The CallingSweep Series, Book 7Cate Tiernan
Prologue
A wolf, silver-tipped fur, ivory teeth glinting in the candlelight, padding across a dark, polished marble floor to a stone table. The room huge, black candles flickering in wall sconces. Leaves and vines in ornate plaster molding. A cougar, muscles rippling beneath a tawny pelt, bounds toward the table, golden eyes glittering. Black drapes covering tall, narrow windows. A great horned owl, its wings and talons outstretched, hovering over the stone table. The air rank with the smells of the animals. A viper coiled on the table, fangs exposed. An eagle, an enormous bear. A jaguar, tail lashing. The air crackling with dark power. An elaborate silver candlestick with black candles burning on top of an ebony cabinet. A hawk circling. An athame set with a single bloodred ruby. A jackal, a weasel, both greedy with hunger. The wolf ravenous. All closing on the great round stone table where a wolf cub lies bound, its eyes wide with terror, its small body trembling. One by one the candles gutter out. The darkness becomes thicker, complete. And the wolf cub howls.
I bolted upright, my heart hammering. I could still hear the echo of the cubs agonized scream, and the darkness around mewas only the darkness of my bedroom in the middle of the night. I was in my own room, in my own bed, yet the dream was still with me, vivid and terrifying.
Hunter, I need you! Without thinking I sent a witch message to my boyfriend, Hunter Niall.
I felt his instant response: On my way.
I glanced at my alarm clock. It was just past three A.M. I padded downstairs in my flannel pajamas to wait for Hunter.
It took him only ten minutes to arrive, but it felt more like ten hours as I paced the living room nervously. The nightmare wasnt even close to fading. It still seemed present, as if all I had to do was close my eyes and Id be right back inside it.
I looked out the window as I felt Hunter approach, crunching across the crust of old snow on our lawn. His pale blond hair stuck up in spikes around his head, and my mage-sight showed me the traces of pink the cold wind had whipped into his pale, chiseled face.
What happened? he asked without preamble as I opened the front door.
I had a dream. I pulled him inside, opened his coat, and buried my face against his sweater-covered chest.
He stroked my hair back from my forehead. Tell me.
I told him, standing within the circle of his arms, speaking in a whisper so as not to wake my family. As I spoke, the images from the dream seemed to hover in the air around me, the wolf slavering, the owls yellow eyes searching, searching. I wanted to hide from those yellow eyes, wanted to stop them from hunting me out.
Stop. Its not real, I told myself.
I dont know why it scared me so much, I finished lamely. It was just a dream. And I wasnt even in it.
But Hunter didnt say the comforting things people usually say. Instead he was silent a moment, tapping his fingers gently on my shoulder. At last he said, I think I should report it to the council.
My heart contracted. The council? You think its that serious?
He shook his head, his green eyes somber. I dont know. Im not experienced in interpreting dreams. But there are things in it that worry mea lot.
I swallowed. Oh, I said in a small voice.
Morgan? I heard my dads sleepy voice coming from the top of the stairs. Are you down there? What are you doing up at this hour?
I turned quickly. Just getting something to drink, I called. Go back to sleep, Dad.
You too, he mumbled.
Hunter and I looked at each other.
Ill call you, he whispered.
I watched him disappear back into the darkness. Then I went back up to my room and lay there, sleepless and full of dread, waiting for the dawn to come.
1. Prophecies
March 2, 1977
I dreamt of Ireland again. As always, the dream left me with a longing that makes no sense. Its just an image, deceptively simple, innocent really: a small childs dress of cream linen, blowing on a line against an open blue sky. Behind it the grass slopes up to the base of Slieve Corrofin, with the great rock at the peak in the shape of a lizards head. I remember the locals calling it the Ballynigel dragon, though I reckon that was more for the tourists than anything else.
So why does Ballynigel still haunt my dreams? And what do I make of the fact that the dream returns when I am eighteen, two nights before Im to marry Grania? If, as we are taught, everything has meaning, then what does this mean? Am I being warned away from the marriage? No, that seems impossible. Ive been dreaming of that dress since I was eight.
