Full Circle s-14 Page 7

  "He's doing fine. You know Killian," I said cautiously.

  Sky looked nonchalantly out her window. I wondered if she'd wanted to ask about Raven but couldn't, so she'd asked about Killian instead. Hmmm.

  "Morgan, I'm going to drop you at your car before I take Sky home," Hunter said, and with surprise I noticed we had already turned onto the Widow's Vale exit.

  "Okay."

  At school Das Boot was the only car left in the lot. Hunter walked me over to it. "I'll see you in about an hour and a half," he said softly, leaning down to kiss me.

  "At Bethany's." just thinking about it made me feel better.

  I climbed into Das Boot and started it, watching while Sky got into the front seat. I couldn't help being a little jealous of Sky. She got to live with Hunter, see him all the time. It was what I wanted. Hunter waited til I had started my car and headed off before he went in his own direction.

  At ten after eight I hurried up the stairs at the front entrance to Bethany's apartment house. It was dark, and the streetlight shone amber on the building. A movement caught my eye, and I turned to see a large dark shadow taking off into the air. I followed its silhouette, but the streetlight shone right into my eyes, making it hard to see.

  "Damn crows. They're everywhere," an older man said, coming up the steps after me. He gave me a casual smile and went past, holding the door for me.

  Maybe it had just been a crow. Maybe. I followed him in and hustled up to Bethany's apartment.

  "Morgan!" Bethany said warmly, opening the door to my knock. Her dark brown eyes shone with concern, and her short black hair was arranged haphazardly in a pixie style. "How are you? Come in, come in." Rubbing my back, she followed me into her smallish living room, where Hunter and Alyce were already waiting.

  "Hi. Sorry I'm late," I said, taking off my jacket and dropping it on the floor next to a chair. I suddenly felt a little self-conscious-everyone was here because of my problems. I sat down and tucked my hands under my legs so they wouldn't clench nervously. These three people cared about me. They had all helped me before, and I had helped them. We were friends. I could trust them.

  "I told Alyce and Bethany about last night's dream," Hunter said.

  "It sounds… very disconcerting," Bethany said. That was an understatement. She arranged herself comfortably on the overstuffed couch.

  "I did some research," she said, "after Alyce told me about this last night. But first, I know you've told Hunter and Alyce all you remember, but I'd like to hear it again for myself, if you don't mind."

  "Okay," I said. Once again I related what I could remember of the dreams I'd had but couldn't come up with any new details. Bethany jotted a few notes as I spoke, and I was aware that Hunter and Alyce were listening attentively.

  "So that's it," I concluded. "But last night was the first one where I felt like I saw someone who might have something to do with the dreams."

  Bethany nodded. "Alyce, do you still feel that these dreams might be coming from Morgan's subconscious? That it's trying to send her a message?"

  "Not as much, not after last night's dream," Alyce admitted. "The voice asking about being avoided, actually seeing Cal. I have to say, it now sounds like these dreams are coming to Morgan, not coming from Morgan."

  "Oh, Goddess," I said, feeling my stomach cave in. "It was bad enough when I thought I had something inside me to work out. But now I'm being attacked?" My voice sounded whiny, but I couldn't help it. I felt so afraid and frustrated and angry that it was all I could do not to jump up and start screaming.

  "Assuming that it's Cal," Hunter said, "it isn't clear how he's doing this." I could see a vein in his neck standing out and knew he was controlling his anger only with difficulty. "The few times I've had any contact with the otherworld, it's been with the anam of a very powerful person. My research turned up much the same information. I would have thought Cal's powers weren't strong enough."

  "What's an anam?" I asked.

  "A… soul," Alyce said. "A spirit, an essence. The you that remains after your body is gone. And yes, I agree that one must be very strong to do this. Of course I didn't know him well at all."

  "What's even more important is why he would be doing this," Bethany said. "What does he want? What's his aim?"

  "Besides turning me into a screaming lunatic," I said bitterly.

  "To get control of Morgan, obviously," Hunter said. "It's what he always wanted."

  "But what good would I be now?" I asked. "He's gone, Selene's gone. He sacrificed himself to save me. What would he want from me now?"

