by Cate Tiernan
From the form of the spell I could tell that Patrice was still working the limitations. From the form of the limitations it was clear that this spell was designed to sap Robin's life energy in a very strong way-such a strong way that I doubted whether Robin would survive. Maybe an incredibly strong witch might, but not Robin.
I took fifteen seconds to settle on a plan and picked an old favorite: the element of surprise. With no warning I burst through the bush, racing toward Patrice, the braigh in my hand. She whirled, stunned, but instantly threw a ball of blue witchfire at me. I swerved and it only glanced off my arm, causing a stinging, tingly feeling like an electric shock. Then she turned and took off through the woods, moving surprisingly quickly. But I was taller, faster, and more ruthless. As I gained on her, she threw another spell at me, but she simply wasn't strong enough to stop me. Within seconds I had tackled her, pinned her to the ground with my knee on her chest, and had her wrists bound in the braigh. There had been times when just achieving this much against a dark witch had been a life-or-death battle. Catching Patrice had been comparatively easy.
Patrice's face was rigid with fear and astonishment, her dark blue eyes wild, the irises surrounded by white. With interest I noted that the braigh wasn't actually burning her wrists-a good sign. The more corrupt your soul is, the more the spelled braigh hurts.
"Seeker?" she whispered, trying to suck in breath.
"Not exactly," I answered, pulling her to a standing position with me. She collapsed instantly, falling against me, and I brought her up sharply, wary of tricks. But she was bent double with sobs, holding her linked wrists in front of her face.
"Oh, Goddess, I'm so sorry! Take me to Robin. Is she all right? Make sure Robin's okay!" Huge, gulping sobs shook her body, and I had to help her back to the clearing.
When we got there, Patrice stumbled toward Robin. She sank to her knees and held her bound wrists out to me. "Just undo this for a minute while I take the binding spell off Robin. Please!"
I narrowed my eyes at her, thinking. Then I knelt and said the spell that opened the lock on the braigh. The silver chain dropped into my hand, and Patrice instantly took one of Robin's hands and gasped out a spell I recognized. Robin blinked and moaned, starting to shift. Patrice reached out to help her, then realized how incongruous and unwelcome that would be. She drew back and like a child crawled toward me and held out her hands. I put the braigh back on her, and she sank down on her side, giving over to racking wails that filled the air with remorse.
I knelt by Robin and saw that she was coming around. I spoke to her softly, explaining what was happening and checking her pupils, her pulse, her breathing. She seemed more or less her usual self, though she was upset and trying not to weep. She looked past me at Patrice, and her face contorted with shared pain. Then, unbelievably, she rose and went over to Patrice and patted her shoulder. Patrice was ashamed and put her fists in front of her face, hiding her face in the ground.
It was a while before Patrice's grief subsided enough so that she was relatively coherent. I sat about ten feet away, leaning against a tree, not interfering. If I were a Seeker, I would be doing all sorts of things. But now I had the freedom to let things be, at least for a while.
Eventually Patrice blinked and looked around at Robin.
"Oh, Robin!" she said, fresh tears flowing. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," Robin said.
"There's no excuse for what I've done," Patrice said. She lay on her side, curled up in a ball, staring straight ahead. "I deserve to have my powers stripped." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against that new pain. "What is all this about?" Robin asked more firmly than I'd heard her speak before.
"It's Joshua," Patrice said, trying not to cry. "He's not getting better. I feel like we're losing the battle. I've tried everything I can think of, but I'm just not strong enough. I couldn't think of what to do. Then one night after a circle I felt so energized, so powerful. I went home and transferred some of my power to him. It all went on from there." She shook her head in disgust at her actions. "I've betrayed you, the coven- everything I believe in and have worked for. I betrayed Joshua-how could I have done this to him? Made him a party to my crimes? Oh, Goddess!" Once more she began crying, until it seemed there would be nothing left inside her.
"Is Joshua better after you transfer power to him?" Robin asked.
