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.
With those words the pain in my chest intensified, and I took deep breaths so I wouldn't cry again. "We're not," I whispered, as the truth broke over me like a terrible dawn. "We're not."
"Not what?"
I tilted back my head to look into his gold eyes, his eyes full of love and longing and fear. I couldn't bring myself to say it outright.
"I know you slept with Bree," I lied instead. "I know it."
Cal looked at me. Before Bree and I had broken our friendship, she had been chasing Cal hard, and I knew from past experience that she always got whatever guy she wanted. One day she had been happy, saying she and Cal had finally gone to bed, so now they were going out. But they hadn't started going out, and he had come after me. I'd asked him about it before, and he had denied sleeping with her, with my best friend. Now I needed to know the truth of it, once and for all, even as I was being hit with other painful truths from every direction.
"Just once," Cal said after a pause, and inside, I felt my heart cease its pumping and slowly clog shut with ice.
"You know what Bree's like," he went on. "She won't take no for an answer. One night, before I really knew you, she jumped on me, and I let her. To me it was no big deal, but I guess she was hurt that I didn't want more."
I was silent, my eyes locked on his, seeing in their reflection all my dreams exploding, all my hopes for our future, all shattering like glass.
"The only powers she had were reflections coming from you," he said, the barest trace of disdain in his voice. "Once I realized you were the one, Bree was just… unimportant."
"Realized I was the one what?" My voice sounded tight, raspy, and I coughed and spoke again. "The one Woodbane around? The Woodbane princess of Belwicket?" I pushed him away. "Why do you keep lying to me?" I cried in anguish. "Why can't you just tell me who you are and what you want?" I was practically screaming, and Cal winced and held up his hands.
"You don't love me," I accused him, still pathetically hoping he would prove me wrong. "I could be anyone, young or old, pretty or ugly, smart or stupid, as long as I was Woodbane."
Cal flinched and shook his head. "That isn't true, Morgan," he said, a note of desperation in his voice. "That isn't true at all."
"Then what is true?" I asked. "Is anything you've told me true?"
"Yes!" he said strongly, raising his head. "It's true that I love you!"
I managed a credible snort.
"Morgan," he began, then stopped, looking at the ground. His hands on his hips, he went on. "This is the truth. You're right. I was supposed to find a Woodbane, and I did."
I almost gasped with pain.
"I was supposed to get close to her, and I did."
How could I still be standing, I wondered in a daze.
"I was supposed to make her love me," he said quietly. "And I did."
Oh, Goddess, oh, Goddess, oh, Goddess.
He raised his head and looked at me, my eyes huge and horrified.
"And you were the Woodbane, and you didn't even know it And then you turned out to be from the Belwicket line, and it was like we'd hit gold. You were the one."
Oh, Goddess, help me. Help me, please, I beg you.
"So I got close to you and made you love me, right?"
I had no answer. My throat was closed.
Cal gave a laugh laced with bitterness. "The thing is," he said, "no one said I had to love you back. No one expected me to, including me. But I do, Morgan. No one said I had to fall for you, but I did. No one said I had to desire you, enjoy your company, admire you, take pride in your strength, but I do, dammit! I do." His voice had been rising, and he stepped closer to me. "Morgan, however it started, it isn't like that now. I feel like I've always loved you, always known you, always wanted a future with you." He put his hand on my shoulder, gently kneading and squeezing, and I tried to back pp. "You're my muirn beatha dan," he said softly. "I love you. I want you. I want us to be together."
"What about Selene?" My voice sounded like a croak.
"Selene has her own plans, but they don't have to include us," he said, stepping closer still. "You have to understand how hard it is to be her son, her only son. She depends on me—I'm the heir to the throne. But I can have my own life, too, with you, and it doesn't have to include her. It's just— first I have to help her finish some things she's been working on. If you help us, too, it will all go so much faster. And then we can be free of her."
I looked at him, feeling a cold, deadly calm replacing the panic and wretchedness inside me. I knew what I had seen in my vision, and I knew Cal was either lying or kidding himself about Selene's plans. They didn't include letting him—or me—be free.
"I'm free of her now," I said. "I know that Selene needs me for something. She's counting on you to sign me up. But I'm not going to, Cal. I'm not going to be part of it."
His expression looked like he had just watched me get hit by a car.
"Morgan," he choked out, "you don't understand. Remember our future, our plans, our little apartment. Remember? Please just help us with this one thing, and then we can work out all the details later. Trust me on this. Please."
My heart was bleeding. I said, "No. Selene can't have me. I won't do what she wants. I won't go with you. It's all over, Cal. I'm leaving the coven. And I'm leaving you."