Thinking about Bree, I felt another pang of loss. With all that had happened to me in such a short amount of time, it was painful to not be able to confide in her. But the wounds were still too fresh. Maybe, just maybe, with Cal gone, we could begin to be friends again. I hoped so.
Robbie and I talked about Practical Magick's problems for the rest of the drive. Robbie's brow creased as he hunted for a parking space in front of the store. "There's something I don't get," he said. "I mean, we've got you, David, Alyce, Hunter, and Skythat's five blood witches. And I assume you'd all like Practical Magick to stay open. Why can't you just all do a spell together so David hits the lottery or something?"
"I'm sure that kind of thing isn't allowed under Wiccan law," I said gloomily. "Otherwise David and Alyce would have done it already."
"That's a drag," Robbie said. He squeezed into a space behind a minivan, and we started for the store.
I nodded, but I couldn't help thinkingthere must be some kind of spell to increase wealth. After all, going by the listings I'd seen in my mom's office, Selene Belltower's property must be worth at least a million dollars. And although Cal had told me that Selene's employers had transferred her to Widow's Vale, I never had found out what she supposedly did for a living. I had a feeling her money didn't come through any of the usual channels.
Robbie pushed open the door, and I followed him into the store. I was stunned by Alyce's reception.
"Morgan!" she called. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were pink, and she sounded almost giddy. "Robbie! I'm so glad to see you. I have excellent news!"
"What happened?" I asked.
"It's almost unbelievable, Stuart Afton has forgiven Rosaline's debt!" Alyce said.
"What?" I practically shrieked. "How did that happen?"
"Do rich people really do that?" Robbie asked.
"Apparently this one does," Alyce said, laughing. "Afton called David late last night to say he'd made a sudden windfall on the stock market and he'd decided to pass on some of his good fortune. I suppose it's the Yule spirit.
David stepped out from the little back room. "Have you heard?
"Alyce was just telling us," I answered. "It's too good to be true."
David gave a faint smile. "It is rather surprising," he said.
"So the deal with the bookstore chain is off?" Robbie asked.
That's right," David said. "And the upstairs tenants can stay, with their same rent."
"Best of all, Practical Magick stays," Alyce added. "We're throwing a party here tonight to celebrate. I was just going to start making calls to invite all of you, in fact. We want everyone to comeWiccans, Catholics, Buddhists, atheists, you name it."
This was such great news. Even the idea of dark forces around couldn't keep me from a celebratory mood. "We'll be here," I promised.
"Uh, Morgan." Robbie elbowed me. "Hunter scheduled a circle tonight, remember?
I'd forgotten, in fact. My stomach did a flip-flop at the thought of seeing Hunter again.
"I already spoke to Hunter. He's going to reschedule," Alyce said. She was practically giggling. "You don't get a gift like this every day, and we must give it a proper welcome. I've already arranged for The Fianna to play. It was the first thing I did when I heard the news." The Fianna was a hot Celtic pop band Mary K. and I had tried to get tickets to one of their concerts last spring, and they had been totally sold out.
I glanced at David, who was methodically counting Tarot decks. Compared to Alyce's high-energy happiness, he seemed subdued. Then I remembered that this positive outcome came from a lossthe death of David's aunt. Perhaps now that the immediate crisis about the building was over, he had more time to actually feel his grief. Well, as Wicca teaches, everything is cyclical. Life leads to death leads to rebirth.
I wondered what kind of cycle I was in with Hunter. Annoyance leads to dreaming of kissing him to. . irritation again?
"So what non-Wiccans are going to be at this party?" Mary K. asked as we waited for Das Boot's windshield to defrost I'd come home that afternoon to find her so down about her breakup with Bakker that I'd talked her into coming with me to the Practical Magick party. Mary K. felt pretty much the same way that my parents did about Wicca, so she'd been reluctantuntil I mentioned that The Fianna was going to play.
"The Fianna?" she'd gasped. "For real?"
After that she couldn't say no.
I wasn't just being nice by inviting her; I needed her support. I've never been the most comfortable person at a party. And knowing that Hunter would be there made me even more nervous.
