by Cate Tiernan
“Selene wanted. .” I started, but I couldn’t force myself to say, “to steal my magick.” My family was ignorant of my powers as a witch, and that was the way I wanted to keep it. I decided to start over. “Selene wanted something from me. She wanted it pretty badly, and she threatened me—and you—to get it. She would have carried out her threats, but Hunter and I managed to stop her.”
“And. .” Mary K. swallowed hard. “That’s how she— died?”
“Yes.” The word was a whisper.
“You killed her?” Mary K.’s voice was shrill.
“She was going to kill us.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could halt them. “I stopped her.”
My sister’s face went pale. I couldn’t tell whether it was from fear or rage. “Oh my God, Morgan!” she cried. “When the hell were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we’re all okay—”
“No, we are not okay!” Mary K. burst out. “We almost died, and you lied to me, Morgan! You hid this from me! And you would have gone on doing it!”
“I never lied to you.” The words sounded lame even to me.
“No, you just never told me the truth.” Her eyes flashed.
“Mary K. — ” I reached out to grab her shoulder, but she jerked away from me.
“Don’t touch me,” she snarled. The words hit me like a slap, and before I could gather my thoughts to respond, my sister had turned and run out of the kitchen. I stared dumbly after her, hearing her feet thud up the stairs.
“Morgan,” said a soft voice behind me. Hunter.
I turned to face him, feeling beaten. “I think I’d better go,” he said. His face was grim.
I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Hunter reached out and touched the side of my face softly. “I understand. Walk me to the door?”
I nodded. As we walked toward the living room, a burst of laughter floated into the hall. Everyone looked up as we stepped into the room.
“Hunter has to go,” I announced.
“Dinner was wonderful,” Hunter said warmly. “Thanks so much for having me.”
“Anytime,” my father said heartily. He shook Hunter’s hand and grinned at him.
“It was truly our pleasure,” my mom agreed as she gave Hunter a kiss on the cheek. I was blown away. My mom— who never let me or my sister have guys in our rooms—was giving Hunter the seal of approval.
“Great meeting you,” Aunt Eileen said. She and Paula gave Hunter a friendly wave from the couch.
We turned and walked into the front hall. “Morgan— don’t forget that you’ve got homework to finish,” my mother called after me.
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I promised, grabbing my jacket from a peg in the hallway. As if I could forget. I had a ton of work to do. With all of the stuff that had been going on lately, I had fallen horrendously behind. If I didn’t hand in my extra-credit paper for English the next day, I could practically kiss a passing grade good-bye.
“Listen, Morgan, there’s something I have to tell you,” Hunter said as we walked out onto the front stoop. His voice turned serious, and he reached behind me to pull the front door closed. “I heard from Eoife just before I came here tonight.”
The cold February wind whipped against my face. “Isn’t she in London?”
Hunter nodded. “She phoned. She had a message for you.”
Eoife McNabb worked for the International Council of Witches, the same group Hunter worked for. She was the one who had recently asked me to help the organization by contacting my birth father. The council had been looking for Ciaran for a long time, believing that he and his coven, Amyranth, were behind the dark wave, a hideous magickal cloud of destruction that had wiped out countless covens over the years. I’d almost succeeded in trapping Ciaran, but at the last moment he’d managed to slip through all our fingers.
“Have they found Ciaran yet?” I asked.
Hunter shook his head. “Not yet, but the council is working on it. They believe he’s somewhere in northern Spain or southern France. Eoife wanted you to know that the watch sigil you placed on him has been enormously helpful.”
Hearing this, I felt a rush of contradictory emotions. Ciaran was my birth father, and I’d felt a strange sense of connection to him when we were together. Still, I knew he was a dangerous man, that the council needed to find him. . and stop him.
“I just wish you had more formal training,” Hunter went on. “Especially with Ciaran still at large—”
“I know,” I snapped. “I’m a loose cannon. A witch with power as strong as mine has a duty. I need to see the bigger picture. Et cetera. I’ve heard it all before.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Hunter whispered.
