Strife s-9
Page 14
I woke up feeling fully rested. My body no longer felt achy or tired—I hadn’t felt so alive in what seemed like weeks. I glanced at the clock, expecting it to read somewhere close to noon.
Seven-thirty A.M.
Just then I heard the gentle hiss of the shower, and I knew my sister was stepping into it. It was early Sunday morning. The pale light was just beginning to peek through my curtains. I could sleep as long as I wanted. Sighing happily, I lay back against my pillows and closed my eyes.
Then I opened them again. I was wide awake.
I thought about the night before—the beautiful, magickal way I’d been able to experience being with Hunter. It had felt so wonderful to have him with me that I would have thought the whole experience had been a dream, if it hadn’t seemed so real. Beyond real—almost more than real, if such a thing was possible.
Mary K.’s shower ended. I waited a few minutes, but she didn’t come into my room to wake me up for church. I thought of the smile she’d given me the night before.
I heard the familiar sound of my father’s slippers as he padded down the stairs into the kitchen. There, then, was another thing I had missed—my family.
I threw off my covers and walked over to my closet. I pulled out a gray flannel skirt and a red sweater. Quickly I pulled on my clothes and brushed my hair.
I was going to church.
“Hi,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.
My mother looked up from the paper she was reading. “Morgan,” she said, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. She took in my outfit from head to toe, then smiled. “You look very nice,” she said.
I grabbed a Diet Coke from the refrigerator. “I thought I’d come with you to church this morning.”
My dad stared at me from where he was standing by the sink, his coffee cup lifted halfway to his mouth. He set it down on the counter. “Well, well.” A pleased grin spread across his face. Looking down at his bathrobe, he said, “I guess I’m lagging behind.”
Dad took his coffee and headed upstairs just as Mary K. came down. “What are you wearing?” she asked, staring at me.
“Morgan is coming to church with us this morning,” Mom said, as if it was the most obvious and normal thing in the world.
“Oh,” Mary K. said. Apparently this possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “Great!” She grinned at me and went to the refrigerator. “You want toast?” she asked.
The normalcy of the question seemed like something from another time. “Sounds good,” I said, sitting down at the table. In fact, it sounded better than good. It sounded like the best thing in the whole world.
Stepping into the church was like visiting an old friend, welcoming and familiar. There was the spicy smell of the incense our church uses and the odor of faded roses as I passed by Mrs. Beacon’s pew. The strains of organ music drifted over the congregation. Mom’s friend, Mrs. Lu, turned and gave me a big smile as we slipped into the pew behind hers. I smiled back and waved to her three-year-old daughter, Nellie, who giggled.
When it came time to take communion, I leaned over to my mom and said, “I think I’m going to skip this.” I just didn’t feel right about it—somehow taking communion seemed like a definite commitment to Catholicism. Even though I appreciated the beauty of the service, I wasn’t about to stop practicing Wicca. I was glad that my family loved coming here, and I loved it, too—but Wicca had chosen me as much as I had chosen it, and I wanted to find a way to keep both of my religions in my life.
I half expected my mom to frown or look disapproving, but she just squeezed my knee and followed my sister and father to the front of the church. A short while later the service was over.
A new level of calm swept over me as my family and I stepped outside. The sky was a clear blue, and a few small clouds tumbled across it. I was glad I had come.
“Mom, Dad,” Mary K. said as we walked to the car. “Would it be okay if Morgan took me to the hospital to see Alisa later?”
My mom looked sideways at my dad, who nodded. Parental telepathy. “I guess it’s all right,” my mom said.
I smiled at my mom, and she smiled back. Of course, she would never refuse to allow Mary K. to see a friend in the hospital, but she could have insisted on taking Mary K. there herself. I felt like she was finally beginning to see how hard I’d been trying.
“Thanks,” Mary K. said. But she wasn’t looking at my parents. She was looking at me.
