Book of Shadows - Кейт Тирнан 5 стр.

"There are a lot of special aspects to water," Cal said patiently. "Being surrounded by water, especially under the moon, can be very magickal, a very special kind of energy. I want you to feel that. Just wear your bra and underwear."

"I don't wear a bra," I said, then instantly wanted to kick myself.

He grinned."Really."

"I don't exactly need to," I mumbled unhappily.

He cocked his head, still grinning. "Really," he said.

I panicked, my breaking point reached.

"I have to get home. Thanks for the circle," I said, turning to go. I had come here in Bree's car, so I figured I had a long, chilly walk ahead of me. To go from the wonder and amazement of the circle to this painful humiliation seemed too much to bear. I couldn't wait till I was home, in my own bed.

Then Cal's hand snaked out and gripped the back of my shirt. With a gentle tug he drew me toward him. I wasn't breathing or thinking anymore. He bent over, put an arm under my knees, and picked me up. Strangely, I remember not feeling heavy or clumsy, but light and small in his arms. I stopped processing sensations in any normal way. I stopped being aware of the other people nearby.

He walked steadily down the pool steps into the shallow end. I didn't protest; I didn't say anything at all. I don't know if I could have. Then we were surrounded by water the exact temperature of my blood, and we were in the water, pressed together under the moon.

It was terrifying, strange, mysterious, thrilling, crushing.

And it was magickal.

CHAPTER 12 What Goes Around

When I got home from church the next day, Bree was sitting on our front steps, looking chilly and pissed.

I'd caught a ride home with Beth the night before because I had a curfew and Bree didn't. But I knew from the pony looks Bree gave me as I hurried from Gil's house that this was coming.

We went inside and up to my room.

"I thought you were my friend," she hissed as soon as the door was shut.

I didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about. "Of course I'm your friend," I said, unbuttoning the dress I had worn to church.

"Then explain last night to me," she said, her dark eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her chest and dropped onto the edge of my bed. "You and Cal, in the swimming pool."

I pulled a shirt over my head, then grabbed some socks out of my drawer. "I don't know how to explain it," I said. "I mean, I know you like Cal. I know I'm not competition for you. I didn't do anything. I mean, god, as soon as I could stand up in the water, he put me down." I tugged on my socks and slithered into my oldest, most comfortable jeans, automatically turning them up an inch on the bottoms.

"Well, what was the big coy act about before that? Were you playing hard to get? Were you hoping he would just rip your clothes off?" There was a sneer in her voice that stung, and I felt the first threads of anger rising in me.

"Of course not!" I snapped. "If he had ripped my clothes off, I would have run home screaming and called the cops. Don't be an idiot."

Bree stood up and jabbed her finger at me. "Don't you be an idiot!" she said. I had never seen her like this. "You know I'm in love with him!" Bree said, her face furious."I don't just like him! I love him. And I want him. And I want you to leave him alone!"

"Fine!" I practically yelled. I stood and spread my arms wide. "But I wasn't doing anything, and I can't control what he does! Maybe he's just paying attention to me because he wants me to be a witch." As soon as I said that Bree and I stared at each other. In my heart, I suddenly felt it was true. Bree's brow wrinkled as she thought back through the night before.

"Look," I said more calmly. "I don't know what he's doing, for all I know, he has another girlfriend somewhere, or maybe Raven has already gotten to him. But I do know that I am not coming on to him. That's all I can tell you. And that'll have to be good enough." I pulled my hair over my shoulder and started to braid it with quick, practiced motions.

Bree glared at me for another moment, and then her face crumpled and she sank down on my bed. "Okay," she said, sounding like she was trying not to cry. "You're right. I'm sorry. You weren't doing anything. I was just jealous, that's all." She put her hands over her face and leaned down against my pillows. "When I saw him holding you, I just went crazy. I've never wanted anyone this bad before, and I've been working on him all week, and he doesn't seem to notice me."