The cold around me seemed to melt away as he leaned toward me and his lips met mine.
The kiss went on and on, and for a moment I felt a strange sort of nostalgia, knowing that I couldn’t be in this moment forever. Soon I would have to go back to the real world—the world in which I had homework to do and Mary K. was rightfully angry with me. But I pushed that feeling away. Don’t think about what will happen when this kiss is over, I told myself.
My heart raced, and I was suddenly aware of the blood coursing through my body. I was aware of every breath of cold air that I drew into my lungs and released into the wintry night in a puff of steam. I could feel the heat that our two bodies were generating at the heart of the frigid darkness. I felt like more than just a person, and the emotions I felt seemed wilder than desire, deeper than love. I felt like I was a force of nature—a storm, something unstoppable. I felt connected to Hunter and the world around me in an intricate and inseparable way, and I knew I was part of something greater than myself.
2. Contact
September 3, 1971
I feel sick. This afternoon Sam showed me a book he had just “discovered”. When I saw the cover, I nearly dropped the book in terror. It was a first edition of Harris Stonghton’s book, On the Containement of Magick.
I couldn’t figure out where he’d found it. My parents haven’t told him about their library yet, and even if they had, I doubt they own any books by Harris Stonghton. Sam told me that he’d found the book in the public library and had just taken it. He stole the book. He told me that he thought the book wanted him to have it.
I couldn’t believe this was the brother I’d known for his entire life. I asked Sam if he had any idea who Harris Stonghton was, and of course he didn’t. I should hope not. I explained that Stonghton was the most notorious witch in New England—that he used dark magick and antiwitch hysteria to wipe out as many non-Woodbane witches as he could. He even killed a couple of our blood relatives, although I didn’t tell Sam that. I could tell he felt guilty enough as it was.
I thought that would be the end of it, but when I handed him the book and asked him what he planned to do with it, Sam just said that he wasn’t sure. I know my brother. If I try to force him to get rid of it, he’ll only want to hold on to it more. Part of me wants to tell our parentsabout this, but a larger part of me is afraid of how they’ll react.
Goddess, grant me wisdom. And grant me courage to live in the house with that evil book.
— Sarah Curtis
The tall redbrick form of Widow’s Vale High School rose bleakly against the gray February sky. I tried to shrug off the feeling of gloom that crept over me as I trudged toward the front door. Morning was never my finest hour, and the short winter days didn’t help much. Neither did the fact that Mary K. had gotten a ride to school with her friend Susan Wallace instead of with me. She wasn’t speaking to me.
“Hey, Morgan!” Jenna Ruiz stopped me as I stepped into the front hall. Her blond hair was swept up into a ponytail, and she was wearing a brown sweater and dark jeans. Her tentative smile made her look young and unsure. It was funny to remember that before I had joined the coven, I had found Jenna slightly intimidating. “Going my way?” she asked, jerking her
head toward the stairwell that led down to the basement—our coven’s winter hangout.
I tucked a few strands of hair behind one ear. “Where else?” I replied, and we fell into step together.
Jenna pushed open the door to the stairwell. Most of our regular coven crowd had already gathered. My good friend Robbie Gurevitch was sitting on the bottom step, leaning against Bree Warren’s knees. Her arms were draped over his shoulders. Ethan Sharp and Sharon Goodfine sat higher up and to the left.
Raven Meltzer stood at the bottom of the stairs, by the banister. She was wearing a red velvet shirt and low-slung black leather pants that showed off the flame tattoo around her navel. It was actually a demure look for Raven. I, on the other hand, could never pull off that look in my wildest dreams. As I studied her, I wondered if Raven had gotten my cosmic share of curves.
The pale winter light that leaked in through the window at the top of the landing cast a faint glow on everyone’s faces. I leaned against the wall by the bottom stair, and Bree smiled at me, taking away at least part of the February chill.
“Hey,” she said warmly. “How did it go last night?”
“Great,” I replied. “Everyone was charming, everyone was charmed.”
