I could tell the subject was closed, and I felt a pang as the realization of how far apart wed been pulled hit me yet again.
I sighed. Listen, theres somewhere I need to go. Ill be back in a couple of hours.
Bree looked at me, and I could read regret on her face, too. Once she would have asked where I was going, and I would have invited her along.
Ill get the candles and some salt for the circle, she said. Sure youll be okay on your own?
Yeah, I said. Ill see you later.
3. Witch Dance
September 6, 1977
My son was born ten days ago, and I know I should be the proud, happy da. The boy is big and healthybut Goddess, hes a loud, needy little bugger and Granias still so fat. When will she get back to normal? And when will someone pay some bloody attention to me for a change?
Tonight, after little Kyle screamed his lungs out for three solid hours (Poor wee thing has colic, Grania said, as if that made it bearable), I couldnt take it anymore. I went out to the pub and had myself a few pints and a good sulk. On the way home a bony old cat dashed straight in front of me and I toppled onto someones rubbish left out for the trash man. I didnt even think about it. I muttered a spell and blasted the damn cat. I couldnt see it die, just heard its scream in the darkness. Now I feel a fool. I know better than to vent my spleen in such a childish way.
Neimhidh
I found my way to the Lexington Avenue subway line, bought a MetroCard, checked my route with the map posted in the station, and was soon speeding south beneath the city streets. Id ridden the subway a couple of times before with my family. My sister, Mary K., hated it, but I loved the speed, the relentless rhythm. It felt like I was surging through the citys veins, being propelled by the beat of its heart.
I emerged from the subway at the City Hall stop. With a bit of asking around I found the Bureau of Records and the fifth-floor office where records of the citys rental properties were kept.
The air smelled of old paper, the floors of ammonia. A wooden bench lined the wall by the door. Half a dozen people sat on it, a few reading, the rest staring into space with glazed eyes and blank expressions.
I walked up to the counter at the front of the room. Behind it were stacks of shelves filled with ledgers bound in black. A clerk stood behind a computer on the counter.
Excuse me, I began.
She pointed at a sign that said Please Take a Number. So I took a number from a dispenser and sat down on the bench next to a man with a thick mustache. Have you been waiting long? I asked.
Ive spent less time waiting in line at the DMV, he told me.
I took that as a yes, but since there were only seven people ahead of me, I figured the wait couldnt be too long. I was wrong. The clerk not only moved in excruciatingly slow motion whenever she was actually helping anyone, but she seemed to need lengthy breaks between finishing with one person and calling the next.
The minutes ticked on. I tapped my fingers on my leg, trying not to let dark images creep into my mindimages of Cal being struck by the bolt of dark magick, of his body lying there on the floor of Selenes study. Since that horrible day, those pictures often came to haunt me in moments when I wasnt actively thinking about something else.
I distracted myself by recitingunder my breaththe properties of all the healing plants I knew. After that I went through rocks and minerals. Then I began counting the tiles in the floor, the cracks in the ceiling, the scuff marks on the plastic chairs. If only Id thought to bring a book.
It was almost two hours later when my number was called. Im trying to find the address of an apartment that was rented by Maeve Riordan and Angus Bramson in 1982, I explained.
The clerk looked at me like Id just asked her to sprout wings. Thats not possible, she said. This system doesnt find apartments by the tenants names. You give me the address, then I can tell you who lived there.
All I know is it was somewhere in Hells Kitchen, I said.
She tapped fuchsia nails against the counter. Then youre out of luck, she told me. There are hundreds of apartments in Hells Kitchen. I cant be searching every building listing for the Bransons.
Its Bramson and Riordan, I corrected her, trying not to lose the few shreds of patience I had left. Isnt there some kind of quick computer search you can do?
She glanced at her computer. Programs not set up that way.
I glanced at the rows of ledgers behind her. There were dates on the spines. Do you think I could look through the 1982 books? I asked.
Not without a note from my supervisor, and shes on vacation for the next two weeks. The woman gave me a malicious smile. Why dont you come back in February? she suggested.