I blew on my fingers to warm them up. "I'm not sure who'll be there." I said. "Probably the people who live above the shop. Plus you'll know Robbie and Bree and the other kids from school. They're Wiccans but they're still people you've known forever."
I glanced at Mary K. She was wearing a short brown wool skirt and a russet-colored sweater. Citrine earrings sparkled against her auburn hair. As usual she looked perfectneither too casual nor too dressy, just undeniably pretty.
"Well, you look great," she said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.
On her advice, I had worn a lavender sweater, a long forest green skirt, an amethyst necklace, and brown lace-up boots. Did I really look good? Except when I was making magick, I usually felt depressingly plain. I'm five-foot-six, completely flat chested, with boring, medium-brown hair and what my mother calls "a strong nose." I mean, I'm not revolting or anything, but I'm not pretty.
At least, I was never pretty until Cal. Cal himself was so beautiful, he could have had any girl he wantedand he chose me. Of course, he had chosen me for awful reasons, but in spite of that I didn't believe he'd totally faked the way he looked at me, touched me, kissed me. It seemed like I'd become beautiful. Now, without him, I felt plain again.
Mary K. fiddled with her seat belt and turned to me. "So. . what happened with you and Cal? I mean, the real story."
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. I took a deep breath. Then I finally told her everything that had happened the day of the fire. Everything I hadn't told my parents.
"Oh my God," was all she could say when I was done. "Oh my God, Morgan."
"You know, I owe you an apology for being so judgmental about you and Bakker," I told her. "I guess I expected you to handle the whole situation according to a simple, rational formula: Bakker hurts Mary K.; Mary K. dumps Bakker."
"That's how it should have been." Mary K.'s voice was so quiet, I could barely hear her. "I can't believe I gave him another chance."
"Two weeks ago I couldn't understand that," I said slowly, my thoughts forming my words. "But feelings don't work rationally. I did the same thing. All last week I knew things were wrong with Cal. But I didn't want to believe he could hurt me, even after he used his magick against me."
"He'd done it before?"
"The night before my birthday." The night we almost killed Hunter, I thought. Mary K. didn't need to know that part. I swallowed hard. "Calput a binding spell on me. I couldn't move. It was like I was drugged."
"Oh, great. All these things you're telling me really make me want to walk into a room full of witches." Mary K. peered out through her window as I pulled into a parking spot down the block from Practical Magick. "Is it too late to turn around and go home?"
"Yes. It's too late." I smiled and shut off the engine, but Mary K. just sat there, tugging her glove off and then on again. When she spoke, she sounded young and vulnerable.
"I appreciate what you said about me and Bakker. And I know that Wicca and youryour birth mother mean a lot to you. But all this witch stuffit scares me. Especially when you tell me what's happened to you because of it."
I sighed. Maybe I'd told her too much.
"That's why it's so important to me that you come to this party," I tried to explain. "I want you to meet these people, to see that they're not all weird or scary or evil. I don't want to have to hide what I am. Please, Mary K. If you're really uncomfortable, we won't stay. I promise."
She looked down at her lap. After a moment she nodded.
"Okay," I said, trying to sound cheery. "Let's party."
10. The Party
July, 1991
We are in Borbeaux, staying with Leandre, a Wyndenkell cousin of Fiona's. Fiona is not well. She says it's only a chill she caught during the channel crossing, but I'm afraid it's something more serious. For a week now she's had a fever every night, and none of the usual remedies seem to help it. I'm almost ready to suggest that she go to a doctor of western medicine.
I went out today and hunted though the fields until I found a chunk of quartz the size of my fist. It's not as good as obsidian, but I think it will serve. I'm going to scry for our children, our town, our coven. I feel heavy with dread at the thought of what I might see.
Maghach
Mary K. wasn't the only one who was nervous. I felt flutters in my stomach as we walked up the block toward the store. It had occurred to me that I was going to have to walk into a room full of people who all probably knew exactly what had happened with me and Cal. I pictured the talk stopping and all eyes turning toward me and Mary K. the minute we opened the door. My pace slowed to a halt.
Mary K. looked at my face. "Want to go home?" she asked shrewdly.
I swallowed. "No. Come on."