Sharon took off her baby blue cardigan and slung it over her shoulders. “What are we talking about?” she asked.
“Hunter did the official parental dinner last night,” Robbie explained.
“Oh, man,” Ethan said. “Cruel and unusual.” Sharon dug her elbow into his knee. “Ouch!” he yelped. “I was just saying. .”
“No, it’s true,” I agreed. “It was a little tense at first. But everyone was on their best behavior. It went well.”
“Not surprising,” Robbie said. “Hunter is every parent’s dream.”
I looked at him, surprised. “How so?” I asked.
Robbie shrugged. “Hunter’s responsible, he’s generous, he’s intelligent. And everyone can see that he’s good for you, Morgan.”
“Besides, he’s a witch,” Raven added dryly. “What parent wouldn’t be thrilled?”
I ignored Raven’s comment, pleased with what Robbie had said. He and I were close friends, but we’d had a fight a while back. He’d thought I was misusing my powers, and he’d had a point. But I was learning to be more responsible. It was good to know that Robbie realized my relationship with Hunter was a big part of that.
“Hey, Morgan,” Ethan piped up, “have you heard anything from Killian?”
Killian was Ciaran’s son and my half brother. I had gotten to know him slightly over the past few weeks, but after he’d come up to visit me in Widow’s Vale and behaved really badly, he’d pretty much dropped out of sight.
“No,” I said, feeling a twinge of regret. Killian was irresponsible, reckless, possibly even dangerous—but I really liked him. And I liked having a big brother. “I don’t know where he is. Back in New York, probably.”
I heard the door open and looked up to see Alisa Soto, one of the newer members of our coven. She was a sophomore with thick golden brown hair and dark eyes that were so large, she appeared almost owlish. “Hi, everyone,” she said shyly. She looked at me uncertainly. “Hey, Morgan.”
“Hi,” I replied, pleased to see her. She was younger than the rest of us and usually hung out with the other underclassmen before school. I guessed that her appearance meant she was finally—after weeks—starting to relax around us.
Sharon gave Alisa a bright smile and patted the space beside her. Alisa walked down to sit next to Sharon, murmuring hello to Bree and Robbie along the way.
Robbie glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get to the library,” he said. Bree released him reluctantly. “I’ve got to grab these last ten minutes to study before Spanish.”
“I’ll come with you,” Bree said quickly.
An odd look flickered across Robbie’s face, but just as soon as it had come, it was gone. “Great,” he said. “Let’s go. Later, guys.” He waved and headed up the stairs.
Bree reached out and squeezed my arm. “We’ll talk at lunch, okay? I want to hear all the details.”
“Sure,” I said. I watched, puzzled, as she turned and trotted after Robbie. It struck me as odd that Bree wanted to go with Robbie instead of hanging out with the rest of us. It wasn’t really Bree’s style to seek out extra study time.
“So Morgan, did you study for the test?” Jenna asked, slipping into Robbie’s seat.
My stomach dropped. “Test?” I asked.
Jenna bit her lip. “You’ve got Powell, right?” she asked. “I thought he was giving all of his sections a test on the Civil War today.”
It came back to me with sudden vividness and I groaned. “I thought that was next Thursday,” I said. I was totally screwed.
Jenna touched my arm. “What period do you have history? ” she asked.
“Fifth.”
“Great—that’s not until after lunch,” she said reassuringly. “I’ll give you my notes on the reading and you can study them then, along with your class notes.” She dug in her backpack and pulled out the notes. “Here,” she said, handing them over. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”
I really had no choice but to try to believe her. “Thanks,” I said as the first bell rang. I had the feeling it was going to be a very long day.
By the time I slid into my 1971 Plymouth Valiant—affectionately nicknamed Das Boot—my arms were practically shaking with exhaustion. I’d hidden Jenna’s notes behind my textbook in every class. Unfortunately, the cramming hadn’t helped. I’d wanted to tell Mr. Powell not to bother grading my exam. I knew I’d flunked.
