by Cate Tiernan
“I can’t!” I shouted. I had no idea what was happening or what had caused it.
On Alisa’s other side Sharon reached to pull her into a hug, but Alisa fought her off as the room was plunged into darkness. Hunter stepped away from the window, letting the cold moonlight trickle in. Alisa was still screaming. I could see Erin’s small form as she stood up and began to chant.
Goddess, we trust in you to protect us,
With this prayer we banish fear.
It was a short chant, and as she said it over and over, Alisa’s cries grew more faint until the only noise I heard was a faint sniffling. The rest of us took up the chant. There was strength in the simplicity of the words, and as I said them, I felt their magick working on me. I took deep breaths and imagined a white light growing inside me, and I tried to release the fear that had held me in its grip. After a few minutes the room felt calm again, although the warm energy from before had disappeared.
There was a light scraping sound, then a small burst of flame as Sky struck a match. Leaning forward, she stood the pillar candle up and lit it. Hunter, who was still standing, took the packet of matches from her and began lighting candles all around the room. I looked around the circle at everyone’s faces. Robbie’s lips were pressed tightly together, and I could feel anger flowing from him. Bree looked at me like she couldn’t remember who I was, and Jenna stared at the floor, avoiding my eyes. Matt, Thalia Cutter, and Simon were wide-eyed, silent. Hunter and Sky were impassive, but Raven was gazing at me with what looked like respect. And Erin looked at me like I was a fascinating bug, something slightly revolting but nonetheless interesting.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said loudly. “That wasn’t me.”
Alisa shakily got to her feet. Sharon stood and put her arm around Alisa’s shoulders. Alisa turned to her and asked, “Will you take me home?” She sounded very young. Sharon nodded, and Alisa turned toward the door. I tried not to feel hurt. I knew Alisa blamed me, but this wasn’t my fault.
“I’m sorry, you guys,” Sharon said. “But I think Alisa—”
“It’s all right. Actually, why don’t we call it a night?” Hunter said quietly. “We’ll talk about this next week, when we’ve had a chance to sort it out.”
“Right.” Robbie got to his feet. He didn’t look at me.
Bree peered around him. “Morgan—?”
“I’m staying,” I said. “Hunter, you can take me home later, right?”
Hunter confirmed with a nod. In a few moments everyone had said their good-byes, and the house was empty except for Hunter, Sky, Erin, and me. The blood witches.
Sky extinguished the candles, and we moved to the kitchen, where Hunter poked around, looking for new lightbulbs.
“Well, that was a very interesting circle,” Erin said brightly as she pulled up a chair to the farmhouse table.
I ladled hot cider into four cups and handed them out. “What happened?” I asked as I warmed my hands on the sides of my cup.
“I was about to ask you that, my dear,” Erin replied. She took a sip of her cider.
“It wasn’t me,” I said again, feeling resentful.
Erin put down her cup. Leaning forward on one arm, she looked at me closely. “Are you sure?” she asked. I opened my mouth to reply, but Erin held up a hand. “I’m not saying that you caused it on purpose. It might have been an accident.” Leaning back in her chair, she added, “It was my understanding that there were only four blood witches here tonight. And only one who hasn’t been trained. Or initiated. You.”
“It wasn’t me,” I insisted. “I would have known if I were making something happen. I would have felt power flowing through me.” I turned to Hunter. “Right?”
Hunter looked at Erin. “Morgan is extremely powerful,” he said. “She may not be initiated, but she has gained a great deal of control over her magick.”
Erin shrugged. “Perhaps,” she said. I couldn’t tell if she was convinced. “All right, then,” she went on, turning to Sky, “what else might have caused it?”
Hunter and Sky exchanged glances. “Amyranth?” Sky asked. Hunter nodded, and I felt a tightening in my chest. Amyranth. Ciaran’s coven. They had kidnapped me, tried to drain my power. Were they after me again?
Was. . was Ciaran himself after me? I felt cold at the thought. I was more or less certain that he knew I’d worked with the council to try and trap him. He might want revenge. True, I was his daughter. His flesh and blood. He loved me—I really believed that. Then again, he had loved my mother. And that hadn’t stopped him from killing her.