As it turned out, our entrance hardly attracted any notice at all. I stood by the glass doors, peeling off my gloves and gathering my courage. The party was already in full swing. Practical Magick was lit with candles and tiny white Christmas lights, and fragrant pine boughs decked the molding. Shelves had been moved into the nonbook half of the store so a platform stage could be set up. A cloth printed with Celtic knots was draped over the counter and covered with platters of food.
Alyce, wearing a long blue velvet dress, was the first to greet us. "Morgan," she said, folding me into a hug. "You look wonderful. I'm so glad you made it. And this is ?
"My sister, Mary K."
"Welcome," she said, clasping both of Mary K.'s hands in hers. "What a pleasure to meet you." Mary K. smiled; it was impossible not to respond to Alyce's warmth.
Alyce waved us in. "It's crowded already," she warned. "There's a coat rack set up against the back wall, cold drinks by the stockroom door, and hot apple cider on the little table by the Books of Shadows."
"Are The Fianna really playing? asked Mary K.
"They are. They're in the back room, going over their set list.
"How did you ever get them?" Mary K. was clearly awestruck.
"Connections," Alyce told her. "The lead guitarist is my nephew. Would you like to meet them?"
My sister's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Now's your chance." Alyce slipped an arm through Mary K.'s and led her behind the counter and into the back room.
I surveyed the other guests. It was crowded. I spotted the elderly couple from upstairs holding hands and beaming happily. Even from across the room, I could sense their relief. I felt a rush of pleasure, knowing that some problems had quick and happy solutions.
Sharon and Ethan were standing near an aluminum tub filled with ice and canned drinks, their heads bent toward each other. Jenna, wearing a silky slip dress with a cropped cardigan, was chatting animatedly to a guy who'd been in the shop the other day. He was laughing at something she said, and I noticed her ex, Matt, watching them. From the way Jenna cast a subtle glance in Matt's direction, I could tell she enjoyed knowing that Matt was watching her flirt.
Things are getting more and more complicated, I thought. I glanced around, looking for Hunter. I almost missed him because he was kneeling down in deep conversation with a little boy I recognized as the four-year-old son of the other tenant, Lisa Winston. The little boy seemed to be explaining something very important to Hunter, and Hunter was nodding seriously. Then Hunter said something, and the boy laughed with delight. Hunter must have felt my eyes on him because he suddenly glanced my way. I felt my heart catch; was it nerves?
Hunter went back to talking to the boy, and I was wondering if I should go join them when I heard someone say my name behind me.
"Morgan, isn't it?" I turned to see a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a thick French braid. She looked familiar, yet I couldn't place her.
"I'm Riva. I met you once at Selene's. I'm part of Starlocket," she explained. "I heard about what Selene and Cal tried to do to you," she added, staring at me.
"Oh," I said. This was just what I'd been afraid of. I felt like a zoo exhibit and wished desperately that she'd just go away and leave me alone.
"I couldn't believe it," she went on. "I had no idea Selene was mixed up with dark magick. I promise you, if any of us had known, we wouldn't have let her lead us."
"Thanks," I said awkwardly. "That's good to know." She nodded and moved on to talk with another woman I recognized from Starlocket.
The mention of dark magick made me think again of the presence I'd felt at home and at the garage. I had checked to be sure that the protective sigils that Sky and Hunter had left at the house were still there, and it was reassuring that they were. Knowing that I had my altar set up also gave me something approaching peace of mind. Maybe I should find a book on altar magick, I thought. At least it would give me something to do besides standing here like a dork.
As I moved to the book section of the store, I felt a cold draft and turned to see the front door open.
"We're here!" Raven Meltzer announced from the open doorway. "The party can start now!" She strode into the store, Bree and Sky following her.
Raven took the prize for most outrageous outfitno surprise there. She hadn't even bothered to wear a coat; she probably didn't want anything to spoil her dramatic entrance. Her black leather bustier showed off both the circle of flames tattooed around her belly button and a generous amount of cleavage. She wore tight black leather hip huggers, heavy-soled biker boots, hematite bracelets on her wrists, silver chains around her throat, and glittery eye shadow that went clear out to her temples. She'd put blue highlights in her dyed black hair. Catching sight of Matt, she gave him smile and then ran her tongue over her lips in a slow, deliberate way. He flushed heavily.
