Reckoning s-13

by Cate Tiernan

  "A fad at your high school?"

  "A lot of my friends are in my coven." I explained, gripping my silverware fearfully. "He just knows that's where I go on Saturday's. We rotate hosting the circle, although I probably wont be hosting one. I bring snacks though."

  "Snacks are good," Sam said with a nod. "Witches love snacks, especially sweets."

  "So you contribute snacks at Wicca circles," she said.

  This was a blatant twisting of my words, designed to make me look like a fool. I couldn't believe it. It was so unnecessary, this quiet violent behavior. She was so composed, passing around her roast and her gravy and just stinging the hell out of her granddaughter. Around me I felt these little tendrils of emotions as the others reached out to me. That was nice of them, but it didn't really take away the painful reality of the situation.

  Then, in with those gestures of sympathy, something else came along. It wasn't in sound—but somehow it was as clear to me as if someone was shouting in my ear.

  Something is wrong.

  What the hell was that? A vicious chill ran all though my body, as if someone had just plugged an IV of ice water into my veins. There was a creaking sound and a snap of wind. Before I knew what was happening, Charlie jumped up and pushed Brigid away from the table.

  "Ruth!" he shouted, throwing out his hand and pointing at her. A bolt of energy, pale white, came from his hand and threw Ruth back toward the wall. In the same second all the lights in the room went out in a cloud of electric sparks as the chandelier above us broke free and crashed down onto the table, shattering glass and splintering wood. The snapped wires danced above our heads like angry snakes, still pulsing with current. Evelyn, already on her feet, held up her hand and made them still. With another flash of movement she deadened all the sparks that still came from the chandelier. Now all was dark, and acrid burning smalls hung in the air.

  "Is everyone all right?" Charlie called.

  "I am," I said, my voice shaking. "Sam is."

  Evelyn snapped to light some more candles an the sideboard. I could see that Ruth had been thrown far enough to spare her head, but her arms had still been too close. The thing had come down on them, pinning her to the table. Brigid was by her mothers side, crying, mumbling spells that had no visible effect. Ruth looked like she was in too much pain to speak. Her face was covered in tiny bloody trails, probably slices from the flying glass.

  Sam joined Charlie, who had uttered a quick spell that seemed to make the heavy, tinkling fixture a little easier to lift. They gingerly moved it away from Ruth, taking great pains not to further her injury. Brigid started running her hands over Ruth, obviously trying to do some healing work, but Evelyn came and took her shoulder.

  "Go start the car, Brigid," she said. "She needs to go to the hospital. Charlie, can you carry her?"

  Charlie nodded and ran for his jacket.

  "I think we should call the council," Sam said. "This had gone far enough."

  "I know a Seeker," I found myself saying. "If I call him, he could be here in a few hours."

  Evelyn looked at Sam and looked in my direction.

  "I think you'd better leave," she said. "We'll take her to the hospital."

  Charlie came back just in time to catch the tail end of this conversation. His eyebrows rose, and his naturally cheerful expression faded into one of surprised disgust. I had the feeling if the situation hadn't been so dire, he might have spoken up on my behalf. But this wasn't the time. He bent down and picked Ruth up in a cradle lift. She quietly wept in pain and fear, and I heard him reassuring her as he took her through the hall to the door.

  Sam, thunderstruck at our dismissal, stood there staring at his mother. She turned on her heel and followed Charlie down the hall. Sam put his arm around my shoulders and led me through the front door. We stood on the porch and watched as Brigid pulled out and sped the car down the street and out of sight. Sam quietly pulled a key from his pocked and locked the door.

  "Are you sure you're all right?" he said.

  "I'm fine," I assured him. "What about you?"

  "It could have killed her," he said, instead of answering what I had asked. "Thank the Goddess Charlie's quick."

  We got into his car. For a moment Sam just sat in the driver's seat, hands on the steering wheel, looking too tense to put the key in the ignition.

  "Evelyn seemed angry when I mentioned calling a Seeker," I said. "Why?"

