"I'm sorry about your car," Hunter said. "I'm sure it will be fine."
I closed my eyes and nodded. It was obvious he didn't understand at all.
16. Uncertain
The witch from Boston came today. We spent the morning purifying Selene Belltower's house. But we had no luck getting in her library. In fact, this time I couldn't even find the door.
Then, in the afternoon, I fought with Morgan. I pushed her too hard about David. She's resisting me all the way. And why not, when it seems I'm doing nothing but persecute the people she cares for? Am I trying to make her hate me?
No, it's not that simple. I need her to be able to face the truth, even when it's ugly or sinful. I need her to believe in her own strength, the strength that I see every time I look at her.
I've never met anyone who affects me the way she does. We argued today, and the things she said were so wrong and hurtful I wanted to shake her. But then, later, when she saw what the mechanic had done to that old wreck of a car she drives, she looked so shattered, so utterly forlorn, that it was all I could do not to take her in my arms and kiss away the tears.
— Giomanach
In my hideous, piebald car, I drove to a fabric shop to get gold cloth and crimson embroidery thread. I needed them for the protection charm I was going to make for Aunt Eileen and Paula. It would be a little pouch embroidered with the rune Eolh, containing herbs and a crystal.
After that I drove to my mom's realty office. Das Boot no longer made a grinding metallic noise; in fact, the engine sounded perfect. But I was ashamed of how my beloved car looked. I parked at an angle and tried not to look at the nose as I walked to Mom's office.
Widow's Vale Realty was in a small, white-shingled building. Inside, the look was deliberately cozy, with polished hardwood floors, lots of plants, and arts-and-crafts-style rugs and furniture.
"Oh, Morgan, honey. Hi. Did you get your car?" My mom peered out from a desk piled high with three-ring binders, file folders, and loose computer printouts. She looked overworked and overwhelmed. I sighed. I was glad I'd be able to help.
"Yes," I said. "It's fixed. But please don't make me talk about how it looks."
My mom tried unsuccessfully to bite back a smile. A non-car lover, like Hunter. What strange creatures they were.
Thursday and Friday were uneventful days at Widow's Vale High. I met with Cirrus on Friday morning before classes. Everyone was excited about having a circle the following night with Hunter.
"I've been reading this guy, Eliade, who's an expert in the history of religions, and Eliade talks about sacred space," Ethan said. "I'm thinking that's where Hunter took us. And that's exactly what ritual is supposed to do."
I tried not to gape. If anyone had told me two months ago that Ethan Sharp would be discoursing on ritual and sacred space, I'd have told them they were nuts.
"That never happened with Cal," Jenna pointed out. "We did feel magick that one time, but with Hunter it was different. It was just this incredible. . connection."
"That first circle with Hunter changed me," Sharon stated. "I can never go back to thinking about anything the way I did before."
Suddenly I realized they were all feeling something similar to what I'd felt during our very first circle with Cal, when he'd opened me up to magick. It had changed everything. And I ought to be feeling glad instead of resenting the coven and Hunter because my own experience in the circle had been so frustrating.
Matt, whom I'd considered totally self-absorbed, caught me off guard. "But Morgan didn't like it," he said. "It's funny that Hunter has all this power and the one blood witch among us doesn't think he's so great."
Blood witch? I looked up.
"Robbie told us. It sort of came out when he was explaining about Cal," Jenna said gently. "It's okay. We pretty much knew, anyway."
"Uh," I started, flustered. "It's not that I don't like Hunter."
"What is it, then?" Sharon asked.
It was complicated. It was Cal, losing Cal. Hunter being a Seeker and the one who'd made me see the truth about Cal. Hunter suspecting David of dark magick. I shook my head. I couldn't even begin to explain it. So I just shrugged and said, "I don't know, exactly."
Fortunately the first bell rang then. I hurried away, mumbling about how I had to get to my locker. How could I explain my feelings about Hunter to them when I couldn't even explain them to myself?
Saturday dawned cold and bleak. I woke up just after sunrise—unusual for me—shaken by a dream I couldn't remember. Dagda was curled up against my chest. I kissed the top of his silky head and tried to fall back asleep, but it was useless. My thoughts were already roiling. Hunter's face kept rising in front of my eyes. I wondered how Stuart Afton was doing. I needed to get a start on my physics homework and also get back to the realty office to input listings.
That night I had a circle, and Hunter wanted to get together on Sunday for a lesson. I'd told Aunt Eileen and Paula that I'd help them unpack sometime during the weekend, but what I really needed to do was get the last ingredients for my protection charm so I could place it in their house. That meant I had to go to Practical Magick and face David. Would he be able to sense my uncertainty about him?
Already totally stressed, I gave up on sleep, got out of bed, and got dressed. Then I settled at my desk and opened my physics book. Plot the trajectory of a baseball that's been struck by a batter at a 45-degree angle and is traveling at 100 mph (assuming no air resistance), read the first problem. "Why?" I muttered. It was hard to imagine anything more irrelevant to my life, but I started crunching numbers and kept at it until nine, which seemed a respectable hour for me to show up for breakfast on a Saturday morning.
My mom was already gone when I got downstairs, the weekends being prime workdays for realtors. My dad sat at the table, reading the paper. "Morning, sweetie," he said.
Mary K. was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. "Want some oatmeal?" she asked.
"No thanks." I started to prepare my own nutritious breakfast regimen of Pop-Tart and Diet Coke.
She scraped her oatmeal into a bowl. "I talked to Aunt Eileen last night, and I'm going over there after church tomorrow to help them unpack. Want to come?"
"Yes, I told them I would. But can we talk about it later?" I said. "I've got a million things to do this weekend, and I'm not sure how the timing's going to work out."
My father lowered the paper. "What do you have to do?"
I blew out a stream of breath as I carefully edited my answer. "Um. . working at Mom's office, errands, school-work, and getting together with friends tonight." My parents knew that on Saturday nights I attended Wiccan circles, but I tried not to mention it directly too often.
My father studied me with concern. "I trust schoolwork isn't coming last on your list?"
"No," I assured him. "I already did my physics. I've still got a history paper to work on, though."
He smiled at me. "I know you've got a lot going on. I'm proud of you for keeping your grades up, too."
Just barely, I thought.
Twenty minutes later I was out the door.
The light scent of jasmine was in the air when I entered Practical Magick, and Alyce was dressed in an ivory knit dress with a pale pink tunic over it. A strand of rose quartz beads hung from her neck.
"You look ready for spring." I said. "Three months early."
"There's nothing wrong with wishful thinking," she told me with a smile. "How are you, Morgan?"