Litha, 1990
I'm frightened. I woke up this morning to the sound of weeping. Alwyn and Linden were in my room. They were crying because they could not find Mum and Dad. I was angry and told them that they weren't babies anymore. I said that Mum and Dad would be back soon. I thought they must have run into town for something we needed.
But night has fallen and we are still alone. I've heard no word from our neighbors, none from Mum and Dad's coven, I went to Siobhan's house, and to Caradog Owens's house over in Grasmere, to ask if they knew where Mum and Dad were. But there was no one home.
And there's something else. When I was making my bed I found Dad's lueg under my pillowthe stone he uses to scry with. How did it get there? He always keeps it safe with the rest of his magick tools. He never even let me touch it before.
So how did it get under my pillow? I have a bad feeling.
Dad has often told me that when he and Mum are on their errands, I am master of the house. It is my job to watch over my brother and sister. But I am not a man like him. I am only eight years old. I won't be a witch for many years yet. What can I do if there is trouble?
What if something happened to them? They have never left us alone like this. Did someone take them away? Are they being held prisoner somewhere?
I must sleep, but I can't. Alwyn and Linden can sleep for me. I must be strong for them.
Mum and Dad will come back to us soon. They will. I know it.
Goddess, bring them home.
Giomanach
As if he sensed our approach, Hunter stood quickly. His green eyes were puffy and bloodshot. His face was pale from the cold, and snowflakes had settled on his hat. But aside from the redness of his eyes, he looked like he was carved of marblestill and somehow dangerous. Why was he looking under the car? More important, why did I find him so threatening? I didn't know the answers, but I knew that as a blood witch, I should trust my instincts. I shuddered inside my coat.
"What are you doing, Niall?" Cal demanded. His voice was so low and steady that I hardly recognized it I looked at him and saw that his jaw was tight His hands were clenched at his sides.
"Just admiring your big American car," Hunter said. He sniffed, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He must have a cold, I thought. I wondered how long he'd been out here in the snow.
Cal flicked his gaze to the Explorer, sweeping it from bumper to bumper, as if scanning for something out of place.
"Hello, Morgan," Hunter murmured. With his sickly nasal voice the greeting sounded like an insult. "Interesting company you keep."
The falling snowflakes were cold against my hot skin. I shifted my books to my other arm and gazed at Hunter, confused. Why should he care?
Hunter stepped onto the sidewalk. Cal turned to face him, placing himself between me and Hunter. My hero, I thought. But a part of me still felt a palpable fear as well. Hunter scowled, his cheekbones so sharp that snowflakes seemed to glance off them.
"So Cal is teaching you the secrets of Wicca, is he?" he asked. He leaned nonchalantly against the hood of the car, and Cal didn't take his eyes off him for a second. "Of course, he has quite a few secrets of his own, eh?"
"You can leave now, Niall," Cal spat.
"No, I think not," Hunter replied evenly. "I think I'll be around for a while. Who knows, I might have to teach Morgan a thing or two myself."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.
Hunter just shrugged.
"Get away from me," Cal commanded.
Hunter stood back with a slight smile, his hands in the air as if to show he was unarmed. Cal glanced from him to the car. I'd never seen Cal so angry, so on the verge of losing control. It frightened me. He was like a tiger, waiting to pounce.
"There is one thing you should learn, Morgan," Hunter remarked. "Cal isn't the only blood witch around. He'd like to think he's a big man, but he's really just small fry. One day you'll realize that. And I want to be there to see it."
"Go to hell," Cal spat.
"Look, you don't know me," I told Hunter loudly. "You don't know anything about me. So shut up and leave us alone!" I stomped angrily to the car. But as I pushed past Hunter, barely brushing against him, a sickening rush of energy hit me in my stomachso hard that I gasped. He's put a spell on me, I thought in a panic, groping for the door handle. But he'd said nothing, he'd done nothing that I could see. I blinked hard.
"Please, Cal," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Let's go."
Cal was still staring at Hunter as if he'd like to rip him apart. His eyes blazed, and his skin seemed to whiten.
Hunter stared back, but I felt his concentration break: he was shaken for a moment. Then he steeled himself again.
