The Coven Page 12

  you loved me! I thought that meant—"

  "I told you I didn't want to do that!" Mary K. cried. I flung

  open the door to find Bakker Blackburn entangled with my

  sister on her single bed. Her legs were kicking.

  "Hey!" I said loudly, making them both jump. Their heads

  turned to stare at me, and I saw relief in Mary K.'s eyes. "You

  heard her," I said loudly. "Get off!"

  "We're just talking," said Bakker. Mary K.'s hands pushed

  against his chest, and he resisted it Fury roiled inside me, and i

  raised the bat.

  Whap! I gave Bakker a smart rap on his shoulder to get

  his attention. I hadn't been this furious since Bree and I'd had

  our last fight.

  "Ow!" Bakker yelled. "What are you doing? Are you nuts?"

  "Bakker, get off!" Mary K. said again, pushing at him.

  I thrust my face close to Bakker's, and with my teeth

  clenched, I spoke as menacingly as I could. "Get the hell off

  her!" Bakker's face went stiff, and he quickly moved away from

  the bed. He looked embarrassed and angry, his eyes dark. Then

  he snapped out his hand and knocked the bat out of my grip.

  My jaw dropped in surprise as the wood went flying across the

  room."Stay out of this, Morgan," he said. "You don't know

  what's going on. Mary K. and I are just talking."

  "Ha!" said Mary K., jumping up from the bed and yanking

  down her shirt "You're being an ass! Now get out!"

  "Not until you tell me what's going on," Bakker said. "You

  said come over!" He was almost yelling, his voice filling the

  room. "You said come up here! What was I supposed to think?

  We've been going out almost two months!"

  Mary K. was crying now. "I didn't mean that," she said,

  holding her pillow to her stomach. "I just wanted to be alone

  with you."

  "What did you think being alone with me was all about?"

  he asked, his arms wide. He took a step closer to her.

  "Watch it, Bakker," I warned, but he ignored me.

  "I didn't mean that," Mary K. repeated, crying.

  "Jesus!" he said, leaning over her. My teeth clenched, and

  I started edging over toward the bat "You don't know what you

  want"

  "Shut up, Bakker," I snapped. "For God's sake, she's

  fourteen."

  Mary K. cried into her pillow.

  "She's my girlfriend!" Bakker shouted. "I love her, and

  she loves me, so stay out of this! It's none of your business!"

  "None of my business?" I couldn't believe what t was

  hearing. "That's my little sister you're talking about!"

  Without planning it, I snapped out my arm, finger pointed

  at Bakker. Before my eyes a small ball of spitting, crackly blue

  light shot out of my finger and streaked toward him, hitting

  him in the side. It was like the light I had given to Jenna last

  night, but different Bakker yelped and stumbled, clutching his

  side and clawing at the bedspread. I stared at him, horrified,

  and he stared back at me as if I had suddenly sprouted wings

  and claws.

  "What the hell—," he gasped, clasping his side. I was

  praying blood wouldn't start running out through his fingers.

  When he took his hand away, there were no marks on hit shirt

  no blood. I breathed out in relief.

  “I'm out of here," he said in a strangled voice, lurching to

  his feet He turned back to look at Mary K. one last time. She

  had her face buried in her pillow, and she didn't look up. With a

  last glare at me Bakker stormed through the bedroom door and

  pounded down the steps. The front door slammed moments

  later, and I peeked out down the stairwell to make sure he was

  gone. Through the front door sidelight I saw him striding fast

  down the street rubbing his side. His lips were moving as if he

  was swearing to himself.

  Back in Mary K.'s room, she was holding a tissue to her

  eyes and sniffling.

  "Jesus, Mary K.," I said, sitting next to her on the bed.

  "What was that about? Why aren't you at the diner?"

  She started crying again and leaned forward into me. I

  put my arms around her and held her, so thankful she hadn't

  been hurt, that I had come home when I had for the first time

  in a week it felt like the two of us again, the way we used to be.

  Close. Comfortable. Trusting each other. I had missed that so

  much."Don't tell Mom and Dad," she said, tears wetting her

  cheeks. "I just wanted to see Bakker alone, so I told them I

  needed to study, and I had them drop me off here while they

  went to lunch. Its just—we're always with other people. I

  didn't know he would think—"

  "Oh, Mary K.," I said, trying to soothe her. "It was a huge

  misunderstanding, but it wasn't your fault. Just because you

  said you wanted to see him alone doesn't mean that you're

  obligated to go to bed with him. You meant one thing; he

  understood another. What's awful is what an ass he was being.

  I should have called the cops."

  Mary K. sniffled and drew back. "I don't really think he

  was going to... hurt me," she said. "I think it kind of looked

  worse than it was."

  "I can't believe you're defending him!"

  "I'm not," said my sister. "I'm not defending him, and I'm

  definitely breaking up with him."

  "Good," I said strongly.

