Breathe. Focus. Quit thinking. Moira imagined a candle in front of her, a white pillar on the floor, glowing with a single flame. She focused on its flickering, on the ebb and flow of the flame growing and dying, one second at a time. In a few moments she became the flame, inhaling its heat and light and releasing its energy with her breath. I am the flame. I am burning. I am white-hot I am made of fire.
"Right," said Keady's quiet voice, floating gently through the air. "Slowly, slowly, open your eyes, as if they were fine linen being lifted by a breeze."
Moira opened her eyes, and it seemed that the room had changed somehow. Maybe the sun had shifted. Something felt different. Looked different. Moira blinked. Things looked a little hazy. No, wait-it was just around their heads. There was a bright glow around Tess's, Vita's, and Keady's heads.
"Now," Keady said, "let's hold out our hands. When I tell you to, join hands. One person will send, one will receive. Repeat after me: A force of life I draw to me. It fills me with its light I use this light to help me see. And in my spells I use its might."
Moira repeated the words, and they seemed to sink deep within her, as if they were smooth stones dropping gently through water to land silently on a bed of silt. "Tess, receive my energy," said Keady, holding out her hand. Tess reached out and clasped her hand, then gave a small but visible jump. Her eyes opened a bit wider, and she lost her bored demeanor for a second.
"Now, Tess, give your energy to me and to Vita."
Tess clasped hands with both Vita and Keady, and though Vita seemed expectant, her expression didn't change. "I don't feel much of anything," she whispered.
"That's all right," Keady said. "Now, Vita, give your energy to Moira and Tess."
Moira held out her hand and took hold of Vita's smooth, soft palm. Vita's hand was smaller than hers and much less muscular. Moira let her eyes close halfway and focused on what she was receiving from Vita. Was that a faint tingling sensation? Yes, she thought it was. So Vita was actually sending her energy? Cool. She opened her eyes and nodded at Vita, who grinned and looked pleased.
"Good, Vita," Keady said encouragingly. "I can see your extra practicing has paid off. Right, then, now Moira. Give your energy to me and Vita."
Moira closed her eyes. Focus. Breathe. Silently she repeated the words: A force of life I draw to me. It fills me with its light I use this light to help me see. And in my spells I use its might.
She breathed in, and with that breath she seemed to draw the whole room in with her. Holding her breath, she felt energy rise within her-something she'd never felt so strongly before. It was a bit scary, actually, but Keady was here and would keep her safe. Power and energy and magick and joy seemed about to explode inside her. Slowly she held out her hands, unsure if she was doing anything correctly or if she had gotten it all wrong. Energy, I send you out. Moira imagined herself as a glowing flame, pouring energy out through her hands like sunbeams.
Keady took her hand first, and Moira felt an electrifying contact, like pure heat was pouring through her hand. Suddenly Moira knew a kind of exhilaration she'd never imagined existed. In the next second Vita took her other hand, and Moira felt it all again, but only for a second. Vita gasped and dropped her hand quickly, and Moira's eyes snapped open.
Vita looked startled and a little afraid. She stared first at Moira and then at her own hand. Moira quickly glanced at Keady and saw that the older woman was gripping her hand firmly, easily taking the sent energy and measuring it. As soon as Moira's concentration broke, everything shut down, and within a minute she felt almost totally normal. Almost.
Self-conscious, and a mite dizzy, Moira drew her hands back and folded them in her lap.
"What did you do?" asked Vita.
"What happened?" Tess asked, having seen nothing except Vita dropping Moira's hand.
"Very good, Moira," said Keady quietly, looking at Moira's face. "Have you been practicing?"
"A little. Not a whole lot," Moira admitted. "But I remembered seeing my mum call energy. She talked about how it can increase the power of spells and so on." Moira shrugged and began to trace a random pattern on her knee.
"I see," said Keady. She got to her feet and opened the circle, murmuring words to dispel magick and restore calm to the room's own energy. "I think that's enough for today. You have your assignments for next Wednesday. Go home and work on your spells and your Books of Shadows, and I'll see you at the circle tonight." Moira started to pull on her jacket, but Keady put out a hand to detain her. Tess and Vita left without her, looking back with raised brows. Moira shrugged a silent "I don't know" and pantomimed calling them later.
