"Hunter." The word was a mere breath from Morgan, a slight release. Oh, Hunter, where are you? What's happening? Was it actually possible-could he have somehow survived the accident? What beach was this? The ferry had gone down in a small, populated cove. There was no way he wouldn't have been found.
He shook his head, his odd, pale eyes seeming to drink her in ravenously. Don't help me. Morgan heard the words silently in her mind. Listen to me. You're in danger. Don't find me.
Are you alive? She sent the words, as if she were sending a simple witch message across time, across death, across worlds. Are you alive?
His chapped and peeling lips crinkled in a grotesque mockery of a smile, and he shrugged.
If you are alive, I will find you, Morgan sent, and her power and determination were frightening and inescapable.
No, he sent back. No. I'm lost, I'm gone forever.
Hunter's image faded, his eyes too large for his bony face, his mouth forming words Morgan could no longer hear. Then she was alone again in her small workroom, breathing fast and shallowly, her hands trembling, clenching and unclenching. The fire in the hearth had dwindled to embers. The red pillar candle had burned down several inches. When Morgan glanced at the window, the moon was nowhere to be seen. Had those images been real? Twice she had scried and seen Hunter-first with Katrina and again just now Had she scried reality or simply what her innermost heart wished most to see-Hunter alive, even under such horrible circumstances? It had felt real. Oh, Goddess, what if it were real? What if Hunter were actually alive somewhere?
Slowly she stood and took off her robe, her hands shaking so badly, she could barely put her regular clothes back on.
She couldn't do this-she couldn't let herself believe Hunter was really out there if he wasn't, couldn't go through the pain of learning he was dead all over again. But how could she ignore these messages, coming to her one after the other? She had to know the truth. She would do whatever was in her power-which, if she pushed herself to the limit, would be intense-to find out if Hunter was alive.
Morgan moved numbly upstairs, checking to make sure everything was locked. Finnegan raised his head and growled. Automatically she glanced around: no evil spirits coming down the fireplace, nothing was on fire-then a flash outside caught her eye. In a moment she had cast her senses and picked up on a person outside, walking around the house. The living room was dark; no one could see in. But she could see out, and a tall, thin person with white-blond hair was outside her house.
Her heart stopped. Hunter.
Without thinking, Morgan ran to the door and flung it open, Finnegan on her heels. He growled and then barked several times sharply. Morgan stood in her doorway, and at the same moment her inner senses and her eyes informed her of the intruder: Sky Eventide came around the corner of the house just as Morgan identified her energy pattern. "Sky!"
Sky looked up and gave a slight smile. "Sorry I didn't call first."
Morgan began to breathe again, a rush of emotions overcoming her. It wasn't Hunter. Of course it wasn't Hunter.
She hurried over to Sky, grabbing her arm. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you let me know you were coming?"
Sky shrugged as they headed back to the house. She had left her pack by the front door and scooped it up as they went inside. "I was concerned after our phone call the other night, and decided to come check things out."
"Oh, Sky, I saw Hunter," Morgan blurted. "Twice today. I saw him!"
Sky's night-dark eyes widened. "What do you mean, you saw him?"
"I was scrying," Morgan quickly explained. "He was… much older, as old as he would be today. He was on a beach, wearing rags, and he was a mess. He was all windburned and battered looking-" Morgan broke off, unable to bear the memory of how haunted Hunter had appeared, how brutalized. "His bones were showing. He was starving," she went on, struggling not to break down. "He seemed to see me, and I said, Are you alive, and I will find you. And he said, No, I'm lost, I'm gone forever.You're in danger, don't find me."
Morgan took a ragged breath. "It seemed so real. It didn't seem like a vision, or a dream, or just a subconscious message. I mean… I scried, and I saw Hunter, and he talked to me. And I can't help thinking, Oh, Goddess, what if he is alive somewhere?" It was the first time she'd said it out loud, and a shiver passed through her as the words came out. "How could he be?" Sky's voice was higher pitched than usual-she was clearly spooked, and Morgan knew that didn't happen easily. "He was on the ferry-people saw him get on it. People saw him in the water. People saw him disappear under the water."
"They never found his body," Morgan reminded her.
"Because he sank, along with the others!" Sky sounded angry, but it seemed as if she was just afraid to hope, like Morgan.
"There's more," Morgan rushed on. She held up her hand and showed Sky the ring Moira had found.
Sky looked at the claddagh ring, not understanding.
"Sky, this is the ring. My ring," Morgan said, her voice shaking slightly. "The ring I lost that day. It went into the sea. Moira found it on my front walk this evening. See the rune?"
"Goddess," Sky breathed. "Moira found this just outside?"
"Sky… it means something. All the pieces. The morganite. My visions. My dream. What if he's o//Ve?" This time the words came out more forcefully, and Sky met her gaze, no longer arguing.
"The one thing I can't figure out," Morgan said, "is the attack on the coven. The black smoke. And it doesn't feel right here-others have noticed as well. How could there be a connection between Belwicket and Hunter? It doesn't make sense."
"No," Sky said slowly. "Not yet. But what you said, how it doesn't feel right here-I noticed it, too, as soon as I arrived. And listen, Morgan, when's the last time you checked your house for an enemy's marks?"
Morgan sat back, surprised. "Every day since Katrina and I found the hex pouch in the garden. Why?"
"Someone around here is out to harm you." Morgan swallowed. She'd suspected that much already, but how could Sky seem so certain?
"There are sigils on every windowsill, both door frames, and on top of your garden shed. I found three different pouches, two somewhat serious. I put them in the far corner of your yard-we'll deal with them tomorrow. There's evidence of other things buried in your yard in three different places." She shook her head, her fine, light hair flying.
Morgan's whole body went cold. She and Moira were in danger-more serious danger than she'd even realized. How could she have let things get this far? "How could I have missed the sigils, the pouches?"
"I don't know," Sky said. "I can't believe you and Moira aren't in bed with the flu or broken bones."
"I've been working protection spells regularly since the strange things started happening," Morgan said. "I had no idea those things were out there." She rubbed her forehead. Who could be working against her? And Hunter, Hunter. The name was running through her mind in a constant rhythm, a background for anything else she said or thought. Hunter might be alive. After all these years Hunter could be out there somewhere. Hunter, Hunter. "How… how does this all fit together?" Morgan said, frustrated that she couldn't figure it out.
"I don't know," said Sky. "But if there's even a chance that Hunter's…"
"We have to know for sure," Morgan agreed. "We have to find out who is trying to harm me and my family-and we have to find Hunter."
11. Moira
What had Gran been talking about tonight? Moira wondered sleepily as she lay in bed that night. What kind of troubles could she have "smoothed over"? Gran had said a friend of Mum's had died-that must have been Hunter-and Mum had been upset. Gran had smoothed her troubles over. How? Why?