  Hunter looked down at his feet. I knew he still hated Cal. He'd never believed that Cal had tried to save me. I reached out and took his hand.

  "I don't know, dear," Alyce said. "We need to find out. In the meantime let's compare notes and research. Maybe some of it will start to fall into place."

  "I think we can't rule out that it's someone else, perhaps working through or with Cal's anam," Bethany said thoughtfully. "Right now he's our main suspect, but it would be foolish to settle on him as the answer until we know for sure."

  "I can't believe this." I shook my head. Why? Why was he doing this to me? "I feel so powerless. For him-or whoever-to do this while I'm sleeping, when I'm totally helpless and at his mercy… I can't stand it."

  "You're not totally helpless, my dear," said Alyce. "We need to talk about interactive dreaming, guided dreaming."

  "Hold on," Hunter said. His voice sounded hoarse.

  I looked over at him and saw a sick look on his face. He turned to me.

  "That night in Selene's library-we saw Cal and Selene die. But what happened then? We got Mary K. and hustled out of there-I wanted to make sure you were both safe."

  "Uh-huh," I said, hating to remember that horrible night. "What are you getting at?"

  "What happened to their bodies?" Hunter asked, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

  I forced my memory back, back to seeing Cal crumple under Selene's dark power, the bolt of evil meant to kill me that he had taken instead. I remembered holding Selene in a sort of magickal crystal cage. And then she had died. They had both been lying motionless on the library floor. We had left, and outside, Sky was just arriving with some council members. They had streamed into the house, and I hadn't looked back.

  My gaze met Hunter's, and I felt hollow. "I don't know," I said. "We left them there. They were dead."

  Hunter stood and headed for Bethany's phone. Quickly he punched in a long number, then waited, pacing in tight circles.

  "Kennet?" he said after a few moments. "Yes-sorry. I know it's late. I wouldn't have woken you, but this is important. Listen, I must know-what did the council do with the bodies of Cal Blaire and Selene Belltower?"

  I watched him, feeling clouded by sorrow and memory.

  "No, I understand, but it's important, I promise," Hunter said. He listened silently, his face becoming more and more set.

  "Kennet-I appreciate that. I know I'm no longer on the council, and I know there are things that don't need to be broadcast. But this is me, and I'm asking you, as a friend. Please, can you just tell me what happened to their bodies?"

  He listened for a while more, then seemed to lose his patience. "Kennet, please. Right now I don't care about the council or its protocols or what anyone is authorized to say. I need some answer-it's a matter of life and death."

  His face was grim and tense. I knew Kennet had been his mentor and his friend.

  "You're quite sure? Did you see it? You saw this yourself?" his head tilted to one side, and it occurred to me that he was probably analyzing Kennet's voice to determine whether he was telling the truth.

  "Yes, all right. I understand. Yes, I know. Thank you, Kennet. I appreciate it. You won't regret telling me. Good-bye, then." Abruptly he hung up, then wiped his forehead, pushing his short hair up as he did. He came back and sat down next to me, taking one of my hands in his. I waited, staring into his eyes.

  "Cal and Selene's bodies w
ere taken back to England, where they were cremated. Their urns were interred in a small family mausoleum near Selene's birthplace. Kennet swears he actually saw the bodies cremated. I believe he was telling the truth, or at least the truth as he knows it."

  I felt a sense of relief. "I guess it can't be them, then."

  "Not necessarily," said Alyce gently. "This tells us that neither Cal nor Selene had a chance to go back into their own bodies. But it doesn't mean their anams were destroyed-just their physical beings."

  "But how could they survive this long?" I asked. "How could they get to me now?"

  "I don't know," Alyce admitted. "That's one of the questions we need to answer."

  "Let's talk about what actions we can take now," said Bethany firmly, and for the next hour she and Alyce coached me in both interactive and guided dreaming. Before I went to sleep, I could deliberately decide to take part in my dreams, to be able to take action in them. Once there I could guide my dreams the way I wanted them to go; for example, I could find a door, stop my car, be unafraid of anything I might see or hear.

