“Give me the words,” he said.
Concentrating, I tried to let the spell come to me instead of reaching out to grab it. “An de allaigh, ne rith la,” I half sang. “Bant ne tier gan, ne rith la.” And so on it went, the words of limitation that were the second part of the spell. After one more phrase Mr. Niall and I started moving together, like synchronized swimmers. My right hand came out and traced three runes, then a sigil, a rune, and two more sigils. These would focus the spell and add power. Each rune stood not only for itself, but also for a word that began with its sound. Each word had meaning and added to the spell.
I crossed my arms over my chest, palms down, each hand on a shoulder. Standing tall, I continued, “Sgothrain, tal nac, nal nithrac, bogread, ne rith la.”
Ten minutes later I sounded the last part of the second stage of the spell. I wanted to drop onto the floor and sleep right there for the rest of my life. But when I looked up and saw admiration on Hunter’s face and a reserved approval on Mr. Niall’s, I felt a rush of energy.
“Was that okay?” I asked, knowing that they would have stopped me if it wasn’t.
“That was fine, Alisa,” said Mr. Niall. “That was good. If we can get the other parts down as well, we’ll be in good shape.”
I tried not to groan out loud: there were three other parts to the spell. The whole thing took almost an hour to perform.
“I felt your power,” Hunter said. “Did you feel it?”
I nodded.“Yes. It seems to be getting stronger—or maybe I’m just better at recognizing it. It’s still so new to me. Is it weird for a half witch to have power?”
Hunter shrugged. “It’s an exceedingly rare condition, right, Da?”
“Very rare. I don’t think I’ve ever met another half witch, let alone one that had powers,” Mr. Niall said. “I’ve heard stories—but usually a female witch can’t conceive by an ordinary male. And when a male witch conceives with a nonwitch female, their child is always relatively powerless.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. I really didn’t want to think about my parents conceiving anything.
“I wonder, though,” said Mr. Niall. “I wonder if your having powers, or this level of powers, has anything to do with your mother stripping herself of hers. Stripping yourself of powers is rather like getting plastic surgery: on the outside, you appear different, but your genes are the same. Your nose looks different, but you have the ability to pass on your old nose to your offspring. The fact that your mother stripped herself of her powers didn’t in any way mean she was no longer a blood witch, with the capability of passing her strength, her family’s strength, on to her offspring.” He frowned at me. “But you do have a high level of power, even assuming that you inherited your genetic due from your mother. Most half witches are relatively weak because they get power from only one side of the family. But you...”
“I break things,” I supplied.
Mr. Niall chuckled—a rare occurrence. “Well, there’s that, lass. No, I was getting at the fact that you seem to have as much power as a full blood witch. I wonder if it’s possible that because your mother stripped herself, her powers were somehow concentrated in you.”
Hunter looked curious. “You mean Alisa has not only her own powers as a half witch, but her mother’s powers as a full witch.”
Mr. Niall looked at me and nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “It’s something I’ve never seen before, but I suppose that’s what I mean.”
“You don’t have brothers or sisters, right, Alisa?” Hunter asked.
I shook my head. “Except for the half sibling that’s due in six months. But it wouldn’t have any witch at all.”
“It would have been interesting if you had, to see what their powers would be like,” he said.
“Yeah. I’m a walking science experiment,” I said tartly. “I mean, do you think I could ever learn to control my power, all the telekinetic stuff?”
Hunter’s father nodded. “Yes—I can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t be able to. It would be a skill to learn, like any other skill. It would take practice, commitment, and time, but I feel sure it could be done.”
“Okay,” I said with a sigh.“I guess I’ll start on that as soon as this dark wave thing is over.”
Hunter and Mr. Niall met glances over my head, and in a flash I got what they were thinking: that if we couldn’t somehow combat the dark wave, I wouldn’t ever have to worry about my telekinetic stuff again. Because I would be dead.
Hunter stretched again, then frowned slightly and went still. I listened for any unusual sounds but didn’t hear anything or see anything out of place.
“What, lad?” asked Mr. Niall, and Hunter held up a finger for silence.
“It’s Morgan,” he said then, getting to his feet.
“What, outside?” I asked, thinking he had sensed her coming up.
“No. At the power sink. She wants me to come there.” He looked at his father. “She said to bring you.”
Without discussion they walked into the front room and pulled on their coats.
Halfway out the door Hunter asked, “Do you want me to give you a ride home?”
I looked around the room at Mr. Niall’s spell books, Rose’s Book of Shadows, and my scrawled notes on endless messy pieces of paper. I needed more practice. “No thanks—I’ll wait here, if that’s okay. I’ll go over the third part of the spell again.”
Hunter considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Right, then. But stay close to a phone, and if anything weird happens, call 911.”
“Okay.” Anything weird? 911? What was going on?
Then they were gone, and I was alone. It was almost two-thirty in the morning. I put another thin log on the fire in the circle room and began to work through the forms again.
11. Morgan
“During the flu epidemic, a coven leader from Dover wanted to use a dark wave on her city. If Dover were leveled, it would reduce the chances of the disease spreading. Sound reasoning, but of course the council couldn’t approve it.”
— Frederica Pelsworthy, NOTABLE DECISIONS OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, Adam Press, 2000
After ten minutes of holding Ciaran in a binding spell, I began to feel that I should have let him sit down first. Because I felt a little guilty that one of the most evil witches in the last two centuries, a man responsible for hundreds if not thousands of deaths, a man who had, in fact, killed my mother, was possibly getting uncomfortable having to stand still in one place for so long! I’m so pathetic, I just can’t stand myself sometimes.
I was leaning against a headstone, occasionally walking around to keep warm, when Hunter and his father arrived. I had never been so glad to see another person in my life. I felt them get out of Hunter’s car; then Hunter led his father through the woods to the Methodist cemetery. I hurried forward to meet them.
“Thanks for coming,” I said, wrapping my arms around Hunter’s waist and leaning my head against his chest for a second. I kept part of my concentration on Ciaran but knew he couldn’t budge that binding spell. I’d always been good at them. “Things got a little crazy.”
“What’s going on?” Hunter held me by my shoulders and looked down into my face with concern.
“Over here.” I waved my hand limply toward Ciaran, and Hunter took a few steps before he spotted him. Then he froze, his hands already coming up for ward-evil spells. “He’s under a binding spell,” I said quickly.
“Goddess,” Mr. Niall breathed hoarsely, having spotted Ciaran.
Hunter turned and looked at me like I had suddenly revealed elf wings on my back.
I shook my head, unsure of how to begin. “I just couldn’t stand the fact that all this was happening because of me. If I weren’t here, Amyranth would have left Kithic alone. I felt like it was all my fault. I decided to contact Ciaran, to try to reason with him.”