The Coven by Cate Tiernan (Sweep book 2)

by Cate Tiernan

  "Aunt Eileen, do you know why Mom and Dad never told me I was adopted?" I just put it out there, and it was as if I had mentioned I had the bubonic plague.

  Everyone stared at me, except Mary K., who was staring at her plate miserably; and Paula, who was watching Aunt Eileen with a concerned expression.

  Aunt Eileen looked like she had swallowed a frog. Her eyes wide, she said, "What?” and shot quick glances at my mom and dad.

  "I mean, don't you think somebody should have told me? Maybe just mentioned it? You could have said something. Or maybe you just didn't think it was that important," I pressed on. Part of me knew I wasn't being fair. But somehow I couldn't stop myself. "No one else seems to. After all, it's just my life we're talking about"

  Mom said,"Morgan," in a defeated tone of voice.

  "Uh...," said Aunt Eileen, for once at a loss for words.

  Everyone was as embarrassed as I was, and the festive air had gone out of dinner.

  "Never mind," I said abruptly, standing up. "We can talk about it later. Why not? After sixteen years what's a few I days more?"

  "Morgan, I always felt your parents should be the ones to tell you—," Aunt Eileen said, sounding distressed.

  "Yeah, right," I said rudely. "When was that going to happen?"

  Mary K. gasped, and I pushed my chair back roughly. I couldn't stand being here one more second. I couldn't take their hypocrisy anymore. I would explode.

  This time I remembered to grab my jacket before I ran out to my car and peeled off into the darkness.

  9. Healing Light

  St. Patrick's Day, 1981

  Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I'm so drunk, I can hardly write. Ballynigel just put on a St Paddy's party to end all parties. All the townspeople, everyone, gathered together to have a good time in the village. Human or witch, we all agree on St. Paddy's Day, the wearing of the green.

  Pat O'Hearn dyed all his beer green, and it was sloshing into mugs, into pails, into shoes, anything. Old Jowson gave some to his donkey, and that donkey has never been so tame of good-natured! I laughed until I had to hold my sides in.

  The Irish Cowboys played their music all afternoon right in the town green, and we danced and pinched each other, and the kids were throwing cabbages and potatoes. We had a good day, and our dark time seems to be well and truly over.

  Now I'm home, and I lit three green candles to the Goddess for prosperity and happiness. There's a full moon tonight, so I have to sober up, dress warm, and go gather my luibh. The dock root down at the pond is ready for taking in, and there's early violets, dandelions, and cattails, too, ready. I can't drink any more beer until then, or they'll find me facedown in the marsh, too drunk to pick myself up! What a day!

  --Bradhadair

  As I drove it occurred to me that there was nowhere to go at eight o'clock on a Monday night in Widow's Vale, New York. I pictured myself showing up at Schweikhardt's soda shop, on Main Street, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I pictured myself showing up at Janice's the same way. No-Janice had no idea how complicated my life had gotten. Robbie? I considered for a second but shook my head. I hated going to his house, with his dad drinking beer in front of the TV and his mom ail tight-lipped and angry. And of course Bree didn't even enter Into it—God, what a bitch she'd been today.

  Cal? I turned and headed toward his neighborhood, feeling desperate and daring, brave and terrified. Was I being presumptuous by going to his house uninvited? There was so much going on in my mind: my birth parents' story, my other parents' refusal to tell me the truth about my past, Bree—it was all too much to think about I felt like I couldn't make any kind of decision about anything—even about whether it was okay for me to show up at Cal's house unannounced.

  By the time I pulled into the long, cobblestone driveway of Cal's big stone house, I felt completer/ incoherent. What was I doing? I just wanted to drive off into the night forever, far away from everyone I knew. Be a different person. I couldn't believe this was my life.

  I cut the lights and the engine and hunched over my steering wheel, literally, frozen with uncertainty. I couldn't even start the car again to get out of there.

  Who knows how long I huddled in the darkness outside Cal's home. I finally looked up when strong headlights flooded the interior of my car, reflecting off my rearview mirror and shining into my eyes. An expensive-looking SUV pulled around my car and parked neatly, close to the house. Its door opened, and a tall, slender woman stepped out her hair barely visible in the darkness. The house's outdoor floodlights came on, bathing the driveway in warm yellow light. The woman walked to my car.