As Bree shrugged off her heavy coat, Robbie stepped up to take it from her. But he was too late; a guy I knew from English class had already grabbed it, and Bree was thanking him sweetly, touching his arm. She was looking even more glamorous than usual in a slim coppery sheath of a dress.
Sky was as beautiful as Bree and Raven but in a completely different way. She was more subdued, more contained, in a pair of black jeans and a midnight blue camisole that set off her pale complexion and dark eyes. Those eyes never left Raven. She watched her in fascination, with yearning. I had been shocked to discover that Sky had a serious thing for Raven; they were so different. Maybe for Sky that was part of the attraction.
I sighed. Matt wanted Raven but sort of still wanted Jenna, too. Raven wanted to tease Matt and maybe Sky as well. Sky wanted Raven. Robbie wanted Bree, who only wanted boys she didn't have to take seriously. And I still I wanted Cal, who had tried to kill me. Except when I wanted Hunter, whom I couldn't stand. . Suddenly the idea of joining a convent sounded very appealing.
I snorted a laugh. Could witches even join convents? Well, this was one mess that I couldn't blame on Wicca, I realized. Wicca might have brought us together and intensified our feelings, but this little soap opera had high school hormones written all over it. In a weird way, the normalcy of these huge problems felt comforting.
And here I was, back to feeling my normal wallflower self.
Bree caught my eye and gave me a cautious little grin. She knew how uncomfortable I was in social situations. I had always counted on her to get me through them. I smiled back.
To my surprise, she walked over to me. "Hey, Morgan. That skirt looks great on you."
"Mary K. put this outfit together for me," I confessed.
Bree laughed, not meanly. "I figured." We stood side by side for a moment, looking out at the crowd. Then she asked quietly, "Is it hard for you, being here without Cal?"
I glanced at her, startled. I hadn't expected anything that direct. But as I met her gaze, I wanted so badly to reconnect with her.
"Everything feels hard with him gone," I said. My words tumbled out. "I miss him all the time. I feel like such a moron. It's like something out of a tabloid: High School Witch Grieves for Would-be Murderer."
"You're not a moron," she said. "You really cared about him. Andand maybe in some twisted way, he really cared about you, too."
I nodded numbly. I knew that it had been hard for her to say that. She had wanted Cal for herself. And it made me feel less like an idiot to think that he did care for me, even just a little.
Bree hesitated. "You know, I've been thinking about the way he played us."
I froze. Bree was treading on dangerous ground here.
"What I'm saying is. ." She looked massively uncomfortable, then plunged ahead. "I think Cal deliberately slept with me, knowing it would set us against each other."
I gaped at her. "What?"
"He wanted to isolate you," she explained. "Come on, Morgan. You and I were best friends. We talked about everything. We trusted each other." Bree's voice started to quaver, and I could see her fighting to steady it, "Cal was trying to take you over, to control you completely. It would make sense for him to make sure he was the only one you talked to, the only one you really trusted. If he split us up, you'd be more dependent on him."
In a flash of sickening clarity, I realized she was right. I felt like I'd just been punched in the stomach. Every time I thought I'd faced the worst about Cal, I found morenew and deeper layers of deception on his part, blindness on mine.
"He pitted us against each other. He used us both," Bree said.
I nodded, unable to speak, seeing more layers falling away. But as I stood there, trying to process it all, it occurred to me that even if Bree was right about Cal, no one had forced her to do the cruel things she'd done to me. Maybe things were mending between us, but they could never go back to what they had once been. We'd never trust each other the way we used to. I felt incredibly sad.
"What happened to David?" Bree said, pulling my attention back to the room.
"What?" I asked.
She nodded toward the counter. David was dipping a carrot stick into some hummus. His left hand was wrapped in a white gauze bandage.
"I don't know," I said. "Let's go find out."
Before I could move, Mary K. emerged from the back room and, to my astonishment walked up onto the platform and took the mike. "Excuse me. Could I have everyone's attention, please?" she said. When the room was quiet, she announced with a huge grin, "I'm pleased to introduce The Fianna!"