I was still angry, but perversely, I also felt sorry for her. "Bree," I said, sitting down in my desk chair. "Cal left his coven behind when he moved, and he's hoping some of us will help him start a new coven. He knows I'm interested in Wicca, and I guess he thinks it's, I don't know, interesting or something that I have such a strong reaction to circles. Maybe he thinks I could be a good witch, and that's what he wants."

Bree looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "Do you really have a strong reaction to circles, or are you just pretending to?" she asked, her voice wobbly.

My eyes almost popped out of my head. "Bree! For God's sake! Why would I pretend that? It's embarrassing and uncomfortable." I shook my head. "It's like you don't even know me or something. But to answer your question," I said tersely, "no, I'm not pretending to have a strong reaction."

Bree covered her face with her hands and started crying. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean that I know you aren't pretending. I don't know what I'm doing." She stood up and grabbed a tissue from the box, then came over and hugged me. It was hard for me to hug her back, but in the end of course I did. "I'm sorry," she said again, crying against me. "I'm sorry, Morgan."

We stood there with her crying for a few minutes, and I felt like crying myself. Have you ever been afraid to start crying because you weren't sure if you'd be able to stop? That's how I felt. To fight with Bree about anything was horrible. To want Cal and not ever be able to have him made me feel desperate. For my best friend to want the same guy I did was a nightmare. To discover the complicated world of Wicca and feel drawn to it was confusing and almost scary.

Finally Bree's crying quieted, and she disentangled herself from me, wiping her nose and eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Do you forgive me?"

I hesitated only a moment, then nodded. I mean, I love Bree. After my family, I love her the best in the world. I sighed, and we moved over to sit on my narrow bed.

"Look," I said. "Last night I didn't want to take off my clothes becauseI'm shy. I admit it, okay? I'm a total wuss. You couldn't pay me enough money to stand naked next to you and those other girls."

Bree sniffled and turned to look at me. "What are you talking about?"

"Bree, please," I said. "I know what I look like. I have a mirror. I'm not a total woofer, but I'm not you. I'm not Jenna. I'm not even Mary K."

"You look fine," Bree said, frowning.

I rolled my eyes. "Bree. I'm pretty plain. And surly you've noticed that somehow Nature has forgotten to give me any kind of bazongas."

Bree's dark eyes glanced quickly to my chest, and I crossed my arms.

"No, you're just, you know," Bree said lamely.

"I just am completely and totally flat chested," I said. "So if you think I'm going to go prancing around naked with you, Miss 36C, Jenna, Raven, Beth, and Miss January Sharon Goodflne, you are out of your mind. And in front of guys, people we go to school with! Give me a break! Like I really want Ethan sharp to know what I look like naked. Jesus! No way!"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain," Mary K. said, poking her head through the bathroom door. "Who were you prancing around naked with?"

"Oh, crap, Mary K.!" I said. "I didn't know you were there!"

She smirked at me. "Obviously. Now, who were you prancing around naked with? Can I go next time? I like my body."

I started laughing and threw a pillow at her. Bree was laughing, too, and I was relieved to see that our fight appeared to be over.

"You are not getting naked anywhere," I said, trying to sound stern. "You're fourteen years old, no matter what Bakker Blackburn thinks."

"Are you dating Bakker?" Bree asked. "I went out with him."

"Really?" said Mary K.

"Oh, that's right," I said. "I forgot."

"We went out a couple of times freshman year," Bree said. She sat up and stretched, arching her back.

"What happened?" Mary K. asked.

"I dumped him," said Bree without remorse. "Ranjit asked me out, and I said yes. Ranjit has the most beautiful eyes."

"Then Ranjit dumped you to go out with Leslie Raines," I said, the whole story coming back to me. "They're still going out."

Bree shrugged. "What goes around comes around." Which, of course, is one of the most basic Wiccan tenets.

CHAPTER 13 Stirring

I don't understand my mother at all. It's not as if I've done something wrong. I hope she calms down. She has to, she just has to.

On Monday afternoon I skipped chess club and drove to Red Kill, to Practical Magick. As I drove, I soaked up my favorite signs of autumn: trees streaked with bright, vivid colors, protesting the little death of winter. Tall roadside grasses were feathery and tan. Small farmers' stands sold pumpkins, t late corn, squash, apples, apple pies.

