The Calling s-7

by Cate Tiernan

  “I–I’ll just look at these shelves under divination,” I said, suddenly shy and nervous.

  “Good idea.” The man smiled and went back to his book.

  I found the Dhualach and sat down cross-legged on the floor to look through it. There were chapters on scrying with water, fire, mirrors, and luegs, scrying stones or crystals. There was even a macabre chapter on throwing bones, snake vertebrae being very highly recommended. There was nothing, though—at least nothing I could see on a quick skim—that dealt with how to control the visions, how to fine-tune them so I could see exactly what I needed to see.

  The man from the courtyard glanced up from his book. “Not finding quite what you’re looking for?” he asked.

  I hesitated, aware that I had to be careful. Yet it didn’t feel like he was prying. It was more that he recognized me as another blood witch and sensed my power. It wasn’t the first time that had happened. David Redstone had recognized what I was the first time he saw me, even before I knew myself.

  I noticed that he was looking at me oddly, as if he’d suddenly remembered something but wasn’t sure whether or not he should mention it. Then he said, “You scry with fire.” It was an acknowledgment rather than a question.

  I nodded, and my nervousness dropped away. It was as if I’d just walked through a door into a room where we were acknowledged peers. Witch to witch. Strength to strength. Power conduit to power conduit.

  “The fire shows me things, but I feel like they’re often random. I don’t know how to make it show me what I’m looking for,” I admitted.

  “Fire has a will of her own,” he said. “Fire is ravenous, fighting control, always seeking her own pleasure. To tame her is a lifetime’s work, a matter of coaxing her to reveal what you want to know. I could show you, but”—he looked at the shelves around us and smiled—“a bookstore is hardly the place to play with fire.”

  “That’s all right,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

  The lines around his eyes crinkled. “Perhaps I can explain it through another medium. The principle’s the same.”

  He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a piece of clear, polished crystal, cut in the shape of a crescent moon. It wasn’t big, maybe three inches across, but its surface was faceted and etched with runes and magickal symbols.

  He held the crystal out to me, and I took it in my right hand. The crystal was surprisingly light, as if it belonged to a slightly altered gravity.

  “I assume you know that you must ask the medium to give you a vision and that you must be specific. If what you want is to see your kitten tomorrow, specify tomorrow.” I wondered how he knew I had a kitten. Then again, it wasn’t uncommon for witches to have cats. “In your mind’s eye picture that animal or person and send the image into the stone, asking it to accept it.” His voice was soft, almost hypnotic. “The key is you must then use your power to feel the energy in the crystal—or the fire—and send its light into the future, searching for what you seek. That’s really all there is to it.”

  “You make it sound simple,” I said.

  “Most things are, once they’re familiar. Why don’t you practice with the crystal first?” At the doubt in my eyes he said, “Hold on to the crystal if you like. I need to go downstairs and check a few books for my syllabus. Just leave the crystal by the chair when you’re done with it.”

  I sat there debating as he went down the stairs. I didn’t want to try anything complicated in the store, but maybe I could do something simple. I’d been worried about Mary K. ever since that awful night Selene kidnapped her, using her as the bait to get me. She didn’t seem to remember anything about being at Selene’s house—in fact, she seemed to have believed the cover story we gave my parents, which was that she had gone to the movies by herself because she was depressed. But lately she’d been having nightmares.

  I’d finally learned not to underestimate anything Selene did. Rational or not, there was a part of me that worried that though Selene was dead, her magick somehow still had a hold on my sister.

  Holding the crystal, I silently asked the stone to give me the vision I sought. I pictured my sister at home, sitting at the table, and asked the crystal to accept that image. I nearly dropped the stone as Mary K.’s image appeared inside it, tiny and perfect and three-dimensional. I watched her sitting at the table, then I asked the crystal to show her to me one week from now.

