Awakening s-5 Page 13

  Jenna took my coat. "All the others are running late. Ethan convinced them to go to a lecture at the Red Kill library with him. It's on sacred space and mythic time. I think it's being given by someone who studied shamanism."

  "You didn't want to go?" I asked, following her into the Ruizes' comfortably shabby living room.

  "With Matt? No thanks. I mean, I'm stuck in the same coven with him, but if I have a chance to avoid him, I take it."

  "It must be awful to break up with someone after four years of being together," I said inadequately. Considering how I was pining over Cal, whom I had known barely three months, I could hardly imagine what Jenna was going through.

  Jenna removed a large basset hound from the couch. "Go sleep in your own bed," she said. "We're having company." The dog padded off placidly, and Jenna turned to me. "Yeah. At first I just didn't know how to get through the days. Raven Meltzer!" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Of anyone he could have picked. I was so humiliated."

  We sat down on the couch, and a big gray-and-white-striped cat jumped onto Jenna's lap, purring. She petted it absentmindedly. "We've been together since I was thirteen. I didn't know what to do without him. And everyone knew. But now—" She shrugged. "It's amazing. I'm getting over it. I'm finding out that I'm different without Matt." She shook her head, and her fine, pale blond hair swished in a shining wave. "When I was with Matt, I was always checking in with him. I don't even know how I got into that habit. But there was nothing I did that Matt didn't know about."

  The doorbell rang then, and I waited while Ethan, Sharon, Matt, and Robbie came into the house, all talking at once. "Sorry we're late," Robbie said, giving Jenna a casual hug. "We got hung up in traffic in Red Kill."

  "Yeah, the place was packed," Matt said. "I had no idea that so many people even knew where the Red Kill library was."

  I felt Hunter coming up the walk, and an unexpected sense of anticipation made me sit up straighter.

  "My apologies, everyone," he said as he unzipped his jacket a minute later. He looked around, seeming pleased that everyone was there. "Since we're running late, let's get started. Jenna, what do you have for forming a circle?"

  "Chalk, candles, incense, water," she answered.

  "Perfect. Then if you'll get them and if everyone else will form a circle. ."

  Hunter quickly drew the circle and chanted an invocation to the Goddess and the God.

  "I want to concentrate on things that have been lost," he said when we'd raised the energy of the circle. It was flowing among us so strongly that I could almost see it—a ribbon of light, linking and encompassing us in its strength. This time I felt more connected to it.

  "Each of you, think of something lost that you want to be found," Hunter went on. "Don't say it aloud, but silently ask the energy of the circle to open a way inside you to find what's been lost."

  What had I lost? My heart, was my immediate answer. But even to me that sounded too melodramatic to ask the energy of the circle to act on it.

  My mind wandered, my connection to the circle weaker. I glanced at Hunter, wondering if he knew. His eyes were open, but whatever he was seeing wasn't in the room. He looked eons away.

  I closed my eyes, trying to find my connection again. Suddenly I was filled with a rush of emotion, a deep sense of loss, a yearning that I knew wasn't my own. I saw a man I didn't recognize, tall, with brown eyes and graying hair.

  Father, something said within me.

  Father. My eyes flew open. Somehow I knew I'd just seen Hunter's father. I had somehow picked up the images that he was experiencing in the circle.

  Startled, Hunter's head whipped toward me. I flushed. I hadn't meant to invade his privacy in that way. I hoped he'd know that.

  I felt him refocus, connecting to the rest of the group, and then he began taking the circle down. Once again we sat in a circle on the floor. Hunter avoided my eyes. He gave the others an apologetic look. "Would you please excuse us?" he asked. "Morgan, may I speak to you?"

  Before I had a chance to answer, he was on his feet and steering me by my elbow to Jenna's kitchen.

  "That was an abuse of power," he hissed at me. "You had no right!"

  My mouth dropped open. "I didn't do it on purpose!"

  Hunter's nostrils flared as he breathed in and out rapidly, trying to calm down. I couldn't tell if the two bright spots on his cheeks were anger or embarrassment.