  "Not everyone likes the council," he answered, his expression dark. I got the feeling this was a regular bone of contention. "Some people are offended that one group of witches should take it upon themselves to govern other witches, to pass judgment. I think the council has done some very good work. We could use their help."

  He sighed, beat a little rhythm onto the steering wheel, then started the car. I looked out at the people walking along the beach path and heading to the pubs for the evening. Apparently some people in this town had normal lives.

  "Charlie and Brigid told me about Oona," I said. Sam glanced over at me.

  "They did?" he said. "Good. I was wondering how to explain what just happened."

  "Stuff like that has happened before?" I asked.

  "This was the worst so far," he replied. "But the phenomena have been getting more serious just lately. I certainly seems my mother wants to wait until someone gets killed before she'll ask for help."

  His undercurrent of rage was palpable, so I fell silent and let him have a few minutes to think things over.

  "I'm sorry, Alisa," he said just as we pulled into his driveway. "I'm sorry about the way your grandmother treated you. I don't even know what to say about it."

  "It's like you said, I guess," I answered, trying to be diplomatic. "It's just strange to have me show up."

  "Still, she has no right to behave like that. I just want you to know that she and I feel very differently about your being here. You can stay with me as long as you like—and as long as your dads lets you."

  This triggered my memory. Twenty-four hours… the watch sigil on my neck. I had to call Morgan.

  "Oh," I said, as casually as I could, "would it be all right if I used your phone? I just need to check in. It's long distance, but I'll be quick."

  "Take your time," Sam said. "I'm sure your dad would like an update."

  A strange expression crossed his face, but I decided not to try and read into it too much. For all I knew, Sam had had been onto me from the first.

  "I leave for work pretty early in the morning," he said. "Sleep in. I'll leave you the keys so you can come and go as you please. I'll be home around five. We'll do something different tomorrow night, like see a movie."

  "Thanks," I said. "That would be great."

  Astrophe and Mandu pounced on us the moment we stepped into the door. Sam fed them, then went upstairs. I took the phone into the kitchen for some privacy. I got lucky. Morgan answered, not Mary K.

  "It's me," I said. "Alisa. I know I'm almost out of time, but I made it."

  "Oh, hi…," she said casually. I heard her quickly moving into a quieter place and shutting a door. "Alisa," she said in a low voice, "how are you? Is everything okay?"

  "Um," I said hesitantly. "A little weird, actually. My uncle is great. My grandmother looks at me like I'm a escaped convict that is hiding in her house. And there's some kind of killer ghost on the loose…"

  "What?"

  I told her the grim tales as it unfolded so far.

  "You were right," she said. "Something weird was definitely going on up there. Do you think this is what the dreams were about?"

  "I don't know," I said as Astrophe leapt into my lap. "I'm going to have to stay here a few more days to find out. I figure I have spring break week, at least. So, how bad is it down there?"

  "Well," she said with a sigh, "your dad is upset. Frantic, actually. He called here about an hour after I got back." My stomach turned. "I also told Hunter what happened," she continued. "He understands what you're doing, but he's really worried, too. He'l
l be glad to know you've called."

  I had to promise to call back soon before she let me get off the phone. You can always get out of something your parents try to make you do, but when a powerful witch puts a sigil on your neck, you're pretty much stuck.

  A while later, after I had settled down for the night on Sam's couch and was flipping through my mother's Book of Shadows in preparation for going to sleep, the phone rang. After a minute Sam called down for me to pick up the phone.

  "Hey," said a voice. "Sorry to be calling so late."

  It was Charlie. He sounded tired, and I could hear him climbing into bed as he spoke. Thank God he couldn't see me—I was grinning like an idiot. Charlie was calling me!

  "I just thought you might like to know," he went on, "Ruth's arm is broken, but she is okay otherwise. Banged up and upset, of course, but intact."

  "I–I'm glad," I said, stuttering in my excitement. "I mean, I'm glad that she'll be all right."

  "What about you?" he asked.

  "What about me? It didn't land on me."

