Matt was, she said, "I wouldn't know. We broke up last night." She shrugged, and I was surprised and impressed by how calm she seemed.
She was stronger than she looked.
Ethan Sharp and Sharon Goodfine were sitting next to each other. After months of flirting, they were looking into each other's eyes as if they'd finally realized the other was a real person and not just a clever simulation. Sharon shared her bagel with him. It was the only cheerful thing that happened.
Somehow I slogged through the afternoon. I kept thinking about Selene teaching me to use Maeve's tools. One minute I would want to do it, and the next minute I would remember Alyce's warning and decide to keep them to myself. I couldn't make up my mind.
When the final bell rang, I gathered up my things with relief. Only half a day tomorrow, thank the Goddess, and then a four-day weekend. I walked outside, looking for Mary K.
"Hey," said my sister, coming up. "Cold enough for you?" We glanced up at the striated clouds that scudded slowly across the sky.
"Yeah," I said, hitching up my backpack. "Come on. I'm parked over in the side lot."
Just as turned, Cal came up. "Hey, Mary K." he said. Then he ducked his head and spoke only to me. "Is it okay if I come over this afternoon?" There was an unspoken messagewe had tons to talk aboutand I nodded at once.
"I'll meet you there."
He touched my cheek briefly, smiled at Mary K., then walked beside us to his own car. My sister raised an eyebrow at me, and I shot her a glance.
Once we were in Das Boot and I was cranking the engine, Mary K. said, "So, have you done it yet?" I almost punched the gas, which would have slammed us right into a tree.
"Good God, Mary K.!" I cried, staring at her.
She giggled, then tried to look defiant. "Well? You've been going out a month, and he's gorgeous, and you can tell he's not a virgin. You're my sister. If I don't ask you, who can I ask?"
"Ask about what?" I said irritably, backing out.
"About sex," she said.
I rested my head for a second against the steering wheel. "Mary K., this may surprise you, but you're only fourteen years old. You're a high school freshman. Don't you think you're too young to worry about this?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back, I sounded just like my mom. I wasn't surprised when my sister's face closed.
"I'm sorry," I said. "You just took me by surprise. Give me a second." I tried to think quickly and drive at the same I time. "Sex." I blew out my breath. "No, I haven't done it yet." Mary K. looked surprised.
I sighed. "Yes, Cal wants to. And I want to. But it hasn't seemed exactly right yet. I mean, I love Cal. He makes me feel unbelievable. And he's totally sexy and all that," My cheeks heated. "But still, it's only been a month, and there a lot of other stuff going on, and it just hasn't seemed right." I frowned at her pointedly. "And I think it's really important to wait until it is exactly right, and you're totally comfortable and sure and crazy in love. Otherwise it's no good." Said the incredibly experienced Morgan Rowlands.
Mary K. looked at me. "What if the other person is sure and you just want to trust them?"
Note to self: Do a castration spell on Bakker Blackburn. I breathed in, turned onto our street, and saw Cal in back of us. I pulled into our driveway and turned off the engine but stayed in the car. Cal parked and walked up to the house, waiting for us on the porch.
"I think you know enough to be sure for yourself," I said quietly. "You're not an idiot. You know how you feel. Some people date for years before they're both ready to have sex." Where was I getting this stuff? Years of reading teen magazines?
"The important thing," I went on, "is that you make your own decisions and don't give in to pressure. I told Cal I wasn't ready, and he was majorly disappointed." I lowered my voice as if he could hear us from twenty feet away, outside the car. "I mean, majorly. But he accepted my decision and is waiting until I'm ready." Mary K. looked at her lap.
"However, if for some reason you think it might happen, for God's sake use nine kinds of birth control and check out his health and be careful and don't get hurt. Okay?"
My sister blushed and nodded. On the porch I saw Cal shifting his feet in the cold. "Do you want me to send Cal home so we can talk some more?" Please say no.
"No, that's okay," said Mary K. "I think I get it."