In Red Kill, I found a parking spot right in front of the store. Inside, it was again dim and full of the rich smells of herbs, oils, and incense. I breathed deeply as my eyes adjusted to the light. This time there were more customers than the last time.

I worked my way down the rows of books, looking for a general history of Wicca. Last night I had finished my book on the Seven Great Clans, and I was hungry for more information.

The first person I ran into was Paula Steen, my aunt's new girlfriend. She was crouched on the floor, examining books along the bottom shelf. Paula looked up, saw me, recognized me, and smiled. "Morgan!" she said, standing up. "Fancy meeting you here. How are you?"

"Oh, okay," I said, making myself smile back. "How are you?"

I liked Paula a lot, but this was a weird place to run into her, and I felt slightly nervous about it. She would mention it to Aunt Eileen, and Aunt Eileen would tell my mom. I wasn't keeping anything secret from my parents, exactly, but I hadn't gone out of my way to tell them about the circles or Cal or Wicca, either.

"Fine," she said. "Overworked, as usual. Today one of my surgery patients canceled, so I played hooky and came here." She looked around the store. "I love this place. They have all kinds of neat stuff."

"Yeah," I said. "Are you into Wicca?"

"No, not me." Paula laughed. "I know lots of people who are, though. It's so pro-woman, it's sometimes popular with lesbians. But I'm still Jewish. I'm here looking at homeopathic books about animal medicine. I just went to a conference where they taught a course on pet massage, and I'm looking for more information."

"Really?" I grinned. "You mean, like giving your German Shepherd a rubdown?"

Paula laughed again. "Kind of," she said, "just like with people, there's a lot to be said for the healing touch."

"Cool," I said.

"Anyway, how about you? Are you into Wicca?"

"Well I'm curious about it," I said in a measured tone, not wanting to blurt out all my messy feelings. "I'm Catholic and everything, like my parents," I went on in a rush. "But I do think Wicca is interesting."

"Like anything else, it's what you bring to it," Paula said.

"Yes," I agreed. "That's true."

"Okay, I better run, Morgan. Good seeing you again."

"You too. Tell Aunt Eileen I said hi."

Paula took her books and checked out, and I examined the shelves again. I found a book that offered a broad general history and also explained the differences between some of the different branches of Wicca: Pecti-Wita, Caledonii, Celtic, Teutonic, Strega, and others I had learned about on the Internet Tucking it under my arm, I looked through the stuff on the other side: the incense, the mortars and pestles, the candles separated by color. I saw one candle that was in the shape of a man and a woman joined, and it made me think first of me and Cal. Then my mind jumped to Bree and Cal. If I burned that candle, would Cal be mine? What would Bree do?

It was stupid even thinking about it. I got in line, the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg all around me.

"Why, Morgan, dear, is that you?"

I whirled to find myself looking into the face of Mrs. Petrie, a woman from my church. "Hi, Mrs. Petrie," I said a bit stiffly. What a strange run of luck. Somehow I'd expected more privacy on my little adventure this afternoon.

Mrs. Petrie was shorter than me now but hadn't changed in looks for as long as I could remember. She always wore tidy two-piece suits, stockings, and matching shoes. In church she wore matching hats.

Now she read my book's title. "You must be doing research for a school project," she said, smiling.

"Yes," I said, nodding. "We're studying different religions of the world."

"How interesting." She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. "This is a very unique bookstore. Some of the things in here are awful, but the people who run it are very nice."

"Oh," I said. "Um, why are you here?"

Mrs. Petrie motioned over at the spices-and-herbs wall. "You know I'm famous for my herb garden," she said proudly. "I'm one of their suppliers. I also grow herbs for some of the restaurants in town and for Nature's Way, the health food store on Main."

"Oh, really? I didn't know that," I said blankly.

"Yes," she said. "I was just dropping off some dried thyme and some of last summer's caraway seeds. Now I must run. Good seeing you, dear. Tell your parents hello."

"Sure will," I said. "See you Sunday." Yes, indeed. I was relieved when she disappeared through the door.