My boots clattered as we walked down the long corridor in the hospital toward Alisa’s room. The hospital was quiet, and I found it kind of unnerving. Mary K. had seemed really eager to leave right away once we got home, so I didn’t bother changing, and now I felt overdressed and awkward. Every step I took made me sound like a lumbering elephant.
Mary K. looked down at the small red-and-white teddy bear she was clutching against her chest. She had insisted that we stop at the drugstore before we came so that she could pick up a card for Alisa, and the teddy bears had been on sale. Bringing the bear was the kind of thing Mary K. was really good at—the kind of thing I never would have thought to do. “It’s so weird,” Mary K. said as she checked the door numbers. The nurse had told us that we’d find Alisa in room 341. "We’ve been in two hospitals this week.”
Personally, I thought that the animal hospital was more comfortable and homey than this sterile, silent place, but I didn’t say so.
“I’m glad Dagda’s okay,” Mary K. went on. “I hope Alisa will be, too.”
“She will,” I said. My voice conveyed much more certainty than I felt.
Mary K. gave me a sideways look but didn’t reply. I wondered what she was thinking. I had no idea whether she knew how close to death Dagda had been. Did she realize that Erin had healed him?
“Three forty-one,” Mary K. announced as we walked up to a door at the end of the hallway. It was half open. There was no noise coming from inside except for the steady beeps and whirring of machinery.
My sister looked at me uncertainly, and I realized that she was frightened. “It’s okay,” I told her, and rapped lightly on the door. There was no response, so I pushed it open a little farther. “Hello?” I called softly, but there was no reply. I was secretly relieved. The last thing I felt like doing was making polite conversation with Alisa’s family. I nodded at my sister and stepped inside. Mary K. followed me.
Alisa’s bed was at the far end of the dim room, near windows that were shrouded in curtains. She was either asleep or unconscious, and Mary K. sucked in her breath when she saw the machines clustered around her. Alisa’s hair was limp on the pillow, and below her closed eyelashes were dark circles. Her cheeks were sunken and pale, her lips chapped and peeling.
How could someone get so sick so quickly?
Mary K. hesitated, then placed the teddy bear on the small table next to Alisa’s bed, propping the card up against it. “So that she’ll see it when she wakes up,” she whispered to me.
“Do you want to wait awhile?” I asked.
Mary K. nodded. “If you don’t mind,” she said.
“Sure,” I said, looking back at Alisa. I could only glance at her for a few seconds before I had to turn away. She looked horrible.
There was a yellow chair next to the side table, which I lowered myself into. In spite of its hideous color, it was big and comfortable. I patted the empty space next to me— there was more than enough room for Mary K. to fit. “Do you want to sit?”
“Yeah. .” Mary K. was staring at Alisa, not moving. She seemed to be in her own world, pondering something. Suddenly she turned to me. “I’m going to get a Coke,” she said. “I saw a machine in the front hall. Do you want anything? A Diet Coke?”
There was a strange edge in her tone, as if she were nervous. I wondered whether she was upset about the way Alisa looked—she certainly was a pitiful sight. “Are you okay?” I asked. “We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”
“No, no,” Mary K. insisted. “I want to. I just. . want a Coke.”
I frowned at her. Her tone was strange and tense, as if she wanted to tell me more than she was saying. But— what? “Do you want me to come with you?” I asked.
“No—that’s okay. I’ll be right back. I mean,” she said quickly as she raked a hand through her hair, “I mean I’ll be back in a few minutes. The soda machine is near the entrance. It’ll take me a few minutes to get back.” Mary K. glanced at Alisa, then at me, and in that one glance I understood.
Mary K. wanted to leave me alone with Alisa.
She thought I could heal her.
Before I could even protest, Mary K. was out the door. Her footsteps retreated down the hall, first quickly, then more slowly. I guessed that she remembered she needed to take her time to get the soda.
I glanced at Alisa and had to suppress a shudder. She was so very sick. And I wasn’t even the one who had healed Dagda—Erin had done that! I knew next to nothing about healing, even with Alyce’s knowledge inside me. I wished Erin were there with me. I didn’t know whether she could heal Alisa, either, but she sure as hell knew a lot more about it than I did.