"Okay. I'm always here. I mean, if you can't ask your sister, who can you ask?"
She grinned, and we hugged each other. Then we hurried inside. Twenty minutes later Mary K. was doing her homework upstairs and Cal and I were drinking hot tea in the kitchen. And I hoped my sister had taken my words to heart.
CHAPTER 7Self
July 2000
The council called me to London upon my return from the North. I spent three days answering questions about everything from the causes of the Clan war to the medicinal properties of mugwort. I wrote essays analyzing past decisions of the elders. I performed spells and rituals.
And then they turned me down. Not because my power is weak or my knowledge scanty, nor yet because I an too young, but because they distrust my motives. They think I am after vengeance for Linden, for my parents.
But that's not it, not anymore. I spoke to Athar about it last night. She's the only one who truly understands, I think.
"You aren't after vengeance. You're after redemption," she told me, and her black eyes measured me. "But, Giomanach, I'm not sure which is the more dangerous quest."
She's a deep one, my cousin Athar. I don't know when she grew to be so wise.
I won't give up. I will write to the council again today. I'll make them understand.
Giomanach
Our kitchen was about one-sixth the size of Cal's kitchen, and instead of granite counters and custom country French cabinets, we had worn Formica and cabinets from about 1983. But our kitchen felt homier.
I rested my legs over Cal's knees under the table and we leaned toward each other, talking. The idea that maybe someday we would have our very own house, just us two, made me shiver. I looked up at Cal's smooth tan skin, his perfect nose, his strong eyebrows, and sighed. We needed to talk about Hunter.
"I'm really shaken up," I said quietly.
"I know. I am, too. I never thought it would come to that." He gave a dry laugh. "Actually, I thought we would just beat each other up a bit, and the whole thing would blow over. But when Hunter pulled out the braigh"
"The silver chain he was using?"
Cal shuddered. "Yes," he said, his voice rough. "It was spelled. Once it was on me, I was powerless."
"Cal, I just can't believe what happened," I said, my eyes filling with tears. I brushed them away with one hand. "I can't think about anything else. And why hasn't anyone found the body yet? What are we going to do when they do find it? I swear, every time the phone rings, I think it's going to be the police, asking me to come down to the station and answer some questions." A tear overflowed and ran down my cheek. "I just can't get over this."
"I'm so sorry." Cal pushed his chair closer to mine and put his arms around me. "I wish we were at my house," he said quietly. "I just want to hold you without worrying about your folks coming in."
I nodded, sniffling. "What are we going to do?"
"There's nothing we can do, Morgan," Cal said, kissing my temple. "It was horrible, and I've cursed myself a thousand times for involving you in it. But it happened, and we can't take it back. And never forget that we acted in self defense. Hunter was trying to kill me. You were trying to protect me. What else could we have done?"
I shook my head.
"I've never been through anything like this before," Cal said softly against my hair. "It's the worst thing in my life. But you know what? I'm glad I'm going through it with you. I mean, I'm sorry you were involved. I wish to the Goddess that you weren't. But since we were in it together, I'm so glad I have you." He shook his head. "This isn't making sense. I'm just trying to say that in an awful way, this has made me feel closer to you."
I looked up into his eyes. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
We stayed like that, sitting at the table, our arms around each other, until my shoulder blades began to ache from the angle and I reluctantly pulled away. I had to change the subject.
"Your mom seemed really excited about my tools," I said, taking a sip of my tea.
Cal pushed his hands through his raggedy dark hair. "Yeah. She's like a little kidshe wants to get her hands on every new thing. Especially something like Belwicket's tools."
"Is there something special about Belwicket in particular?"
Cal shrugged, looking thoughtful. He sipped his tea and said, "I guess just the mystery of ithow it was destroyed, and how old the coven was and how powerful. It's a blessing the tools weren't lost. Oh, and they were Woodbane," he added as an afterthought.
"Does it matter that they were Woodbane since Belwicket had renounced evil?"