I wont be here in February, I protested.
She started typing on the keyboard. Id been dismissed.
I turned toward the door. Then I turned back again. If this woman wanted to play a power game, I decided angrily, Id be happy to play, too. And Id win. I hesitated only a moment, though I knew I was about to do something I wasnt supposed to do. Well, city employees werent supposed to be totally unhelpful, either, I reasoned.
I licked my lips and glanced around. The only person still waiting on the bench was a worn-looking elderly man who dozed as he sat. He wouldnt notice anything.
I used a very simple spell, one of the first that Cal had taught me, one I had used to retrieve Maeves tools. Im invisible, I whispered. You see me not. I am but a shadow.
The spell didnt really make me invisible. It simply made me unnoticeable, trivial. When I used it, people would focus on other things instead of me. I jumped up and down a few times to see if it had worked. The clerk didnt react, so I summoned my nerve and walked behind the counter. I hesitated when I reached for the first 1982 volume. Even if the spell made me unnoticeable, I wasnt sure it would do the same for the book.
I focused on the clerks computer. Electricity was a form of energy and, as Hunter had taught me, energy was fairly easy to manipulate. I sent out my own energy, focusing until I picked up the emanations from the motherboard. Then I sent my energy into it, forcing the electric current into a series of irregular spikes.
Damn, what is wrong with this machine? the woman muttered.
Quickly I flipped open the 1982 book to the addresses in the West Forties and began scanning the cramped columns. On the seventh page I found it: Bramson. 788 W. 49th Street, Apt. 3.
I glanced at the clerks computer screen. Lines were flickering madly across it. Quietly I replaced the book and started out of the office.
The clerk looked up as she heard me open the door. You, she said, sounding surprised. I thought youd left.
I smiled at her. You were a real help, I said. Thanks.
I hurried out, enjoying her look of blank confusion.
As I waited for the subway that would take me back to the apartment, I wondered if the clerks computer had recovered. Even if it was permanently fried, I had no regrets. Okay, Id used my magick on an unsuspecting person, something I wasnt supposed to dobut shed deserved it. Besides, I hadnt hurt her.
I knew, of course, that if Hunter ever found out what Id done, hed be angry. But this situation had been special. Using magick to get my birth mothers address seemed justified. No real damage had been done, and Id gotten the necessary results.
I felt good. My magick was growing stronger and more sure, and I loved it.
That evening we ate dinner at a bustling diner on lower Second Avenue. All six of us were squeezed into a booth with red vinyl seats. Hunter was on one side of me, Robbie on the other.
So, what does everyone want to do tonight? Bree asked.
Ive always wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, said Robbie. It must be gorgeous at night when you can see all the lights of Manhattan.
Bree waved a dismissive hand. Excellent way to get mugged. Besides, its freezing.
Actually, Ive got a lead I need to pursue, Hunter said. Theres a club not too far from here, a bit of a hangout for witches, and Im told one of the DJs might know something about Amyranth. How would you all feel about going to a dance club?
Raven grinned at Sky. I could live with that.
Sky nodded, Bree said, Sounds good, and Robbie said, Cool.
I was the only one who seemed to have mixed feelings about going. On the one hand, I was dying to go to a cool New York club, especially one where other witches hung out. But on the other, I was terrified Id be rejected at the door, or if I actually got in, everyone would know I was from the boonies. Besides, Ive always been too self-conscious to enjoy dancing.
I have one condition, though, Hunter went on. If we go to this club and someone asks where youre from, just say upstate. Also, no one says anything about Selene and Cal. I dont want any of you associated with what happened to them.
Raven made a face. Do you have to get all cloak-and-dagger on us?
I saw Sky stiffen. Hunter, though, merely said, We dont take risks with each others safety. His voice was quiet but firm.
Raven looked away. Forget I said anything.
Fine, Hunter agreed, and let the subject drop.
The club was in the East Village, just beyond Avenue C. On the way over, Hunter hooked his arm through mine, and I felt absurdly happy. When we reached Avenue C, he nodded toward a large industrial building with big, opaque glass windows. Thats it, he said.
