Night's Child Page 7

  "Gosh, that was so long ago," her mother murmured. "I'm not sure where they are."

  "Didn't Dad say once that all of both of your old stuff was in those crates down in the cellar?" Moira persisted.

  Her mother looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure."

  "Well, I could really use them," Moira said. "It would help me for my initiation. Can I try to find them?"

  Her mum looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Moira wasn't going to back down, not after the things Keady had said.

  "I guess," was her mum's unenthusiastic reply. "But I'll get them for you when I have a minute."

  "Brilliant," said Moira, standing up and putting her dishes in the sink. As she was heading upstairs, her mom said, "Don't forget-circle in an hour."

  "Right," Moira called back.

  "I miss having circles outside, like in summer," Moira said. She and her mum were walking briskly down the road toward Katrina's. The sun had set, and with no streetlights the night was a solid velvety black. With magesight, kind of like a witch's night vision, Moira stepped surely on the rutted, uneven road.

  "Yes," said her mother. "Being outside is always good. But it's nice to have a place to be warm and dry as well."

  Soon they had almost caught up to Brett and Lacey Hawkstone and their daughter, Lizzie, who was fourteen and would start her initiation classes at Yule. Ahead of them Michelle Moore walked with her partner, Fillipa Gregg.

  "Today at class I sent some energy to Keady," Moira said.

  "Really?" Her mother smiled at her and seemed glad but neither surprised nor ecstatic. "Good for you. I'm sure Keady was pleased. Oh, look, Fillipa needs help carrying that bag. Let's hurry."

  As the group approached the store, Moira's gran appeared in the doorway of her cottage. "Hello! Come in," said Gran, smiling. She closed the front door to her house and met them by the store's entrance. Her house was a small, thick-walled cottage, and the old store was attached directly to it. It had been a tiny country store, just one large room. Five years ago the coven had joined together and whitewashed the inside, sanded the floor, and painted good luck charms and symbols all around the room's perimeter. There were four small windows, high up on the thick walls, and a double-wide front door. The only other door led into Gran's back pantry in her house.

  "Hi, Gran," said Moira, kissing her. She sniffed, then wiggled her eyebrows expectantly.

  "Yes, those are gingersnaps you smell," Katrina told her with a laugh. "I felt like baking this afternoon. We'll have them after circle."

  "Morgan," said Hartwell Moss, coming over to hug Moira's mum. "How are you? Rough week?"

  "Not too bad," said Moira's mum, but something in her voice made Moira look at her more closely. Were those lines of tension around her eyes? Was her mouth tight? Moira tried casting her senses and picked up on a lot of anxiety. Was it just because Moira had been late last night, or was something else going on? "Hello!" Gran called, opening her arms wide. "Hello, everyone, and good evening to you. Welcome. Is everyone here, then?" Though she was heavyset and walked slowly because of arthritis, Moira thought her grandmother still made a wonderful high priestess for their coven. Her gray hair was pulled back with silver combs and her long, dove-gray linen robe was imprinted in black with simple images of the sea.

  "Hello, good evening," people answered in various forms. Moira counted: twenty-one people here tonight, a good number. In the winter it often drifted down to eight or nine, when the weather made some of the higher roads risky; in spring the number could swell to over twenty. Even their coven obeyed the law of wax and wane, the turn of the wheel.

  Standing at the head of the room, Katrina clasped her hands and smiled. "The sun has gone down, and we are embraced by the harvest moon, nae? There's a crispness in the air that tells us leaves will soon fell, days will grow shorter, and we'll be staying more by our firesides. What a joyful time is autumn! We gather in our harvest, collecting Mother Earth's bounty, her gifts to us. We till the soil, and the soil feeds us. Or, for some of us, we think fondly of our soil but buy our veggies from the market!"

  People laughed. Moira felt proud of her grandmother.

  "Lammas is behind us: we look ahead to Mabon," Katrina went on. "We're planning a special Mabon feast, of course, so please talk to Susan if you'd like to contribute food, drink, candles, decorations, or just your time. Thank you very much. Now, I've already drawn our circle here, you can see, but if you'll forgive me, I'd like to ask Morgan to lead us tonight. Maybe I've overdone things a little lately."

