BLOOD WITCHSweep Series, Book 3Cate Tiernan
CHAPTER 1Secrets
May 4, 1978
Today for the first time I helped Ma cast a circle for Belwicket. In time I'll be the high priestess. Then I'll be leading the circles as she does now. Already people come to me for charms and potions, and me only seventeen! Ma says it's because I have the Riordan sight, the Riordan power, like my grandma. My own ma is a very powerful witch, stronger than anyone in Belwicket. She says I'll be stronger than that yet.
And then what, I wonder. What will I do? Make our sheep healthy? Make our fields more fertile? Heal out ponies when they go lame?
I have so many questions. Why would I have such power, the power to shake mountains? My granny's Book of Shadows says that our magick is just to be used here, in this village, this place in the country, so far away from other towns and cities. Is that so? Maybe the Goddess has a purpose for me, but I cannot see it.
Bradhadair
For a moment the name hung in the air before me, wavering like a black insect in front of my eyes. Bradhadair! Also known as my birth mother, Maeve Riordan. I was holding her Book of Shadows, started when she first joined her mother's coven, when she was fourteen. Her Wiccan name, Bradhadair, was Gaelic for "fire starter." And I was reading words she had written in her very own hand
"Morgan?"
I glanced up, startled. And then I felt a jolt of alarm.
My boyfriend, Cal Blaire, and his mother, Selene Belltower, stood at the entrance of the secret library. Their bodies were backlit by a shaft of light from the hall. Their faces were blank masks, hidden in shadow.
My breath caught in my throat. I had entered this room without permission. Not only had I kept Cal and our other friends waiting, I had trespassed in a private area of Selene's house. I had no business being in this room, reading these books. This I knew. A hot flush of shame made my face burn.
But I couldn't help myself. I was desperate for more knowledgeabout Wicca, about my birth mother. After all, I'd only recently uncovered extraordinary secrets: that I'd been adopted, that my birth mother, a powerful witch, had been murdered, burned to death in a barn. But so many questions still remained unanswered. And now I had found Maeve Riordan's Book of Shadows: her private book of spells, thoughts, and dreams. The key to her innermost life. If the answers I sought were anywhere, they were in this book Subconsciouslyin spite of my guiltmy hands tightened around it
"Morgan?" Cal repeated. "What are you doing in here? I've been looking all over for you."
"I'm sorry," I said, the words rushing out I looked around, wondering how I could explain being in this place. "Uh"
"The others went on to the movie," Cal interrupted. His voice hardened. "I told them we'd try to catch up with them, but it's too late now."
I glanced at my watch. Eight o'clock. The movie theater was at least a twenty-minute drive from here, and the movie started at eight-fifteen. I swallowed. "I'm really sorry," I said. "I just"
"Morgan," Selene said. She stepped farther into the room. For the first time I saw tense lines on her youthful face, so like Cal's. "This is my private retreat. No one is allowed in here except me."
Now I was nervous. Her voice was calm, but I sensed the leashed anger underneath. Was I in real trouble? I stood up at her desk and closed the book. "II know I shouldn't be in here, and I didn't mean to intrude. But I was walking along the hall, and then suddenly I just fell against this door, and it opened. Once I was inside, I couldn't stop looking at everything. It's the most amazing library." My voice trailed off.
Selene and Cal gazed at me. I couldn't read their eyes, nor could I get any sense of what was going through their minds, and that made me even more nervous. I wasn't lying, but I hadn't told them the whole story, either. I had also been trying to avoid Sky Eventide and Hunter Niall, two English witches who were here tonight to take part in one of Selene's circles. For some reason, these two guests of Selene's filled me with inexplicable dread. When I'd heard them coming along the hall, I had tried to avoid themand had ended up stumbling into this secret library. It had been an accident
That's right, I thought. It had been an accident. Nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, I wasn't the only one who had some explaining to do. I had a few questions for Selene.
"This is Maeve Riordan's Book of Shadows," I found myself saying. My voice sounded loud, harsh in my ears. "Why do you have it? And why didn't you tell me you had it? You both know I've been trying to find out about her. I mean don't you think I'd want to see something that belonged to her?"
Cal seemed surprised. He glanced at his mother.
