Strife Read online

  I exhaled with relief. “That’s great news,” I said. “Why don’t you guys wait outside while I take the X-ray?” she suggested. “If we do have to put a cast on, we may have to sedate him. It could take a little while.” I threw myself into one of the large, comfortable chairs in the waiting room while Mary K. went outside to the pay phone to let our parents know where we were. I was glad we had come here. I

  didn’t know where the receptionist was, but she was no longer behind her desk. I was alone in the waiting room as the sky outside grew from pink to dusky gray and the shadows disappeared. What had happened today? I dug a hand into my pocket, remembering the feeling of the door slamming into my back, the fear as I left the ground, Alisa’s screams. Thank the Goddess that Erin was there, I thought. She saw everything. She knows I couldn’t have levitated myself. Especially not with my power restrained the way it is. But then, who did it?

  There was a sudden blast of cold air as Mary K. stepped back into the clinic. “I finally reached Mom,” she reported. “She said she hopes Dagda’s okay and she’s glad we thought to go to Paula.”

  “Thanks, Mary K.,” I said.

  “I called Alisa, too,” Mary K. said, sliding into the seat next to mine. “But her dad said she’s too sick to come to the phone.” Mary K.’s voice told me that she wasn’t exactly sure this story was true. She looked at me sideways. “What happened in there?” she asked. “Why did she run out of our house?”

  I sighed. “I’m really not sure.” It was the truth. “I’m not sure why she came bursting into my room in the first place.”

  Mary K. shrugged. “She wasn’t feeling great. Maybe she just got confused which door was which.”

  I thought about Alisa’s face, distorted in fear. “She doesn’t like me.” “She doesn’t know you,” Mary K. replied. After a moment she added, “And you don’t know her.”

  Something in her tone of voice made me look at her. “What do you mean?” I asked. Mary K. sighed. “It’s just—Alisa’s going through some pretty rough family things right now. She’s not . . . not at her best.”

  I sank back into the chair, wondering what was going on with Alisa. But Mary K. clearly didn’t want to tell me, and I didn’t want to press her for details. Suddenly I felt guilty for not reaching out to Alisa more. It was obvious that she was troubled and that probably the animosity she felt toward me didn’t really have anything to do with me. Still, at least she had a friend like Mary K. Someone who didn’t give up secrets easily. Someone who cared. I gave my sister a sideways look, loving her. I really hoped we could get past the trouble we were having now.

  Paula came out with Dagda in her arms. He was wearing a small cast on his foreleg, which stuck out awkwardly from the rest of his limbs. “Here you go,” Paula singsonged. “Good as new—or almost. He’s a little out of it from the sedation, but that’ll wear off by morning.” I rushed over, and Paula handed Dagda to me. He stirred in my arms, and Mary K. scratched him behind the ears. “Thank you so much, Paula,” I said. Dagda’s breathing was perfectly normal, and he didn’t seem to be in any pain. And thank you, Erin, I added silently. “It’s just a fracture. You’ll need to come back in two weeks so we can check on his progress,” Paula said. “But I think we’ll be able to take the cast off then.” We said good-bye, and I handed Dagda to Mary K. so I could drive. On the way home Mary K. asked, “Who was that woman who was at the house today? She was the same one you were at the library with, right?”

  I winced. I should have seen this question coming. “She’s a tutor.” “And a witch, right?” Mary K. asked.

  “Anyone who has been initiated into a coven is a witch,” I replied, figuring that a half-truth is

  better than no truth at all.

  Mary K. stroked Dagda. “So—why are you hanging out with her?” Her voice held a distinct note of unease.

  “She’s teaching me.”

  “Like, how to put hexes on people and stuff?” Mary K. asked. “No,” I said curtly. Hadn’t she learned anything about Wicca from being around me? “Of course not. She’s teaching me about the history of Wicca and about herbs.” Mary K. looked dubious. “Herbs?”