  I thought about how much I hated it when I felt he'd read my thoughts. He must feel awful, I realized. "I'm sorry. I truly, really, and totally have no idea how that happened."

  He stared down at the tile floor. His breathing was returning to normal. "All right," he said shakily. "All right. I believe you."

  "How could that have happened?" I asked. "I had a stray thought about you, and then I just. . received all these images."

  He nodded a few times, still not lifting his head. "We. . we had a connection. That's all."

  "That was your father, wasn't it?" I asked.

  He looked at me, his green eyes glinting. "It was incredible," he half whispered. "I suddenly knew, clear as daylight, that I could call to my father, and he would hear me."

  "You mean, you think he's alive?" Hunter's parents had disappeared when he was eight—more victims of the dark wave, the evil force that had destroyed Belwicket and other covens. Hunter, his brother, Linden, and their sister, Alwyn, had been taken in by their Uncle Beck and Aunt Shelagh. It had been hard, not knowing what had happened to his mother and father. No wonder it was what he focused on when thinking of something lost.

  When Hunter looked at me, his eyes were full of pain. "Yes."

  "Will you call to him?"

  "I don't know. It's been so long since I've seen him—I don't even know who I'd be calling. And I'm not sure he'd want to see what I've become."

  "A Seeker?" I felt confused.

  Hunter nodded. "We're not exactly popular among witches."

  "You're the youngest member of the council. Wouldn't any Wiccan father be proud of that?"

  "He's Woodbane," Hunter reminded me. "For all I know, he calls on the dark side, too."

  "Don't you ever get tired of looking at the world that way?" I asked, feeling suddenly almost sorry for him. "This is your father! You haven't seen him in more than ten years. My God, if I could see my birth mother just once—"

  "Ethan, quit it!" The sounds of Sharon's giddy laughter came through the kitchen door. Hunter gazed at it, as if he'd forgotten where we were.

  "We'd better go back out there," he said.

  I was reluctant to end this conversation. We were really talking to each other, not fighting, not having a lesson. But the others were waiting.

  We went back into the living room, where the others instantly gathered around Hunter.

  "I've been reading that book you told me about," Matt began. "And I don't get the part about the Four Watchtowers."

  I watched for a few minutes as Hunter patiently answered their questions, in spite of all I knew he was feeling. His breadth of knowledge was impressive, and I knew he had much to teach me, including his ability to reach out to others and help them learn, even when he must be feeling so distressed.

  Then it was time to leave. I got into Das Boot and sat for a few moments, letting the engine warm up. Christmas lights were already twinkling from most of the houses on Jenna's street. The house directly across from hers had a giant illuminated sleigh and reindeer spanning the width of the roof. I have got to start getting ready for Christmas, I reminded myself, resolving to talk to Mary K. tomorrow about possible gift ideas.

  Das Boot was ready to roll, so I shifted into gear. Then I shifted back into park. I couldn't just drive off, I realized, not after Hunter had revealed himself to me that way. He'd been seriously shaken, and I didn't want to just leave him.

  Shifting back into drive, I drove around the block so that the others wouldn't see me. I felt very protective of the conversation I was going to have with Hunter. It was private. I didn't w
ant the high school gossip mill to start grinding.

  I want to talk with you, I thought to Hunter. Please come.

  Hunter walked up to my car a few moments later. I leaned over and opened the passenger door, and he got in. "What is it?" he asked.

  "I think that if you know your father's alive, then you ought to contact him."

  Hunter stared out through the windshield. "You think so?"

  "Yes," I said firmly. "I know it's not quite the same thing, but I only found out that I was adopted a couple of months ago. I'm still trying to find out what the truth is. It drives me crazy not to know. And with your dad—if you don't contact him, it will just eat at you. You'll never stop wondering."

  "I've wondered about him every day for the last ten years," Hunter said. "Wondering is nothing new."

  "What are you scared of?" I asked.

  He gave me an annoyed glance. "What is it with this country? Are all Americans amateur shrinks? You've got therapists on the radio and therapists on the telly, and every one of you speaks fluent psychobabble."

  Then he shut his eyes and rubbed them with one hand. I wanted to hold his other hand.