Practical Magick erupted into applause as The Fianna made their way onto the stage. They were four skinny young guys and a wisp of a girl with short red hair. She launched into an a cappella verse in a voice that was positively haunting. It reminded me of Hunter's voice when he sang the chant in our circle, a voice drawn out of the world of our ancestors, a pure, shimmering thread that connected us to the past.
I jumped when I heard Hunter's voice behind me. "I need to talk to you," he said quietly.
Bree gave me a questioning look and then moved to rejoin Sky across the room.
"Not here," Hunter said. Taking my elbow, he led me through the crowded room and out the door.
"It's freezing out here," I complained, crossing my arms over my nonexistent chest. "And I want to hear The Fianna."
"Morbid Irish ballads later," he said. "Believe me, there are plenty more where those came from." He opened the door to Sky's green car. "Get in."
I ducked into the passenger seat, muttering, "Do you always have to order me around?"
He grinned. "It's the cold," he said. "Don't have time for the niceties. Don't want you freezing in that pretty outfit." He shut my door, then climbed into the driver's seat.
Flustered at hearing the word pretty come out of his mouth in reference to me, I sat there in silence.
He turned on the heat then rubbed his hands to warm them up. "I went to that field. Where you thought the first dark presence might have been."
"Wh-what did you find out?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear his answer.
He shook his head. "I don't think it was Selene."
"Really?" My heart returned to its normal rhythm. But then it sped up again as I asked, "But then who? What?"
Hunter let out a sigh. "That's just it. I'm not entirely sure. There was a dark ritual performed thereyou were right about that." He gave me a quick glance. I knew my abilities as a beginning witch still surprised him. "But the traces I found of the ritual suggested to me that whoever performed it was someone who had to work quite hard to conjure power."
"What kind of traces?" I was fascinated in spite of myself.
"Blood, among other things," Hunter said, and I gasped. "One of the ways to summon a dark spirit is with a blood offering. But that isn't something Selene would need to do."
I shut my eyes. "Do you think it was Cal?" I asked in a low voice.
"It could be. But why he'd do work like that without Selene. . well, it just doesn't add up."
I felt a tiny flicker of hope. Maybe Cal had left Selene. Maybe he was on his own because he'd come back to be with me. I doused that flame by reminding myself that it had been dark magick that I had felt, which would mean that Cal would still be incredibly dangerous.
I shivered, and it wasn't with cold. "If it's not Cal and Selene, who could it be? Who would perform a dark magick ritual?" I asked. I glanced at the door to Practical Magick, wondering if the wayward witch was inside. Among us. And what he or she would do next.
Hunter didn't respond. He looked straight ahead.
"What?" I demanded, a prickle of foreboding making the hairs on my arms stand up. "What aren't you telling me?" I was so sick of secrets and lies that my voice was louder than I had planned.
Hunter's jaw tightened, then he turned to face me. "You won't like this. I don't, either. But hasn't it occurred to you that Practical Magick was saved just in the nick of time? Don't you find it convenient that Stuart Afton has forgiven this huge debt, out of the blue?"
I stared at him. "Alyce said the guy had a windfall," I explained. "If I suddenly came into lots of money, I'd be generous, too."
Hunter smirked at me. "You, clearly, are not a businessman."
"It's not possible," I snapped. "Are you really suggesting that David and Alyce used some kind of dark magick to get Stuart Afton to cancel the debt?"
"Not necessarily Alyce," Hunter said. "But David, yesI think it's possible. Did you notice the bandage on his hand?"
"What about it?" I asked, nonplussed.
"Remember the blood I found in the field?"
"Huh?" At first I didn't understand what he was trying to say. But then I got it, and it was so absurd, I let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, please. Are you saying David hurt his hand making a blood offering to a dark spirit? Come on! There are a dozen other ways he could have hurt himself. Did you even ask him about it?"
"Not yet," Hunter admitted.
"I can't believe you're thinking this way," I said. "I mean, we know Cal and Selene use dark magick, and we know the magick was done in a place Cal used to go to. Why are you even bringing David into it? Why do you have to be suspicious about everything?" I was starting to get worked up again. "Why can't good news just be good news?"
