"Yes," Sky said. "And it's as dreadful and painful as any war ever fought. I'm sorry you're caught in it."
"My family doesn't even know the dark side exists."
"I wouldn't say that. They're Catholics, aren't they? The Church has a pretty well-defined notion of evil. They just give it different names than we do and use different means to deal with it. Darkness and evil have always been part of the world, Morgan."
"And I just lucked into getting close to it?"
Sky smiled. "Something like that. The only comfort is knowing you're not alone in the fight." She nodded toward a phone booth at the end of the strip mall. "I told Hunter to take David home. We'd better call someone if we're ever going to get home from here. How about Bree?"
I dug some change out of my pocket. "I'll call her."
Bree came and got us and drove us home. I went to sleep at once, and the next day I lay low at school. I avoided everyone in the coven, even avoided friends who weren't part of my Wiccan life. I was aching everywhere. I felt beaten, hurt, betrayed by my own birthright. I couldn't help thinking of that first circle with Cal. Wicca had been so beautiful to me. Now it was wound through with pain.
After school I drove Mary K. home and immediately shut myself in my room to do homework—calculus and history and English, all of it reassuringly mundane. I wanted nothing to do with magick. Mary K. poked her head in at one point, told me she was going out with her friend Darcy and that she'd be home in time for dinner.
It was my turn to cook, so at five-thirty I went down to the kitchen and started rummaging through the pantry and freezer. I found some ground beef, onions, canned tomatoes, garlic, a can of mild green chilies, and a box of cornbread mix.
I was putting diced onions into the cast-iron skillet when I sensed Hunter's presence. Dammit, I thought, what do you want now? Resigned, I turned off the flame beneath the pan.
Hunter was coming up the walk when I opened the door. He looked drained.
"I'm making dinner," I said. I turned around and went into the kitchen. I knew he was hurting, but I couldn't bring myself to even look at him. Despite what Sky had told me, despite what I knew in my own heart, all I could see right now was the Seeker.
He followed me into the kitchen. I turned the burner back on beneath the skillet and started chopping up the tomatoes.
"I came to see if you were all right," Hunter said. "I know yesterday was rough on you."
"It doesn't look like it was great for you, either." He moved as if he were badly beaten up.
"It's always hard," he said in a low voice. "And I didn't manage to deflect all the witch fire he shot at me."
I was surprised to realize how much the thought of him being hurt scared me. "Are you all right?" I asked.
"I'll heal."
I added the chilies and tomatoes to the pan and poured the cornbread mix into a bowl.
"I've got bad news," Hunter said. "I've heard from the council. They've passed sentence on David."
I dropped the wooden spoon I was holding. Hunter reached for it in the same instant that I did. He caught it and handed it to me.
"David must be bound and his magick stripped from him." Hunter's jaw trembled as he spoke, and I knew with certainty that this was harder on him than on anyone, except maybe, in this case, David. David had once told me that witches can lose their minds if they can't practice magick.
"So the council strips him?" I asked.
Hunter's face looked harsh beneath the kitchen's fluorescents. "I do. Tomorrow at sunset at my house. I'll need witnesses. Four of them—blood witches."
I stared at him, seeing the pain on his face, and knew what he wanted to ask me.
"No," I said, backing away from him. "You can't ask me to be part of that."
"Morgan," he said gently.
Suddenly I was crying, unable to hold it back anymore. "I hate this," I sobbed. "I hate it if having magick means I have to be part of this. I never asked for this. I'm tired and I hurt and I don't want to hurt anymore."
"I know," Hunter told me, his own voice breaking. His arms wrapped around me, and I let myself fall onto his chest. When I looked up, I saw that his eyes were wet with tears. "I'm so sorry, Morgan."
At that moment I remembered something Cal had told me: that there is beauty and darkness in everything. Sorrow in joy, life in death, thorns on the rose. I knew then that I could not escape pain and torment any more than I could give up joy and beauty.
I clung to Hunter, sobbing, in the middle of my kitchen. He murmured nonsense words and stroked my hair gently. Finally my sobs quieted, and I pulled away. Wiping my eyes, I turned the heat off under the frying pan before it all burned.
Hunter drew a deep breath and brushed a tear from my cheek "Look at us. Two kick-ass witches falling to pieces."
I reached for a tissue on the counter and blew my nose. "I must look like hell."
"No. You look like someone who has the courage to face even what breaks your heart, and I find you. . beautiful."
Then his mouth found mine and we were kissing. At first the kiss was gentle, reassuring, but then something in me took over, and I pressed against him with an urgency and intensity that shook us both. It was as though there was something in Hunter I wanted with a hunger I barely recognized—something in him I needed the way I needed air to breathe. And clearly he felt that way, too.
When we pulled back, my mouth felt swollen, my eyes huge. "Oh," I said.
"Oh, indeed," he said softly.
We stood there for a long moment, looking at each other as if we were seeing each other for the first time. My heart was beating like crazy, and I was wondering what to say when I heard my dad's car pulling into the driveway.
"Well." Hunter ran a hand through his hair. "I'd better go."
"Yes."
I walked him to the door, and suddenly the reason for his visit came rushing back. "Tomorrow is going to be terrible, isn't it?" I said.
"Yes." He waited, not looking at me.
"All right." I leaned my head against the door frame. "I'll be there." I wanted to cry again, and I said, "Oh, Goddess, is anything ever going to feel good again?"
"Yes." Hunter kissed me again, quickly. "It will. I promise. But not until after tomorrow."
On Tuesday at sunset we gathered at Hunter and Sky's house for the ceremony. Sky and Hunter were there, of course, and so was a skinny teenage boy who looked familiar. "Where do I know you from?" I asked him.
"Probably from the party at Practical Magick. I play guitar with The Fianna. That was a sweet night," he said sadly.
"You're Alyce's nephew."
He nodded and held out his hand. "Diarmuid." He shifted uneasily. "Lousy occasion to be formally introduced."
"Will Alyce be here?" I asked.
"Already is," he said in a grim tone. "She started crying the moment we walked through the door. She's upstairs with Sky now. Auntie Alyce always wants to believe the best of everyone. She still can't quite believe it—that David called on the dark side. He's her dear friend, you know."
When everyone had assembled, there were five of us in the living room: Hunter, Sky, Alyce, Diarmuid, and me. Wordlessly Hunter led us to the room at the back of the house.
Candles flickered on the altar and in each of the four corners of the room. Outside, wind swept through the ravine, sending a high keening sound into the room.
David knelt in the very center of the room, inside a pentagram of glowing sapphire light. He wore a simple white shirt and white pants. He was barefoot. His hands were bound behind him with rope, his head bowed. He looked fragile and frightened. I ached to hold him, to comfort him somehow. But I knew I couldn't get past the light.
Hunter gestured, and we each stood on one point of the pentagram, with Hunter at the top of it. I noticed a drum on the floor behind Sky. Alyce stood quietly, her eyes locked on David and filled with grief.