  "I'm sorry," he said. He blew out a breath. "I miss England," he said. "I never feel right here. Being a witch and a Seeker on top of that already make me an outsider, but here everything feels off. I'm never at home."

  I hadn't realized that, and the insight made me feel a strange, new tenderness for him. "I'm sorry," I said. "That must be awful."

  "I'm getting used to it. I've even gotten used to you, your forthrightness." He gave me a rueful smile. "You hit close to the bone, Morgan, more often than you realize." He sighed. "It's probably good for me."

  "Probably," I agreed. "Now, what about your father?"

  "I don't know," he said. "It's loaded. Both in an emotional way—I'm terrified that since the message I got was only from him, it means my mother is dead—and in the sense that I don't know what effect my contacting him will have on the dark wave. I could be opening a Pandora's box that I'll never be able to close. I have to think about it."

  "I–I shouldn't be so pushy. I don't know how you feel. Not really."

  His hand closed over mine. "You were being a friend, and I have precious few of those. Thank you."

  I loved how his hand felt on mine, then wondered how I could feel that way so soon after Cal. And then I told myself I didn't owe Cal anything. Finally I decided it was too much for me to figure out, and I should just take what delight I could from the moment. "You're welcome," I said.

  "It's late. I shouldn't keep you." Hunter took his hand away, and I felt a pang.

  "It's okay," I said. I wanted so strongly to take his hand again that I actually slid my own hand under my thigh to keep it still.

  He sounded exhausted. "We're still scheduled to work together tomorrow afternoon, right?"

  I nodded. "I'm going to my aunt's house after church. I'll call you when I get home."

  He got out of the car. "Get home safe, then." Hunter traced the rune Eolh in the air. "And sweet dreams."

  19. Pursuit

  I'm going to contact my father.

  I'm terribly afraid. Not just of putting him and mum in danger, nor of putting myself in danger. More than that, I'm afraid of how changed he'll look, how old. I'm afraid he'll tell me mum is dead. I'm afraid he'll tell me that he's heard I'm a seeker, and he's ashamed of me.

  I want to ask Morgan if she'll stay with me while I do it.

  — Giomanach

  I didn't sleep well that night. My mind was whirling with thoughts of Aunt Eileen and Paula, of finding the right spell to help them, of David, of Cal, of Hunter. I'd never been as confused about anyone as I was about Hunter. I bounced from thinking he was the most insufferable male on the planet to seeing, beneath all that arrogance, one of the most complex and fascinating people I'd ever met. There was no neat way to sum up Hunter Niall or my feelings about him.

  The next morning I got up early again. I left a note for my family, saying I'd be back in time for church. Then I went for a drive. I needed to think, and I didn't want to be at home when I did. I bought myself coffee, then headed along the river to a small sailing marina.

  The marina was dead quiet, since it was the middle of December. Most of the boats had been pulled into dry dock and rested on pilings in a fenced yard. I got out of the car with my cup of hot coffee and walked along the waterfront. The air was bitterly cold, but that was okay. It would force me to make my decision quickly.

  What was I going to do about Aunt Eileen and Paula? Every instinct told me that I had the power to protect them, but I knew the charm I'd made wouldn't be enough. If I wanted to be sure that those thugs never bothered them again, I'd have to take more direct action. How dangerous was that?

  The wind whipped off the river in an icy gust, and I decided on procrastination: I'd go visit Aunt Eileen and Paula and see if they were serious about leaving. If they were, then I'd try the spell I'd found last night on the Internet.

  Shaking with cold, I got back into Das Boot.

  I arrived at Aunt Eileen and Paula's just in time to see a police cruiser pulling away. Oh, no, I thought. I was too late. My heart racing with dread, I ran toward the house.

  Aunt Eileen opened the door seconds after I rang the bell. "Morgan! What are you doing up this early on a Sunday? I thought you and Mary K. were coming by later."

  "I–I was worried about you two," I said honestly. "I just saw the police car pulling away and—"

  She smiled and put a comforting arm around me. "Come on in," she said. "Have some breakfast with us, and we'll tell you all about our undercover triumph."

  "Your what?"