Selene reached behind her and shut the door, closing us all inside the secret room. No one walking down the hall would ever notice the door's almost invisible line. Her beautiful eyebrows arched as she came closer to me.
"I know you've been trying to find out about your mother," she said. In the golden halo of the lamplight her expression seemed to soften. She glanced at the book "How much have you read?"
"Not a lot." I chewed my lip anxiously.
"Have you come across anything surprising?"
"Not really," I said, watching her.
"Well, a Book of Shadows is a very personal thing," Selene said. "Secrets are revealed there, unexpected things. I was waiting to tell you about it because I know what it contains, and I wasn't sure you were ready to read it." Her voice fell to a whisper. "I'm not sure you're ready now, but it's too late."
My face tightened. Maybe I had been violating a private area of her house, but I had a right to know about my mother. "But it's not really your decision to make," I argued. "I mean, she was my mother. Her Book of Shadows should be mine. That's what you're supposed to do with Books of Shadows, pass them down to your children. It is mine."
Selene blinked at my strong words. She glanced at Cal again, but he was looking at me. Once more my fingers tingled as they traced the book's worn leather cover.
"So why do you have it?" I repeated.
"I got it by accident," Selene said. A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Though of course most witches don't believe in accidents. My hobby is collecting Books of Shadowsreally, I collect almost any book having to do with witchcraft, as you can see." She waved an elegant hand at the shelves in the room. "I work with several dealers, mostly in Europe, who have standing orders to send me whatever books they have of interestany Book of Shadows, no matter what its condition. I find them fascinating. I take them with me wherever we go and set them up in a private study, as I did here when we moved in this past summer. To me, they're a window into the human side of the craft. They're diaries, records of experiments; they're people's histories. I have over two hundred Books of Shadows, and Maeve Riordan's is just one of them."
I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. Her response sounded strangely voyeuristicespecially from a high priestess, someone who was otherwise so in touch with people's feelings. Why couldn't she see that Maeve Riordan's book wasn't just another Book of Shadows? At least not to me.
My initial guilt and nervousness were giving way to anger. Selene had read my mother's private words. But right then Cal stepped across the room and put his hand on my shoulder, rubbing gently. He seemed to be saying he was on my side, that he understood. So why couldn't his mother? Did she think I was too much of a child to handle my mother's secrets?
"Where did you get this Book of Shadows?" I asked insistently.
"From a dealer in Manhattan," Selene said. Once again her tone was impossible to read. "He had acquired it from someone elsesomeone who had no credentials, who may have stolen it or found it in a second-hand store somewhere." She shrugged. "I bought it about ten or eleven years ago, sight unseen. When I opened it, I realized it was by the same young witch who I'd read about dying in a fire, not far from here. It's a special Book of Shadows, and not just because it's Maeve's."
"I'm going to take it home," I said boldly, surprising myself again.
For a long moment silence hung thick in the air. Again my heart started to race. I'd never challenged Cal's mother before; I hardly ever challenged adults at all.. and she was a powerful witch. Cal's eyes flashed between the two of us.
"Of course, my dear," Selene finally said. "It's yours."
I let my breath out silently. Selene added, "After Cal told me your story, I knew one day I would give it to you. If, after you read it, you have any questions or concerns, I hope you'll come and talk to me."
I nodded. "Thanks," I mumbled. I turned to Cal. "You know, I really just want to go home now." My voice was shaky.
"Okay," Cal said. "I'll drive you. Let's get our coats."
Selene stepped aside to let us pass. She remained in the study, probably to look around at what else I had touched or examined. Not that I could blame her. I didn't know what to feel. I hadn't meant to abuse her trust, but there was no denying the reward: I now possessed an intimate record of my birth mother's life, written in her hand. No matter what mysteries lay inside, I knew I could handle them. I had to handle them.
Cal squeezed my shoulder as we walked down the hail, reassuring me.
Outside, the November wind whipped through my hair, and I brushed it out of my face. Cal opened his car and I climbed in, shivering against the cold leather seats and pushing my hands deep inside my pockets. The Book of Shadows was zipped up inside my jacket, next to my chest.
"The heater will warm things up in a minute," Cal said. He turned the key and punched buttons on the dash. His handsome face was just a silhouette in the dark of night Then he turned to me and brushed his hand, surprisingly warm, against my cheek. "Are you okay?" he asked.