  Moira glanced at her mother, who was looking at Katrina with affection. Morgan nodded slightly, and, looking relieved, Katrina moved to the side.

  "Can you all please come into the circle?" asked Morgan, and the coven members filed in through the opening that Gran had left. Quickly Morgan went around the circle and sketched the rune Eolh at the east, Tyr at the north, Thorn at the west, and Ur at the south. Moira silently recited their meanings: protection, victory in battle, overcoming adversity, and strength. Powerful runes, runes of protection. As if the coven were under siege. Moira remembered what Keady had said about Morgan's power being used for defense and wondered what was this was about.

  Next Morgan lit a stick of incense and placed it behind the rune Tyr. She set a silver cup of water next to Thorn and a silver cup of smooth pebbles at Ur. Next to Eolh she lit a tall orange candle. Finally Morgan took her place in the circle, between Katrina and Lacey Hawkstone. Everyone clasped hands and raised them overhead. Moira had moved till she was between Vita and Tess, who had also edged away from their parents. Tess squeezed her hand-Moira knew she'd rather be home watching television. Across the room Keady Dove smiled at her.

  "I welcome the Goddess and the God to tonight's circle, and I hope they find favor with our gathering," Morgan began. "I dedicate this circle to our coming harvest, to our safe passage into winter, and to our spirit of community. We're a chain, all of us connected and entwined. We help each other, we support each other. Our links form a strong fence, and within it we can protect our own."

  Moira saw that a few people were glancing at each other. They were probably wondering what was going on, with the runes of protection and Morgan talking about being a fence. Moira hoped she wouldn't start talking about Ealltuinn. Maybe Ealltuinn wasn't as particular about following the Wiccan Rede as Belwicket was. There were lots of covens that weren't. But that didn't make them evil.

  "Since we're in the middle of our harvest season," Morgan said, "let's give thanks now for things that we have drawn to us, for our times of fruitfulness, for the gifts of the land. Life has given us each incomparable riches."

  "I'm thankful for my new pony," said Lizzie Hawkstone. "He's beautiful and smart."

  "I'm thankful my mum recovered from her illness," said Michelle.

  "I bless the Goddess for my garden's bounty," said Christa Ryan, who was Moira's herbology teacher.

  "I'm thankful for the wonderful gift of my daughter-in-law and for my beautiful granddaughter," said Katrina. She smiled at Moira, and Moira smiled back.

  "I'm grateful for family and friends," Moira said, falling back on an old standard.

  "Thanks to the Goddess for the rains and the wind, for they've kept me cozy inside," said Fillipa. "Thanks also to the library in town-they just got in a shipment of new books."

  "I thank the Goddess for my daughter," Morgan said quietly. "I thank time for passing, however slowly. I thank the wheel for turning and for helping grief to ease someday."

  That was about Moira's dad, and she felt people glancing at her in sympathy. She nodded, looking at her feet, acknowledging her mother's words.

  The circle went around, each person contributing some- thing or not as they wished. Then Morgan lifted her left foot and leaned to the left, and the group began a sort of half-walking, half-skipping circle, where it felt like dancing. Moira felt her heart lifting, her blood circulating, and knew that her mum had chosen this to increase the positive, lighthearted energy.

  Morg
an started singing, one of the ancient songs with words that had lost their definitions but not their meanings. Her rich alto wove a melody around the circle, and Katrina took it up, singing different words but layering her melody above and beneath Morgan's. Soon Will Fereston joined in, and Keady, and then most of the coven members were singing. Some were singing songs they'd learned as children or been taught recently. Some were simply making sounds that blended with the others. Moira was trying to copy Morgan, singing the same notes at the same time. She'd never learned this song formally but had heard her mother sing it often-she called it one of her "power-draw" chants.

  People were smiling, the circle was moving more quickly, and Moira could feel a joy, a lightness, enter the room. Even Katrina's arthritis didn't seem to be bothering her. People who had looked tired or stressed when they came in soon lost those expressions. Instead, faces were alight with the pleasure of sharing, with the gift of dancing. Moira laughed, holding tightly to Vita and Tess, hoping she wouldn't trip.