  Feeling like an idiot, I rolled down my window as Selene Belltower approached. For long moments she gazed at my face, as if evaluating me. We neither smiled nor spoke to each other.

  Finally she said, "Why don't you come inside, Morgan? You must be chilled through. I'll make some cocoa." As if It was normal to find a girl in a car sitting in the dark outside her house.

  I got out of Das Boot and slammed the door. We walked up the broad stone steps together, Cal's mom and I, and through the massive wooden front door. She led me across the foyer, down a hall, into a huge French country-style kitchen I hadn't seen on my other visit here.

  “Sit down, Morgan,”she said, gesturing to a ail stool by the kitchen island.

  I sat, hoping Cal was here. I hadn't seen his car outside, but maybe it was in the garage.

  I cast my senses out, but I couldn't feel his presence close by. Selene Belltower's head snapped up as she poured milk into a pan. Her brows came together, and she looked at me assessingly.

  "You're very strong," she commented. "I didn't learn how to cast my senses until I was in my twenties. Cal isn't here, by the way.”

  “I'm sorry;'* I said awkwardly. I should go. I don't want to bother you....”

  “Your not bothering me,”she said. She spooned some cocoa powder into the milk and whisked it smooth on the cooktop across from me. "I've been curious. Cal has told me some very interesting things about you."

  Cal talked to his mother about me?

  She laughed, a warm, earthy laugh, when she saw the expression on my face. "Cal and I are pretty close,” she said "For a long time it's been just the two of us. His father left us when Cal was about four."

  I'm sorry," I said again* She was speaking to me as If I were an adult, and for some reason this made me feel younger than sixteen.

  Selene Belltower shrugged "I was sorry, too. Cal missed his father very much, but he lives in Europe now, and they don't see each other often. At any rate—you shouldn't be startled that my son confides in me. It would be silly for him to try to hide anything, after all."

  I breathed in, trying to relax. So this was life in a blood-witch household. No secrets.

  Cal's mother poured the cocoa into two brightly colored hand-painted mugs and handed one to me. It was too hot to drink, so I set it down and waited. Selene waved her hand over her mug twice, then took a sip.

  'Try this," she suggested, looking up at me. "Take your left hand and circle it widdershins over your mug. Say “Cool the fire.'" I did, wondering. I felt warmth go into my left hand. "Try the cocoa now," she said, watching me. I took a sip. It was noticeably cooler, perfect to drink. I grinned, delighted.

  "Left hand takes away," she explained. "Right hand gives. Deasil for increasing, widdershins for decreasing. And simple words are best"

  I nodded and drank my cocoa. This one small thing was so fascinating to me. The idea that I could speak words, make movements that cooled a hot drink to the right temperature!

  Selene smiled, and then her eyes focused on mine sympathetically. "You look like you've had a rough time."

  This was an understatement, but I nodded. "Has Cal told you about... anything?"

  She put her mug down. "He's told me you recently found out you were adopted," she said. "That your biological parents must be blood witches. And this afternoon he told me you thought you were probably the daughter of two Irish witches
who died here sixteen years ago."

  I nodded again. "Not exactly here—Meshomah Falls. About two hours away. I think my mothers name was Maeve Riordan."

  Selene's race became grave. "I've heard that story,” the I said. "I remember when it happened. I was forty years old; I Cal wasn't quite two. I remember thinking that such a I thing could never happen to me, my husband, our child.” I Her long fingers played with the rim of her mug. “I know better now." She looked up at me again. "I'm very sorry this has happened to you. It's always somewhat difficult to be different, even if you have a lot of support. One is still set apart. But I know you must be having an especially hard time."

  My throat felt like it was closing again, and I drank my cocoa. I didn't trust myself to agree. I distracted myself with pointless details: If she had been forty sixteen years ago, she would be about fifty-six now. She looked like she was about thirty-five.

  "If you want," said Selene, sounding hesitant, “I can help you feel better.”