"Please, Cal," I repeated. I knew something had happened to me; I felt hot and strange and desperate to be gone, to be at home. My voice must have alerted Cal to my distress because he took his eyes off Hunter for a second. I stared at him pleadingly. Finally he pulled his keys from his pocket, slid into the car, and opened my door.
I collapsed inside and put my hands over my face.
"Good-bye, Morgan!" Hunter called.
Cal gunned the engine and sped backward, shooting snow and ice toward Hunter. I peeked through my fingers and saw Hunter standing there with an indecipherable expression on his face. Was it anger? No. Snow swirled around him as he watched us leave.
It wasn't until we were almost at my house that it suddenly hit me.
The look on his face had been hunger.
CHAPTER 5Dagda
Beltane, 1992
I feel like punching everyone and everything. I hate my life, hate living with Uncle Beck and Aunt Shelagh. Nothing has been the same, not since Mum and Dad disappeared that day two years ago, and it never will be.
Today Linden fell off Uncle Beck's ladder and bloodied his knee. I had to clean him up and bandage the wound, and all the while he wept. And I cursed Mum and Dad while I did it, I cursed them for leaving us and leaving me to do their job. Why did they go? Where did they go? Uncle Beck knows, but he won't tell me. He says I am not ready. Aunt Shelagh says he's only thinking of my good. But how can it be good not to know the truth? I hate Uncle Beck.
In the end, when I was finished with Linden, I made a face, and he laughed through his tears. That made me feel better. But only for a while. No happiness lasts very long. That's what I've learned. Linden would do well to learn it, too.
Giomanach
Mom came into my room that night as I was getting dressed to go to Jenna Ruiz's for the circle. "Are you guys going to a movie?" she asked. She automatically began straightening the pile of rejected clothes on my bed.
"No," I said, and left it at that. When it came to Wicca, silence was the best policy. I turned in front of the mirror, frowning. As usual, I looked hopeless. I pulled open the bathroom door and yelled, "Mary K.!" Having an endlessly trendy sister had its perks.
She appeared at once.
I held out my arms. "Help."
Her warm brown eyes skimmed me critically, then she shook her head. "Take it all off," she ordered. I obeyed meekly. Mom grinned at us. While Mary K. pawed through my closet, Mom tried to wheedle more information from me. "You said you were going to Jenna's? Will Bree be there?"
I paused for a moment. Both Mary K. and Mom had mentioned Bree today. I wasn't really surprised; she had been a virtual fixture at our house for yearsbut talking about her was painful. "I don't think so," I finally said. "It's just going to be our regular group, getting together. You know, I've never been to Jenna's house before." A lame attempt to change the subject, I knew. Mary K. threw a pair of skinny jeans at me, and I obediently shimmied into them.
"We never see Bree anymore," Mom commented as Mary K. disappeared into her room.
I nodded, aware of Mom's eyes on me.
"Did you guys have a fight?" Mom asked straight out. Mary K. returned, holding an embroidered cotton sweater.
"Kind of," I said with a sigh. I really didn't want to get into this, not now. I pulled off my sweatshirt and tugged on the sweater. It fit smoothly, to my surprise. I'm taller and thinner than Mary K., but she inherited my mom's curvy chest. My adoptive mom, that is. I wondered fleetingly if Maeve Riordan had been built like me.
"Did you fight over Wicca?" Mom pried with the subtlety of an ax. "Does Bree not like Wicca?"
"No," I said, pulling my hair out of the sweater and examining my new look. It was a big improvement, which lifted my mood a little. "Bree does Wicca, too." I sighed again, finally giving in to Mom's interrogation. "Actually, we fought over Cal. She wanted to go out with him, but he wanted to go out with me. Now she pretty much hates me."
Mom was quiet for a moment. Mary K. stared at the floor. "That's too bad," Mom said after a moment. "It's sad when friends fight over a boy." She laughed gently, reassuringly. "Usually the boys aren't worth it."
I nodded. A lump had formed in my throat. I didn't want to talk about Bree anymore; it hurt too much. I checked the clock. "I wish it didn't have to be like this. Anyway, I'm late; I better go." My voice was strained. "Thanks, Mary K." I kissed the air beside Mom's cheekthen I was down the stairs and out the door, pulling on my coat and shivering in the cold.
In a few moments, though, the sadness over Bree began to melt away. I felt a tingle of anticipation. It was circle night.