  A stone’s energy pattern is as distinct as any person’s or animal’s. The energy in this particular crystal was cool, glowing green-white, surging and swelling like a tide. For several breaths I let my energy ride its swells. Then I sent it surging into the future.

  The image in the crescent changed. I saw Mary K. and her friend Jaycee walking out of the Widow’s Vale Cineplex. The vision was so perfect and detailed, I could even see the missing X in the marquee.

  Then I felt something odd, almost like a cold draft on the back of my neck. I wheeled around in alarm. Was someone watching me? Even in a place frequented by other witches, I knew it wasn’t a good idea for me to work magick in public. But I could see no one else on the balcony, and when I extended my senses, I couldn’t feel anyone nearby.

  Focusing on the crystal again, I realized I was starting to feel tired, which was pretty common whenever I moved into a new level of magick. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to maintain the spell much longer, I thanked the stone for its help and withdrew my power from it. The glowing green-white light inside it faded, and the vision of Mary K. winked out.

  I’d done it. I’d called up a vision and seen exactly what I’d asked to see. This was the way magick was supposed to work.

  I stood up. Then, feeling light-headed, I sat down in the chair. I was vaguely aware that Bree must be wondering where I was. I told myself I’d just sit long enough for my pulse to return to normal. But a wave of exhaustion totaled me. My limbs felt heavy. My head began to nod. I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting closed.

  Everything shadowed. The owl hovering over the stone table. Razor-sharp talons and golden eyes. The jackal’s high-pitched laughter. Venom dripping from the viper’s fangs. The jaguar, claws unsheathed. Hunger that could never be sated. The weasel, crawling so close, its claws scrape the table. Candles burning low, casting shadows on the walls. Golden eyes, green eyes, glittering, intent. All of them fixed on the wolf cub. All of them waiting. The cub’s terror, sharp and pungent. The red ruby set in the hilt of the athame, glowing with power. The eagle’s scream. And the silver wolf. The one they all wait for. It leaps to the table and opens its great jaws. The cub howls.

  “Are you all right?” I felt someone gently shaking my shoulder.

  My eyes flew open. The man from the courtyard was standing over me, his eyes shadowed with concern.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I–I must have fallen asleep,” I said, feeling shaken and embarrassed. I was soaked with sweat. “I had a dream.”

  “What sort of dream?”

  “Just a bad one.” Even though I felt sick and disoriented, I knew I couldn’t risk saying more. Especially if the council was right about what the dream meant.

  “Dreams are funny,” the man said thoughtfully. “They have their own internal logic. They mix past and present and future and then some things that I believe belong to our collective unconscious. Things that may have nothing to do with you specifically.”

  “Maybe this wasn’t specific to me,” I agreed. After all, no one had ever explained why I was the one who had this dream, but the fact that I’d had it twice now unnerved me.

  I drew in several deep breaths, then got to my feet. So far, so good; walking seemed possible. I glanced at my watch. It was after one. “I’d better find my friend,” I said. “Thanks for all your help.”

  “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes.”

  As I started to walk away, he touched me lightly on my arm. “I’m sorry. I haven’t even had the manners to ask. What’s your name?�
��

  “Morgan,” I answered without thinking.

  He held out his hand to me. “Well, Morgan, may your magick always bring you joy.”

  I found Bree on the first floor, holding a tarot deck in a bag. “I was going to send out a search party for you,” she said. “We’re supposed to meet everyone for lunch in forty-five minutes, remember?”

  I bought the book on scrying, and we left the store and headed for the subway station on Spring Street. It was only later, as we emerged from the subway on the Upper West Side, that I thought about the fact that I’d given the man my name. Had I committed some sort of breach of security?

  No, I decided. After all, I’d only given him my first name. But I wished I’d thought to ask what his name was.

