Awakening s-5 Page 6

  "No," I said tiredly. "I don't seem to have anything right now."

  7. Intruder

  April, 1986

  Today I found Giomanach, all of three-and-a-half years old, hunched over a bowl of water, staring into it so intently that his eyes were almost crossing. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me was scrying for his sister. Goddess. I was startled. We'd not told him that Fiona is carrying another child, yet he knew. He's amazingly quick.

  I asked him if he'd seem anything, expecting him to say he hadn't. He's too young to scry. But he said he'd seen a little girl with dark hair and eyes. I smiled and told him we'd have to wait and see. But my leug told me our Alwyn will have red hair and green eyes like Fiona's, so I'm afraid the water lied to my boy. Unless it showed him its own riddling truth.

  Then Giomanach smacked his hand down so the water spilled out of the bowl. I opened my mouth to scold him, but he looked up at me with that little mischievous smile, and I hadn't the heart. He's like sunshine to me. After looking over my shoulder for two years, I'm finally beginning to accept that nothing is going to happen, that life can actually be this good.

  — Maghach

  I sat in Das Boot on Wednesday morning, thinking again about last night's circle. The truth was, part of me loved being the star pupil, the one who had off-the-charts power. In our coven, right from the start, I'd been the gifted one. It had made me feel special for the first time in my life. Was that over, too?

  "Morgan?" a muffled voice called. "Morgan!"

  I blinked and glanced up. My friend Tamara Pritchett was tapping on the window, her breath coming out in white puffs. "You're going to be late," she said as I rolled down the window. "Didn't you hear the bell?"

  "Um. ." I mumbled. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

  We walked to class together, and all the way there I was aware of the curious looks Tamara kept giving me. By now everyone knew that Cal was gone, that there had been a fire at his house. I'd told everyone who asked the standard story: that we'd broken up and I didn't know anything about the fire or where he was. But the people I'd been good friends with before Wicca came into my life, people like Tamara and Janice Yutoh, could tell there was a lot I wasn't saying.

  I got through my morning classes, and then at lunch period I left school. I had an appointment for Das Boot at the body shop to get an estimate for the repairs. Unser's Auto Repair was off the highway on the outskirts of Widow's Vale. It was a big fenced lot, filled with cars, with a garage in the middle of it. With the exception of the Afton Enterprises gravel pit, which I passed about a quarter of a mile before Unser's, the road stretched out bleak and empty. I gave the gravel pit a glare as I drove past it, thinking of Practical Magick.

  I pulled into the garage. Bob Unser, a gruff, gray-haired man in coveralls, wiped his hands on a rag and came over to the car as I got out. His big German shepherd, Max, bounded over, shoved his wet nose into my palm and licked it, then bounded away again. Max was technically a guard dog, but he was a total sweetheart. He and Bob both knew me pretty well. Being a genuine antique, Das Boot had had its share of problems, though nothing as major as this before.

  Bob squinted at Das Boot's crumpled, scorched nose and smashed headlight. "What happened?"

  "It kind of. . collided with a building that was on fire."

  He grunted. "That's original."

  I huddled in my coat while he looked over Das Boot and made notes on a clipboard. "Let me call and get an estimate on the parts," he said. "Then I'll give you a total."

  "Great." I had a feeling this repair was going to cost a fortune, and I wasn't sure how I was going to pay for it. I didn't want to put it on my parents' insurance and risk raising their rates.

  Bob went into the little office, and I stayed in the garage. Max trotted back to my side, and I ran my hand through his thick coat. Then I felt the fur near his neck start to rise, and a low, rumbling growl filled the garage. I let go of him at once, wondering what was wrong.

  Max swung his head toward the entrance of the garage. His growl deepened, and he loped outside. Then my own senses prickled. Something was out there. Something magickal.

  My pulse rate picked up. I stood still, trying to get a better sense of the presence. It didn't feel human. Cautiously I stepped outside. Max stood on an icy patch of gravel a short distance from the garage, fur bristling and teeth bared. Then he began to race around the perimeter of the lot, barking furiously.