  Paula was in the kitchen, cooking eggs, spinach, and mushrooms in a skillet. "Morgan!" she said. "Care for some breakfast?"

  "Sure," I said, pulling up a chair. "Now, what happened?"

  Aunt Eileen gave me a sheepish glance. "I felt like an idiot after I got off the phone with your sister yesterday. I was totally giving in to hysteria and fear."

  "And to those jerks," Paula added. "For the record, I was equally hysterical."

  "We decided we couldn't give in to them," Aunt Eileen continued.

  Paula set down three plates containing eggs. "Short version: We drove to a security store in Kingston and rented a couple of surveillance cameras. Then we came home and put them up. At about two o'clock this morning, the camera at the back of the house caught our vandals on tape and sounded a little alarm in our bedroom. We called the cops. They were too late to catch the kids in the act, but they took the tape."

  "The cruiser that just left," Eileen finished, "came to tell us that all three are now in custody, and one of them has confessed. The DA thinks she can charge them with at least two other local hate crimes. And two of them are old enough to be tried as adults. What's more, two of our neighbors on the block have offered to testify to what they saw. The community is being really supportive, I'm happy to say."

  "Wow!" I exclaimed, amazed. "That's fabulous!" I nearly collapsed with relief. They had solved their own problem without my help, without magick. The choice had been taken out of my hands.

  Aunt Eileen sighed. "I'm glad we caught those kids, but I have to say this whole incident has really shaken me. I mean, you hear about gay bashing all the time, but it's just not the same as when you're actually experiencing it. It's totally terrifying."

  "I know," I agreed. Then I couldn't help asking anxiously, "But. . you're not going to move?"

  "Nope," Paula promised. "We've decided to tough it out here—at least for now. You can't solve this kind of problem by running away from it."

  "That is the best news! I am so thrilled," I told them. I got up and opened the fridge. "Oh, no," I groaned.

  “What?" Aunt Eileen sounded worried. 'What's the matter?"

  I turned from the fridge, which was full of disgustingly healthy foods. "Don't you guys have any Diet Coke?"

  After breakfast with Paula and Aunt Eileen, I helped
them rearrange living-room furniture; then I drove to church and met my family there. I made the effort because I wanted to make my parents happy—and because I felt badly in need of a nonmagickal, normal day.

  After church the whole family opted out of our normal Widow's Vale Diner lunch so we could go back to Taunton for more unpacking. We got back to our house at three-thirty, and I decided to have a nice, long soak in the bathtub before calling Hunter.

  The bath never happened. I'd just turned on the hot water faucet when I felt Hunter and Sky approaching. With a sigh I turned off the bathwater and went downstairs. Now what?

  I opened the front door and waited. They both looked grim.

  "Yes?" I demanded. "Aren't we scheduled to meet later?"

  "This couldn't wait," he said.

  "Come in." I led them into the den. After shutting the door I asked, "Is it Stuart Afton?"

  "He's the same," Hunter answered. He looked at Sky. "Tell her."

  "Last night," Sky began, "Bree and Raven and I were out studying the constellations by the old Methodist cemetery. We saw David. He was performing a ritual. A ritual I recognized."

  "So what was it?" I asked.

  Sky glanced at Hunter. Then she met my gaze steadily. "He was letting blood as a preliminary ritual to a larger sacrifice that will be performed once the moon moves into a different quarter."

  "Bloodletting?" I said. I looked back and forth between Sky and Hunter.

  "It's a payoff," Hunter said. "For services rendered. It fits with the ritual markings I found in the field where you had first felt a dark presence. He needs to offer his own blood to call in the taibhs, the dark spirit. Remember, that's how I knew it wasn't Selene. She has enough power to call a taibhs without performing that particular rite."

  I felt sick. "Well, I guess that's the proof you were looking for, then," I said to Hunter.

  "It's proof that he's using dark magick," Hunter said. "It still doesn't connect him irrevocably to Stuart Afton. But that's just a formality now."

  "David may not have bargained on or agreed to Stuart Afton having a stroke," Sky put in. "That's the kind of extra tithe that attaches itself when you deal with the blackness."