I turned the key in the ignition and smiled as it turned over immediately. Old reliable. Mary K. was at cheerleading practice and had told me she’d catch a ride with one of her friends. It was the only thing she’d said to me all day.
Suddenly I didn’t want to go home. I could picture myself all alone in the quiet house. My parents wouldn’t be home for hours, and I had no one to talk to about my horrible day. Not that I wanted to tell my parents about flunking a test.
I started for Hunter’s house. Please be home, I thought, remembering the sense of calm I’d felt with him the night before.
Hunter was standing in the front doorway as I pulled into his driveway, gravel crunching beneath my tires.
“Rough day?” he asked, leaning in to kiss me as I climbed the front steps.
“Horrendous.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. His lips tasted like cinnamon tea.
He smiled. “Why don’t you come in and tell me about it?” The warm scent of cinnamon wafted past my nose as we stepped into the worn, comfortable living room. I knew without casting out my senses that Sky, Hunter’s cousin, was upstairs.
“Should I say hello?” I asked.
Hunter hesitated. “I think she’ll come down if she feels like it. She’s been pretty low lately.”
I nodded. Sky and Raven had been a couple for a while, but they’d recently broken up—thanks mostly to my half brother Killian. I wasn’t sure how Raven felt—it was hard to break through her tough-girl exterior—but I knew Sky was in a lot of pain. I felt a pang of sympathy as I imagined Sky going through a breakup halfway around the world from most of her friends.
I shrugged off my coat. Hunter took it and hung it up next to his in the hall closet. Then he came and pulled me down beside him on the threadbare couch.
“I spoke with Eoife again this morning,” he said. “She’s concerned about you. She would like for you to learn more about magickal defenses, and so would I.”
“What’s that?” I asked. “Like, self-defense for witches or something?”
Hunter nodded without humor. “That’s exactly what it is.” His green eyes seemed to deepen in color as he added, “Given your history, Morgan, it seems like a good thing for you to study. Also, it’s one of the topics covered in the preinitiation rites.”
“I thought I would be initiated as a witch a year and a day from the time of my fir
st circle. I didn’t realize I had to prepare for it.”
“You don’t,” Hunter said. “That’s a simple ceremony. I’m talking about your initiation as a blood witch, which isn’t so simple. Once you’re initiated into the coven, then you begin preparing for your preapprentice rites, which are a series of magickal power and knowledge tests. They’re supposed to screen out blood witches who aren’t yet serious enough or in tune with their power enough for apprenticeships.” I stifled a groan at the thought of more tests as Hunter went on, “Once you pass those rites, you’ll be paired as an apprentice with a blood witch who will guide you until you’re ready for the full blood witch initiation.”
“How long will that take?”
Hunter shrugged. “It depends,” he said. “A few years.”
I struggled to hide my disappointment. A few years?
“Anyway,” Hunter said. “Eoife has found someone who can come here to tutor you in magickal defenses for two weeks. She’s going to stay with Sky and me. Her name is Erin Murphy, and she’ll be here this weekend.”
“Is she good?” I asked.
“The best,” he said. In his clipped English accent, the statement seemed to leave no room for doubt. “In the meantime Eoife asked me to show you the basics.” He stood up and crossed the room. There was a dinged-up sideboard along the wall leading to the kitchen, and Hunter pulled out a small bronze dish and a piece of chalk. He drew a small circle on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. I stepped inside, and he drew the last piece closed. Then he took a pinch of salt from the dish and sprinkled it around the circle. “With this salt I purify our circle,” he said.
We joined hands, closed our eyes, and breathed deeply for a few moments. With every breath I could feel my senses expanding. It was as if I was growing and reaching out, as if the house and everything in it was a living, breathing extension of myself. I felt myself draw power from the breath, and I sensed that Hunter was drawing the same power. Our bodies, joined at the fingertips, had become one, lost in the connection we felt with everything around us, including each other. Then we both dropped hands and found ourselves staring into each other’s eyes.