  Then slowly Moira started to see a haze in the room-like everyone around her had grown fuzzy. This wasn't like the energy she'd seen with Keady, Tess, and Vita. She squinted, confused, as the haze grew heavier, darker, blurring her vision.

  Just then Will, Micheile, and Susan started coughing. Then Moira coughed, not quite gagging, and an oily, bitter scent filled the air. Now a thick black smoke was creeping beneath the doors and around the shut windows, slipping in like tendrils of poison. One tendril began to coil around Katrina's foot.

  Katrina flinched and started barking out ward-evil spells. Her sister, Susan, tried to help her but was coughing too much. The circle was broken; several people were on their knees, on the floor. Lizzie was trying not to cry, and old Hamish Murphy looked confused and frightened. Moira felt the panic grow.

  "Mum!" Moira cried, dropping Tess's and Vita's hands. Morgan was standing stiffly, turning slowly to see every single thing that was happening in the room. Her face was white, her eyes wide. She looked both frightened and appalled, staring almost in disbelief at the smoke. Moira saw her lips start moving but couldn't hear her words.

  "Mum!" Moira said again, reaching Morgan and taking her arm. Her mother gently shook her off, freeing herself without speaking.

  While Moira watched, coughing, Morgan closed her eyes and held out her arms. Slowly she raised them in the air, and now Moira could hear her mother's words, low and intense and frightening. They were harsh words in a language that Moira didn't recognize, and they sounded dark, spiky- words without forgiveness or explanation.

  Michelle had reached the door, but it wouldn't open, and people began to panic as they realized they were trapped. Vita was huddled with her parents and younger brother, and Tess was standing by her folks. Keady and Christa were trying to help others, but they were coughing and red faced across the room. Aunt Susan looked as if she were about to faint. Moira stood alone, next to her mother. Once, Morgan opened her eyes and stared straight through Moira, and Moira almost cried out-her mother's normally brown eyes were glowing red, as if reflecting fire, and her face was changed, stronger. Moira could hardly recognize her, and that was perhaps even scarier than the smoke.

  Closing her eyes again, Morgan began to draw runes and sigils in the air around her. Moira recognized more runes of protection but soon lost the shapes of the other, more complicated sigils. It was as if her mother were writing a story in the air, line after line. And still she muttered whatever chant had come to her.

  Moira felt fear take over her body. The roiling smoke was choking everyone. She'd never seen her mother work magick like this, never seen her so consumed and practically glowing with power. Moira's eyes were stinging, her lungs burning. Coughing, she sank to her knees on the floor and suddenly thought of how she had sent energy to Keady. Could she do it again? Could it help somehow? She closed her eyes and automatically drew the symbol Eolh in the air in front of her. There was no time to draw circles of protection, overlain with different runes.

  "An de allaigh," Moira began chanting under her breath, coughing at each word. She knew this power-draw chant well and closed her eyes while she chanted it as best she could. Focus. Focus and concentrate.

  I open myself to the Goddess's power, Moira thought, trying to ignore the foul stench, the gagging smoke. She shut out the sounds of the room. I open myself to the power of the universe. She remembered Morgan's orange candle, set in the east. The smoke had snuffed it a minute ago, but Moira recalled its flame and pictured it in her mind.

  Fire, fire, burning bright, she thought, everything else fading away. I call power to me. I am power. I'm made of fire. She felt it rise within her, as if a flower were blooming inside her chest. She inhaled through her nose, the acrid smell making her shudder. Holding her arms out at her sides, Moira felt power coming to her as if she were a lightning rod, being struck again and again with tiny, pinlike bolts of lightning.

  The room was silent. Moira opened her eyes. People were moving, crying, shouting, trying to break a window. Her mother was standing in front of her, her arms coiled over her chest, her face contorted with effort. Her cheeks were flushed, and her brown hair was sticking to her forehead. Her fists were clenched.

  Moira felt as if she were moving through gelatin, slowly and without sound, making ripples of movement all around her. She stood and leaned close to her mother, seeing power radiating from Morgan in a kind of unearthly glow.