  I cast out my senses and got feelings of stealth, concealment, malevolent power. Cold fear coursed through me, and my breath came fast as I traced the shape of Peorth in the air, the rune for revealing what is hidden. I visualized the rune, tracing it in my mind in bright red light until I felt its shape become a three-dimensional entity. Instinctively I began saying my power chant. "An di allaigh. ."

  There was a weird, whooshing noise, as if a whole flock of birds had started up from the ground at once. Something that felt like an ill wind brushed past me, making the tiny hairs on my arms stand up. I gasped. Max raced over to me, barking frantically. I saw nothing, but the air felt lighter, and I knew that the intruder was gone.

  Bob walked out of the shop. "What's going on out here?" He frowned at Max, then at me. "What was all that noise about?"

  I leaned against the car so he wouldn't see how I was shaking. "I guess Max heard something."

  Max sat down in front of Bob and elaborated with short, eloquent barks.

  "Okay, boy, okay." Bob was petting him now, comforting him. "We'll lock up good tonight."

  We went back inside, and he handed me a written estimate for $750. That made me gasp again. "I'll have to special-order you a bumper and hood," he explained. "They don't make parts for this model anymore. I'll have to get them from a used-parts dealer in Pennsylvania. You call me and let me know when you're ready to go ahead."

  I thanked him, barely even listening. Before I left I traced the rune Eolh on Max's forehead for protection. What had that mysterious presence been? Was it after me? Was it connected to the dark force I had felt the other night? Was it Cal or Selene?

  Though the sun was shining brightly, I felt like a black veil had been pulled across the sky. Shivering, I got into my car and drove back to school.

  Mary K. went to Jaycee's house after school, as she often did, so I drove straight home. I was still shaken up from the incident at the garage. I had no idea what it had been, but I didn't want to take any chances. I had felt something evil. If it was after me, I'd better start protecting myself fast.

  In the empty house I went upstairs and took my birth mother's athame from its hiding place in the HVAC vent. Then I walked around the outside of my house, running the athame lightly over the clapboard siding. Hunter and Sky had placed runes of protection all around the house about two weeks ago. The athame revealed the magick signs to me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. They were still there and still glowing with potency.

  Next I went up to my room and closed the door. I'd been planning to make an altar for some time, but now it seemed doubly urgent. If there really was someone or something after me, I needed to be as strong and sure in my magick as possible.

  The problem was, the altar had to be somewhere my family wouldn't notice. Although my parents now seemed to realize that they couldn't prevent me from being a witch, there was no point in setting up an altar where they would see it and get upset.

  I looked around my room. It wasn't big. There was no obvious place to set up an altar—certainly none that wouldn't be totally noticeable. I thought a moment and opened the door to my closet. It was a deep walk-in, with a long hanging rod running the length of it. I began taking clothes off the rod, laying shirts, dresses, jackets, and skirts on my bed. "Yuck," I said as a sundress with an enormous tropical flower print surfaced. It was time to give some things away.

  When the closet was empty, I stared at the back of it. A small footlocker from when I went to summer camp sat on the floor. It had potential.

  I rummaged in my dresse
r drawer for the length of plum-colored Irish linen that Aunt Eileen had brought back from her trip to Ireland. It covered the trunk perfectly, as if that's exactly what it had been woven for. Voila. One altar.

  Next I opened the junk drawer of my desk. I sorted through the crap until I found a small, perfect, pink-and-white scallop shell. I set it on one corner of the altar to represent water. On another I put a chunk of amethyst that had been among the crystals in Maeve's box of tools. That was for earth. On the remaining corners I set a candle for fire and a stick of incense for air. Of course, I wouldn't actually be able to light the candle or incense inside the closet. For that the altar would have to come out into my room. But I liked having all four elements in place.

  I sat before my altar. It was pretty simple, as basic as you can get. Yet it felt right.

  Something soft nudged me. Dagda. I ran my hand down his silky little back. "This is where we're going to invoke the Goddess," I explained. He purred as if in approval.