I sat on my hands, swallowing the sob that was rising in my throat. But what if I can help her? I wondered. How can I sit here and do nothing when Alisa might be—
Don’t think it, I commanded myself.
— dying. The word stung my consciousness like a fresh burn. I pictured Mary K.’s face. I tried to imagine what I would tell her. You see, Mary K., I know enough magick to fight dark forces, but not enough to help your best friend. . My vision blurred, and I rubbed my chest where it had begun to ache.
Alisa drew in a ragged, shuddering breath, then moaned. My stomach dropped. “Please don’t,” I whispered. Alisa grew quiet, but that didn’t make me feel better. I had to do something to help her. Even if I couldn’t heal her, maybe I could do a spell to take away some of the pain. Quickly I reached out and took her hand.
Immediately the cool, steady pulse of the heart rate monitor began a high-pitched scream. I dropped Alisa’s hand and jumped back, my heart pumping wildly. What had I done? I hadn’t even touched the machines! Without thinking, I screamed, “Mary K.! Mary K.!” I should have called for a doctor, but I didn’t even think of it.
The door was flung open and a tall African American nurse exploded into the room, pushing a cart full of machinery. “You’re going to have to get out of here,” she said to me as a doctor hurried in behind her and rushed to check Alisa’s monitors.
A chill breeze blew over me—I felt like the temperature in the room had dropped forty degrees. Goddess, help me! I thought. Alisa’s body shook with convulsions.
Mary K. appeared in the doorway, looking tense and pale. “What happened?” Her wide eyes fastened on Alisa’s machines, which were still going crazy. “Oh my God—what happened?” She stared at Alisa in horror.
I steered her out the door. “I don’t know,” I said as Mary K. tried to peer past me. Another nurse ran down the hall and pushed past us into Alisa’s room. “Look, the nurse said we should get out of here,” I said as calmly as I could, fighting my panic. Every nerve in my body was screaming.
“But we can’t just leave,” Mary K. protested. Her eyes were filled with tears.
“We’re in the way,” I said. “Mary K. — I’m sorry.”
I was. I was so sorry. But I didn’t know what to say. I had barely touched Alisa’s hand, and I hadn’t even been using magick at all.
Something had happened—but what? And why? I couldn’t have caused that, I told myself. I didn’t even do anything! But even if it was true, I couldn’t change the fact that Alisa had just crashed horribly. That she was very sick and maybe dying. And that I couldn’t do anything to help her.
As we walked down the corridor tears flowed down Mary K.’s face, a silent, steady stream.
There was nothing I could do to stop them.
15. Lift
October 8, 1971
I’m so weak, I can hardly write this. I’ve told Mom and Dad that I have a bug so they won’t bother me, but that’s a lie. I’ve been in bed for over twenty-four hours. I can hardly sit up. And I can’t stop crying.
I had to do it. Sam is still in the hospital, and I’ the one who put him there. Who would be next? My mother? My father? Me?
So last night I pulled the Harris Stonghton book from the shelf. It took only a moment to find the spell I was looking for—the same one I’d discovered accidentally the other day. The spell to strip one’s self of magick.
I crept to my room and prepared everything, the black candle, the cauldron. At first I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to pronounce the chants correctly—they were written in a language I didn’t know. But as I started speaking, I found that the words felw off my tongue. For a moment I thought that the ceremony wouldn’t be so bad.
I was wrong.
After the few minutes I began to feel like there was a weight on my tongue. Something slimy. As I continued the chants, the weight slipped down my throat, into the pit of my stomach, as if I’d swallowed a snake. It stayed there and started to grow. I kept chanting, but the weight grew and grew, choking me. It spread farther, down my arms, down my legs, until I felt like my entire body was filled with a giant, black serpent. I was gagging on it, gasping for air. The weight pressed me against the floor, crushing me. I thought my spine would crack, but it didn’t, and soon the weight turned into a searing pain. Then, thankfully, the whole room went black.