I nodded, but I wasn't sure. I was grateful for his concern, yet I was all wrapped up in the mystery of the book and still uneasy about what had just happened with Selene.
"I wasn't trying to spy or sneak around," I told him. The words were true, but they sounded even less convincing the second time around.
He glanced at me again as he turned the Explorer onto the main road. "That door is spelled shut," he said thoughtfully. "I still have to get Mom's permission to go inI've never been able to open the door by myself. And believe me, I've tried." His grin was a white flash in the darkness.
"But that's weird," I said, frowning. "I mean, I didn't even try to open the doorit just popped open, and I almost fell down."
Cal didn't respond. He concentrated on the road. Maybe he was trying to figure out how I had gotten in there, wondering if I'd used magick. But I hadn't, at least not consciously. Maybe I had been destined to find my way into that study, to find my mother's book.
Snow had started to fall, and now it brushed against the windshield, not sticking anywhere. It would be gone by morning. I couldn't wait to get home, to run upstairs to my room and start reading. For some reason, my thoughts turned to Sky Eventide and Hunter Niall. I had instantly disliked both of them: their piercing gazes, their snotty English accents, the way they looked at Cal and at me.
But why? Who were they? Why did they seem so important? I'd only seen Sky once before, in the cemetery a few days ago. And HunterHunter upset me in a way I couldn't explain. I was still thinking about it when Cal pulled into my driveway and switched off the engine.
"Are your folks home?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Are you okay? Do you want me to come in?"
"That's all right," I said, appreciating his offer. "I think I'll just hole up and read."
"Okay. Listen, I'll be home all night. Just call me if you want to talk."
"Thanks," I said, reaching for him.
He came into my arms, and we kissed for a few moments. The sweetness momentarily washed away any confusion and uncertainty I was feeling about my encounter with Selene. Finally, reluctantly, I untangled myself and opened the car door.
"Thanks," I said again. "I'll call you."
"Okay. Take care." He gave me a smile and didn't leave until I was inside.
"Hi!" I called. "I'm home."
My parents were watching a movie in the family room. "You're early," said Mom, looking at the clock.
I shrugged. "We missed the movie," I explained. "And I just decided to come home. Well, I'll be upstairs." I fled up to my room, ditched my coat, and flopped down on my bed. Then I pulled out a Scientific American magazine and got it ready in case I suddenly needed to cover the Book of Shadows. My parents and I had reached an uneasy truce about Wicca, about my birth mother, about all the deception. It was best not to disturb that. I didn't want to have to explain anything painful to them.
Maeve Riordan's own words, I thought.
My hands trembling, I opened my mother's Book of Shadows and began to read.
CHAPTER 2Picketts Road
What to write? The pressure inside me is building until my head pounds. Until recently I've always wanted to do what I needed to do. Now for the first time these two paths are diverging. She is blooming like an orchid: transforming from a plain plant into something crushingly beautiful, a blossom that cries out to be picked.
But now, somehow, the thought bothers me. I know it's right, it's necessary, it's expected. And I know I'll do it, but they keep hounding me. Nothing is turning out the way I had envisioned. I need more time to tie her to me, to join with her mentally, emotionally, so she'll see through my eyes. I even find myself liking the idea of joining with her. I'll bet the Goddess is laughing at me.
As to craft, I've found a variant reading of Hellorus that describes how sitting beneath an oak can bend the will of Eolh. I want to try it soon
Sgath
Saturday morning I didn't exactly leap out of bed. I'd been up until the wee hours, reading Maeve's Book of Shadows. She'd started it when she was fourteen years old. So far, I couldn't figure out what Selene meant about finding out something upsetting. Aside from unpronounceable Gaelic words and lots of spells and recipes, I hadn't found anything really disturbing or strange. I knew that Maeve Riordan and Angus Bramson, my birth parents, were burned to death after they came to America. I just didn't know why. Maybe this book would explain it somehow. But I was reading slowly. I wanted to savor every word.
When I finally woke up and groped my way downstairs, my eyes were slits. I stumbled toward the refrigerator for a Diet Coke.
I was working on a couple of Pop-Tarts when Mom and Mary K. breezed in, having taken a brisk mother-daughter walk in the chill November air.