Besides, Grania is three months pregnant with my child. And shes a good match. Her family is one of the wealthiest in Liathach, our coven. More to the point, her mother is the high priestess of Liathach and has no other children, and Grania has no ambition to lead the coven herself. Shes happy to let me take that role. Ive always known that one day Liathach would be mine to lead. Being Greer MacMuredachs son-in-law will make the passing of power that much easier. Together Grania and I will raise a dynasty full of true Woodbane magick.
Neimhidh
At eight-thirty the sky still held the paleness of early morning as I drove south on the New York State Thruway. There were almost no other cars on the road, and the world seemed still and hushed in the chill January air. In the backseat of Das Boot, my enormous 71 Plymouth Valiant, Bree Warren, Robbie Gurevitch, Raven Meltzer, and Hunters cousin, Sky Eventide, were crammed together. All were sleepingRaven half collapsed against Sky, Bree snuggling with Robbie. The only other person awake was Hunter, who sat in the passenger seat beside me. I glanced at him, saw his chiseled profile intent as he studied a map. Sometimes I wondered if Hunter ever lived a moment without that focused intensity. Did he even sleep intensely?
Maybe I would find out over the coming weekend. The six of us were about to spend four nights in New York City. Id never spent that much time with Hunter, and something deep inside me thrummed with pleasure at his being so close to me. Things were still new between us, but I knew without question that I loved him. Most of the time I felt pretty certain that he loved me, too, although sometimes I got insecure about that. I had told him how I felt weeks ago, but he had never said it back to me. Who knewmaybe he just didnt feel it was necessary. I hadnt had the nerve to ask him.
Morgan, youll need to take the Palisades Parkway to the George Washington Bridge, then get the Harlem River Drive to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt motorway, he said, sounding very British.
We call them highways here, I said, unable to resist ribbing him.
The highway, then. It will take us straight down the east side of the city.
I know. Id never driven to New York City before, but Id gone with my family plenty of times. From Widows Vale, about two hours north, it was a pretty direct route.
How fast are you going?
I glanced at the speedometer. Seventy-five.
He frowned. I smiled. Responsible Hunter. At nineteen, he was the youngest member of the International Council of Witches, a Seeker, charged with ferreting out witches who used their power inappropriately and administering punishment. It was a serious job. Too serious, I sometimes felt. Since Id met Hunter, Id seen more of Wiccas dark side than I cared to.
About two months earlier Id learned that I was in fact not the biological child of the people Id always thought of as my parents. Rather, I was adopted and a blood witch, the descendant of one of the Seven Great Clans of Wicca. Whats more, I was heir to an incredible legacy of power.
Magick had brought me searing grief. It had made me question absolutely everything Id ever believed to be true. But magick was also the most amazing gift: an opening of the senses, a surfacing of ancestral memories, an exhilarating connection to the earth, and a strength Id never imagined possible. And it had brought Hunter into my life. Hunter, who I loved more than Id thought possible.
Youre almost up to eighty, Hunter said, sounding disapproving.
I slowed down to sixty-five. Theres no one else on the road, I pointed out.
Except perhaps a police officer, he warned. I felt his green eyes on me, and when I glanced at him, he smiled. Pity we dont travel by broomstick anymore, he said.
Did we ever? I asked, honestly curious. It sounds like fun.
Hunter shrugged. Really? I suspect it would be awfully uncomfortablehard seat, no heat or air-conditioning, bugs constantly flying into your mouth.
I glanced at him again and saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. I felt a rush of delight that made me break into a goofy grin. I guess Ill stick to driving for now.
We rode in silence for a while. The haze of thin clouds in the sky was starting to burn off, the sky settling into the pale, crystalline blue so typical of winter skies. There were a few more cars on the road now.
Hunter was the reason we were all going to New York City. Hunter, my dream, and the ancient boiler in Widows Vale High, which had broken down the Wednesday before Martin Luther King Jr. Day, miraculously extending a three-day weekend to five days.
