Great. My father was a prince. She couldnt pay last time, but today she had two nice chickens for him. My father was breaking some of the most seminal laws of the craft and being paid in chickens for it. I felt like I was losing my mind.
There had been times in history where it had been necessary, even imperative, to contact souls on the other side, times when it was sanctioned. But to commune with the dead on a regular basis, for paymentit was an affront to nature. It would never be allowed. This was exactly the kind of thing a Seeker would be sent to investigate, to shut down. This realization caused a sickening drop of my stomach.
Eventually, I wasnt sure how much later, Daniel came out, ashen-faced. When he saw me sitting there, white with illness and misery, he staggered. His dull eyes went from me to the woman, who was still waiting patiently. Ignoring me, he went over to her and spoke gently to her in French, telling her today wasnt a good day, that she must return at another time. The look of utter disappointment on her face was heartbreaking. But she dutifully stood, offered my father her chickens, which he refused, smiling, and left. Leaving us alone, father and son, witch and Seeker.
9. Fiona the Bright
I havent heard a thing from Hunter, besides his phone message on Tuesday. (Why did he call while I was at school? Was he trying not to talk to me?) Im starting to get worried. Either hes run into trouble and hasnt been able to contact anyone, or hes having a great time, doesnt want to come home, and hasnt been able to contact anyone. Either way, Im scared.
I finally sent him a witch message last night, but I have no idea whether it reached him since I havent heard anything back. Its getting harder and harder for me to concentrate on the rest of life. I think about Hunter all the time. I think about last Friday night, how close we came, and wonder if well ever finally go all the way.
I went to Bethanys apartment yesterday after school. Im comfortable with her. We talked some about healing herbs. I told her about the research I had done online, and she lent me one of her own books: A Healers Herb Companion. I cant wait to get into it.
Bethany asked me about my plans for this years garden, and I admitted I hadnt gotten far with them. She told me that she has a plot in the Ninth Street Community Garden, two blocks from her apartment. Without being pushy or making me feel guilty, she helped me think about mine a little more, and now Im excited all over again about my first one.
Right now, though, I would give anything to hear the phone ring. Hunter, where are you? What are you doing? Are you coming back to me?
Morgan
Youve got to talk to me! I shouted. My father turned away and paced into the kitchen, his shoulders stiff, his gaunt face set with anger.
I followed him, crossing the tiny lounge in four big paces. A bleak sunshine was trying to stream through the newly washed windows, but it was weak and seemed incapable of entering this house of darkness, death, and despair.
How could you possibly think its all right? I demanded, pursuing him. Ever since we had gotten home, I had been trying to get answers from him. He had retreated into cold silence, regarding me as from a distance, as if I were nothing more than an annoying insect. I had spent most of the night awake, pacing in front of the fireplace, sitting on the couch, rubbing the back of my neck. Da had been in his roomif he slept, I didnt know it. I would bet he did. Nothing much seemed to get to him. Certainly not my revolted reaction to his bith dearc.
The next morning I jolted awake, slumped against the back of the couch, unaware of when I had fallen asleep. Our ugly fight started again. He looked, several times, as though he wanted to say something, to explain himself, but couldnt. I was alternately cajoling, supportive, angry, insistent. I never let down my guard, never left him alone.
Seeing him in the kitchen, hunting through the cabinets for something to eat, through food I had supplied, filled me with fresh anger. I had been here five days, five awful, disappointing, shocking days. Id had enough.
When I got here, you could hardly walk, I pointed out, coming closer. My anger was starting to spiral out of control, but for once I didnt rigidly clamp it down. Now youre stronger because Ive been taking care of you. And youre going out into the woods, to your bith dearc. Are you mad?
Daniel turned and looked at me, his eyes narrowed. I almost wanted him to explode, to show me a side of my old father, any side, even anger. He paused, his hand on a cupboard shelf, then looked away.
What would Alwyn say if she saw you, if she knew about this? I demanded. This is what killed her brother.