  I send my power to you. Moira reached out and covered Morgan's fists with her own. I give my power to you. And she truly did feel it leave her, a slipcase of white light sliding from her, through her hands, and draping lightly over the hands of her mother. Slowly, slowly, Morgan's hands opened, and Moira's cupped them, a two-layered flower of flesh, bones, and a pure, glorious, glowing light.

  Then Morgan threw her arms up and open, her head snapped back, and a final shout tore from her throat. She sounded wolflike, Moira thought, startled, as strong as a wild animal, and at that instant a window exploded in a shower of glass.

  Instantly the black smoke was sucked out of the room, as if the room had depressurized at a high altitude. Shiny shards of broken glass rained down like crystals, like ice. Moira's hands still touched Morgan's arms, below the elbows, and suddenly cool, damp air washed over her, fresh and clean and smelling of night. She could breathe now and heard sounds of choking and gasps of relief. Around her she felt the warm release of the most desperate fear, the worst of the tension.

  Moira inhaled deeply, feeling that nothing had ever smelled so wonderful, so life-giving, as the wet-dirt smell of autumn night air. Her mother opened her eyes, and Moira was relieved to see that they were the mixed shades of brown, green, and gold that she knew. Maybe she had just imagined the glowy redness.

  Morgan's arms lowered, and she took Moira's hands. She looked solemn but also brightly curious. "You gave me power," she said very softly, her voice hoarse.

  Moira nodded, wide-eyed. "Like I did Keady," she whispered back.

  "You helped save us," said her mother, and hugged her, and Moira hugged her back.

  "Where did it come from?" Moira asked as they walked home along the country road. The moon was shining brightly, lighting their way. After the smoke had left, people had sat for an hour, recovering. Wine and water had washed the taste from their mouths, but no one had been able to eat anything. Finally, when her mum had been sure they were safe, the coven had disbanded.

  "I'm not positive, but I think it was from Ealltuinn," answered her mother. She sighed. Moira waited for her to say something about Ian, but she didn't.

  "That smoke-I was so scared," Moira said in a rush. "I was glad you had so much power. And at the same time, it was scary-I've never seen you like that."

  Her mother licked her lips and brushed her bangs off her forehead. "Magick transforms everyone," she said.

  Moira followed her mother home through the darkness, not sure what to say.

  4

  Morgan

  Morgan looked up as Keady
Dove let herself in through the green wooden gate that bordered Morgan's front yard.

  " 'Lo," she said, brushing some hair out of her eyes. This morning, after Moira had left for her animal-work class in town, Morgan had paced the house restlessly. Last night it had taken all of her will not to show Moira how shocked and disturbed she had been by the black smoke. They had walked home in the darkness, with Morgan casting her senses, silently repeating ward-evil spells, trying to sound normal as her daughter asked her difficult questions to which she had no answers. She'd been awake all night thinking about what had happened and trying to make sense of everything. She was almost positive the smoke had come from Ealltuinn-she just couldn't think of any other possibility. And very likely it was connected to the pouch and to the vision. She had underestimated Lilith Delaney. Lilith was practicing dark magick against Belwicket, and Morgan had to find out why-and soon. Thankfully at least Moira had been able to sleep last night and hadn't been awoken by nightmares. Part of Morgan had wanted to keep Moira home with her today, not let her go to class. But Tess and Vita had met her at the bus stop, and it was broad daylight....

  Morgan smiled as Keady sat cross-legged on the sun- warmed bricks of the front path. She and Keady had been friends at least ten years, and in the six months since Colm's death Keady had been popping in to tutor Moira more regularly. Morgan was glad Moira had such a gifted teacher.

  "I'm interrupting," said Keady, watching as Morgan pulled some small weeds from around her mums. They were starting to bloom; she would have some perfect orange, yellow, and rust-colored blooms by Samhain.

  "Not at all. I wanted to talk to you after last night."

  "Yes. Your garden's looking lovely, by the way."

  "Thank you," said Morgan. She paused and sat back on her heels, knowing Keady hadn't come to discuss her garden. "Moira gave me energy last night."