As it turned out, the council had taken my dream very seriously. They considered it a prophetic vision and had ordered Hunter to investigate. They think the animals in your dream were actually members of a Woodbane coven called Amyranth, Hunter had told me when hed gotten the councils directive.
Amyranth? I frowned. Where had I heard that name before?
Of the Seven Great Clans, the Woodbanes were known for their tendency to covet and abuse power. But there were also Woodbane covens, like Belwicket, the one my birth parents had belonged to, that had forsworn evil.
Amyranth is not one of the good ones, Hunter told me. Its one of the worst. Its the only coven believed to practice the forbidden magick of shape-shifting. Actually, another coven, Turneval, also used to shape-shift. But Turneval was disbanded in the early seventies, after their core members were stripped of their magick by the council. Amyranth has avoided the same fate by operating in deep secrecy. Members usually maintain membership in another coven; Amyranth is their secret coven. He gave me a sideways look. Selene Belltower was a member of Amyranth.
Oh. Thats where Id heard the name Amyranth before. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Selene. So were talking very scary.
Hunter had been sent to Widows Vale last fall to ferret out a group of Woodbane witches who were using dark magick to destroy their opponents and increase their own power. Their local leader had been Selene Belltower, the mother of Cal Blaire, Hunters half brother and my first love. Though I was Woodbane myself, Selene had wanted to drain me of my power, and shed used Cal to get to me. When that plan had failed, Selene had kidnapped my younger sister, Mary K., forcing Hunter and me into a horrible showdown with her, just before Christmas. Shed nearly killed Hunter and me both, and I worried that Mary K. might still be suffering some subtle bad effects from having been her captive.
Cal had stepped in front of me and taken the bolt of dark energy shed aimed at me. Now Cal was dead, killed by his own mother. Although hed used and betrayed me, in the end hed given his life for me. I was still coming to terms with that: both with the fact that the beautiful boy Id loved so much was gone and that he was gone because of me.
Selene had also died that nightand though I certainly hadnt meant to kill her, I was haunted by the fear that my magick had somehow contributed to her death. Id never seen death up close. It was so final and empty and awful. Seeing Cal and Selene alive one minute, dead the next had changed something inside me. For all of Selenes and Cals formidable powers, they were as mortal as anyone else. Ever since that night Id looked at everyone I knew and loved with a new awareness. We were all so fragile, all capable of being so easily extinguished. I couldnt help thinking of that again as I drove on this beautiful morning.
Are you all right? Hunter asked softly. If you grip that wheel any more tightly, youre going to wrench it off the steering column.
Im fine. I forced my hands to relax.
Are you thinking about Selene and Cal? Hunter guessed. He was very sensitive to my emotions. No one had ever read me with such precision. Sometimes it made feel vulnerable and exposed. Sometimes it was weirdly comforting. At that moment it was a little of both.
I nodded as we whizzed past an exit. No love had been lost between Hunter and Cal. Theyd never known each other except as enemies. But Hunter knew Id loved Cal and was doing his best to be respectful of that. More than anyone, he understood how much coming into my powers had cost me.
Lets talk about something else, I said. Can we go over the details of this vision one more time? Im still not clear on what it is were supposed to do.
Were not supposed to do anything, Hunter said. Youre staying out of this. I dont want you taking any risks, Morgan.
I felt a prickle of annoyance. Wed had this argument several times in the two days since the council had contacted Hunter. Because I was the one whod had the dream, the council had asked that I accompany Hunter, just in case he needed to consult with me. I, of course, wanted to go. It was my dream, after all. Besides, I loved the idea of spending time in the city with Hunter.
Hunter hadnt been so keen on the idea, though. Its too dangerous, hed told me flatly. For you of all people to go walking into a nest of Woodbanes
He explained that the council believed Selene had been acting on behalf of Amyranth; it was possible I still was a target. I couldnt pretend that prospect didnt frighten me. But Selene was dead now, nothing bad had happened to me in the weeks since her death, and I was starting to feel safer. Safe enough that my desire to go with Hunter outweighed my fear.