  "But I have to say, it really wasn't like him," Mary K. went

  on. "He's never pushed me too far, always listened when I said

  no. I'm sure he'll be really sorry tomorrow."

  My eyes narrowed as I looked at her. "Mary Kathleen

  Rowlands, that's not good enough. Don't you dare make

  excuses for him. When I walked in here, he was pinning you

  down!"

  Her brows creased. "Yeah," she said.

  "And he knocked the bat out of my hands," I said. "And he

  was yelling at us."

  "I know," said Mary K., looking angry. "I can't believe

  him."

  “That's more like it," I said, standing up. “Tell me you're

  breaking up with him."

  "I'm breaking up with him," my sister repeated.

  "Okay. Now I'm going to go change. You better wash your

  face and straighten your room before Mom and Dad come

  home."

  "Okay," said Mary K., standing up. She gave me a watery

  smile. "Thanks for rescuing me." She reached out to hug me.

  "You're welcome," I said, and turned to go.

  "How did you stop him, anyway? He said.'Ow!' and then

  fell against the bed. What did you do?"

  I thought fast "I kicked his knee and made it buckle," I

  said. "Made him lose his balance."

  Mary K. laughed. "I bet he was surprised."

  "I think we both were," I said honestly. Then, feeling a

  little shaky, I went downstairs. I had shot a bolt of light at

  someone. Surely that was strange, even for a witch.

  15. Who I Am

  September 1, 1982

  Today we're moving out of this hellhole, to a town about

  three hours north of here. It's called Meshomah Falls. I think

  Meshomah is an Indian word. They have Indian words all over

  the place around here. The town is small and very pretty, kind

  of l
ike home.

  We already have jobs—I'm going to waitress at the little

  cafe in town, and Angus will be helping a local carpenter. We

  saw people dressed in queer old-fashioned clothes there last

  week. I asked a local man about them, and he said they were

  Amish.

  Last week Angus got back fro Ireland. I didn't want him

  to go, and I couldn't write about it until now. He went to

  Ireland, and he went to Ballynigel. Not much of the town is left.

  Every house where a witch lived was burned to the ground and

  now has been razed flat for rebuilding. He said none of our kind

  are left there, none he could find. Over in Much Bencham he got

  a story that people have been telling about a huge dark wave

  that wiped out the town, a wave without water. I don't know

  what could cause or create something so big, so powerful.

  Maybe many covens working together.

  I was terrified for him to go, thought I'd never see him

  again. He wanted to get married before he left, and I said no. I

  can't marry anyone. Nothing is permanent, and I don't want to

  fool myself. Anyway, he took the money, went home, and found

  a bunch of charred, empty fields.

  Now he's here, and we're moving, and in this new town,

  I'm hoping a new life can begin. --M.R.

  Late that afternoon I decided to hunt down my Wicca

  books. I lay on my bed and cast out my senses, sort of feeling

  my way through the whole house. For a long time I got

  nothing, and I started to think I was wasting my time. But

  then, after about forty-five minutes, I realized I felt the books

  in my mom's closet, inside a suitcase at the very back. I looked,

  and sure enough, there they were. I took them back to my

  room and put them on my desk. If Mom or Dad wanted to make

  something of it, let them. I was through with silence.

  On Sunday night I was sitting at my desk, working my

  way through math homework, when my parents knocked on my

  door."Come in," I said.

  The door opened, and I heard Mary K.'s music playing

  louder from inside her room. I winced. Our musical tastes are

  completely different.

  I saw my parents standing in the doorway. "Yes?" I said

  coolly.

  "May we come in?" Mom asked.

  I shrugged.

  Mom and Dad came in and sat down on my bed. I tried not

  to glance at the Wicca books on my desk.

  Dad cleared his throat, and Mom took his hand.

  "This past week has been very ... difficult for all of us,"

  Mom said, looking reluctant and uncomfortable. "You've had

  questions, and we weren't ready to answer them."

  I waited.

  She sighed. "If you hadn't found out on your own, I

  probably never would have wanted to tell you about the

  adoption," she said, her voice ending on a whisper. "I know

  that's not what people recommend. They say everyone should

  be open, honest" She shook her head "But telling you didn't

  seem like a good idea." She raised her eyes to my dad, and he

  nodded at her.

  "Now you know about it," Mom said. Part of it. anyway

  Maybe it's best for you to know as much as we know, rut not

  sure. I'm not sure what the best thing is anymore. But we don't

  seem to have a choice."

  "I have a right to know." I said, "it's my life, lea at I can

  think about It's there, every day."

  Mom nodded "Yes, I see that So." She drew in a long

  breath and looked down at her lap for a moment “You know

  Daddy and I got married when I was twenty-two and he was

  twenty-four."

  "Uh-huh."

  "We wanted to start a family right away," said my mom.

  "We tried for eight years, with no luck. The doctors found one

  thing wrong with me after another. Hormonal imbalances,

  endometriosis ... it got to where every month I would get my

  period and cry for three days because I wasn't pregnant"

  My dad kept his gaze on her. He freed his hand from hers

  and wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead.