"Yes, for a bit. But it doesn't last long. He's losing weight again, he's covered with an awful rash that makes him miserable, he's all puffed up from the steroids-I don't know what to do. I've always been able to solve problems, but I can't solve this." Patrice sniffled and rubbed one wrist against her nose, then looked up at me. "How did you know?"
"Your friends were concerned about you," I said. "I followed you tonight, after the circle."
Patrice nodded, ashamed. "Things were going on, getting worse and worse. I hated myself, but I couldn't stop. The only thing that mattered was that I somehow make Joshua better. But thank the Goddess you stopped me before I went any further."
Robin seemed subdued but not at all angry or withdrawn-more tired. "You've saved me from myself, you've saved yourself and the rest of the coven from me, you've saved Joshua from having a complete monster for a mother." Patrice seemed exhausted and resigned and full of remorse. But relieved. It was over. "I don't know what will happen to me now."
Slowly she got up, with her and Robin supporting each other. Robin seemed a bit more wobbly, and I offered her my arm.
"You should go home," Robin told Patrice. Without Celia here, Robin seemed to be taking a more active role. She seemed less flighty somehow, stronger, more authoritative. "Can you take the braigh off her, please?"
I hesitated. "Is that a good idea?"
The two women stared at me in astonishment.
"What do you mean?" asked Robin.
I shrugged uncomfortably. "Patrice seems to regret what she's done. I believe she's truly sorry. But what she was doing-or was about to do-wasn't shoplifting sweets. What would have happened if I hadn't followed you? Would I be looking for your body?"
"That spell wouldn't have killed Robin!" Patrice said, horrified.
"It probably would have," I said with quiet assurance. "It probably would have killed any witch who wasn't very strong. And Robin's energy had already been sapped-by you. At the very least you weren't doing her any good, were you?"
Patrice stared at Robin, mouth agape, as if realizing anew her colossal error. The idea that this spell might have actually taken Robin's life stunned her, and she wobbled on her feet, looking dazed.
"What are you proposing?" Robin asked, keeping an arm around Patrice to support her. "I don't know, exactly," I said. "If I were a Seeker, I would turn her in to the council, and she would most likely have her powers stripped. As it is, I'm reluctant to do that. But I'm also reluctant to let Patrice go her merry way."
"We all need time to think," said Robin. "Let's just go home and think, and then we can try to decide what's best."
"What if Patrice runs off?" I didn't want to be hostile, but these two weren't facing the hard realities of the situation.
She looked at me, startled. "I can't leave. Joshua isn't strong enough to be moved-and I could never leave him."
My instincts told me she was telling the truth. I took off the silver braigh, and though she rubbed her wrists, her skin wasn't seared or red. "Are you all right to drive?"
She nodded, pale and wide-eyed.
"Right, then. I'll take Robin home. Everyone stay put and take it easy until we arrange to meet again."
Then the three of us picked our way back through the night-dark woods until we hit the trail again. We were each quiet and thoughtful as we got to the parking lot. Patrice climbed into her car, and Robin and I got in mine. And so ended Patrice's reign of power.
13. Morgan
When I got home from Practical Magick Thursday afternoon, I found Aunt Eileen and Paula in the living room.
"Hi!" I said,
giving them hugs. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."
"Morgan, is that you?" Mom called, pushing through the kitchen's swinging door into the dining room. "Will you set the table?"
Wanting to visit more with my favorite aunt and her girlfriend, I glanced hopefully at Mary K. across the room.
"No way, Jose," she said firmly. "I already made the salad and pulled all the stringy things off the corn. I've been here since four."
Okay, she had a point. I got up and went to the kitchen to get silverware. A witch's work is never done.
"So I thought the family room was completely finished," said Paula as we were sitting down. "We'd been working on it after work every day for a week. It looked so great. I folded up the last drop cloth-" "Must you tell this story?" Aunt Eileen said plaintively, but I could tell they were just teasing each other.