  6. Healing

  August 19, 1981

  Maeve and I have pledged our souls to each other. We left the village just after dark and went out beneath the cliffs. She and I share an affinity for fire, so it was child’s play to kindle a raging bonfire with our minds—the concrete expression of the all-consuming nature of our love. Dancing and licking at the night like an animal, it was a thing of beauty, red and yellow and orange, with a dazzling white-blue heat at its heart. I am so happy, I am nearly delirious. At last I am fully alive.

  I even gave her the watch that Da gave to Ma, the one I’ve carried with me all these years. Funny that I never thought to give it to Grania. But then, I never loved Grania.

  There is only one thing more to do. I haven’t yet made love to Maeve, though Goddess knows, I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything on this earth. But I want no lies between us, so first I must tell her about Grania and the children. It will be difficult. But our love will get us through. I have no fear. Nothing can quench our fire.

  — Neimhidh

  Murray’s was a crowded deli on Columbus Avenue, sandwiched between a shop selling computer accessories and a flower stand. The spicy smells of corned beef, pastrami, and sauerkraut suddenly made me realize that I was starving.

  Bree and I made our way over to the small, square table where Raven and Robbie sat. Seconds after we pulled up chairs a waitress dropped four huge menus on the table.

  “No Sky or Hunter,” Raven announced.

  “They never showed up at the apartment?” I asked her, starting to worry all over again. I knew Hunter and Sky could take care of themselves, but having the dream a second time had left me with a feeling of dread. Was he just late now, or was he not going to show at all?

  “No,” Raven answered, “but I recorded a message for them on Bree’s dad’s answering machine, telling them to get their witchy butts up here.”

  Bree looked both amused and horrified. “Great. I’m just imagining one of my father’s clients calling and getting that message.”

  The waitress returned. “What’ll you have?” she asked.

  “Uh—we’re waiting for friends,” Robbie said. “Could you come back in ten minutes?”

  She gestured at the line that had formed near the door. “I got people waiting for tables,” she told us. “Either you’re ready to order or you should let someone else sit down.”

  “Let’s just order,” Bree decided.

  So we ordered corned beef and pastrami sandwiches and sodas. Raven got a Reuben. The food came immediately, and I’d eaten half my sandwich when I felt Hunter and Sky nearby. I turned around to see them walking through the door.

  Hunter was wearing his leather jacket and a bottle-green scarf. His cheeks were red from the cold. “Sorry we’re late,” he said as they reached the table.

  Raven rolled her eyes. “Nice of you to show up.”

  Robbie, ever the gentleman, managed to round up two more chairs and bring them over to the table. Sky sat down next to Raven.

  “Are you hungry?” I offered Hunter the uneaten half of my sandwich.

  “No. Thanks,” he said, sounding distracted. He didn’t take the chair Robbie had brought for him. Instead, he knelt by my side. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said in a low voice. “How about if you wrap up your sandwich and we take a walk?”

  “I’m full,” I said. I was glad of the chance to talk—I wanted to tell him about having the dream again.

  I left money for the check and made arrangements to meet the others back at Murray’s in half an hour. Then Hunter and I set off. By unspoken agreement we headed toward Central Park, stopping only to buy two takeout coffees, defense against the cold.

  We walked down a side street lined with gracious brownstones, past the Dakota, where John Lennon had lived, and finally stopped to sit on a low wall overlooking Strawberry Fields, Lennon’s memorial. Because it was so cold, there weren’t many visitors to the teardrop-shaped garden that day. But on the circular mosaic imprinted with the wordImagine someone had left a bouquet of white and yellow daisies.

  “Did you know that Strawberry Field was actually the name of an orphanage next door to John Lennon’s boyhood home?” Hunter asked. “His aunt, who raised him, used to threaten to send him there whenever he misbehaved.”

  “I’ll have to remember that tidbit for my dad,” I said. “He’s still a big fan.”

  “My parents had all the Beatles’ albums,” Hunter remembered. “My mum used to play the second side ofAbbey Road on Sunday mornings. ‘Here Comes the Sun.’” He hummed the tune softly for a moment. “Goddess, it’s been ages since I thought about that.” He shook his head as though trying to shake off the pain of memory.