  May I work strong, pure magick here, I said silently, spells of healing and wholeness.

  And may they keep me safe, I couldn't help adding.

  8. Potential

  Litha, 1991

  Goddess, help us. How can we go on from here? We've lost everything—our home, our coven, our children. Our children.

  It all came so suddenly. We'd both been feeling ill and out of sorts for weeks, but I didn't think much of it. Then, late yesterday evening, I was working in my study when I heard Fiona scream. I raced to her workroom and found her lying on the floor, her leug clutched in her hand. She had been scrying to find the source of her illness and had seen something hideous in the stone. She described it as a wave of darkness, like a swarm of black insects or a pall of smoke, sweeping over the land. “It was evil,” she whispered. “It wants us. It's. . searching for us. We've got to warn the others, and then we've got to go. Now. Tonight.”

  “Tonight? But—the children. Giomanach's got an herbology lesson tomorrow.” I objected stupidly.

  The look she gave me broke my heart. “We can't take them,” she said. “It wouldn't be safe. Not for them of for us. We've got to leave them.”

  I argued, but in the end she convinced me that she was right. The only hope for any of us was for Fiona and me to disappear, to try somehow to draw the evil away from our children.

  Fiona left a frantic message for her brother Beck, who lives in Somerset. Then we laid the strongest protections we could on our house. I kissed my children as they slept, smoothing Alwyn's tangled red curls, pulling the covers back up over Linden. Last of all I stood by Giomanach, watching the rise and fall of his chest. I tucked my leug under his pillow, where he'd find it in the morning.

  And then, once again, I abandoned my children.

  — Maghach

  I left a note for my mom saying that I'd be back for dinner, then drove over to Hunter's house. As much as being around him upset me, I realized Hunter needed to know about the dark presence I'd sensed at Unser's and the dark magick I had felt on Monday night. He might be able to tell me what it was, where it had come from, how I could protect myself from it effectively.

  I started up the narrow path. Even in daylight it was hard to be sure that there was a house tucked away behind all the trees. The porch was even ricketier than it had seemed at night. A post was missing from the railing, and the stairs had a split tread.

  I reached the door and hesitated. Should I knock? I suddenly felt reluctant to bring my troubles to this particular door.

  I chickened out. I'd turned and started off the porch when I heard the door open behind me. "Morgan," Hunter's voice said.

  Caught. I turned to face him and felt myself blush. "I should have called first. Maybe this isn't a good time."

  "It's fine," he said. "Come in."

  Inside there was no sign of Sky. I settled myself in one of the living-room armchairs. The house was as cold as it had been last night, the fire in the little fireplace giving off hardly any warmth at all. I was shivering, growing more uncomfortable by the second. This had been a bad idea.

  "So," Hunter said as he sat across from me. "Why are you here?”

  To my surprise, I blurted, "I didn't feel anything at our circle last night. I'm the one who always gets swept away, but. . Everyone else was transported, but I didn't get anything. I don't know if Cirrus is right for me anymore."

  "Wicca isn't about getting things," Hunter said.

  "I know that," I said defensively. "It's just—it's just that it doesn't usually happen to me." I studied his face, wondering how much to confide in him. "It scared me," I admitted. "Like my powers would be gone forever." A thought occurred to me. "Did you do something to damp down my power during the circle in any way?"

  He raised his eyebrows. "If I were trying to control your power, you'd have known it. And it's not something I would do unless it were an extreme emergency."

  "Oh." I sank back into the chair.

  He crossed a booted foot over his knee. He tapped it a few times. "Perhaps. . my style doesn't bring out your potential."

  He sounded disappointed. In me, I wondered, or in himself? "Everyone else, it worked for them," I said grudgingly. "They really liked how you did things."

  His face brightened, making him look more like an ordinary teenager. Extraordinarily handsome, maybe, but less intense. "They did? I'm glad. I haven't been that nervous since. . well, never mind." He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to make sure he didn't say anything else. He looked almost startled—as if he hadn't meant to say those words aloud.

