Hunter unsnapped his seat belt. "Can we walk to your house?"
"Yeah."
Hunter locked the car where it sat neatly and quietly by the side of the road, as if it hadn't almost killed us. We started walking, and I didn't speak because I could tell Hunter was sending out his senses, and I realized he was searching for other presences nearby. And then it hit me: he wasn't sure the failure of the brakes had been an accident.
Without stopping to think, I flung out my own senses like a net, letting them infiltrate the woods, the night air, the dead grass beneath the snow.
But I felt nothing out of the ordinary. Apparently Hunter didn't, either, because his shoulders relaxed inside his coat, and his stride slowed. He came to a stop and put his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, his voice quiet
"Yes." I nodded. "It was just scary, that's all." I swallowed. "Do you think that part of the road is spelled? It's so close to where I had my wreck. And Selene"
"Is nowhere around here. We check every day, and she's gone," said Hunter. Selene Belltower was Cal's mother and the one who'd urged him to pursue me. She'd wanted me and my Woodbane power and my Woodbane coven tools under her control. Failing that, she'd wanted me dead and out of the way. Though she'd fled Widow's Vale weeks ago, I still felt my pulse race whenever I thought of her.
"When you had your wreck, you thought you saw headlights behind you, right?" Hunter went on. "And you felt magick, didn't you?" He shook his head. "This felt simply mechanicalthere just weren't any brakes. I'll call a tow truck from your house, if that's okay."
"Sure," I said, taking a deep breath and trying to unkink muscles still knotted with fear. "And I can give you a ride home.
"Thank you." He hesitated, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. But he straightened again and took his hands away, and we began walking toward home.
The cold made us walk fast, and at some point Hunter took my hand in his and put them both in his pocket. The feeling of his skin against mine was wonderful, and I wished I could put my arms around him, under his coat. But I still felt unsure of myself with himthere was no way I could be that daring.
As if he'd read my thoughts, Hunter turned and caught my gaze. I blushed, ducked my head, and walked even faster. I was relieved when we turned onto my street.
My parents and my fourteen-year-old sister, Mary K., were watching a movie in the family room when we got home. Hunter blandly told them he'd had "a little car trouble," and they clucked and fretted while he called the tow service. When he hung up, I looked at the clockit was a few minutes after eleven.
"Mom, is it okay if I take Hunter to his car and then to his house?" I asked.
Mom and Dad did the usual silent parent-communication thing with each other, then Mom nodded. "I guess so. But please drive extra carefully. I don't know what it is with you and cars, Morgan, but I'm starting to worry about you on the road."
I nodded, feeling a little guilty. My parents didn't know the half of it. Three weeks ago Robbie had saved my life. Unfortunately he had saved it by driving my car through the stone wall of Cal's pool house, where I'd been trapped. My parents (who thought I'd hit a light pole) had lent me some of the money to have the front end repaired.
"Okay," I agreed, and Hunter and I got our coats again and went out to Das Boot, my giant, submarine-like 71 Plymouth Valiant. Automatically I winced as I saw its shiny new front bumper, slate blue hood, and gray-spotted sides. I had to get it painted and soon. This rainbow look was killing me.
Inside my car it was freezing, and its old-fashioned vinyl seats didn't help any. We didn't speak as I drove back to Hunter's car to wait for the tow truck. Hunter seemed lost in thought.
After only a minute Widow's Vale's one tow truck came into view. I'd seen John Mitchell a few weeks before, when I had put Das Boot into the ditch. He flicked a glance at me as he bent to hook up the chain to Hunter's car.
"We lost the brakes," Hunter explained as John began to crank the car onto the bed of the truck.
"Hmmm," John said, and bent beneath the car to take a quick look. When he came up again, he said, "I don't see anything offhand," and spat onto the side of the road. "Besides the fact you don't seem to have any brake fluid."
"Really," said Hunter. His brows rose.
"Yeah," John replied, sounding almost bored. He gave Hunter a clipboard with a paper to sign. "Anyway, I'll bring it to Unser's and he'll fix you up."
"Right," said Hunter, rubbing his chin.