"Wow!" said Mom, her nose pink. She clapped her gloved hands. "It's nippy outside!" She came over and gave me a kiss, and I flinched as her icy hair brushed against my face.
"It's pretty, though," Mary K. added. "The snow is just starting to melt, and all the squirrels and birds are on the ground, looking for something to eat."
I rolled my eyes. Some people are just too cheerful in the morning. It isn't natural.
"Speaking of something to eat," Mom said, taking off her gloves and sitting down across from me, "can you two hit the grocery store this morning? I'm showing a house at ten-thirty, and we're out of almost everything."
Mentally I reviewed my blank calendar. "Sure," I said. "Got a list?"
Mom plucked it off the fridge and started adding items to it Mary K. put the last bagel in the toaster. The phone rang, and she whirled to get it.
Cal, I thought, my heart picking up a beat. Happiness washed over me.
"Hello?" answered Mary K., sounding perky and breathless at the same time. "Oh, hi. Yeah, she's here, just a sec." She handed the phone to me, mouthing, "Cal." I knew it. Ever since I'd discovered Wicca, since I'd discovered Cal, I'd always been able to tell who was calling. "Hi," I said into the phone.
"How are you?" he asked. "Did you stay up all night, reading?"
He knew me. "Yes I want to talk to you about it," I said. I was very aware of my mother and Mary K. sitting right there, especially since Mary K. was patting her heart and making swooning gestures at me. I frowned.
"GoodI'd like that," Cal said. "Want to drive up to Practical Magick this afternoon?"
Practical Magick was a Wicca store in the nearby town of Red Kill, and one of my favorite places to spend a spare hour or two. "I'd love to," I said. My frown melted into a smile. All my senses were waking up.
"I'll come get you. Say, one-thirty?"
"Okay. See you then."
I hung up the phone. My mom lowered the newspaper and looked at me over her reading glasses.
"What?" I said self-consciously, a big grin on my face.
"Everything going all right with Cal?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," I said. I could feel my cheeks reddening. It felt weird to talk to my parents about my boyfriendespecially since he was the one who had introduced me to Wicca. I'd always been able to discuss my life with Mom and Dad, but Wicca was a part of it they wanted gone, forever. It had created a wall between us.
"Cal seems nice," Mom said brightly, trying to put me at ease and fish for information at the same time. "He's certainly good-looking."
"Um yeah, he's really nice. Let me go take a shower," I mumbled, standing up. "Then we'll go to the store."
I fled.
"Okay, first stop, coffee shop," Mary K. directed a half hour later. She folded Mom's grocery list and stuck it in her coat pocket I wheeled Das Bootmy massive, submarinelike old car into the parking lot of the small strip mall that boasted Widow's Vale's one and only coffee emporium. We dashed from the car to the cafe, where it smelled like coffee and pastry. I looked at the board and tried to decide between a grande latte or a grande today's special. Mary K. leaned over the glass case, gazing longingly at the bear claws. I checked my cash.
"Get one if you want," I said. "My treat. Get me one, too."
My sister flashed me a smile, and I thought again that she looked so much older than fourteen. Some fourteen-year-olds are so gawky: half formed, childlike. Mary K. wasn't. She was savvy and mature. For the first time in a long while, it occurred to me that I was lucky to have her as my sister, even if we didn't share the same blood.
The door swung open, bells jangling. Bakker Blackburn came in, followed by his older brother, Roger, who had been a senior at Widow's Vale High last year and was now at Vassar. My insides clenched. Mary K. glanced up, eyes wide. She looked away quickly.
"Hey, Mary K., Morgan," Bakker mumbled, avoiding my gaze. He probably hated me. About a week earlier, I'd kicked him out of our house in no uncertain terms when I'd found him pinning Mary K. down on her bed, practically raping her. He also probably thought I was an alien, since those terms had included hitting him with a ball of crackly blue witch firewithout even meaning to. I still didn't know how I'd done it. My own power constantly surprised me.
Mary K. nodded at Bakker. She clearly didn't know what to say.
"Hey, Roger," I said. He was two years older than me, but Widow's Vale is a small town, and we all pretty much know each other. "How's it going?"
Roger shrugged. "Not bad." Bakker's eyes remained glued to Mary K.
"We'd better go," I stated, heading toward the exit.