  "What do you mean?" I asked. For a wild moment I wondered, Is she offering me drugs?

  "Well, I'm picking up waves of upset, discord, unhappiness, anger," she said. "We could make a small, two-person circle and try to get you to a better place."

  I caught my breath. I had only ever made a circle with Cal and our coven. What would it be like with someone who was even more powerful than he was? I found myself saying, "Yes, please, if you don't mind."

  Selene smiled, looking very much like Cal. "Come on, then.”

  The house was shaped like a U, with a middle part and two wings. She led me to the back of the left wing, through a very large room that I figured she must use for her coven's circles. She opened a door that set into the wall paneling, so you could barely see it I felt a thrill of pure, childlike delight Secret doors!

  We stepped into a much smaller, cozier room furnished only with a narrow table, some bookshelves, and candelabras on the walls. Selene lit the candles.

  "This is my private sanctuary," she said, brushing her fingers over the doorjamb. For a fleeting moment I saw sigils glimmering there. They must be for privacy or protection. But I had no idea how to read them. There was so much I needed to learn. I was a complete novice.

  Selene had already drawn a small circle on the wooden floor, using a reddish powder that gave off a strong, spicy scent She motioned me into the circle with her and then closed it behind us.

  "Let's sit down," she said. With us facing each other, sitting cross-legged on the floor, there was very little room inside the circle.

  We each sprinkled salt around our half of the circle, saying,"With this salt, I purify my circle."

  Then Selene closed her eyes and let her head droop, her hands on her knees as if doing yoga. "With every breath out, release a negative emotion. With every breath in, take in white light, healing light, soothing and calming light. Feel it enter your fingers, your toes, settle in your stomach, reach up through the crown of your head."

  As she spoke her voice became slower, deeper, more mesmerizing. My eyes were closed, my chin practically resting on my chest I breathed out forcing air completely out of my lungs. Then I breathed in, listening to her soothing words.

  "I release tension," she murmured, and I repeated it after her without hesitation.

  “I release fear and anger,”she said, her words floating to me on a sea of calm. I repeated it and literally felt the knots in my stomach begin to uncoil, the tightness in my arms and calves unravel.

  “I release uncertainty,”she said, and I followed her.

  We breathed deeply, silently for several minutes. My headache dissolved, my temples ceased throbbing, my chest expanded, and I could breath more easily.

  “I feel calm,”Selene said.

  “Me too,”I agreed dreamily. I sensed rather than saw her smile.

  “No, say it,”she prompted, humor in her voice/

  “Oh. I feel calm,”I said.

  “Open your eyes. Make this symbol with your right hand,”she prompted, drawing in the air with two fingers.

  I watched her, then carefully drew in the air one straight line down, then a small triangle attached to the top, like a little flag,

  "I feel at peace," she said, drawing the same rune on my forehead.

  "I feel at peace," I said, feeling her finger trace heat on my skin. The memory of what had happened to my birth Barents receded into the distance. I was aware of it, but it had less power to hurt me.

  "I am love. I am peace. I am strength."

  I said the words, feeling a delicious warmth flow over me.

  "I call on the strength of the Goddess and the God. I call on the power of the Earth Mother" said Selene, tracing another rune onto my forehead. This one felt like half of a lopsided rectangle, and as it sank into my skin I thought, Strength.

  Selene and I were joined. I could feel her strength inside my head, feel her smoothing every wrinkle in my emotions, searching out every knot of fear, every snarl of anger. She probed deeper and deeper, and languidly I let her. She soothed away the pain until I was almost in a trance.

  Ages later, I seemed to come awake again. Unbidden, I opened my eyes in time to see her raising her head and opening hers. I felt a little groggy and so much better, I couldn't help smiling. She smiled back.

  "All right now?" she said softly.

  "Oh, yes," I said, unable to put my feelings into words. "Here's one more for you," she said, and she traced two triangles, touching, onto the backs of my hands. "That's for new beginnings."

  “Thank you," I said, awed by her power. "I feel much better."