Erin cocked her head and thought for a moment. “There are sigils of protection on this house, I presume?”
“Yes, of course,” Hunter said. “But I should redraw them.”
Erin stood up. “Do that.” She put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Sky and I will do a few spells to protect Morgan herself.”
I looked up at her in surprise, but she just continued to watch Hunter as he grabbed a flashlight and went out the back door. In a few moments we could hear his footsteps crunching through snow as he visited each window and door and retraced the runes of protection on them.
Erin took her chair again, and then she, Sky, and I joined hands around the table. Erin began to chant. Though I didn’t understand them, the words sounded beautiful in her lilting voice. The energy flowed between us, and suddenly I felt filled with light, with magick. Serenity flowed around me.
After a few moments Erin let go. Picking up my hand, she traced a sigil on my palm, one I had never seen before.
“This will protect you.” Her voice was strong and sure. I looked into her cool, clear eyes. She’s a master of magickal defenses, I told myself. I can believe her.
Anyway, what choice did I have?
4. The Vision
September 15, 1971
The sky in the color of steel today, and the bitter wind has begun to blow from the North. The flags are flying at half-mast, and there seems to be a hush over the town of Gloucester. We heard this morning that the Lady Marie went down in last night’s storm.
All five fishermen abroad are believed dead-Captain James Dallman, Tim Flanagan, Arnold Jenning, Jason Dallman, and Andrew Lewis. The storm came up so suddenly that the men on board weren’t even able to radio for help. They sank fifty miles off Eastern Point.
They haven’t found the bodies.
Sam has been quiet all day. He knew Andrew Lewis pretty well. We all did, actually-Drew grew up only two blocks from our house. He was two years older than I am and was a big baseball in the neighborhood games and taught them how to field and bat. Sam looked up to him.
Some people said that Drew should have tried for a career in baseball-he evn got a college scholarship to play. But Drew just wanted to be a fisherman like his dad. He didn’t want to leave Gloucester.
And now he’s gone. Of course, that’s the risk you take, being a fisherman. It’s a dangerous job. Not even all the magick of Wicca can save you from the full force of a storm.
— Sarah Curtis
“Let me take you home.” Hunter stood over me, worry etching fine lines around his mouth. “I’ve finished with the sigils. There isn’t much else we can do tonight.”
When I stood, I felt like every muscle in my body was aching. The night’s tension had made me stiff.
Erin and Sky were talking together in the living room, and they both seemed subdued as we said good-bye. Still, there was something in Erin’s gaze as she looked at me that seemed sharp and wary. I felt like I had spent the evening under a microscope. I was on edge until Hunter and I were safely tucked into his beat-up Honda. He turned the key in the ignition, and we were off.
As we neared a heavily wooded dip in the road, the fog grew thicker and Hunter had to slow the car. My senses snapped to alert. The road revealed itself only a yard at a time, and deer were known to dart out onto the asphalt. It could be very dangerous.
Hunter slowed even further as we headed into a curve that I knew all too
well. It was here, almost two months before, that Cal had suddenly reappeared after he and his mother had left Widow’s Vale. It had been a dark night like this one, and Cal had been standing right in the middle of the road. At the memory, the hair on the back of my neck began to prickle, and without even realizing it, I cast out my senses.
I felt nothing. I exhaled slowly, trying to calm myself. There’s nothing here, I told myself. Focus on your breathing and calm down. Another deep inhale and Hunter was easing around the curve, beginning to accelerate slightly. I felt better.
Just then, Hunter slammed on the brakes and the car swerved sickeningly.
Someone was standing in the middle of the road.
“Cal!” An involuntary cry escaped me.
Goddess, help me, I thought desperately. Hunter muttered curses and fought with the steering wheel. I felt the jarring pressure of the seat belt across my chest as we came to a sudden skidding stop and I was thrown forward in my seat. We were half on, half off the shoulder.