  "I was praying to God to send me a baby," said Mom. "I lit

  candles, said novenas. Finally we applied at an adoption

  agency, and they told us it might be three or four years. But we

  applied anyway. Then..."

  "Then an acquaintance of ours, a lawyer, called us one

  night," said my dad.

  "It was raining," my mom put in as I thought about their

  friends, trying to remember a lawyer.

  "He said he had a baby," my dad said. He shifted and

  tucked his hands under his knees. "A baby girl who needed

  adopting, a private adoption."

  "We didn't even think about it," Mom said. "We just said

  yes! And he came over that night with a baby and handed her

  to me. And I took one look and knew this was my baby, the one

  I'd prayed for for so long." Mom's voice broke, and she rubbed

  her eyes.

  "That was you," Dad said unnecessarily. He smiled at the

  memory. "You were seven months old and just so—"

  "So perfect," Mom interrupted, her face lighting up. "You

  were plump and healthy, with curly hair and big eyes, and you

  looked up at me ... and I knew you were the one. In that

  moment you became my child, and I would have killed any. one

  who tried to take you away from me. The lawyer said that your

  birth parents were too young to raise a baby and had asked

  him to find you a good home." She shook her head,

  remembering. "We didn't even think about it, didn't ask for

  more information. All I knew was, I had my baby, and frankly, I

  didn't care where you had come from or why."

  I clenched my jaw, feeling my throat start aching. Had my

  birth parents given me to someone to keep me safe, knowing

  they were in danger somehow? Had the lawyer been telling the

  truth? Or had I just been found somewhere, after they were

  dead?"You were everything we wanted," said Dad. "That night

  you slept between us in our bed, and the next day we went out

  and bought every kind of baby thing we'd ever heard of. It was

  like a thousand Christmases, all of our dreams coming true, in

  you."

  "A week later," Mom said, sniffling, "we read about a fire

  in Meshomah Falls. How two bodies had been found in a barn

  that had burned to the ground. When the bodies were

  identified, they matched the names on your birth certificate."

  "We wanted to know more, but we also didn't want to do

  anything to hurt the adoption," said my dad. He shook his

  head. "I'm ashamed to say, we just wanted to keep you, no

  matter what"

  "But months later, after the adoption was final—it went

  through really fast and finally it was all legal and no one could

  take you away—then we tried to find out more" Mom

  continued.

  "How?" I asked.

  "We tried calling the lawyer, but he had taken a job in

  another state. We left messages, but he never returned any of

  our calls. It was kind of odd," Dad added. "It almost seemed

  like he was avoiding us. Finally we gave up on him.

  "I went through the newspapers," Dad went on. "I talked


  to the reporter who had covered the fire story, and he put me

  in touch with the Meshomah police. And after that I did

  research in Ireland, when I was there on a business trip. That

  was when you were about two years old and your mom was

  expecting Mary K."

  "What did you find out?" I asked in a small voice. "Are

  you sure you want to know?"

  I nodded, gripping my desk chair. "I do want to know," I

  said, my voice stronger. I knew what Alyce had told me and

  what I had found out at the library. I needed to know more. I

  needed to know it all.

  "Maeve Riordan and Angus Bramson died in that barn

  fire," my dad said, looking down as if he were reading the

  words off his shoes. "It was arson—murder," he clarified. "The

  barn doors had been locked from the outside, and gasoline had

  been poured around the building."

  I trembled, my eyes huge and fastened on my dad. I

  hadn't read anywhere that it had definitely been murder.

  "They found symbols on some of the charred pieces of

  wood," said Mom. "They were identified as runes, but no one

  knew why they were written there or why Maeve and Angus

  had been killed. They had kept to themselves, had no debts,

  went to church on Sundays. The crime was never solved."

  "What about in Ireland?"

  Dad nodded and shifted his weight "Like I said, I went

  there on business, and I didn't have a lot of time. I didn't even

  know what to look for. But I took a day trip to the town where

  the Meshomah police had said Maeve Riordan was from:

  Ballynigel. When I got there, there wasn't much of a town to

  see. A couple of shops on a main street and one or two ugly

  new apartment buildings. My guidebook had said it was a

  quaint old fishing village, but there was hardly any sign of it or

  what it had used to be."

  "Did you find out what happened?"

  "Not really," Dad said, holding his hands wide. 'There was

  a newsstand there, a little shop. When I asked about it, the old

  lady kicked me out and slammed the door." "Kicked you out?" I

  asked in amazement Dad gave a dry chuckle. "Yes. Finally,

  after walking around and finding nothing, I went to the next

  town—I

  think its name was Much Bencham—and had lunch in the pub.

  There were a couple of old guys sitting at the bar, and they

  struck up a conversation with me, asking where I was from. I

  started talking, but as soon as I mentioned Ballynigel they

  went quiet 'Why do ye want to know?' they asked suspiciously.