We got back in Das Boot and watched the tow truck take Hunter's car away. I started the engine and headed toward the edge of town, toward the little house he shared with Sky. "No brake fluid," I said. "Can that happen by itself?"
"It can, but it seems unlikely. I had the car tuned up last week, when I bought it," Hunter said. "If there was a leak, the mechanic should have caught it."
I felt a prickle of fear. "So what are you thinking, then?" I asked.
"I'm thinking we need some answers," Hunter said, looking out his window thoughtfully.
Ten minutes later I pulled up in front of his shabby rented house and saw Raven's battered black Peugeot parked out front.
"Are Raven and Sky getting along?" I asked.
"I think so," Hunter answered. "They're spending a lot of time together. I know Sky's a big girl, but I worry about her getting hurt."
I liked seeing this caring side of Hunter, and I turned to face him. "I didn't even know Sky was gay until she and I did our tath meanma." Weeks ago Sky and I had done what I think of as a Wiccan mind meld. When our thoughts had been joined, I had been surprised to see that she felt such a strong desire for Raven, our resident gothy bad girl.
"I don't know that Sky is gay," Hunter said thoughtfully. "She's had relationships with guys before. I think she just likes who she likes, if you know what I mean."
I nodded. I had barely dipped my toes into plain vanilla heterosexual relationshipsany variation seemed too mind-boggling to contemplate.
"Anyway," said Hunter, opening his car door and letting in the cold night air, "drive very carefully on your way home. Do you have a cell phone?"
"No."
"Then send me a witch message," he instructed. "If anything the slightest bit out of the ordinary happens, send me a message and I'll come right away. Promise?"
"Okay."
Hunter paused. "Maybe I should borrow Sky's car and follow you home."
I rolled my eyes, refusing to admit I was worried about the lonely drive home. "I'll be fine."
His eyes narrowed. "No, let me get Sky's keys."
"Would you stop? I've driven these roads a million times. I'll call you if I need you, but I'm sure I won't."
He sat back and pulled the door closed. The dome light blinked off.
"You are incredibly stubborn," he remarked conversationally.
I knew he meant well, so I swallowed my tart response. "It's justI'm very self-reliant," I said self-consciously. "I've always been that way. I don't like owing other people."
He looked at me. "Because you're afraid they'll let you down?"
I shrugged. "Partly, I guess. I don't know." I looked out the window, not enjoying this conversation.
"Look," he said calmly, "I don't know what happened with the car. We don't think Cal and Selene are around, but in fact we don't know where they are or what they're doing. You could be in real danger."
What he said was true, but I felt reluctant to concede the point. "I'll be okay," I said, knowing I was being pointlessly stubborn and unable to stop myself.
Hunter sighed impatiently. "Morgan, I"
"Look, I'll be fine. Now stop fussing and let me go home." Had I ever been so forthright with Cal? I had wanted so badly for Cal to find me attractive, felt I had fallen so far short of the kind of girl he would want. I had tried to be a more appealing Morgan for him, as stupid and clumsy as my attempts had been. With Hunter, I had never bothered. It felt very freeing to say whatever came to my lips because I wasn't worried about impressing him.
We stared at each other in a standoff. I couldn't help comparing his looks to Cal's. Cal had been golden, exotic, and astoundingly sexy. Hunter was more classical, like a Greek statue, all shapes and planes. His beauty was cool. Yet as I looked at him, the desire to touch him, to kiss and hold him, grew in me until it was almost overpowering.
He shifted in his seat, and I almost flinched when he brought a cool hand up to stroke my cheek. With that one touch I was mesmerized, and I sat very still.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low. "I'm afraid for you. I want you to be safe." He smiled wryly. "I can't apologize for worrying about you."
Slowly he leaned closer, his head blotting out the moonlight streaming through the windshield. Ever so gently his warm lips touched mine, and then we were kissing, kissing hard, and I felt completely exhilarated. When he pulled back, we were both breathing fast. He opened the door again, and I blinked in the glare from the dome light. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and seemed at a loss for words. I licked my lips and looked out the windshield, unable to meet his eyes.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said softly. "Drive carefully."
