Sam and Alisa had an Oona moment when they came up to the house, Brigid said. A branch almost fell on Sams head.
Charlie turned to me in concern. Is he all right? he asked.
Hes okay, I nodded. But whats an Oona moment?
I guess you wouldnt know about Oona, he said. Have you explained, Brig?
Id just started, said Brigid. I didnt get that far. You can explain.
Oona, Charlie said, slipping off his jacket, is a relative of yours. I guess she would be your G5 grandmother.
G5?
Great-great-great-great-grandmother. Thats her relationship to Brigid, so it would be the same to you. Its her ghost that theyre talking about.
Ghosts. Uh-huh. What next? Did they have vampires in the cellar? Unicorns in the yard?
Youre telling me that ghosts are real? I said incredulously. Im still getting used to witches.
Shes an energy, he explained, popping the wrapper off a straw. A force. Shes been around for years, causing all kinds of little problems. She used to swat things off tables, break an occasional window, rip the curtains. That sort of thing. Now objects arent just moving or breakingthey seem to be attacking people.
Attacking people? Huh. The good part of this story was that it didnt sound like I was the one responsible for what had happened to Sam. At least, I didnt think so. The bad part was that I seemed to be walking into another series of scary situations. The fun never stopped.
The story goes like this, he explained. Oonas husband, your G5 grandfather, and their two sons died in a flu epidemic in the mid- to late 1800s. Oona lost her mind. Its bad when anyone loses his or her mind, but when it happens to a witch, its really bad. If the person cant be healed, the persons coven will perform a reining spell to protect everyone, including the afflicted. In really bad cases, the person will be stripped of power. Thats a horrible process. Máirin, her daughter, must not have been able to stand the thought of her mother going through it, so she tried to keep the illness hidden. It was a huge mistake. Oona ended up committing suicide.
Oh my God, I said.
No one knows what spells Oona cast after she lost her mind, he continued, but it seemed that one of them must have ended up lodging her energy in the house. Máirin describes all kinds of problems that started the minute Oona died.
How do you know all of this? I asked, feeling the hairs on my neck starting to rise.
Aunt Evelyn found Máirins Book of Shadows years ago, said Brigid, crushing a packet of crackers into her soup. But it disappeared from her room a day later. Maybe Oona took it.
From what Evelyns said, Charlie chimed in, there were problems when Evelyn was a child. Then they quieted down for years and started again in the, um, early seventies. After the other family problems.
He was saying that they had started around the time my mother left home. During an awkward pause that followed, the waitress brought our food. I had to admit that though the menu was a bit much, the chowder was amazing.
What happened after my mother left? I asked, taking a big spoonful and nodding for Charlie to continue.
It was bad at first, I think, Charlie answered, reaching for the bowl of crackers, I think there was a small fire and definitely some broken windows. Then the problem quieted down again. I think it only popped up occasionally during the late seventies and eighties. But in the last few months its gone off the charts. One of the walls developed a crack. Some banisters tumbled down from the widows walk. Two weeks ago the gas line to the oven was punctured when Brigid was alone in the house. It could have been really serious, but fortunately she smelled the gas and got out.
Weve done just about every kind of spell we can think of, Brigid added. Now Moms even trying to talk Aunt Evelyn into selling the house. But Aunt Evelyn wont do that. Weve owned the house for over a hundred years, and shes way too stubborn to give up trying to solve the problem. Shes sure that with our combined powers, we can do it. Oh, but She looked at my with what I thought was slightly exaggerated pity. You wouldnt know anything about that. You dont have any powers.
It wasnt a bad assumption since I shouldnt had had any powers. It just turned out that I did. I could have told her, but somehow, I just squashed a dark wave wasnt going to slide right into the conversation.
It must be terrible for you, Brigid went on. How long have you known that your mom was a witch?
Just a couple of weeks, I said, dragging into my chowder. I joined a coven, and then I found out later. It was a surprise.