Keady put the kettle on for tea, glancing thoughtfully at Moira.
"That was both unexpected and expected," she said, putting out their cups. "It was unexpected because I haven't seen that level of power from you before, and we've been working together for eight months now. It was also expected because you're Morgan Byrne's daughter. I couldn't help wondering if you had inherited her power."
Moira looked into Keady's clear eyes, the color of fog. "I feel like my powers are growing, getting stronger," she said. "But I don't know if it's like my mum's power-I don't even know what her power's like. I mean, I know she's a strong healer. People call her from all over the world for help. The spells she works look effortless, smooth and perfect. And I know everyone speaks of her power and her magick. But I don't think I've seen her work too much really big magick."
For a minute her teacher was quiet. She swirled the loose tea leaves in the steamy water. The sweet smell of tea filled Moira's nose, and she inhaled.
"If you have the power of a huge, rushing river, sometimes it's most effective to harness it and dole it out, as with a dam," her teacher said finally. "Sometimes if you let the river run free, it can destroy more than it can build."
Moira looked at her. It seemed a quality of witches to never answer questions directly. "It's just strange-I know she's powerful, she's Morgan of Belwicket. But that kind of big 'rushing river' stuff doesn't come up in the day-to-day." She laughed a little, and Keady smiled. "How much do you know about your mum's life before she came here and helped revive Belwicket?"
Moira frowned. "Well, she's American. She was adopted. She found out she was a blood witch when she was sixteen. After high school she went to Scotland for a summer to study with the Gray Witches. When Gran found out Maeve Riordan's daughter was alive, she tracked Mum down and asked her to move here and help re-form the original Belwicket. Then Mum married Dad, and I was born. Now she's become an important healer, and she travels a lot." Moira let out a breath, releasing the tension she felt about how much her mum worked. "Now Mum's getting ready to become high priestess of Belwicket."
"It isn't my place to tell you any more about your own mother," said Keady. "But I can tell you that the fact that you've not witnessed anything that would strike fear into your soul is a good thing." She smiled dryly when Moira frowned. "The true strength of a witch can be measured by how much she or he does not resort to big magick, how much they can give themselves over to study, reflection, peace. The fact that someone can work big magick is an accomplishment. The fact that someone can work big magick but chooses not to unless strictly necessary is a greater accomplishment. Do you see?"
This was a picture of her mother that Moira was having trouble imagining. "Are you saying that Mum could strike fear into someone's soul?" she asked.
"I'm saying that yes, your mother is a witch of unusual, and even fearsome, powers," Keady said solemnly. The words gave Moira a slight chill. "There have been very few witches within recorded history who could equal Morgan," her teacher went on. "A power that great is a beautiful and also a frightening thing. And Moira? There are very few happy uses for a power such as that, do you understand? It isn't your mother's place to bring springtime or end war, or make everyone fall in love, or keep a whole village healthy. And your mother would never use her magick for dark purposes, we know. Can you think of a purpose that is left, that is both true and on the side of right, yet would allow the expression of an almost inconceivably great power?"
Moira frowned at Keady, realizing what she was getting at.
"It would be for defense," Keady said, her voice very quiet and deliberate. "To fight evil. It would be used in a battle of good against evil on a scale that's difficult for you to comprehend. And it's difficult for you to comprehend because your mother, and your father, too, worked very hard their whole lives to make sure that you, their daughter, lived in a world where the most appropriate expression of power is to heal people."
Moira felt as if she had stepped out of her normal Saturday spellcraft lesson and into a comic book about superheroes.
"To be fifteen years old, the daughter of Morgan Byrne, and to have no idea of such matters-it's a blessing, a gift. One that you will be thankful for, again and again, in the future." Keady looked at Moira steadily, then seemed to think she had said enough.
In silence Moira finished her tea, mumbled good-bye, took her things, and left.
"Keady says it would be helpful to read your and Dad's Books of Shadows," Moira said that afternoon.
"I think I gave them to you," her mother said, stirring the pot on the stove. She sniffed its scent and then looked at her watch. "You gave me most of them, but I think it would be good to read your very first ones, even before you were initiated, when you were first learning about spells," said Moira. An odd expression crossed her mum's face for just a moment and then passed.