A husky guy in black jeans and a black leather jacket stood in front of a rope at the door. I was suddenly nervous again. What if they dont let us in? I asked.
Theyll let us in, Hunter said with the assurance of the effortlessly beautiful.
It occurred to me that I was the only one in our group who might have trouble. Bree was gorgeous, and Robbie was, too. Raven definitely made a fashion statement. As for Hunter and Sky, in addition to their luminous blond hair, fine, even features, and cheekbones to die for, they had a certain indefinable cool. Im not ugly or anything, but I dont stand out, either. My hair, which I actually like, was in a single, messy braid. Plus Id dressed for the cold, not a trendy club.
But the time for worrying was over. We were suddenly at the door and the bouncer was opening the rope for us, with a nod to Hunter.
I felt a burst of triumph. I almost blurted, I did it. I got in!
Oh God, I thought, Im such a nerd.
I didnt realize you were the club type, I said to Hunter.
Im not, he assured me with a smile as we walked into an enormous room. Near the door was a bar that opened onto a vast dance floor where two DJs were spinning house music. At the far end of the room I saw an area with cozy bench seats. Hunter pointed to it. The café serves cappuccino and pastries. Want something?
I shook my head. Not yet.
We checked our coats. I gazed at my clothes doubtfully. Faded brown cords, one of my dads oversize wool sweaters, heavy, winter hiking boots. Clearly I hadnt been thinking straight when Id packed for this trip.
Theres someone I need to talk with, Hunter said in my ear. Do you mind if I leave you on your own for a few minutes?
No, of course not, I said, though I did mind. I was feeling more insecure and provincial by the second.
Hunter blended into the crowd. I tried not to feel irked by the fact that Sky went with him, no questions asked. I stood there, trying to look casual and feeling completely out of my element.
I walked back to the edge of the dance floor. In an effort to stop focusing on my insecurities, I opened up and let my senses explore.
There was a thick, throbbing feel to the air. After a moment I realized it wasnt just the musicthe club was actually pulsing with magick. Id never felt anything like it before. There must be dozens of blood witches here, I thought. I could pinpoint a few of them even in this crowd, not so much because of what they were doing, but because power streamed out from them in a way that was almost tangible.
Most of the blood witches I knew must keep their power damped down, I realized suddenly. But not these people. Not the tall, thin African American man with the shaved head who stood on a low stage, dancing. The skinny kid in the oversize green suit. The sleek, blond woman in the low-cut, slithery dress and her dance partner, a rangy, loose-limbed guy with a beard. I frowned. Wow. There seemed to be some kind of weird psychic duel going on between the two of them. I could practically see the crackling energy that passed between them. Another woman, with long gray hair and the most extraordinary amber jewelry, danced by herself. She was surrounded by an aura of deep, vibrant greenit was so strong that I wondered if even those who werent blood witches could see it.
Cal came to my mind again, unbidden. He would have loved this, I thought sadly, all these beautiful witches using their magick so freely. He would have felt at home here.
Robbie came up to me, looking slightly stunned. Is it just me, or is there something weird in the air here? he shouted over the throbbing drums and bass.
Well, that answered my question. Its not you, I told him. Its magick. A lot of these people are blood witches.
I think Im a little out of my depth, he murmured.
Me too, I admitted. Seeing the downcast look on his face, I asked, Wheres Bree?
Robbie gestured silently toward the café. I spotted Bree talking to a tall, handsome man with copper-colored hair. As we watched, she turned to a younger guy, maybe seventeen or so, and with a hand on his arm she drew him into the conversation, giving him a teasing smile.
Robbie groaned. Tell me the truth, Morgan. Am I a masochist or simply out of my mind? I mean, why do I even bother?
I know it looks bad, I said, trying not to get angry at Bree, but I really dont think it means anything.
Well, it feels awful, Robbie said. It He was cut off when a girl wearing body glitter, a gold sports top, and tiny little gold shorts took his hand. Dance with me? she asked.
Robbie gulped, nodded, and let himself be led out onto the dance floor.