Well, she said, I think its great that youve decided to join a coven. I mean, considering that you cant do what we can do. But even though youre not a real witch, you can definitely be a part of Wicca. Its open to everyone.
Charlie started rocking his spoon on the table and stared at the wall next to us. I dont think he liked the patronizing tone that Brigid was using but didnt really want to intervene.
Ill show you something, Alisa, she said. Want to see me work with the rhythm of the waves?
Brig, Charlie said, his eyebrows shooting up, Are you, um
Dont worry, she said. This is a new spell Ive worked out. Sending the energy out to the water. Its really mild version of a return-to-me spell. Id just like to show Alisa some magick. Shes probably never seen any.
Since Id just been through enough terrifying magickal phenomena to last a life time, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. And considering that my uncle had accidentally killed several people while trying to help with the rain, this seemed like the worst kind of arrogant, foolish magick in the world. A party trick using the ocean? I wasnt a trained witch, but I had enough sense to know that this was a bad, bad idea.
Charlie blanched. Apparently he didnt think much of the idea, either.
Hunter had taught me a few basic deflections while I was learning the dark wave spell. I tried to find them in my memory, where they were stuck together. Nal nithrac, tar ais di cair na, clab saoil which were the right words? It was as if I was grabbing at hundreds of jars of exotic unmarked spices, each tantalizing and overwhelmingly pungent, and trying to figure out how to best combine them.
Suddenly I heard Morgans voice somewhere in my mind, just as I had when wed joined our minds, giving me words to a spell Id never heard before. They ran through my head, like an old song: Sguir bhur ire, cunnartach sgeò, car fàilidh, agus eirmis tèarante sgot. I had no idea what the words meant, but I understood how they worked. I was to look for a safe place to redirect the energy that Brigid was sending to the waves. I happened to be looking at the salt, so I put it there.
The saltshaker began to bounce. Brigid, who had been focusing on the waves lapping at the seawall outside the window, looked down at the noise. The shaker wobbles down the table and the floor. From there it rolled unsteadily to the wall near the window and stopped, unable to go any further.
When I looked up, Charlies amber eyes met mine and didnt flinch. His expression was unreadable, not unfriendly but definitely serious. I felt a wave of electricity ripple through me, giving me goose pimples. He had power, lots of it, and he was sending some of it my way, casting out his senses like Morgan and Hunter had. I suddenly felt very self-conscious.
Within a second the event had passed. Brigid was flushed with embarrassment.
Well, that didnt work right, she said.
It was fine, Charlie said graciously. The salt was trying to reconnect with the seawaterit was affected because it was lighter and closer to you. Working with the ocean is tricky.
It was good, I nodded in agreement. It was cool. Anything to make her stop.
Brigid started moving everything on her place mat around, seeming uncomfortable. Conveniently her cell phone rang. I wondered if shed manage to spell it, too.
Damn, she said, hanging up after a quick conversation. That was Karen, my boss. She needs me at the shop. Sorry, Alisa. I guess I cant show you around after all. Can you do it Charlie?
Sure, he smiled at me. Im off today.
Good, Brigid said, stuffing her phone back into her purse. Alisa is coming back for dinner, six o clock.
Is this okay with you? he asked, pulling out his keys.
Sure, I said, hoping I didnt sound too eager. Lets go.
10. Charlie
June 23, 1951
I woke up this morning to the sound of a great tearing. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Oona had torn the front of my bridal roberight from the collar down to within six inches of the bottom hem. My beautiful robe!
I couldnt help myself. I started weeping uncontrollably. Mother ran upstairs and came right into my room. I felt so hopeless, but she knew just what to do. She sewed up the great jagged rip with lasting stitch. It looked like a Frankenstein robe, with ugly scars. Then she put me in a hot bath filled with rosemary and lavender and instructed me to stay there for one hour, repeating the wedding day blessing. When I emerged and returned to my room, the gown was as good as new. In fact, it looked more beautiful than before. Mother had cast a glamour that concealed the tear. I am ready now, and we will be leaving soon. There is no more time for me to write.