  "You were nervous?" I couldn't help enjoying that. "The mighty Hunter?"

  Hunter leaned forward, gazing into the hearth. "Don't you think I know how highly you all thought of Cal? Especially you. I knew no one really wanted me taking over. And a part of me thought: Well, maybe they're right. Maybe I can't lead a circle as well as he did. God knows he's more at ease with people than I'll ever be."

  I stared at him, stunned to hear him admit to so much vulnerability. I thought back to times when I'd watched Cal move from one clique at school to another, fitting in wherever he went. It was part of what had made him so good at manipulating people—he could present them with what they wanted to see. And what made it so powerful was that at some level, It was real. Hunter, on the other hand, could only be himself.

  He and I had that in common.

  A sadness clouded his clear green eyes. "I always thought my father would be there when I took over as a coven leader. It feels strange to take the step without him."

  I nodded, aware of another connection we had. "Like my trying to learn about my birthright without my birth parents. I feel like something is missing."

  "Yes," Hunter agreed. "Without Dad, being coven leader is all that more daunting."

  "What made you decide to do it, then?" I asked.

  He gave me a sudden, lopsided grin, gazing up at me from under a shock of pale hair. "The thought that you might try to lead them. I couldn't risk that."

  If that was a joke, I didn't find it particularly funny. "Hey, I didn't come here to be insulted."

  "Oh, stop." He laughed. "I didn't mean it as an insult. I only meant that you're a bit of a loose cannon because you've got all this power and no training. It's not an incurable condition."

  "Glad to know it's not terminal," I muttered.

  He looked at me more seriously now. "Morgan, listen to me. You have so much potential—it's very exciting, I know. But you've got to learn how to rein in and focus your power. For your own good as much as anything else. All that power makes you like a beacon. You're a walking target."

  Abruptly I remembered the real reason I'd come here. I sat forward in my chair.

  "There's something I need to tell you about," I said. I described the dark force I'd felt after my dream and then again at the garage. "I tried to get it to reveal itself by drawing Peorth, but it just sort of evaporated," I said. "Do you have any idea what it was?"

  He was frowning. "This
is not good. It could have been another witch, cloaking him or herself. It sounds more like some sort of a taibhs, a dark spirit, though."

  “The first time, when I sensed it in the middle of the night, I had the impression that whatever it was, it wasn't aimed at me," I said. "But after what happened at the garage, I'm not so sure. Do you think it's been following me?"

  "You would have sensed that, I think." Hunter got to his feet, went to the window, and peered out into the trees that surrounded the house. "But we've got to assume that it wasn't coincidence, either. It was looking for you. And it found you."

  "Did Selene send it? Or. . Cal?" I asked in a low voice, not really wanting to know the answer.

  "More likely Selene," Hunter said. "To her your power is an irresistible lure, almost as much as Belwicket's tools are. If she can't coerce you to join her group, she wants to absorb your power. It would increase her own to the point where she'd be practically invincible."

  My skin crawled. I thought of David, saying that we had to take Selene's intentions into account as well as her actions. Maybe he was right, but her intentions sounded pretty awful in themselves. "They're really evil, aren't they?" I asked. "Selene and. . and Cal?"

  He took some branches from the box of kindling, snapped them in half, and added them to the fire. "Cal. . is his mother's creation. I don't know if I'd call him evil." Glancing up, he gave me that quick grin again. "Besides, that's not a nice thing to say about one's own kin, is it?"

  I grinned back. Hunter did have a sense of humor, I realized. It was just an offbeat one.

  "As for Selene," Hunter went on, getting serious again. "She's ambitious and ruthless. She studied with Clyda Rockpel."

  I shook my head, indicating that I didn't know the name.

  "Clyda Rockpel was a Welsh Woodbane who was legendarily vicious. She's said to have murdered her own daughter to enhance her power. And it's certainly true that wherever Selene goes, witches tend to disappear or die. Destruction seems to follow in her wake. Yes, I would agree that she is truly evil."