  “Herbs have a lot of medicinal properties. Some can speed recovery. I mean, there might even be something I could feed Dagda that would make him get better sooner.” “Really?” She sounded intrigued. “I wonder if she could help Alisa. She’s been sort of worn out lately.”

  “Do you want me to ask Erin about it?” I suggested. “No,” Mary K. said quickly. “No, don’t.” I didn’t press her. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as she rubbed Dagda’s belly and he purred sleepily. She had been there when Erin healed Dagda—but how much had she actually understood? I was afraid to find out.

  When we got home, Mary K. handed Dagda over to me, and I took him upstairs and settled him comfortably on my bed. He instantly dozed off once I put him down. “How is he?”

  I turned around and saw my mom standing in my doorway. “He’s fine,” I said, giving Dagda a small pat. Mom came over and gave him a gentle rub on the head. “Paula says the cast can come off in two weeks.”

  “That’s good news.” My mom’s eyes lingered on Dagda a moment, then she turned to me. “Come downstairs, Morgan. Your father and I want to talk to you.” I felt my throat tighten, but I followed her downstairs to where my father was sitting on the couch with his serious face on. My mom sat down beside him. I took the armchair across from them—The Accused.

  “Morgan, Mary K. told us that you had a visitor today,” my mom began. “And that you were with a friend in the library yesterday.” My body went cold. I tried to read my mother’s face— did she know that Erin was a witch? I didn’t think so.

  “You weren’t supposed to have any visitors,” my mom went on. “You knew the rules, and you broke them.”

  I wanted to protest, but I knew that would only make things worse. I clamped my lips together and sat on my hands.

  “Morgan, your father and I have talked about this a great deal. We want you to be in a supportive environment. We don’t want you to throw your future away. You need guidance and a firm hand and—”

  Fear gnawed at my stomach like a hungry rat. No. This couldn’t be. “What are you saying?” I asked.

  “What your mother is saying,” my dad put in, “is that we think it would be best if you went to Saint Anne’s starting at the beginning of next quarter.” Oh, no, no, no! My stomach fell. “What?” I cried. My mother’s nostrils flared. “Look, we’ve given you a number of chances to show us that you’re

  turning your grades around, and you’ve disobeyed us at every step. This started long ago—back

  when we asked you not to read Wiccan books—” “So that’s it,” I broke in, stunned. “You’re sending me to a Catholic school to try to convert me!” “What?” My mom looked shocked.

  “Morgan, don’t be ridiculous,” my father said. “We just want what’s best for you.” “And what’s best for me is Catholicism and not Wicca, right?” I shot back. “I can’t possibly have both in my life.”

  “You were raised with Catholic values,” my mom said hotly. “Those areourvalues.” I stood up and faced them. “Look, I can’t help being a witch,” I said. My voice shook. “Wicca is in my blood. I couldn’t change it even if I wanted to. But that’s the point— Idon’twant to. I respect your beliefs. Why can’t you live with mine?” The minute the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to call them back. My father’s face went white, and my heart ached, but it was too late. My parents sat on the couch, stone-faced and silent. It was so quiet that I could hear the seconds ticking by on my watch. Then my mom stood up. “Morgan, we’ve made this decision already. We want to put you in a positive environment— and we found one that seemed to offer the kind of academic support and discipline we think you need. We want you to value school and excel in it as you have in the past. I’m sorry if that offends you, but it’s something else you’re going to have to live with.” She turned and walked out of the room.r />
  My father stood and faced me. “We love you,” he said in a quiet voice. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, and I saw in his eyes that my father was afraid— afraid for me.

  We looked at each other a moment, then he turned and followed my mom. “I love you, too,” I said softly to the empty room. Connection

  It was a dismal morning—gray and chilly—and I kept my head down and my shoulders hunched as I strode toward the quiet school building. The bell had rung ten minutes ago. Mary K. had always made sure that I was up by seven-thirty, but now that she was barely speaking to me, I didn’t have any more wake-up insurance. Today I was late beyond all redemption, thanks to the fact that I’d overslept by forty-five minutes. I was still feeling headachy and ill, and the weather made me feel even worse. The absence of my magick was so overpowering that it was almost like a presence. I couldn’t wait to get inside the warm school and distract myself with academics for a while. Or maybe I could catch a few winks in English class. Since I’d be attending Saint Anne’s soon, I could afford to catch a nap here and there while I could. Morgan.