  "I know this will help. I just wish I didn't have to do any of this," I said.

  "I understand," said Bethany. "But for tonight we'll try to give you a reprieve. I've created a very strong sleeping draught that should really knock you out, no dreams. If you do somehow dream, use the exercises we've gone over. But I'm confident that you'll wake up tomorrow feeling better, safer. And by tomorrow evening we hope to have more solid information about how dreams can be influenced either in the real world or from the netherworld."

  "Thanks," I said. "I really appreciate you all helping me like this."

  "Of course," Bethany said, and smiled.

  I was supposed to be home by ten, so I got my jacket, took Bethany's little bottle, and said good-bye. Hunter wanted to walk me out, and I wasn't about to discourage him.

  Outside, my car glowed under the streetlight, heavy and familiar and safe. I opened the door and leaned against it for a minute.

  "I'm sorry, Morgan," said Hunter, brushing my hair back. "We'll fix this somehow, I promise."

  "Thanks," I said. "I just feel… like I'll be paying for my mistakes for the rest of my life." The mistake of trusting Cal, of loving him.

  "You won't," said Hunter, and he sounded so sure that I wanted to believe him. "Listen, do you want me to stay outside your house tonight? Just in case?"

  I thought about it. "No," I decided. "The only time I sleepwalked was before any of you were helping me. I feel okay about the interactive dreaming stuff. Plus I have Bethany's magick potion." I held up the small purple bottle.

  "All right," said Hunter, sounding reluctant. "But call me if you need anything."

  "I will." We kissed and hugged, not wanting to let go.

  Then I got in my car and started the engine. Hunter got smaller and smaller I my rearview mirror until I turned the corner at the next block.

  8. Hunter

  I got home from Bethany's by ten-fifteen and found Sky making a pot of tea.

  "I knew there was a reason that I missed you," I said, and she swatted me with a tea towel. "Put out a mug for me, will you? Is Da out? Did you two talk much?"

  She nodded, putting my mug on the table.

  I love Sky, I respect Sky, and I know who Sky is underneath. She can be funny and warm and thoughtful. Though sometimes I worry that someone who doesn't know her like I do might be put off by how self-contained she is.

  "He's something, your Da," she said, sitting down with her mug of tea. "He went out for an hour. Should be back soon. He seems quite different from the way you described him when you first saw him."

  "He's night-and-day different," I assured her. "He's going to seem like my old da any day now."

  Sky made a face at my cheekiness and took a sip of tea.

  "How's your corner working out?" I asked. One thing none of us had thought of was that our house had only two bedrooms. Da had immediately offered to give up his, which had once been Sky's, but she wouldn't let him. I had done the chivalrous thing and offered my room, too. But I had to admit to myself that I was relieved when she didn't take me up on it. Not when I still had hopes of getting Morgan in there someday alone. So we had rigged up a makeshift curtain across a small alcove that might have once been a pantry, off the dining room. There was just enough space for a single futon, small table, and reading lamp. Oddly, it seemed to suit Sky's somewhat Spartan needs.

  "Corner's fine," she said. "Very cozy. In fact, I'm heading there now. Jet lag is knocking me on my back." She stood up and automatically carried her mug to the sink.

  "Good to have you back," I said, catching her hand as she went past. She gave mine a squeeze, then headed into the dining room.

  Around eleven my father came home. I was waiting in the kitchen and had a mug of tea ready for him. He looked grateful, if somewhat surprised, at my thoughtfulness. He filled me in on his latest speaking dates, and I decided to let him in on Morgan's dreams. I felt a bit odd talking to him about it. Cal had been Da's son, just as much as I was. It wasn't hard for me to hate a half brother I had hardly known, but I knew that Da had much more conflicted feelings. For one thing, I knew he blamed himself for leaving Cal, his infant son, with Selene, in order to be able to marry my own mother, Fiona. He would always question whether Cal would have practiced dark magick if he'd grown up with us, in our family. We'd never know. I deliberately kept my tone as neutral as I could, but I saw a familiar weight bow his shoulders.

  "That sounds bad," he said quietly, stroking his chin. "Do what you can, lad."

