"Moira?" Morgan whispered, and then they took each other's hands and held them, combining their energies, their knowledge.
Together they sent their energies out along the lines of the spell that radiated from them like spokes from a wheel. Moira was chanting her call-power spell and continuously sending her power to Sky and Morgan. Sky was repeating her quest spell, and Morgan continued to send out images of Hunter.
It was unclear how long they worked. They wove their words, their thoughts, their energies together until it felt as if they had created a tight, complex basket of silver. In her mind's eye Morgan could see it shimmering before her, becoming more and more complete, spinning and glowing. She focused on breathing in and out, smoothly, constantly, like waves, like the sea, her life force waxing and waning without effort.
Then she saw him. Hunter's face appeared in the silver ball in front of her, life-size, close enough for her to count every wrinkle, every scratch, every bruise. Her heart clenched with the mingled joy of seeing him and the torment of seeing him hurt. But what a gift, to be able to see him at all. He was sitting on a rough, sea-wet rock, his head in his hands. He looked up and seemed to see her.
His mouth made the shape "Morgan."
A shudder passed through Morgan at the sight of him, but she had to stay strong, had to find out the truth.
Giomanach. Hunter. Are you alive or are you dead? Are you of this world or are you gone from this world? Her words felt desperate, screamed, though she made no sound. His face seemed to crumple then, his scraped, bony hand passing over his mouth as if to help him swallow pain.
I am alive but not living. I am in neither your world nor another. I am nowhere.
Who took you from me?
I can never return.
That's not good enough! You are somewhere because we found you! Tell me where and I will come to you! Please-you have to tell me where you are.
Morgan's breath was snatched away as Hunter bent over, shielding his face from her. His too-thin shoulders shook, his matted hair fell forward on his face. It was more torturous than anything she had witnessed in uncounted years. In her chest she felt a searing pain, then a damp warmth made her glance down. Her eyes widened as a ragged splotch of blood spread slowly across her robe, right over her heart. The shock of it broke her concentration, and when she raised her head, her eyes wide, the silver ball was gone, Hunter's image was gone, and all she could see were Sky's and Moira's stunned and afraid faces.
"Mum!" Moira gasped. "What's happening to you?"
Like a snake striking, Sky knocked Hunter's athame off the candleholder. It lay on the wooden floor, showing no glowing signs of heat but searing a charred pattern into the floor. Sky kicked it over onto the stone hearth, then moved the candleholder and took hold of Morgan's robe.
"Morgan!"
It sounded as if her voice were coming from far away, and Morgan stared at her stupidly, then looked down at her robe again. The splotch of blood was the size of her palm now. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, Morgan pulled her silk robe away from her skin. "My heart is bleeding," she whispered. "My heart is bleeding." A thin thread of panic threatened to coil through her veins, but Sky took her arm firmly.
"Moira, dismantle the circles, quickly." Sky's voice was commanding. Morgan watched with an odd, distant confusion as her daughter dismantled and erased circle after circle as fast as she could. When the last one was opened, Sky got to her feet and pulled Morgan up. "Let's go," she said briskly, and Morgan floated dreamily after her as Sky took her upstairs into the small bathroom. There Sky pulled off Morgan's silk robe and grabbed a faded tartan one, wrapping it around her. It was infinitely soft and cozy, and Morgan wanted to lie down in it and sleep forever.
Then Sky took a wet washcloth and began to dab gently at the dark red blood pulsing at the center of Morgan's chest. Moira stood in the doorway, her face pale.
"What is it, Sky?" she said softly.
"Her heart is bleeding," Sky said somewhat brusquely. "Get me some adder's tongue and some amaranth. Morgan should have some dried in her herb store."
As Moira ran down the steps, Sky helped Morgan into her bedroom. Soon Moira came back with two small, neatly labeled glass vials. Sky soaked the adder's tongue and the dried amaranth leaves in cold water, then pressed them into a flat poultice and placed it on Morgan's chest. She covered it with a clean white cloth folded into a square.
"Moira," Sky said, "go outside and pick the last of the rose geranium petals. Mix them with a pinch of dried jasmine flowers and some fresh grated ginger. Make a tea and bring it up. Can you do that?"
Moira nodded quickly but lingered. "Now, Moira," Sky said firmly. "Your mum will be all right," she added, more gently. "It was an unexpected reaction to the spell."
"My chest is throbbing less," Morgan said in a muted voice.
Moira left but soon came back holding a tray with a mug on it. Sky propped Morgan up with pillows so she could drink. Moira sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Morgan. Morgan looked at her and smiled, starting to feel more normal.
"Okay, note to self," she said. "When I do that spell, my heart bleeds. Have help available."
Her daughter smiled weakly, and Sky cracked a smile.
"A most unusual side effect," Sky said. "What do you think about it?"
Morgan met her eyes, black as jet, as onyx. "I think he's still alive."
Unblinking, Sky said, "I think so, too."
"But I don't know where. Sky, we have to find him." Morgan propped herself up on her elbows. "He's on a beach, which narrows it down to tens of thousands of miles of shorelines around the world."
Sky was silent, thinking. Morgan racked her brain, still muddled from the shock. What could they do?
Then Moira took a deep breath and said, "I have an idea."
It was as if Finnegan had started talking. Morgan and Sky just stared at her.
"What?" Morgan asked.
15. Moira
With Sky driving and Moira navigating, the three reached Lilith Delaney's cottage in fifteen minutes.
"What exactly did you see?" Morgan asked for the third time.
"It was him," said Moira, from the backseat. "Turn left up here, at the second lane. I didn't recognize him before because the Hunter in my dream was young and looked really different. But the one I saw in Lilith's crystal was the same person I saw in the silver ball."
"Are you quite sure?" Sky asked, her long, bony fingers tight on the steering wheel.
Moira nodded to herself and said, "Yes. If that was Hunter we saw tonight, then I saw him in Lilith's crystal last night. Do you… do you really think he's alive?" Hunter had looked horrible. Moira thought about Colm, how neat and cheerful and ordinary he had looked. So comforting, reassuring. Like a dad.
"If it's the same person from the silver ball, then yes," Moira's mum said, her voice constrained.
Moira had been trying to suppress her fear this whole time, but now it was threatening to break through. She had no idea what to expect from Lilith Delaney now that it seemed like her mum had been right about her all along. "Here!" she said, peering into the darkness, recognizing the huge oak trees that lined the small road where Ian’s cottage was.
Just six hours ago he had been so comforting on the headland, when she'd felt like she was losing her mind. Had all of that really been an act? Was he using her, trying to gain her trust the way Cal had used her mum? It seemed hard to believe he wasn't now.
But something in her was still praying that somehow Ian had nothing to do with his mother. She just couldn't reconcile her image of him, so kind, so caring, with another image of him actively working with his mother to harm them. Please let it not be true. Not Ian. Please, please, just not Ian.