  “At least you know they’re alive now,” I said, trying to sound positive. The dark wave had demolished Hunter’s parents’ coven when he was only eight, and his mother and father had been in hiding ever since. For years he hadn’t even known for sure whether they were dead or alive. Right before Yule, Hunter’s father had actually contacted him through his lueg. But the dark wave had overwhelmed the vision, cutting it off before Hunter heard what his father was trying to tell him. Since then we hadn’t dared try to contact them again, for fear that it would lead the darkness to them.

  “I know they were alive three weeks ago,” Hunter corrected, his voice tight. “Or at least Dad was. But anything could have happened since then, and I wouldn’t know. That’s what kills me—not knowing.”

  Aching for him, I put my arms around his waist. For the most part Hunter kept his grief for his family hidden well below the surface, but every so often it would well up and I’d see how it always was with him. How part of him would never rest until he knew for certain what had happened to his parents.

  I felt a gentle glow of white light in the center of my chest. One of Alyce’s healing spells was opening to me. “Will you let me try something?” I asked.

  Hunter nodded. I unzipped his jacket halfway. I took off my glove, undid one button of his shirt, and slid my already cold hand against his smooth, warm skin. He flinched, then I felt him opening himself to the white light that was flowing through me.

  I began a whispered chant. “‘The heart that loves must one day grieve. Love and grief are the Goddess’s twined gifts. Let the pain in, let it open your heart to compassion. Let me help you bear your grief….’”

  I couldn’t continue. Suddenly I knew exactly what it would feel like to have my parents and Mary K. ripped from me. It was beyond excruciating. It was more than could be borne. I cried out in grief though I managed to keep my hand on Hunter’s chest, managed to keep the healing light flowing.

  “Shhh,” Hunter said. “You don’t have to do any more.”

  “No,” I whispered. “I have to finish the spell. ‘Then may your heart ease and open to greater love. May the love that flows eternally through the universe embrace and comfort you.’”

  Gradually I felt the white light diffusing and, with it, Hunter’s pain. My eyes met his. There was something different in them, a new clarity. I felt something that had bound him dissolving. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Courtesy of Alyce,” I told him shakily. “I didn’t realize quite how much it hurt. I’m s
orry.”

  He kissed my forehead and pulled me against him. When I’d stopped trembling, he said, “Would you like to know why we’re sitting here freezing our bums off instead of eating lunch?”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that,” he said. “First, I’m sorry for not answering your messages. It took us a while to find our contact, and then when we finally tracked him down, he was absolutely terrified. He led us through a maze of elaborate safety precautions. If I’d answered you and he’d noticed, he might have thought I was betraying him.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I was just worried about you. Did this guy have any information?”

  “Yes,” Hunter said, “he did.”

  He paused. The sun, which hadn’t been strong that morning, disappeared behind a band of thick, white clouds.

  “So?” I prompted after a moment.

  Hunter’s green eyes looked troubled. “I found out who the leader of the New York Amyranth cell is. Apparently the members of the coven wear masks that represent their animal counterparts when they need to draw on the power of that animal. Their leader wears the wolf’s mask. My contact didn’t know them all, but he confirmed that there are also coven members who wear the masks of an owl, a viper, a cougar, a jaguar, and a weasel.”

  “So my dream—”

  “Was of the New York cell of Amyranth,” Hunter finished. “Yes.”

  I shuddered. “Hunter, I had the dream again,” I told him. “It was just about an hour ago, while I was in an occult bookstore down in SoHo.”

  “Goddess!” Hunter looked alarmed. “Why didn’t you contact me?” Before I could answer, he let out an exclamation of annoyance. “Stupid question. I wasn’t answering your messages. Morgan, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I mean, it was scary, but this time I knew what it was. I’m not sure why I had it again, though.”