He looked at me, something flickering behind his dull brown eyes. Answer me, just answer me, I thought. Please, stop, he said, sounding helpless. You just dont understand.
Explain it to me, I said, trying to calm down. Explain why youve done this terrible thing.
It is terrible, he agreed sadly. I know that.
Then why do you do it? I asked. How could you take payment for contacting the dead?
We were face-to-face in that cramped kitchen. I was taller than he and outweighed him; I was a young, strong, healthy man, and he was a broken wreck far older than his years. But there was something latent in him, a reserve of ancient power lying coiled within him, awaiting his need for it. I sensed this; Im not sure if he did.
His face twisted. I have to, he said.
Its making you ill. And you know its wrong, I said, as if talking to a child. Da, youve got to stop this.
His shoulders hunched, he looked away. Then, stiffly, as if holding back a cry, he nodded. I know, lad. I know.
Let me help you, I said, calming down more. Just stay here todaydont go. Ill make you some lunch.
He gave another short nod and sat abruptly in his armchair, staring at the fire. His fingers twitched, a muscle in his jaw jumpedhe looked like an addict facing withdrawal.
Tell me about your town, Da said at lunch. It was the first question he had asked of me, the first interest he had shown in my life. I answered him, though I suspected he was only trying to change the subject.
Ive only been there about four months, I said, not mentioning the reason I had first gone there: to investigate his first wife, his first son. But Ive stayed and kept it my base in America. Its a little town, and it reminds me of England more than a lot of other American towns Ive seen. Its kind of old-fashioned and quaint.
He bit into his BLT and almost looked like he enjoyed it for a second. Every once in a while he glanced at a window or the door, as if he would somehow escape if I let him. He was trying not to go to the bith dearc. He was trying to let me help him.
Do you have a girl there?
Aye, I admitted, taking a huge bite of my own sandwich. The thought of Morgan sent a tremor through my body. Goddess, I missed her.
Who is she?
Her name is Morgan Rowlands, I said, wondering how to broach the topic of her parentage. Shes a blood witch, a Woodbane.
Oh? Good or bad? At his little joke he gave a small cough and took a sip of his juice.
Good, I said wryly. How could I tell him what Morgan meant to me, who she was? That I believed she was my mùirn beatha dàn?
Whats her background? Tell me about her.
My pulse quickened. He sounded almost like a real father, the father I had always wanted. Shes amazing. Shes only just found out about being a blood witch. But shes the strongest uninitiated witch Ive ever seen or heard of. Shes really special. Id like you to meet her.
Da nodded with a vague smile. Perhaps. How did she just find out about her powers? Who are her parents?
My jaw tensed. I had no idea how my father would react to this. Actually. .
Da looked up, sensing my hesitation. What is it, lad?
I sighed. The truth is, shes the biological child of Maeve Riordan of Belwicket. . and Ciaran MacEwan. Of Amyranth.
All expression seemed to drain from Das face. Really.
Yes. But she was put up for adoption. . Its a long story, but Ciaran killed her mother, and Morgan just learned the truth about her heritage recently. She was adopted by a Catholic family in Widows Vale.
My das eyes flicked up at me. They were full of suspicion. My father had been fleeing Amyranth and their destruction for eleven years, and now his son was involved with the leaders daughter. It had to be hard to take. Does she. . has she met Ciaran?
Yes, I admitted, remembering Ciarans odd recent reunion with his daughter. But shes very different from him. She wants to work for good, like her mother worked for good. She helped the council find him. You know that hes in custody now.
Da nodded and went on eating. I had no idea what he was thinking.
Did you know Cal? he asked.
My jaw almost dropped. When I was young, Selene and Cal were never, ever mentioned in our house. In fact, I hadnt found out about them until right before I had come to Widows Vale. I still remember how stunned I had been by the news.
Only a bit, I said.
Da put down his sandwich, took a sip of beer. What was he like?
He was a bloody criminal, I wanted to say, letting out my still white-hot anger at the person who almost destroyed Morgan. He was evil personified. But this was Das sonmy half brother. And I suppose, deep down, I knew that Cal hadnt really had a chance, not with Selene Belltower for a mother.