I was so preoccupied with unexpected encounters that I had forgotten how oddly the clerk had behaved last time. But as I pushed my books across the counter, I felt his eyes on me again.

Wordlessly I took out my wallet and counted money. "I thought you'd be back," he said softly, ringing up my books.

I stood stone-faced, not looking at him.

"You have the mark of the Goddess on you," he said. "Do you know your clan?"

My eyes flew to his, startled. "I'm not from any clan," I said.

The clerk cocked his head thoughtfully. "Are you sure?"

He handed me my change, and I took it, then grabbed my book and got out of there. As I cranked Das Boot's big, V-8 engine, I thought about the Seven Great Clans. Over the last few hundred years they had been disbanded and hardly existed anymore. I shook my head. The only clan I was a part of was the Rowlands clan, no matter what the clerk thought.

I took the small roads home and let the fiery leaves blur into the background as I sank into the daydream I was indulging in more and more: the cherished moment, under the moon, when Cal carried me into the water. Fantasy and memory ran together, and I wasn't even sure it had actually happened anymore.

That night Mary K. made dinner, and it was my turn to clean up. I stood at the sink, rinsing plates, daydreaming about Cal, wondering if Bree and Cal had gotten together today after school. Had they kissed yet? It made my chest feel tight, and I commanded my mind not to torture me anymore.

Why had Cal come into my life? I couldn't help wondering.

It felt like he was here for a purpose. I hoped it wasn't some sort of cruel karmic payback.

I shook my head, squishing suds through my fingers. Get over yourself, I thought as I started to load plates into the dishwasher.

"What clan are you?" the clerk had asked. He might as well have asked me, "What planet are you from?" Obviously I wasn't from one of the Seven Clans, though it was interesting to think about. It would be kind of like finding out your real father was a famous celebrity who wanted you bad. The Seven Great Clans were the celebrities of Wicca, supposedly possessing supernatural powers and thousands of years of shared history.

I rearranged the glasses in the top tier of the dishwasher. My book had said the Seven Clans stayed apart from the rest of humanity for so long that they actually had a separate and distinct genetic makeup. My parents my family. We were as normal as they came. The clerk was just messing with me.

All of a sudden I dropped the sponge I'd been holding and stood up straight. I frowned and glanced out the window. It was dark. I glanced around the room, feeling a strong sense of I wasn't sure what. A storm coming? Some vague feeling of danger was stirring the air.

I'd just snapped the dishwasher door shut when the kitchen door swung open. My parents stood there, my dad looking rattled and my mom tight-lipped and upset.

"What's wrong?" I said, turning off the water, feeling my heart begin to thump.

My mom ran her hand through her straight russet hair, so like Mary K.'s. "Are these yours?" she asked. "These books about witches?" she held up the books I had bought at Practical Magick.

"Uh-huh," I said. "So what?"

"Why do you have them?" my mom asked. She hadn't changed out of her work clothes, and she looked rumpled and tired.

"It's interesting," I said, dumbfounded by her tone.

My parents looked at each other. The overhead light glinted off my dad's balding spot.

"Are kids at school into this, or is it just you?" my mom asked.

"Mary Grace," my dad said, but she ignored him.

I felt my brow furrow. "What do you mean? This isn't a big deal or anything, is it?" I shook my head. "It's justinteresting. I wanted to know more about it."

"Morgan," my mom began, and I couldn't believe how upset she looked. She almost always kept her cool with me and Mary K., no matter how crazed her life got.

"What your mother's trying to say," my dad offered, "is that these books about witchcraft are not the kind of thing we want you to be reading." He cleared his throat and tugged on the vee of his sweater vest, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

My mouth dropped open."How come?" I asked.

"How come!" my mom snapped, and I almost jumped at the tone in her voice. "Because it's witchcraft!"

I stared at her. "But it's not like black magic or anything," I tried to explain. "I mean, there's really nothing harmful or scary in it. It's just people hanging out, getting in touch with nature. So what if they celebrate full moons?" I didn't mention penis candies, bolts of energy, or naked swimming.

