"I have to go," I said, looking around for my tools. It was now almost dark. I grabbed Maeve's box and shook some of the snow off my boots.
"Morgan—" Sky began.
"I have to go," I said, more strongly.
"Morgan?" she called as I took the first step into the woods. I turned back to look at her, standing alone in the clearing. "Be careful," she said. "Call me or Hunter if you need help."
Nodding, I turned again and made my way back to my car. Inside, my heart began screaming again: No, no, no
CHAPTER 16
Truth
I've always wondered if my mother killed my father. After all, he left her, not the other way around. And then he had two more kids right away with Fiona. That really freaked mom out.
Dad «disappeared» when I was almost nine. Not that I'd seen anything of him before that. I was the forgotten son, the one who didn't matter.
When mom got the phone call, she just told me that Dad and Fiona had vanished. She didn't say anything about them being dead. But as the years have worn on and on no one's heard from him—that I know about, anyway—it seems safe to assume he's dead. Which is convenient, in a way. It means Giomanach doesn't have Dad's power behind him. But still, I wish I knew what really happened….
— Sgath
The sun had faded away. My wheels crunched ice on the road as I drove past old farms, fields of winter wheat, silos.
Cal and Selene. Selene was evil. It sounded melodramatic, but what else do you call a witch who works on the lark side? Evil. Woodbane.
No! I told myself. I'm Woodbane. I'm not evil. Belwicket wasn't evil; my mother wasn't. My grandmother wasn't. But somewhere along the line, my ancestors had been. Was that why Selene wanted me? Did she see the potential for evil in me? I remembered the vision I'd had of myself as a gnarled gone, hungry for power. Was that my true future?
I choked back a sob. Oh, Cal, I screamed silently. You betrayed me. I loved you, and you were just playing a part.
I couldn't get over this. It was a physical pain inside me, an anguish so devastating that I couldn't think straight. Tears rolled down my cheeks, leaving hot tracks and tasting of salt when they touched the edges of my lips. A thousand images of Cal bombarded my brain: Cal leaning down to kiss me, Cal with his shirt open, Cal laughing, teasing me, offering to help me with Bakker, making me tea, holding me tight, kissing me hard, harder.
I was flying apart inside. I began to pray desperately that scrying had been a lie, that Sky had tricked me, made me things that weren't there, she had lied, had lied….
I needed to see him. I needed to find out the truth. I'd had my questions answered by Hunter and by Sky, and now only Cal remained to fill me in on the big picture, the dangers I was blundering into, the reasons I needed to be careful, to watch myself, to rein in my power.
But first—I had to hide my mother's tools. With all my heart, I hoped that Cal would convince me of his innocence, convince me that Sky was wrong, convince me that our love was true. But the mathematician in me insisted that nothing is one hundred percent certain. I had bound my mother's tools to me, they were mine, and now I had to make sure no one would take them away or make me use them for evil.
But where to stash them? I couldn't go home. I was already almost late for dinner, and if I went home, I wouldn't be able to turn around and leave. Where?
Of course. Quickly I made a right turn, heading to Bree's house. Bree and I were enemies: no one would suspect I would hide something precious in her yard.
Bree's house looked large, immaculately kept, and dark. Good—no one was home. I popped the trunk on my car and took out the box. Whispering, "I am invisible, you see me not, I am but a shadow," I slunk up the side yard, then quickly ducked beneath the huge lilac bush that grew outside the dining-room window. It was mostly bare this time of year, but it still hid the opening to the crawl space beneath Bree's house. I tucked the toolbox out of sight behind a piling, traced some fast runes of secrecy, and stood up.
I was opening my car door when Bree and Robbie drove up in Bree's BMW. They pulled up beside me and stopped.
Ignoring them, I started to swing into the driver's seat of my car. The passenger window scrolled down smoothly. Crap, I thought.
"Morgan?" said Robbie. "We've been looking for you. We were talking to Sky. You've got to—"
"Gotta go," I said, climbing in and slamming the door shut before he could say anything else. I had already talked to Sky, and I knew what she'd said.
Robbie opened his door and started toward me. I peeled off, watching him get smaller in the rearview mirror. I'm sorry, Robbie, I thought. I'll talk to you later.
On the way toward the river, thoughts of exactly what I would say to Cal raced through my mind. I was in the middle of my ninth hysterical scenario when—
Morgan.
My head whipped around. Cal's voice was there, right beside me, and I almost screamed.
Morgan?
Where are you? my mind answered frantically.
I need to see you. Please, right away. I'm at the old cemetery, where we had our circle on Samhain. Please come.
What to do? What to think? Had everything he'd told me been a lie? Or could he explain it all?
Morgan? Please. I need you. I need your help.
Just like that night with Hunter, I thought. Was he in trouble? Hurt? Blinking, I wiped away some stray tears with the back of my sleeve and peered through the windshield. At next the intersection I turned right instead of left, and then I was on the road leading north, out of town. Oh, Cal, I thought, a new wave of anguish sweeping over me. Cal, we to have it out.
Five minutes later I turned down a side road and parked front of the small Methodist church that had once shepherded the people who now lay in its graveyard.
Shuddering with leftover sobs, I sat in my car. Then I felt Cal, coming closer. He tapped gently on my window. I opened the door and got out.
"You got my message?" he said. I nodded. He examined my face more closely. Then he caught my chin in his hands and said, "What's wrong? Why were you crying? Where were you? I tried going by your house."
What should I say?
"Cal, is Selene trying to hurt me?" I asked, my words like shards of ice in the night air.
Everything in him became still, centered, and focused. "Why would you say that?"
I felt his senses reaching out to me, and quickly I shut myself down, refusing him entrance.
"Is Selene part of an all-Woodbane coven that wants to erase non-Woodbanes?" I asked, pushing my hair out of my face. Please tell me it's a lie. Please convince me. Tell me anything.
Cal gripped my hair in his hand, making me look at him. "Who have you been talking to?" he demanded. "Dammit, has that bastard Hunter been—"
"I scryed," I said. "I saw you with Selene and other people. I heard them talking about your 'assignment'. Was I your assignment?"
He was silent for a long time. "Morgan, I can't believe this," he said at last. "You know you can't believe stuff you see in scrying—it's all nebulous, uncertain. Scrying shows you only possibilities. See, this is why I always want you to wait until I guide you. Things can be misunderstood—"
"Scrying showed me the possibility of where my mother's tools were," I said, my voice stronger. "It's not always lies—otherwise no one would use it."
"Morgan, what's this all about?" he asked in a loving voice. He gently pulled me to him so that my cheek rested against his chest, and it felt wonderful and I wanted to sink into him. He kissed my forehead. "Why are you having doubts? You know we're muirn beatha dans. We belong together; we're one. Tell me what's wrong," he said soothingly.