  "The chandelier didn't, no," he said. "But that whole dinner was kind of rough."

  "Oh. I'm fine," I said, pretty unconvincingly. "No problem."

  "I guess you haven't realized yet that it's pretty much useless to lie to witches," he said.

  Actually, that much I had figured out on my own. I knew that most other witches could read me like a book. But what surprised me was that I could read him as well, and his concern amazed me—it was deep. Deep to the point that I could feel it all the way across the town, physically, as if a warm embrace could travel down the telephone line. "It wasn't the welcome I wanted," I confessed. "But it was nice that you were there. Thanks for coming."

  He let the line go quiet for a moment. He didn't try to tell me that it would all be fine, because it didn't appear that it would be.

  "What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

  "Sam's working," I said, throwing my legs over the top of the couch and hanging upside down. "I don't know. Staying here, I guess. I don't think Evelyn wants to have me over anytime soon"

  "Want some company? We're on spring break, too, and I have a day off from the shop."

  A whole day with Charlie? I couldn't think of anything I wanted more. But was that weird? This was my cousin's boyfriend. Should I be spending that much time with him?

  "What about Brigid?" I asked. "Doesn't she have off from school, too?"

  "She does," he said, "but she is working." When I didn't respond straight away, he came back a little nervously. "We don't have to," he said. "I just thought…"

  What the hell was wrong with me? Just because Charlie made me weak at the knees didn't mean he was going to ditch my cousin and ran off with me.

  "No, no," I backpedaled quickly. "I want to. I mean, I'd like to. Actually, I'd like to so some research on my background. There's a lot of stuff I have questions about, family stuff. There's a library my mom keeps talking about in her Book of Shadows. It's in the house. That would be perfect, but it sounds like it's a secret."

  "Research!" he said. "That I can help you with. As for the library, I've never seen it, but I'm sure there is one. All Rowanwands have a collection of books somewhere, and as head of the coven, I'm sure Evelyn has thousands of books. The door is probably spelled, so you can't see it unless someone shows you where it is. I'll bet we can find it. It might take a while, but it can be done."

  "How?"

  "Spells leave traces. There'll be runes or sigils to mark the doorway. We'll just need to narrow down the area of the house where to look because it can take a long time to find them. Does she say anything about where it might be?"

  By now I knew the book almost by heart, and I automatically flipped through the pages that mentioned the family library.

  "Well," I said, finding a page, "She says one that that she was writing in the study, and then she went down to the library."

  "So it's in the basement," he said. "Great. That's where we'll start."

  "Start?"

  "We're going to go in there and find it," he said matter-of-factly. "If Evelyn's not willing to help you, I am. I'll pick you up first thing in the morning."

  12. Revealing

  Mabon, 1952

  Five years of scrying for Oona have been fruitless. Every spell has been tried and retried. There is only one other option: I must open a lith dearc, and opening to the land of the dead. This is a difficult and dangerous procedure, but it is the only option left that I can see. I have been researching this process for over a year, and I feel it is time to proceed.

  Tioma wants me to ask the council's permission. The council? Who are the council but a bunch of busybodies with nothing better to do than pry into the business of others? Their time would be better spend honing their own craft. As a witch and as a Rowanwand, I take the responsibility for my own decisions and actions.

  The need is real. Oona is trapped here, and she must be released, for all our sakes. By opening the dearc, we may be able to provide her with a channel through which she can return to the spirit world. The ceremony will take place in two days' time, when the moon is full. Great care has been taken to restrict the spell, so it must be written with absolute precision. Claire Findgoll has been assisting me with this task. Her collection of books on lunar spellcraft and spell restrictions is unparalleled.

  I had planned on telling Mother about the dearc, but she has not been well recently, and I do not want to worry her. Better she remain unaware.

  — Aoibheann

  I woke up to the sound of the door shutting. I heard a car engine start and the sound of the car pulling off down the street. Sam was gone, off to work. Astrophe and Mandu were tangled together and sleeping in the space between my back and the sofa. Carefully, so as not to disturb them, I slipped out from under the afghan.