"Okay," I managed. I watched him walk up to the front porch and wanted to call him back, to throw my arms around him and press against him. He turned then, and I wondered with embarrassment if he had picked up on my feelings. I stepped on the gas and sped off.
With witches, you never know.
3. Sharing
November 5, 1968
My mind is still reeling from all that I've seen in the past weeks.
It started when I found Patrick's Turneval Book of Shadows. That's when I discovered that Waterwind was only one of the covens that he'd belonged to. It was the one he had grown up with, back in Seattle, and it was just like Catspaw: Woodbanes who had renounced everything to do with the dark side. But since I started going though his Turneval stuff, I've seen a whole new side of him. What a waste: oh, Patrick, if only you had shared this with me, the way you shared everything else!
I wonder if he thought Turneval would horrify me. How could he not know I'd be open to anything, anything he wanted to show me, teach me, any kind of power? He must have known. Maybe he was biding his time. Maybe he wanted to show me but died too soon.
I'll never know. I only know that I would've loved being in Turneval with him, loved for him to teach me all that it meant to be Woodbane.
On Samhain, instead of going to Catspaw's festivities, I went to a Turnavel circle. We started by making circles of power and invoking the Goddess, just like at Catspaw. Then everything changed. The Turneval witch's knew spells that opened us to the deepest magick, the magick contained in all the creatures and lives that are no longer part of this earth. For the first time I was aware of a universe of untapped resources, whole strata of energy and power and connection that I had never been taught. It was frightening and unbearably exciting. I'm too much of a novice to use this power, of courseI don't even fully know how to tap into it. But Hendrick Samels, one of Turneval's elders, gave himself over to it, and he actually shape-shifted in front of us. Goddess, he shape-shifted! Covens talk about shape-shifting like it's the story of Goldilocksbut it's real, it's possible. Before my eyes I saw Hendrick assume the form of a mountain lion, and he was glorious. I have to get close to him so he'll share the secret with me.
This is what Patrick spent his life studying, what he hid from me. It's what I was meant to do, what I should have been born to but wasn't. I see that now.
SB
"Your folks don't mind you skipping church?" Bree's dark eyes were dimmed by the ribbon of steam coming from her coffee mug. We were in a coffee emporium in a strip mall off the main road. It was popular on Sunday mornings, and people surrounded us, drinking coffee, eating pastry, reading sections of newspaper.
I made a face and loaded my currant scone with butter. "They mind. Somehow they would be more comfortable about my being Wiccan if I also remained a good Catholic."
"And that's not possible?" Bree asked around a mouthful of bear claw.
I sighed. "It's hard."
Bree nodded, and we ate for a few minutes. I studied her covertly. While she was very familiar to me, still, we were both undeniably different people from who we had been three months ago, when Wicca and Cal came into both our lives. We were feeling our way back to being friends again. Things were still awkward between us sometimes, but it felt good to hang out and talk, anyway.
"I like a lot of things about Catholicism. I like the services and the music and seeing everyone," I said. "Feeling like I belong to something bigger than just my family. But it's hard to wrap my mind around some of it. Wicca just feels so much more natural to me." I shrugged. "Anyway, I just wanted to skip it this week. It doesn't mean that I'm never going back."
Bree nodded again and tugged her black top into place. As usual, she looked chic and beautiful, perfectly put together, though she was only wearing jeans and a sweater and no makeup. Usually I felt like a lumberjack around her, with my flat chest, strong nose, boring hair, and lame wardrobe. Today I was surprising myself by feeling strong beneath my looks, as if the witch inside might someday be attractive enough for the Morgan outside.
"How's Mary K.?" Bree asked.
I stirred my coffee. "She's been kind of down lately. Since the whole Bakker fiasco, it's like she's walking around waiting for a ton of bricks to fall on her." Bakker Blackburn, my sister's ex-boyfriend, had twice tried to use force to get her to have sex with him.
"That prick," said Bree. "You should put some awful spell on him. Give him Robbie's old acne." In October, in a fit of experimentation, I'd made a magick potion to clear up the terrible acne that had marred Robbie's looks for years. It had had some unexpected side effects, like correcting his bad vision so that he no longer needed his coke-bottle glasses. Without the glasses and the acne, he turned out to be star-tingly good-looking.