"It's more than that," my mom insisted. Her brown eyes were wide, and she looked as taut as a piano wire. She turned to my dad. "Sean, help me here."

"Look, Morgan," my dad said, more calmly. "We're concerned about this. I think we're pretty open-minded, but we're Catholics. That's our religion. We are part of the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church does not condone witchcraft or people who study witchcraft."

"I don't believe this," I said, starting to get impatient. "You're acting like this is a huge threat or something." Memories of how sick I had felt after the two circles flashed through my mind. "I mean, this is Wicca. It's like people deciding to protest animal testing or wanting to dance around a maypole." Some of the facts about Wicca that I had read in my book came back to me. "You know, the Catholic Church has adopted a bunch of traditions that began with Wicca. Like using mistletoe at Christmas and eggs at Easter. Those were both ancient symbols from a religion that began long before Christianity or Judaism."

My mom stared at me. "Look, miss," she said, and I knew she was really angry. "I'm telling you that we will not have witchcraft in this house. I'm telling you that the Catholic Church does not condone this. I'm telling you that we believe in one God. Now, I want these books out of this house!"

It was like my mom had been replaced by an alien duplicate. This sounded so unlike her that I just gaped. My dad stood next to her, his hand on her shoulder, obviously trying to get her to calm down, but she just glared at me, the lines around her mouth deep, her eyes angry and cold andworried?

I didn't know what to say. My mom was usually incredibly reasonable.

"I thought we believed in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," I said. "That's three."

Mom looked almost apoplectic, the veins in her neck jumping out. I suddenly realized that I was taller than she was now. "Go to your room!" she shouted, and again I jumped. We're not a raised-voice kind of family.

"Mary Grace," my dad murmured.

"Go!" my mom yelled, throwing out her arm and pointing out the kitchen door. It almost looked like she wanted to hit me, and I was way shocked.

Dad reached out his hand and touched Mom's shoulder in a tentative, ineffectual gesture. His face looked drawn and his eyes concerned behind their wire-rim glasses.

"I'm going," I muttered, taking the long way around her. I stomped upstairs to my room and slammed the door. I even locked it, which I'm not supposed to do. I sat on my bed, spooked and trying not to cry.

Over and over, I had the same thought: What is Mom so scared of?

CHAPTER 14 Deeper

"So how come you're in the dollhouse?" Mary K. asked the next morning.

I backed Das Boot out of our driveway, two strawberry Pop-Tarts clenched between my teeth.

Once when Mary K. was little, she had done something bad, and my mom had sternly told her she was "in the doghouse." She had heard "dollhouse," and of course the whole thing made no sense to her. Now it's what we always say.

"I was reading some stuff they didn't want me to read," I muttered casually, trying not to spew crumbs all over my dashboard.

Mary K.'s eyes opened wide. "Like pornography?" she asked excitedly. "Where'd you get it?"

"It wasn't pornography," I told her in exasperation. "It was no big deal. I don't know why they're so upset."

"So what was it?" she persisted.

I rolled my eyes and shifted gears. "They were some books about Wicca," I said. "Which is an ancient, woman-based religion that predates Judaism and Christianity." I sounded like a textbook.

My sister thought about it for a few moments. "Well, that's boring," she said finally. "Why can't you read porn or something fun that I could borrow?" I laughed.

"Maybe later."

"You're kidding," Bree said, her eyes wide. "I don't believe it. That's awful."

"It's so stupid," I said. "They said they want the books out of the house." The bench where we sat outside school was chilly, and the October sunlight seemed to grow feebler by the day.

Robbie nodded sympathetically. His parents were much stricter Catholics than mine. I doubted he'd shared his interest in Wicca with them.

"You can keep them at my house," Bree said. "My dad could care less."

I zipped my parka up around my neck and burrowed into it. There were only a few minutes before class started, and our new, hybrid clique was gathered by the east door of school. I could see Tamara and Janice walking up to the building, their heads bent as they talked. I missed them. I hadn't seen them much lately.

Cal was perched on the bench across from ours, sitting next to Beth. He was wearing ancient cowboy boots, worn down at the heels. He was quiet, not looking at us, but I felt sure he was listening to every word of our conversation.