I turned to make sure Hunter was okay and saw that his eyes were huge. He was staring straight ahead, still gripping the steering wheel. In front of us, the figure in the fog had not moved.
I stared at it, my lips moving dumbly for a moment before I realized that it wasn’t Cal—at least, not in any incarnation I knew. The figure had a human form, but it was shadowy and indistinct. It looked vaguely female. Who—or what—was it?
I leaned forward to look at it more closely and saw that it seemed to be part of the mist—as if the fog itself were struggling to come to life. For a moment I thought it was an optical illusion, a trick of mist and light, but then the figure actually turned and looked directly at us. Its eyes seemed to see, and it gazed at us mournfully. Sadness gripped me with iron claws. Holding my breath, I didn’t dare to look away.
I reached for Hunter’s hand and found that it was icy. After a long moment the figure disappeared.
“What was that?” I whispered.
Hunter didn’t respond. Instead he merely closed his eyes, and I knew that he was pouring every ounce of concentration he had into casting out his senses. I leaned back against the plush car seat and did the same. Around us, by the side of the road and into the forest, I cast out with my mind. I felt the heartbeats of a brood of young fox kits, frightened by the footstep of a doe nearby. I sensed a small field mouse and the silent swoop of an owl overhead, diving toward its prey in an elegant, deadly arc. I felt the quietness of the trees, their collective silence that had stood sentry and witness, rooted to that spot, in some cases, for over a century.
But there was no human presence in the woods.
A shudder rippled through Hunter, and I knew that he had felt what I had. Nothing.
“Was it—” Thinking again of Cal, I felt my body grow cold. “Do you think it was—a ghost?”
I didn’t even know whether such a thing was possible, but Hunter didn’t laugh at me. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly.
Something about his tone of voice made me ask, “Do you think it could be another message from your parents?”
For a moment Hunter was silent. “Yes,” he said finally. “It could be. But it could also have been a number of other things.” I realized that Hunter was holding back, but I didn’t ask him what he was thinking. I could guess. Amyranth. Ciaran.
“I think we should tell Erin about this,” he said.
At the mention of her name, a mental image of Erin’s appraising glance flashed through my mind, and I felt a small pinprick of impatience. But I immediately pushed the feeling aside. Hunter was right, and I knew it. “When can we meet?” I asked.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” Hunter asked, and I nodded. That was the last thing we said as the car plodded forward at its snail’s pace. Wrapped in fog, the night had a sense of unreality, and I was so, so glad to have Hunter sitting next to me—strong and sure, like the trees that loomed in the mist, standing guard over the forest.
The next day dawned clear and chilly, with a pale blue sky dotted with puffy clouds. Last fall’s brown, brittle leaves danced by my windowpane on the breeze.
It was such a beautiful day, the incidents of the night before seemed unreal. . and unlikely. Had everyone really freaked out over a few lightbulbs bursting? That could have been an electrical surge—a problem in the wiring at Hunter’s house. And the figure in the fog could have just been an odd mist formation. Clouds took on strange shapes all the time, I reminded myself.
I lay in bed, enjoying the warmth of my flannel sheets and down comforter, listening for the sounds of my parents and sister as they went through their usual Sunday routine of showers and breakfasts. But the house was silent. Rolling over, I glanced at my digital clock. Nine forty-seven! They hadn’t even bothered waking me for church.
I lay back against my pillows, unsure how I felt about that. Wicca was my religion, after all, the religion that felt like home to me, as natural as breathing. And I hadn’t been going to church much lately. Still, our church filled me with warm feelings. It held lots of good memories for me, memories of my family and of my community.
Suddenly I felt like the last child to be picked up from a party—neglected and forgotten. I knew the feeling was childish, but I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t so much that I really wanted to go to church. I just wanted to be asked.
Slowly I crept out of bed, moving aside my cat, Dagda’s, warm, furry form. He mewed softly, then stretched and rolled onto his back, only to curl up again and doze off. What a life.