"Gosh, that was so long ago," her mother murmured. "I'm not sure where they are."
"Didn't Dad say once that all of both of your old stuff was in those crates down in the cellar?" Moira persisted.
Her mother looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure."
"Well, I could really use them," Moira said. "It would help me for my initiation. Can I try to find them?"
Her mum looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Moira wasn't going to back down, not after the things Keady had said.
"I guess," was her mum's unenthusiastic reply. "But I'll get them for you when I have a minute."
"Brilliant," said Moira, standing up and putting her dishes in the sink. As she was heading upstairs, her mom said, "Don't forget-circle in an hour."
"Right," Moira called back.
"I miss having circles outside, like in summer," Moira said. She and her mum were walking briskly down the road toward Katrina's. The sun had set, and with no streetlights the night was a solid velvety black. With magesight, kind of like a witch's night vision, Moira stepped surely on the rutted, uneven road.
"Yes," said her mother. "Being outside is always good. But it's nice to have a place to be warm and dry as well."
Soon they had almost caught up to Brett and Lacey Hawkstone and their daughter, Lizzie, who was fourteen and would start her initiation classes at Yule. Ahead of them Michelle Moore walked with her partner, Fillipa Gregg.
"Today at class I sent some energy to Keady," Moira said.
"Really?" Her mother smiled at her and seemed glad but neither surprised nor ecstatic. "Good for you. I'm sure Keady was pleased. Oh, look, Fillipa needs help carrying that bag. Let's hurry."
As the group approached the store, Moira's gran appeared in the doorway of her cottage. "Hello! Come in," said Gran, smiling. She closed the front door to her house and met them by the store's entrance. Her house was a small, thick-walled cottage, and the old store was attached directly to it. It had been a tiny country store, just one large room. Five years ago the coven had joined together and whitewashed the inside, sanded the floor, and painted good luck charms and symbols all around the room's perimeter. There were four small windows, high up on the thick walls, and a double-wide front door. The only other door led into Gran's back pantry in her house.
"Hi, Gran," said Moira, kissing her. She sniffed, then wiggled her eyebrows expectantly.
"Yes, those are gingersnaps you smell," Katrina told her with a laugh. "I felt like baking this afternoon. We'll have them after circle."
"Morgan," said Hartwell Moss, coming over to hug Moira's mum. "How are you? Rough week?"
"Not too bad," said Moira's mum, but something in her voice made Moira look at her more closely. Were those lines of tension around her eyes? Was her mouth tight? Moira tried casting her senses and picked up on a lot of anxiety. Was it just because Moira had been late last night, or was something else going on? "Hello!" Gran called, opening her arms wide. "Hello, everyone, and good evening to you. Welcome. Is everyone here, then?" Though she was heavyset and walked slowly because of arthritis, Moira thought her grandmother still made a wonderful high priestess for their coven. Her gray hair was pulled back with silver combs and her long, dove-gray linen robe was imprinted in black with simple images of the sea.
"Hello, good evening," people answered in various forms. Moira counted: twenty-one people here tonight, a good number. In the winter it often drifted down to eight or nine, when the weather made some of the higher roads risky; in spring the number could swell to over twenty. Even their coven obeyed the law of wax and wane, the turn of the wheel.
Standing at the head of the room, Katrina clasped her hands and smiled. "The sun has gone down, and we are embraced by the harvest moon, nae? There's a crispness in the air that tells us leaves will soon fell, days will grow shorter, and we'll be staying more by our firesides. What a joyful time is autumn! We gather in our harvest, collecting Mother Earth's bounty, her gifts to us. We till the soil, and the soil feeds us. Or, for some of us, we think fondly of our soil but buy our veggies from the market!"
People laughed. Moira felt proud of her grandmother.
"Lammas is behind us: we look ahead to Mabon," Katrina went on. "We're planning a special Mabon feast, of course, so please talk to Susan if you'd like to contribute food, drink, candles, decorations, or just your time. Thank you very much. Now, I've already drawn our circle here, you can see, but if you'll forgive me, I'd like to ask Morgan to lead us tonight. Maybe I've overdone things a little lately."