"Washed the brushes, hammered on the paint can lid," Paula went on, pulling her chair in next to mine. "We stand back, we look, the whole room is a soft, buttery yellow-"
"It was perfectly fine the way it was," Eileen put in.
"But when I went to hook the cable thing back up, I saw that the whole wall behind the entertainment cupboard hadn't been touched!"
"Lots of people wouldn't bother painting behind a huge, heavy piece of furniture," Eileen defended herself.
"The whole wall," Paula said, taking an ear of corn and passing the rest to me.
"I couldn't move that thing by myself," said Eileen, but we were all laughing at this point, and she looked sheepish. Paula winked at her across the table, and they both smiled like honeymooners.
"Why does this story not surprise me?" Mom asked, giving her younger sister a look. We all laughed more-it was fun to see adults still acting like real sisters. Mary K„on my other side, pointed her fork at me, like this was the kind of thing I would do. I gave her a big, fake smile.
"I was wondering if you'd heard from the agency," Mom said. "I remember you contacted them last week."
Aunt Eileen and Paula had been thinking about adopting a child.
Eileen nodded. "They sent us a huge packet of information."
"It was terrifying," Paula said. She speared a piece of chicken on her plate and ate it.
"We still just don't know, is what it comes down to," said my aunt. "The idea of adopting a child in need is really compelling-a friend of mine at work recently adopted a baby girl from China. And one of our neighbors brought back a baby from Romania."
"But each of us had always assumed we'd have a baby of our own someday," Paula said. "There are just so many things to think about, issues to consider. Everything we think about seems to carry so much weight."
"We just have to keep gathering information," Eileen added. "I think the more we learn, the clearer our decision will become."
"Have one of each," said Mary K„talking through a mouthful of chicken. We all turned to look at her. She swallowed and nodded, her shiny russet hair swinging gently around her shoulders. "One of you has a baby, and then you also adopt a baby. Tons of people have two children. Isn't the average in America like 2.1 or something?"
Paula and Eileen stared at my sister as if she were a talking dog.
"We never thought of that," said Eileen, and Mary K. shrugged.
"Two children. It just never occurred to me," said Paula in bemusement. "I've been so wrapped up in trying to figure out how to have one."
"She has a point," said my mom. "If you started having your own baby now and put in the adoption papers, then two or three years from now, when the adoption comes through, they'll be the right age apart."
Just like Mary K and me.
"I've been offered a scholarship to study in Scotland this summer." As soon as the words were spilling out of my mouth, my brain was already screaming for a shutdown. What had possessed me to blurt this out now? Five heads swiveled to look at me, five pairs of eyes opened in surprise. Morgan, shut up, I told myself, aeons too late.
"What?" Mom asked. "You haven't mentioned this. What scholarship?"
"I just heard about it today," I said, threatening myself with all kinds of revenge for being so stupid. "I didn't even know it existed," I added truthfully.
"What is this scholarship?" my dad asked. "Why is it in Scotland? How did you find out about it? Is it for math?"
"Um, Eoife McNabb called me today," I mumbled. I started pushing my peas around on my plate with my fork. "I don't know if you ever met her. But she's a… teacher. And she got me a full scholarship to go to a really exclusive, impossible-to- get-into college. I'm the only American they've ever accepted."
"Congratulations, Morgan!" said Aunt Eileen. "That's marvelous! This is really impressive!"
"Goodness, Morgan," said my mother. "I don't think I've heard you mention Eva McNabb. Is she one of the teachers at school?"
"Not exactly," I said, looking at my plate. "Um, the course is for eight weeks. I have to pay my airfare, but everything else is taken care of. It's a huge honor."
"Is this through the math department?" Dad asked again.
"Not exactly," I repeated in a small voice. There were several moments of silence.
"What is this a scholarship for, Morgan?" asked my mom in a calm, don't-give-me-any-crap voice. Witchcraft? Magick? "Um, healing? Herbal medicine?" I said.
"You have a scholarship to go to Scotland to study herbs?" Mary K. asked in disbelief.