  "Good." We stood, and she dissolved the circle and blew out the candles mounted around the small room. As we passed through the larger coven's room I saw a reflection of Selene's face in a huge, gilt-frame wall mirror. She was smiling. Her face was bright, almost triumphant as she led the way back to the foyer. Then the image was gone, and I thought I must have imagined it.

  At the front door she patted my arm, and I thanked her again. Then I practically floated to my car, not feeling the slightest bit of November wind, November chill. I felt absolutely perfect all the way home. I didn't even wonder where Cal had been.

  10. Split

  August 14, 1981

  The coven over at Much Bencham has three new students, they tell us. We have none. Tara and Cliff were the last to join Belwicket as students, and that was three years ago. Until Lizzie Sims turns fourteen in four years, we have no one. Of course, at Much Bencham they take almost anyone who wants to study.

  I say we should do the same—if we could even convince anyone to join us. Belwicket chose its own path a long time ago, and it is not for everyone. But we must expand. If we stick to only blood-born, clan-born witches, we will surly die out. We must seem out others of our kind, mingle clans. But Ma and the elders have shot me down time and again. They want us to remain pure. They refuse to let outsiders in.

  Maybe some in Belwicket would rather die.

  --Bradhadair

  When I got home that night, my parents' light was already out, and if my car's rumbling engine woke them up, they didn't show it Mary K. had waited up for me, listening to music in her room. She looked up and took off her headphones when I poked my head in.

  "Hi," I said, feeling a deep love for her. After all, she'd always been my sister, if not by blood, then by circumstance. I regretted hurting her.

  "Where did you go?" she asked.

  "To Cal's. He wasn't there, but I talked to his mom."

  Mary K. paused. "It was awful after you left, I thought Mom was going to burst into tears. Everyone was really embarrassed."

  "I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "It's just that I can't believe Mom and Dad kept this to themselves my whole life. They lied to me." I shook my head. "Tonight I realized that Aunt Eileen, and our other relatives, and Mom and Dad's friends all know I'm adopted. I just felt so stupid for not knowing myself. I was just... furious that they never told me when all these other people know."

  "Y
eah, I hadn't thought of that," said Mary K., frowning slightly. "But you're right. They would all know." She looked at me." I didn't know. You believe that, don't you?"

  I nodded. "There's no way you'd be able to keep a secret like that" I smiled as Mary K. aimed her pillow at me.

  The blanket of peace, forgiveness, and love that Selene Belltower had wrapped around over me was still cocooning me in its comfortable embrace. "Look, it's going to be pretty awful for a while. Mom and Dad have to tell me about my past and how I was adopted. I can't stop till I know. But it doesn't mean I don't love you or them. We'll get through it somehow," I said.

  Uncertainty played across Mary K.'s pretty face. "Okay," she said, accepting my word.

  "I'm happy about Aunt Eileen and Paula." I said, changing the subject.

  "Me too. I didn't want Aunt Eileen to be alone anymore," said Mary K. "Do you think they'll have kids?"

  I laughed. "First things first. They need to live together for a while."

  "Yeah. Oh, well. I'm tired." Mary K. took off her headphones and dropped them on the floor.

  "Here, let me do this." Reaching over, I gentry traced the rune for comfort on her forehead, the way Selene had showed me. I felt the warmth leave my fingertips and stood back to see Mary K. looking at me unhappily.

  “Please don't do that to me,”she whispered. “I don't want to be part of it.”

  Stung, I blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, sure," I mumbled I turned and fled to my own room, feeling dismayed. Something that had given me joy was only upsetting to my sister. It was a pear sign of the differences between us, the growing space pat pushed her in one direction and me in another.

  That night I slept deeply, without dreams, and woke up feeling wonderful I put my hands together as if I could still see the sigil traced there: daeg. A new dawn. An awakening.

  "Morgan?" Mary K. called from the hallway. "Come on. School."

  I was already shoving my feet into my slippers. No doubt I was running late, as usual. I rushed through my shower, threw on some clothes, and pounded downstairs, my wet hair practically strangling me. In the kitchen I grabbed a breakfast bar, ready to dash out the door. Mary K. looked up calmly from her orange juice.