After a long, steamy shower I began to feel almost human again. I puttered around the house awhile, reading the paper and microwaving myself a bowl of oatmeal. Desperate to talk to somebody, I called Robbie, but he wasn’t home and I didn’t leave a message. I didn’t know what I wanted to say. Finally I decided to meet my parents for brunch at the Widow’s Diner. It was a tradition for my family to eat there after church. This would be a good chance to show my mom that I could spend time with the family and still be involved in Wicca. Besides, I wanted to see them.
Quickly I pulled on a gray cable-knit sweater and my faded jeans. I put on my thickest socks and sank my feet into my heavy brown boots. In just a few minutes I was in Das Boot, tearing up the road on the way to the Widow’s Diner.
As I walked into the diner, my stomach squirmed with nerves. Between Mary K being mad at me and the lecture I’d gotten from my mom, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I glanced around and saw that my family was sitting in our usual spot—the booth against the windows. They were all laughing at something someone had said. Across from my mom and dad was the back of Mary K.’s head. . and someone else, a girl with thick, golden brown hair. I stopped short. Who was that? Then my mom looked up and saw me. She looked surprised and pleased. She waved me over.
Mary K. turned around in her seat. After a moment she flashed me an uncertain smile, and the nervous caterpillars in my stomach quieted. Had she forgiven me? I hoped so. I grinned back and hurried toward them. The other girl still hadn’t looked up, so I didn’t see until I got to the table that it was Alisa.
“Hi, everyone,” I said, sliding into the booth next to Mary K. The Formica tabletop was littered with my family’s half-eaten lunch. “Hey, Alisa,” I added when she didn’t look up from the straw wrapper she was fiddling with on the table. For a moment I wondered what she was doing there. But I knew that she went to our church and that she and Mary K. had gotten pretty tight ever since Mary K.’s best friend, Jaycee, had found a boyfriend. Alisa had been close to Jaycee, too, so I guess that made both Alisa and Mary K. boyfriend refugees.
Alisa gave me a hesitant smile. “Hi,” she said. There were dark circles under her eyes and a strange note in her voice that brought back the eerie scene from the night before. Instantly I remembered just how real it had all been. Alisa went back to fiddling with her straw wrapper.
“Have you eaten yet, sweetie?” my mom asked, and my dad twisted in his seat to flag the waitress down.
“Some oatmeal,” I
replied. “I really just came by to see you guys.”
“Only oatmeal? Have a bagel,” my mother urged, “or a cup of soup. It’s lunchtime—you should have a bite to eat.”
I realized that my parents wouldn’t be satisfied until I ordered something, so I asked for some wheat toast and chamomile tea. By the time I’d finished ordering, my mom and dad were engrossed in a conversation about some problem she was having with her boss. I turned to say something to Mary K., but now she had her back to me. She was whispering something into Alisa’s ear. My heart sank, and I had the strangest feeling. It was almost as if I were invisible. I sat quietly, staring out the window for a few moments, waiting for my tea. Here I was, right in the middle of my family—and missing them more than ever.
I spent the afternoon trying to do all the math homework that I should have done the week before. I actually finished most of it before I drove to Hunter and Sky’s place at eight to meet with Erin.
Hunter let me in. Erin and Sky were sitting on the couch as we walked into the living room. The lamps were glowing with new lightbulbs, and the books sat quietly on their shelves. There was no sign of what had happened the night before.
“I’ve already told Sky and Erin about last night’s fog,” Hunter said as I pulled off my jacket and kicked off my duck boots. Padding across the room in my thick socks, I curled up into the corner of the large brown velvet armchair that sat to the side of the couch, pulling my legs beneath me.
“You say the shape you saw looked like a woman?” Erin said to Hunter. He nodded.
Erin pursed her lips. “Did she say anything?” she asked me abruptly.
I flushed slightly under her intense gaze. “No. She didn’t do anything at all,” I said. “She just looked at us a minute and disappeared.”
Erin lifted her eyebrows and turned to Hunter for confirmation. He nodded again.
“But there’s no doubt in your mind that this was something?” Erin asked. “This wasn’t just some kind of problem with the weather—a strange-looking patch of mist?”