I woke up on the floor of my room, feeling like a tree that’s been hit by a lightning. Alive on the outside but dead on the inside… rotting away. I’ll never use my magick again. I hardly even know what I am.
And I still have the book. I’ve hidden it under my mattress until I can decide what to do with it. I can’t bring myself to destroy it, and I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.
I can’t think about this now. All I want to do is sleep. Forever.
— Sarah Curtis
I was just about to crawl into bed when I heard the call. Morgan. The instant the word sounded in my mind, I knew that it was Hunter. He was sending me a witch message. I reached for the lapis lazuli by my bed. Lying back, I focused my energies and placed the smooth stone on my forehead. At the next heartbeat I felt Hunter, as if he were within me.
We have Ciaran.
For a moment they were words without meaning. I had spent the last several hours worrying about Alisa, terrified that I’d somehow hurt her, so it took me a moment to remember that there were other terrors in my life. Then images came into my mind, images of my birth father being bound by the braigh, of him crying out in pain, and I knew that Hunter was telling me that Ciaran had been apprehended by the council.
A thousand emotions rained down on me—relief, first, but then anger, and pity, and fear. And other feelings that I couldn’t even identify. Ciaran’s dark magick frightened and revolted me, but he was my father—the closest blood relative I had ever known. And when I remembered what I knew of witches who had had their power stripped—David Redstone, who had suffered horribly, or even how awful I’d felt when my power was only reined—I felt a horrible dread in the pit of my stomach. My father, my evil father. Captured. And utterly changed.
He will be stripped of his magick soon, Hunter’s voice said in my mind. First, he must stand trial. But Morgan, apparently he had a few things in his possession that led the council to conclude that he definitely was targeting you for attacks.
I frowned. What things?
Hunter was slow to respond. The council won’t release all of the information, but they said that he had a strand of your hair in a small box in his breast pocket.
I sucked in my breath, wondering how Ciaran could have gotten a strand of my hair. But of course, it would have been easy. We spent plenty of time together. He could easily have found one of my hairs on his own jacket, for example.
They’ve also pulled in Lenore Ammett, Hunter went on. According to her own Book of Shadows, she doesn’t need proximity for telekinesis.
In a few moments I saw Erin’s familiar face and twinkling eyes. She was sitting in a room surrounded by candles. Her face was lit with a golden glow. I felt the delicate bones of her hands in mine, and I knew that she and Hunter were holding hands. They were ready to begin the circle.
I had to blink back tears. Although I had feared that Ciaran might have been behind the strange accidents all along, somehow finding out for certain didn’t fill me with relief; it filled me with sadness. I’d known he could be incredibly cruel, but a small part of me simply didn’t want to believe that he was capable of hurting me. He was my birth father, after all. My only living parent. To know that he had actually tried to harm me, even knowing I was his daughter, was almost incomprehensible. And I couldn’t understand why.
Can we have the circle without Sky and Alyce? I asked.
Sky has already left, Hunter replied, and Alyce is busy with the store. But it doesn’t require as much magick to release the spell as to put it in place.The three of us can do it.
All right, I said. But first I have to tell you something. I took a deep breath. Alisa is very sick. She’s in the hospital. Mary K. and I went to see her this afternoon, and she had some kind of crash. I’m worried. I didn’t tell him that I might have been responsible for what had happened. I simply couldn’t allow myself to think those thoughts.
That’s terrible, Hunter replied. I could feel his concern, then confusion as he added, Do you think we should send some healing spells her way?
No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Even though I felt certain that I hadn’t actually performed any magick that afternoon, that Alisa’s crash was just a coincidence, the idea of doing a spell for her was terrifying. What if we ended up hurting her? I couldn’t take the chance. Alisa quit the coven, I explained. I don’t know if she would want a spell done for her. And I wouldn’t want to do anything against her wishes.