Mary K. nodded, but she took her time following me out the door. Maybe she secretly wanted to see if Bakker would say anything. Sure enough, he approached her.
"Mary K.," he began pleadingly.
She looked at him but turned and caught up to me without a word. I was relieved. I knew he'd been groveling hard since The Incident, and I could tell that Mary K. was weakening. I was afraid that if I spoke too harshly, it might drive her back to him. So I kept my mouth shut. But I had promised myself that if I got the slightest inkling of his forcing himself on her again, I would tell my parents, his parents, and everyone I knew.
And Mary K. would probably never forgive me, I thought as we got into the car.
I started Das Boot's engine and pulled out onto the street. Thinking about Mary K.'s love life made me think about my own. I started to smile and couldn't stop. Was Cal my muirn beatha danthe Wiccan term for soul mate, life partner? He seemed to believe so. The possibility sent a shiver down my spine.
At the grocery store we stocked up on Pop-Tarts and other necessities. In the snacks aisle I lifted twelve-packs of Diet Coke into the cart while Mary K. piled bags of pretzels and chips on top. Farther down the shelf were boxes of Fudge Therapy, Bree's favorite junk food.
Bree. My former best friend.
I swallowed. How many times had Bree and I smuggled boxes of Fudge Therapy into a movie theater? How many boxes had we consumed during sleep overs as we lay in the dark, spilling our secrets to each other? It still seemed bizarre that we were enemies, that our friendship had broken up because she had wanted Cal and he had wanted me. In the past few weeks I had wished again and again that I could talk to her about all that I'd learned. Bree didn't even know I was adopted. She still thought I was a Rowlands by birth, like Mary K. But Bree was being such a bitch to me now, and I was being cold to her. Oh, well. For now, there was nothing I could do about it It seemed best not to dwell on what I couldn't change.
Mary K. and I checked out and loaded up the car. I stifled a yawn as we climbed back in. The gray, cheerless weather seemed to sap my energy. I wanted to go home and nap before Cal came over.
"Let's go down Picketts Road," said Mary K., adjusting the car's heater vents to blow right on her. "It's so pretty, even if it takes longer."
"Picketts Road it is," I said, taking the turn. I preferred this route, too: it was hilly and winding, and there weren't many houses. People kept horses back here, and though most of the trees were now bare, colorful leaves still littered the ground, like the patterns on an oriental carpet.
Up ahead were two cars parked by the side of the road. My eyes narrowed. I recognized them as Matt Adler's white jeep and Raven Meltzer's beat-up black Peugeot parked right next to each other on a road few people used. That was odd. I hadn't even realized that they spoke to each other. I looked around but didn't see either one of them.
"Interesting," I muttered.
"What?" said my sister, fiddling with the radio dial.
"That was Matt Adler's jeep and Raven Meltzer's Peugeot," I said.
"So?"
"They're not even friends," I said, shrugging. "What are their cars doing out here?"
Mary K. pursed her lips. "Gosh, maybe they killed someone and are burying the body," she said sarcastically.
I smirked at her. "It's just kind of unusual, that's all. I mean, Matt is Jenna's boyfriend, and Raven" Raven doesn't care if a guy is someone's boyfriend, I finished silently. Raven just liked to get guys, chew them up, and spit them out.
"Yeah, but they both do this Wicca stuff with you, right?" said Mary K., flipping down the sun visor mirror to check her appearance. It was obvious that she didn't want to look me in the eye. She'd made it very clear that she disapproved of "this Wicca stuff," as she liked to call it.
"But Raven's not in our coven," I said. "She and Bree started their own coven."
"Because you and Bree aren't talking anymore?" she asked pointedly, still looking in the mirror.
I bit my lip. I still hadn't explained very much about Bree and Cal to my family. They had noticed, of course, that Bree and I weren't hanging out and that Bree wasn't calling the house nine times a day. But I'd mumbled something about Bree being busy with a new boyfriend, and no one had called me on it till now.
"That's part of it," I said with a sigh. "She thought she was in love with Cal. But he wanted to be with me. So Bree decided the hell with me." It hurt to say it out loud.
"And you chose Cal," my sister said, but her tone was forgiving.
I shook my head. "It's not like I chose Cal over her. Actually, she chose him over me first. Besides, I didn't tell Bree she had to get out of my life or anything. I still wanted to be friends."