  I spun around. Who’s calling me? I thought. But of course, my magick was still reined. Apparently I could still receive a witch message—I just couldn’t send one. I turned back and scanned the front of the building.

  At first I didn’t see him. I had to look very closely before I noticed Hunter standing beside the large oak tree that grew to the far right of the building. “How are you?” he asked as I walked up to him. His navy blue cap was pulled down over his hair, and the wind had made his cheeks pink. “You look tired.”

  “I’m okay,” I said. “Listen, Hunter, I know I said I’d call you the other day—” “Morgan, it’s fine,” he interrupted me. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to send a witch message, and Erin explained that you were grounded. She told me a few other things, too.” Hunter reached out and pulled me into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” he whispered into my hair. I relaxed against his chest, loving the warmth of his touch. I felt him kiss the top of my head, making my scalp tingle, and then pull me tighter. It’ll be all right, I thought. Even if I get sent to Saint Anne’s, I’ll still have Hunter.

  After another moment he pulled away. “There’s been some news,” he said. I felt my stomach tighten. “Your father?” I breathed. Hunter smiled wryly. “No,” he said. “Yours. Apparently Ciaran has been very active since his arrival in Madrid. That sigil you placed on him shows that he’s visited a few of the top people on the council’s watch list. Of course, there isn’t any concrete proof—yet—that he has been the one behind the attacks against you. But one of the people he visited is Lenore Ammett, a witch known to have very strong telekinetic powers, who is suspected of abusing them.” He paused, watching as the meaning of his words sank in. He nodded slightly and went on. “If she’s helping him, he may have found a way to get around the proximity problem. Based on what we know, Ciaran looks to be the guilty party. Erin thinks so. The council thinks so.” Hunter’s jaw set into a firm line. “AndIthink so.”

  The words were both comforting and unsettling. Of course I wanted Ciaran to be stopped. But then again . . . he was my father.

  “So how are they going to stop him?” I asked. “With our help,” Hunter replied.

  “Ours?” I repeated faintly.

  Hunter nodded. “All of ours. Morgan, I know you’re grounded, but this situation has become very grave. Erin has found a spell that she thinks can help us. It’s a deflection spell—when it is used against a witch, any magick that he works will come back to him threefold.” I frowned. “Isn’t that just the threefold law?” I asked. “No.” Wind ruffled an errant strand of Hunter’s pale hair, and I brushed it away from his face. “The threefold law is simply a general rule of the magickal universe, like karma, or what goes around comes around, as you Americans say.” He grinned. “But the universe can take a long time to set things right.”

  “But the deflection spell?” I prompted.

  “Works immediately.” Hunter’s green eyes glittered. “And harshly.” “Wait—why doesn’t the council just use this all the time to punish anyone who’s abusing their powers?” I asked, thinking of Selene, who almost succeeded in killing me—and probably did succeed in killing others—before she was brought to justice. “The spell has some drawbacks,” Hunter admitted slowly. “Such as?”

  Hunter cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “the spell requires a great deal of combined magick to work. And it tends to sap the energy of those who use it. Basically once the spell is finished, everyone in our circle will be the way you are now—possibly worse—” “Which means that if someone else is behind these incidents or if someone else, like one of the other Amyranth branches, decides to attack us, we’ll be in serious trouble,” I finished for him. “Yes,” Hunter said. “But on the positive side, the spell may not sap our energy for that long. We’ll probably just feel ill for about a day. Erin is fairly certain—”

  “Erin isfairlycertain?” I repeated. “Erin hasn’t done this spell before?”