"Screw them," Raven said. "They can't tell you what to read. This isn't a police state."

Bree snorted. "Yeah. Let me be there when you tell Sean and Mary Grace to go screw themselves."

I couldn't help smiling.

"They're your parents," Cal said, suddenly breaking his silence. "Of course you love them and want to respect their feelings. If I were you, I'd feel miserable, too."

In that moment I fell deeper in love with Cal. On some level I guess I expected him to dismiss my parents as stupid and hysterical, the way everybody else had. Since he was the most ardent follower of Wicca, I expected my parents' reaction to annoy him the most.

Bree looked at me, and I prayed my feelings weren't written on my face. In fairy tales there's always one person who is made for one other, and they find each other and live happily ever after. Cal was my person. I couldn't imagine anyone more perfect. Yet what kind of sick fairy tale would it be if he was the one made exactly right for me and I wasn't right for him?

"It's a hard decision to make," Cal continued. Our group was starting to listen to him like he was an apostle, teaching us. "I'm lucky because Wicca is my family's religion." He considered this for a moment his hand on his cheek. "If I told my mom I wanted to become Catholic, she would totally freak out. I don't know if I could do it." He smiled at me.

Robbie and Beth laughed.

"Anyway," Cal said, serious again, "everyone has to choose his or her own path. You need to decide what to do. I hope you still want to explore Wicca, Morgan. I think you have a gift for it. But I'll understand if you can't."

The school door swung open with a bang, and Chris Holly walked out, followed by Trey Heywood.

"Oh," Chris said loudly. " 'Scuse me. Didn't mean to interrupt you witches."

"Piss off," Raven said in a bored tone.

Chris ignored her. "Are you casting spells right here? Is that allowed on school grounds?"

"Chris, please," said Bree, rubbing her temple. "Don't do this."

He turned on her. "You can't tell me what to do," he said. "You're not my girlfriend. Right?"

"Right," Bree said, looking at him angrily. "And this is one of the reasons why."

"Yeah, well" Chris began, but was interrupted by the bell ringing and the appearance of Coach Ambrose striding up.

"Get to class, kids," he said automatically, pulling open the doors. Chris shot Bree an ugly look, then followed the coach inside.

I picked up my backpack and headed for the door, followed by Robbie. Bree lingered behind, and I glanced back quickly to see her talking to Cal, her hand on his arm. Raven was watching them with narrowed eyes.

Dazed, I found my way to homeroom like a cow returning to the barn. My life seemed very complicated.

That afternoon I put my Wicca books in a paper bag and brought them to Bree's house. She had promised I could come over and read them whenever I wanted.

"I'll keep them safe for you," she said.

"Thanks." I pushed my hair over my shoulder and rested my head against her door. "Maybe I could come over tonight after dinner? I'm halfway through the history of witchcraft book, and it's pretty fascinating."

"Of course," she said sympathetically. "Poor baby." She patted my shoulder. "Look, just lie low for a while, let it all blow over. And you know you can come over and read or just hang out anytime. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, giving her a hug. "How's the thing with Cal going?" It hurt to ask, but I knew it was what she wanted to talk about.

Bree made a face. "Two days ago he was happy to talk for almost an hour on the phone, but yesterday I asked him to drive out to Wingott's Farm with me and he turned me down. I'm going to have to start stalking him if he doesn't give in pretty soon."

"He'll give in," I predicted. "They always do."

"True," Bree agreed, her eyes wistful.

"Well, I'll call you later," I said, suddenly eager for this conversation to end.

"Hang in there, okay?" she called after me as I escaped.

The next week I made a point of hanging out more with Tamara, Janice, and Ben. I went to math club and tried really hard to care about functions, but I longed to be learning about Wicca and especially to be near Cal.

When I told my mom I had gotten rid of the books, she was faintly embarrassed but mostly relieved. For a moment I felt guilty for omitting the fact that the books were only at Bree's house and I was still reading them in the evenings, but I chased the guilt away. I respected my parents, but I didn't agree with them.