Jenna lived not far from me in a small, Victorian-style house. It was charmingly run-down, with an overgrown yard. The paint was peeling, and one shutter was missing a hinge.
As soon as I walked up the steps to the porch, a cat greeted me. It meowed and rubbed its head against my legs.
"What are you doing out here?" I whispered as I rang the doorbell.
Jenna opened the door right away, her cheeks flushed, blond hair pulled back, a big smile on her face.
"Hi, Morgan!" she said, then looked down at the cat squeezing its way inside. "Hugo, I told you it was freezing out there! I called you! You ignored me. Now your paws are cold."
I laughed and glanced around to see who was here. No Cal, not yet. Of course, I knew that already; I hadn't seen his car outside, hadn't felt his presence. Robbie was examining Jenna's stereo system, which had a real turntable. A stack of old vinyl records was piled haphazardly next to the fireplace.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi," I answered. I was amazed that this was Jenna's home. Jenna was by far one of the most popular girls in school and thoroughly up-to-date, like Mary K. but her house looked like a throwback to the 1970s. The furniture was comfortably shabby, with plants hung in front of every window, some needing water. There seemed to be dust and cat hair everywhere. And dog hair, I amended, seeing two basset hounds snoring on a dog bed in a corner of the dining room. No wonder Jenna has asthma, I found myself thinking. She'd have to live in a plastic bubble in this house to breathe clean air.
"Want some cider?" Jenna asked, handing me a cup. It was warm and smelled deliciously spicy. I took a sip as the doorbell rang again.
"Hey!" It was Sharon Goodfine. She shrugged off her thick black leather coat and hung it on the stairs' newel post. "Hugo! Don't even think about it!" she cried as the cat reached up to pat her coat with his fat white paws. Obviously she had been here before.
Ethan Sharp came right after Sharon, looking under-dressed in a thin fatigue jacket.
Sharon handed him a cup of cider. "Apparently you lack the gene that allows you to dress for the weather," she teased.
He grinned at her, looking vaguely stoned, even though I knew he didn't smoke pot anymore. She smiled back. I tried not to roll my eyes. When would they realize that they liked each other? Right now they sort of sniped at each other childishly.
Cal arrived next, and my heart lifted as he walked through the door. I was still upset about what had happened with Hunter at Practical Magick; Cal and I had hardly said two words to each other on the way home. But seeing him now made me feel much better, and when he met my eyes, I could tell he had missed me in the hours we had been apart.
"Morgan, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, hesitating near the door. He didn't have to add "alone." I could see it in his face.
I nodded, surprised, and stepped toward him.
"What's up?" I asked.
Turning his back on the living room, he pulled a small stone from his pocket. It was smooth, round, and grayabout the size of a Ping-Pong ball. Inscribed on it in black Ink was a rune. I had been reading about runes, so I recognized it instantly: it was Peorth, the rune for hidden things revealed.
"I found this stuck into the suspension of my car," Cal whispered.
My head jerked up in alarm. "Did Hunter?" I didn't finish. Cal nodded.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"It means that he's using dirty tricks to spy on us," he muttered, shoving the stone back into his pocket. "It's nothing to worry about, though. If anything, it proves that he doesn't have much power."
"But"
"Don't worry," Cal said. He flashed me a reassuring smile. "You know, I don't even know why I bothered showing this to you. It's not a big deal. Really."
I watched him as he headed to the living room to say hi to the others. He wasn't being completely honest with me; I could feel that even without using my heightened witch senses. Hunter's little trick did concern him, at least to some degree.
What is Hunter up to? I wondered again. What does he want with us?
It was already nine o'clock, when we usually got started. We drank cider. Robbie played music. I tried to forget about the stone. Looking at the pets soothed me: the dogs snored and twitched in their sleep, and the cats rubbed our legs in quiet demands for attention. I realized that the only one of us missing was Jenna's boyfriend, Matt. Jenna kept glancing at the tall grandfather clock in the foyer. As the minutes went by, she seemed increasingly ill at ease.
Her parents wandered in, met us, totally unconcerned with the fact that we were here to perform a Wiccan circle. It must be nice not to worry about making your parents mad, I thought. They headed upstairs to watch TV and told us to have a good time.