  “No one in the council has,” Hunter admitted uncomfortably. “It’s strictly forbidden because of the dangers involved. Also because of the source. But Erin has managed to convince the council that this is one time it’s worth the risk.” “What source?” I asked. “Where’s the spell from?” “It’s from a book by Harris Stoughton,” Hunter replied. “Apparently Alyce gave it to Erin the other day.”

  “I was there,” I said faintly, trying to suppress the shudder that had run through my body at the mention of Harris Stoughton’s name. I was liking this plan less and less. “You think this is a good idea?”

  Hunter shrugged. “We haven’t heard much about Amyranth lately. I went to New York City yesterday and did some digging—it seems that none of the other members of that cell could have been behind this. They all seem to be lying low. And if we do use the spell, we’ll know right away whether it worked. First, we’ll feel the effects. Second, the spell will hit Ciaran hard—probably making him physically ill for at least a few days. That ought to make it easier for one of the Seekers in Spain to apprehend him. This is our chance to help out.” I looked at Hunter, feeling his desire to stop Ciaran almost like it was my own. I knew that he wanted to bring Ciaran in for my safety, but there was something else behind it as well. Hunter was a Seeker by nature, not just by training. It was what he lived for. It was a side of him that frightened me. It was also part of the reason I loved him. “What do you need me to do?” I asked.

  “Erin wants to hold a circle tonight: you, me, Sky, and Alyce. I know you’re grounded, but do you think there’s any way you can make it?” I shook my head. “No. My parents are really upset. They want—” I looked up at the redbrick school building, which contained all of the friends and classmates whom I’d hung out with my entire life. “They want to transfer me to Saint Anne’s.” Hunter frowned. “The Catholic school? They decided?” I nodded. “You know they don’t approve of Wicca.” Hunter sighed. “I’ll help you get through this.” “They feel like I’m slipping away from them.” I shrugged. “I guess I have been, in a way. Anyway, trust me, there’s no way I can make it to a circle tonight.” “Right.” Hunter looked disappointed, if not surprised. “Well, we really need you, Morgan. So I’ve brought you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small dark blue stone. A vein of white ran through it, and it reminded me of the night sky lit up by the Milky Way. “What is it?” I asked, taking the stone from him. “It’s lapis lazuli,” Hunter explained. “It facilitates understanding and communication. I’ve strengthened it with a spell. If you place this stone on your forehead, I ought to be able to send you thoughts and images, and you ought to be able to do the same to me, like a witch message, only better. It will be almost as if you were there at the circle with us. I should be able to channel your energy. Even with your power reined, the spell and my magick ought to allow the two of us to communicate. But once your power has been unreined, you�
��ll be able to participate fully.” My heart skipped about five beats. “You’re unreining my power?” “Of course,” Hunter replied. “Erin feels terrible that you were ever reined in the first place. Clearly you had nothing to do with what was happening.” I slipped my arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “Thank you,” I said. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

  My lips were still warm where they had touched Hunter’s. I wanted to contradict him, but I

  didn’t. Instead, I asked, “Has there been any new word from your parents?” Hunter pressed his lips together. “No,” he replied. “But I haven’t given up. I’ve thought about the clues I’ve had—a walled city, the fact that I spoke in French. There are a number of walled medieval cities in France. I’ve asked the council whether I can have leave to go look for my father and mother—”

  My heart literally—literally—stopped beating for a moment. “—but they’ve refused. They think my evidence isn’t strong enough. They won’t tell me what research they’ve done so far, and they won’t send someone to France now. But it looks like there might be someone who is willing to searchforme. Someone who isn’t in the council and isn’t bound by their rules.”

  I was so relieved that Hunter wasn’t leaving that the ominous note in his voice barely registered in my mind. “Who?” I asked.

  “Sky.”

  “What?” I asked. Sky was going to France? What about Kithic? “How long will she be gone?” Hunter looked sad. “It’s unclear. She’s quit her job already. After she’s finished in France, she may go back to England,” he explained.