Hunter was silent. The door to Practical Magick opened as a couple entered, and the singer's voice drifted into the night. She was singing a joyful song of coming spring, and I was suddenly impatient to share in that pleasure, not sit out here listening to Hunter's ridiculous theories. I flung open the car door and hurried back inside.
The Fianna played for almost an hour, and practically everyone in the room danced. Mary K. even tugged me out onto the floor for a song. I ignored Hunter as best I could and noticed he left early.
After another hour or so, people began to filter out. Mary K. and I got our coats. As she went to say good night to the band, David joined me at the cider table.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.
I nodded and gave him a smile. "What happened to your hand?" I asked.
David shrugged. "My knife slipped as I was trimming pine boughs."
Ha, I thought. Wait until I tell Hunter. So much for his suspicions.
Mary K. returned, proudly displaying her autographed Fianna CD. "I can't wait until Jaycee gets a load of this," she declared as we headed for the car.
"So now do you believe that all Wiccans aren't evil and weird?" I asked Mary K.
"I'll say one thing for them," she answered. "They know how to throw a party. I still can't believe I met The Fianna!" She clutched the CD to her chest
As I kicked Das Boot into gear, she went on. "It's just that. . well, Wicca isn't my way. And the fact that the church is against it doesn't help," she added more quietly. Mary K. wasn't as religious as Mom or our aunt Maureen, but she did basically believe in what Catholicism taught. "I have to say I was never totally comfortable in there."
I nodded. I'd already pretty much known that my sister felt like this. But to hear it confirmed so baldly was painful. So that was it, I thought. The essence of my identity, the core of who I was the very thing that created an unbridgeable gap between me and my family.
We drove the rest of the way home in silence.
11. Hunted
July, 1991
In Milan now. A close escape. It was my scrying. I think, that alerted the evil to our presence in Bordeaux.
First I sought our children and found then, as I had prayed they would be, safe with Beck. Then I asked my quartz to help me see our coven, and I saw. Oh, Goddess.
I saw the utter devastation of our town, the swathe of burnt houses, charred cars, blackened tree trunks whose branches seemed to claw at the sky in their agony. . Nothing, it seemed, was spared. Nothing except our house. It stood there, the mellow brick darkened by a pall of ask but otherwise untouched.
Then, from our bedroom, I heard Fiona screaming. I ran in and found her sitting upright in bed, her eyes wild. It's coming. she cried. It's found us. We have to go!
She's calling me. More later.
Maghach
My dad was in the kitchen when I came down the next morning, wearing his usual winter outfit of khakis, button-down shirt, and knit vest. He was peeling potatoes for dinner, then dropping them into a bowl of ice water. My dad has a thing about preparing far in advance.
"Your cat would like you to feed him," my dad greeted me.
Sure enough, Dagda was sitting on the floor next to his bowl, looking up with a hopeful expression. He wound himself around my ankles, arching his little back against my hand. I bent and picked up the dish.
"How was the party?" my dad asked as I spooned canned food into Dagda's bowl.
"Okay," I replied. Disturbing, I added silently. I went to the fridge and scanned for food.
"Morgan, don't just stand there with the door open," he admonished me.
"Sorry," I said. I grabbed a box of waffles and shut the fridge. As I crossed to the toaster, I noticed the local newspaper on one of the kitchen chairs. It was open to the business section, which my father reads religiously.
"Dad," I said, "have you ever heard of a guy named Stuart Afton?"
"You mean the cement-and-gravel tycoon?" Dad asked.
"He's a tycoon?"
Dad paused. "Maybe not exactly. But he is a big player in the local building supplies industry. I've heard he's kind of ruthless, like a strong-arm guy."
"Hmmm." I had to admit that Afton didn't sound like the kind of person to forgive a debt. No, I told myself, rummaging for syrup, people can surprise you. Maybe Afton is tough on the outside but a softie on the inside. I pushed aside the thought that came after that: that David could also surprise me and that Hunter could be right.
Get your mind off it, I ordered myself. "Where are Mom and Mary K.?" I asked Dad.
"They went to church early to help with the Christmas clothing drive." He wiped his hand on a dish towel. "We're meeting them there for mass."
I brought my waffle over to the table and fiddled with my fork. "Um, I have a lot of studying to do," I said at last. "Is it all right if I skip church?"