  "What do you think of the possibility of Cal's anam coming back this way?"

  "It would be extremely unusual," he said. "Despite all the fairy tales, it's incredibly difficult and rare for someone to come back from the netherworld-at least, not without a lot of help." His face was taut, and by unspoken agreement we didn't discuss how he had once supplied that help to others. "And I didn't know Cal, mind, but I wouldn't have thought he was strong enough."

  "Right, that's what we think, too. And there's something else," I said, moving on quickly. I felt glad I had someone I could trust to talk about Patrice Pearson with. My father, for all his parental idiosyncrasies, could actually be very helpful at sorting out what was happening with the Willowbrook coven. I knew he could be trusted, and he was experienced in the ways of dark magick. I told him everything that Celia Evans and Robin Goodacre had told me, along with my own impressions of them. He listened attentively, giving a low whistle when I described how drained the women felt after a circle and how they sometimes felt they couldn't remember the entire evening.

  "Sounds like a job for a Seeker," he said meaningfully, but I shook my head.

  "I think I can do more not being a Seeker. Anyhow, I need to start investigating. I was wondering if you felt up to some spying and scrying tonight."

  "Me?"

  "Yes. I'm not sure how strong Patrice is-I could use someone else's powers, and then, you might also see things I would miss."

  "Are you referring to breaking and entering?"

  "Nooo. Strictly outside work."

  He nodded, considering, then grinned. "Let me get my jacket."

  Celia had given me Patrice's address, and we located it without much trouble. Forty minutes after leaving my place I drove past her house, which turned out to be a large, well-maintained Victorian in a historic section of Thornton. I parked around the corner, then made sure my mobile was on and set to vibrate. I had a faith that Bethany's potion would work, but I wanted to be available if Morgan needed me.

  Da and I were dressed in dark clothes, and we said a few see-me-not spells I our way to Patrice's house. We also put up some basic blocking spells: Patrice might feel the presence of other blood witches, but before she could investigate, she would be distracted by something. It was almost midnight; she was probably asleep. But just in case, we wanted to be smart.

  It was a quiet, moonless night, and I was thankful for magesight as I picked m
y way unerringly through her neighbor's backyards. The air was still and quite chilly, but the late spring scent of newly opened flowers drifted toward me, and I inhaled appreciatively. From the very back of her property we looked up at her house. One or two windows had a slight glow to them, as if there were night-lights on. That seemed odd-night-lights were one thing you didn't often find in a witch's house. Then I remembered her ill, uninitiated son and figured he must be the reason.

  Neither Da nor I sensed any kind of activity from the house, so we wove our way silently to her large backyard garden. It was a real witch's garden, I saw, with neat beds, raked paths, and green everywhere. I read the small copper signs, seeing the familiar plants: burdock, beetroot, rosemary, yarrow, thistle, goldenseal, mullein, nettle, skullcap. Herbs for dyeing, herbs for tinctures, herbs for healing, soothing, cleansing. Very appropriate.

  Then I saw the neat row of foxglove at the back of one bed. Then I looked around more and noticed Da doing the same. Wordlessly he pointed to a plant. Even in the dark I identified it as a young castor bean plant. By autumn it could be up to ten feet tall, with seedpods full of attractive seeds that people make necklaces out of. Hopefully no one would decide to chew on their necklace because it would likely kill them. I began walking slowly around the beds, becoming concerned, but didn't see anything else out of the ordinary.

  I signaled to my father, and we crept across the yard to sit beneath a huge oak tree.

  "Interesting," he said in a barely audible tone.

  "Very."

  "Of course, a great many plants are poisonous, and people still have them, I said. "Because they're pretty or useful in a nonedible way. Laurels, rhododendrons, oleander, yew. They're everywhere."

  "But castor bean? Nightshade?" said Da skeptically.

  "No. it doesn't look good." Deep in the shadows here, I pulled out my scrying stone, a large, flat piece of obsidian that Da had left me when I was eight. He gave a small nod of recognition. Together we placed our fingertips around the very edge of the stone, and I said the little scrying rhyme Sky and I had made up so many years ago. It had always served me well and could be adapted for any number of situations.