I looked down at my plate. "It's a famous place of learning," I tossed out into the deafening silence at the table. "Only the most learned and powerful… teachers are there. I'm the youngest person they've ever considered, and the only American. It's considered a huge honor-the chance of a lifetime. Tons of people would be ecstatic to be offered this opportunity."
I saw Eileen and Paula glance at each other-gee, they wished they'd stayed home tonight. Mary K. was looking fixedly at her plate. I could tell she wasn't thrilled about this idea. I didn't even want to look at Mom or Dad.
"It would be an education just to go to Europe," I said, starting to use my desperation tactics, none of which I'd thought through yet because I'd been certain I was going to wait until the right moment to bring this up. "I'd be in northern Scotland-surrounded by tons of history. Historical monuments. And then England and Ireland are just train rides away. Just visiting those would practically count for a world history credit. Think of the cities-Edinburgh, London, Dublin. Castles, gardens, moats." Okay, I was really stretching here. "And I would be working, working, working, not getting into trouble or being bored, or-"
When I finally glanced up, I saw my mom and dad looking at each other. I felt a familiar pang of guilt-I was their fish out of water, the egg some cowbird had left in their nest. When they had adopted me, seventeen years ago, nothing could have prepared them for this last year, as I was suddenly revealed as something they distrusted and feared: a witch by blood. There was no way they would let me go, to further my study of Wicca, pushing myself one step closer to being an educated, accomplished witch. They were probably still fruitlessly hoping that something would happen to me and that I would somehow turn back into a Rowlands — go to MIT for math, get a nice engineering job or maybe teach. Get married. Have nonwitch grandchildren. Look back on my witch period the way they looked back on their flower- child years.
It wasn't going to happen.
"We need to discuss it," my mom said, her lips somewhat tight. I almost fell out of my chair. What? It wasn't an outright no!
"Yes," Dad said, swallowing. "There's a lot to think about. We need much more information before we can even make a decision. Is there some kind of brochure or something for this place?"
I was so stunned, I felt like I'd just been hit on the head with a golf ball. "Uh, I don't know," I stammered. "I can ask Eoife. She can give you more information."
Mary K.'s large brown eyes were opened wide.
"I'll do anything you say," I put in, trying not to sound pathetic and desperate.
"Well, your grades have been acceptable lately
," Mom said, not looking happy. She stabbed her fork into her salad, and I felt I could have heard the crunching from three blocks away.
"There haven't been any recent… incidents," my dad said, his mouth in a tight line.
I looked down. There was a lot they didn't know about. But it hadn't been my fault. Most of it. When I looked back up, Aunt Eileen and Paula were gazing at me solemnly. It occurred to me that I had no idea what they thought about my involvement with Wicca. I was sure Mom had told Eileen about some of it at least. They were really close, despite the difference in their ages and the different paths their lives had taken.
"We realize that you feel that… Wicca is somehow important to you," Mom said. "While it's true we're not very happy about it, we also know that not everyone can live the same life."
"If you let me do this, I will never ask for anything again," I swore.
Mom looked at me for the first time, a smile quirking her mouth. "You said that when you wanted Rollerblades. And now look at you. Still asking for things."
That broke the tension a little bit. Mom and Dad looked at each other again.
"At any rate, we'll discuss it," said Dad, pouring himself another glass of wine. "We're not promising anything. We're only agreeing to think about it."
"Thank so much," I breathed. "That means so much to me."
"Excuse me," said Mary K. "Who's going to give me rides to the beach this summer?" Her eyebrows raised as she looked at me pointedly.
"Um. Alisa's dad?" I suggested. "The church youth group?"
"Whatever," Mary K. said with a big sigh, but I felt it was her way of letting me know this somehow wouldn't kill her.
I looked back down at my plate, suddenly starving. This was amazing. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I had put a spell on my whole family.
"Oh, my goodness," Mom said, looking up with surprise. "We never said grace tonight." "No, you're right," Dad agreed, thinking back.