Mary K. flipped the visor back up. "Even though she loved your boyfriend."
"She thought she loved him," I said, getting prickly. "She didn't even know him, though. She still doesn't. Anyway, you know how she is about guys. She likes the thrill of the chase and the conquest much more than any long-term thing. Use them and lose them. And Cal didn't want to be with her." I sighed again. "It's complicated."
Mary K. shrugged.
"You think I shouldn't go out with Cal just because Bree wanted him?" I asked. My knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
"No, not exactly," said Mary K. "It's just, I feel kind of sorry for Bree. She lost you and Cal."
I sniffed. "Well, she's being a total bitch to me now," I muttered, forgetting how much I had been missing Bree just minutes ago. "So she obviously isn't all broken up about it."
Mary K. stared out the window. "Maybe being a bitch is just how Bree acts sad," she murmured absently, watching the barren trees pass. "If you were my best friend for about twelve years and you left me for a guy you just met, maybe I would be a bitch, too."
I didn't answer. Just stay out of it, I thought. Like my fourteen-year-old sister knew anything. She'd allowed herself to get involved with a sleazebag like Bakker, after all.
But deep down, I wondered if I was irritated because Mary K. was right.
CHAPTER 3Woodbane
Litha, 1998
This is the time of year when I am most sad. Sad and angry. One of the last circles that I did with my mum and dad was for Beltane, eight years ago. I was eight, Linden was six, and Alwyn was only four. I remember the three of us sitting with the other kids, sons and daughters of the coven's members. The warmth of May was trying to steal in a banish April's cold, dreary wetness. Around our maypole the grown-ups were laughing and drinking wine. We kids dances, weaving out ribbons in and out of each other, gathering magick to us in a pastel net.
I felt the magick inside me, inside everything. I was so impatient. I didn't know how I'd ever make it till I was fourteen, when I could be initiated as a full witch. I remember the sunset glowing on Mum's hair, and she and Dad held each other, kissing, while the others laughed. The other kids and I groaned and covered our faces. But we were only pretending to be embarrassed. Inside, our spirits were dancing. The air was full of life, and everything was glowing and swelling with light and wonder and happiness.
And before Litha, seven weeks later, Mum was gone, Dad was gonevanished, without a trace, without a word to us, their children. And my life changed forever. My spirit shriveled, shrank, twisted.
Now I'm a witch and almost full-grown. Yet inside, my spirit is still a mean, twisted thing. And even though I have since learned the truth, I am angryin some ways, more than I have ever been. Will it always be that way? Maybe only the Goddess knows.
Giomanach
After lunch I was in my room, twisting my long hair into a braid, when I felt Cal's presence. A smile spread across my face. I focused my senses and felt my parents in the living room, my sister in the bathroomand then Cal, coming closer, tickling my nerves as he approached. By the time I snapped an elastic around my braid, he was ringing the doorbell. I dashed from my room and down the stairs.
Mom answered the door.
"Hello, Cal," she said. She'd met him once before, when he'd come to visit after Bree had practically broken my nose with a volleyball during gym. I could feel her giving him the standard maternal up-and-down as he stood there.
"Hi, Mrs. Rowlands," Cal replied easily, smiling. "Is Morganoh, there she is." Our eyes met, and we grinned foolishly at each other. I couldn't hide the pleasure that I took in seeing him, not even from my mom.
"Will you be back for dinner?" Mom asked, unable to resist giving me a quick kiss.
"Yes," I said. "And then I'm going to Jenna's tonight."
"Okay." Mom took a deep breath, then smiled at Cal again. "Have a good time."
I knew that she was trying hard not to ask Cal to drive safely, and to her credit, she managed it. I waved good-bye and hurried out to Cal's car.
He climbed in and started the engine. "Still want to go to Practical Magick?" he asked.
"Yes." I settled back in my seat. My thoughts instantly turned to the night before, to finding Maeve's Book of Shadows. As soon as we were out of eyesight of my house, Cal pulled the car over and reached across to kiss me. I moved as close to him as I could in the bucket seats and held him tightly. It was so strange: I had always counted on Bree and my family for grounding, for support. But now Bree was out of my life, and my family and I were still coming to terms with the fact that I was adopted. If it weren't for Cal well, it seemed best not to think of that.