  I wanted to be completely ready whenever Charlie showed up, and I had no idea when that would be. I rushed into the tiny bathroom and took a shower. It was obvious when I went through my bag that I had been pretty distracted when I packed. Eight pairs of underwair, three sets of pajamas, three bra's, and one T-shirt. No clean socks or pants. Good job, Alisa. I pulled on the T-shirt and grabbed the socks, jeans and hooded sweater that I'd been wearing for the last thirty-six hours, and did my best to fix myself up a bit.

  Dressing complete, I headed for the kitchen. On the table I found the keys, a neat list of local points of interest, a small hand-drawn map, and a note with Sam's work number. I made myself some scrambled eggs and toast and turned on a morning talk show. I was just coming to the exciting conclusion of a discussion on new trends in lighting fixtures when the doorbell rand. Through the curtain I could see the little green Volkswagen out on the street.

  Panic. Did I have jam on my face? Would he notice that I was basically wearing the same outfit, which was still kind of nasty from the day before? No time to do anything about that now. I opened the door.

  Charlie had on a well-worn fisherman's sweater, and his hair was still slightly damp, which brought out the curls. He was waiting on the step, holding out two paper cups from the coffee shop that we'd stopped at yesterday.

  "Coffee," he said, smiling and holding one out for me. "Four sugars. Extra milk."

  "Perfect, thanks." I eagerly accepted the cup. "What happens now?" I asked after I'd had a sip. "How do we know when everyone at Evelyn's house will be out?"

  "They're out now," he said. "I checked. Ruth and Brigid are both working. Evelyn went out to Boston for the day. She meets with other witches there once a week to study new divination spells. We can leave whenever you are ready."

  "Are you sure about this?" I asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

  "Completely," he said.

  We headed out to his car. Operation Find the Library was under way.

  We parked well down the street from the house and walked back. Charlie casually did these little spells he called see-me-nots, which he assured me would keep us from being noticed by anyone.

/>   "So," I said with a nervous grin as we stood on the porch of Evelyn's house, "how do we get in? Magick?"

  "Yup." He smiled back, reaching into his pocket. He fished around for a moment and produced a key. "Ta da!"

  I shook my head in mock disgust.

  "This is my key," he admitted. "I'm pretty much allowed to come and go as I like. I fix the computer, shovel the snow, get herbs from the garden. I pretty much live here half the time. Getting in won't be quite as exciting as I might have made it sound."

  "Please," I said as he unlocked the door. "Give me boring any day. I have enough excitement in my life."

  Just as a precaution, Charlie called into the house to see if anyone was home. When there was no reply, we slipped inside and locked the door behind us. The house was still and sunny. We hurried to the basement door, which was in the kitchen. A narrow, steep flight of stairs led into the unfinished basement. The low-ceilinged space was full of snow shovels, sleds, old boots, and a few well organized sets of shelves holding ordinary household items like flowerpots and bags of potting soil. There was a rickety old toboggan in the corner and a small box with a badminton set.

  I was tingling from the moment we entered this part of the house. It seemed as if my mother's presence hadn't been washed clean from here. Some of these things, I knew, were hers. Even though it was rather strange and painful, I felt my senses expanding, as if I was growing stronger with her energy. There was something down here that seemed to be screaming out to me.

  "It's here," I said suddenly.

  He looked back at me.

  "You feel it?" he said.

  "Yeah," I replied, looking around for some sign of a doorway. Unless they were keeping it in an old box under the lawn darts, I didn't see anywhere they could be hiding a library in this place.

  "Okay," he said, glancing around, too. "We've got to move all of this away from the walls."

  With a quick motion he pulled off his sweater. Underneath he was wearing a dark blue T-shirt printed with just one word: FRED. I noticed that his arms were covered in very light freckles as well and that they were surprisingly well-defined. I guessed he did more that just work on math problems, or else he had some really heavy pencils. Then I decided to stop gawking at his arms and look like I was actually here to help. I pulled off my sweater as well and threw it down on his.