Aoibheann
I instantly figured out which car was Charlies. It was a small green Volkswagen, obviously a few years old. There was a near like of stickers on the back for different Irish and Celtic bands, including the Fianna. The thing that really gave it away though, was the one that read, 2 + 2 = 5for Extremely Large Values of 2. I just knew that was his. Dont ask me why.
We drove around the harbor, looking at the fishing boats and the activity on the docks. He told me all about Ròiseal, how they worked a lot with the energy of the sea, and how they often had circles on the beach in the moonlight. He also explained how the coven was set up and how they worked. Because they were all experienced blood witches, they did a lot more complicated things than we did at Kithic circles. I began to wonder if Hunter found it frustrating to work with us. In comparison, running Kithic must be like watching a bunch of kindergartners, trying to make sure they dont eat the crayons.
We each have a general background in magick, Charlie explained, "and we each have an area of expertise to help balance out the coven. We're all lifelong students, of course, because we're Rowanwand. This way we split up the burden of studying. Ruth does a lot of healing work. Brigid is being trained to do the same. Evelyn works divination. Kate and James work with defensive and deflective magick."
"What about you?"
"Spellcraft," he said. "How they're written, how they're broken, how they're restricted. My dad works in the same area but on a less practical level than I do. I usually work with everyday magick. He works with mathematical stuff relating to astronomy, sigil drawing, the Key of Solomon, things like thatright into the realm of abstract math, where numbers turn into sounds and colors and shapes really hard stuff, and he also studies some very dark stuff for reference. Academic magick."
He parked the car, and we walked down Western Avenue, along the water, then up into the shopping area. As we walked, I saw that I was passing by many of the places my mother had described in her Book of Shadows. There was the chocolate shop where she used to get chocolate turtles and peanut butter fudge. There was town hall, with the library across the street where Sam had found Harris Stoughton's book. I smelled the delicious aroma coming from Rocconi's Pizzeria on Middle Street, where she used to meet her friends after school. And at the old floral shop on Main Street, the window was filled with lilacsher favorite flower. It was all so strange, so unreal. I felt so close to her. For the first time in a long while, I missed her with a physical ache.
It began to rain again, catching us completely off guard. It wasn't a warning trickle that lead to a bigger downpourit was like thousands of buckets had been kicked over at once, sudden and freezing. Charlie grabbed my elbow and steered my down the street through the rain into a nearby coffee bar. We squished up to the counter and surveyed the offerings. When I reached for my purse, Charlie held up his hand.
"Please," he said. "It's on me. What do you like?"
"Thanks," I said. "Just coffee. Lots of milk and sugar."
"Got it," he said.
I snagged a cozy table by the window with two plush seats and sat down to consider the significance of his action. No guy I knew had ever just bought things for me. I didn't even know that many people who where bought things on dates. What was this about? You don't buy coffees for someone you don't like, right? Charlie must like me. Not like me, like mebut he could tolerate me. Or so it seemed.
I occupied myself with this stupid internal dialogue until he came over with two grotesquely large mugs of frothy something and two biscotti wrapped into a napkin.
"What are these?" I said, accepting one of the heaping cups with a smile of thanks.
"I have no idea," he said, poking suspiciously at the foam, as if he was testing to see if it was alive. "Grande cappufrappes or something. I told them to make something big and steamy, with lots of milk. They gave me these. I'm assuming they are coffees."
He held up his foamy stirrer and grimaced theatrically. I had to laugh.
We sat at the coffee shop for hours, talking. Usually I'm not great around people I don't know very well. I'm that shy girl, the one who goes through a crisis every time she even has to ask someone where the ladies' room is in a restaurant. So my ease around Charlie was odd. For some reason, I felt like I could talk to him about anything. I loved the way he could be so serious, and then something funny would occur to him, and he'd jump from his seat and lean forward in excitement, his whole face bursting. During one story he became so animated that he knocked the sugar canister off the table three times.
"So," I said, continuing our conversation from the walk, "your dad's some kind of genius?"