Um. He was very good-looking, I said objectively. He was very charismatic.
You hated him. It was a statement.
Yes.
I dont know what I was thinking, leaving him with her, Da said, his voice dry and aged. All I knew was I was in love with your mother; shed already had you. I wanted to be with her. I didnt want Selene and her evil tendrils wrapping around my life. At the time, I told myself that a child that young should stay with his mother. And Selene always said there was no way I could take him from her. Ever. But now I wonder if I could haveif Id tried hard enough. And I wonder if I didnt try because I hated Selene so much, I didnt want any part of her near menot even our son.
Crikey. Id never heard Da talk like this. It made him seem so much more human somehow.
Well, anyway. Old days, he said blithely, seeming embarrassed to reveal so much. Yet it was just this that allowed me to get past my new vision of himthe disappointing fatherand see him as the man I remembered. A good man, who had loved, made mistakes, had regrets. It was a side of him I liked.
Im knackered, he said, sounding shaky. He stood up and walked past me with hesitant steps. I followed him to his bedroom, where he lay down on clean sheets. I guessed that the pull of the bith dearc was still working on him.
Da, let me help, I said, coming to stand by the side of the bed. He looked up at me with uncomprehending weariness, and gently I laid my fingers on his temple, the way I had with the First Nation girl. I sent waves of soothing calmness, feelings of safety, of relaxation. In moments his eyes had fluttered closed, and his breathing changed to that of a man asleep. I stayed for a moment, making another spell of deep rest. If I could just keep him away from the bith dearc, if he would rest, I knew that I could help him get stronger. And perhaps then. . when he was back to his old self. . perhaps then I could get him away from this place, back home with me in Widows Vale.
He would be out for hours, I figured, watching his sunken chest rise and fall. I went into the lounge, got my coat, and headed to town.
In town I was startled by how normal things seemed. I checked my watchit was after three. Please be there, I thought, punching in my phone card number, then Morgans number. Mary K.s bright voice answered the phone.
Hunter! she said happily. Where are you? Morgans been so awful lately because she hasnt talked to you.
Im sorry, I said. My mobile cant get a signal here, my father doesnt have a phone, and its hard for me to get to town sometimes. Is she there? Can I speak to her?
No, she hasnt gotten home yet. Jaycees mom gave me a ride from school. I dont know if Morgans with Bree or what. You want Brees cell phone number?
Yes, thanks. Its been too long since I talked to her.
I know she thinks so, said Mary K. primly, and I smiled to myself, wondering how grumpy Morgan had been all week.
Mary K. gave me Brees number, and I called it as soon as we hung up. But a recorded voice told me that the mobile customer I was calling was not available. I wanted to smash the phone receiver against the booth wall. Dammit. I needed to talk to Morgan, needed to hear her voice, her comforting, encouraging reactions to my horrible situation. I called Brees cell phone again and left a message, asking her to tell Morgan that I had tried to call her and really missed her and hoped we could talk soon.
Next I tried calling Sky. I didnt even bother to calculate what time it would be in FranceI needed to hear a semi-friendly voice. No one was home. I was starting to feel desperate. Talking to my father was full of emotional highs and lows. I needed some medium.
In the end I talked to Kennet. Kennet had been my mentor, had taught me much about being a Seeker. But I didnt mention any of my fears about Da, didnt talk about the bith dearc or Das transgressions. Kennet, however, had news for me.
Its convenient youre up there, actually, he said.
I leaned into the phone booth, watching my breath come out in little puffs. Yeah? Whys that?
The council has a job for you to do, he said.
All right, I said with unusual eagerness. Anything to take my mind off the situation with my father. Tell me whats going on.
About three hours west from where you are, a Rowanwand witch named Justine Courceau is collecting the true names of things.
Yes? I said, meaning, so what? Most witches make a point of learning as many true names of things as they can.
Not just things. Living creatures. People. Shes writing them down, said Kennet.