“Wow,” I said softly. “How horrible for your dad. How horrible for you.” I touched his arm, and he looked up at me gratefully.
“Anyway,” he continued, “while I was there, he succeeded in contacting my mum. So I got to say good-bye to her, which was—priceless. But a bith dearc saps a living witch’s strength, and my da was fading every day. I had to get him away from that village before he killed himself. The council gave me an assignment in a town three hours away, and I took him with me. While we were there, he agreed to come here to live with me for a while.” Hunter turned to me and smiled and shrugged, as if to say, “The end.”
“That’s not everything, though,” I challenged. “There was a woman. I saw you with her. I know you felt me scrying for you.”
Hunter’s smile faded, and he nodded. “Justine,” he said quietly. “Justine Courceau. She was my assignment from the council.”
Hunter was a Seeker for the International Council of Witches, which meant that he investigated witches suspected of using dark magick. “What was she doing?” I asked.
Hunter sighed. “She’s a kind of. rogue. She’s the only witch in her small town, and she believes that knowledge is pure—any knowledge. She was collecting true names. of people.” My eyes went wide. That was a major Wiccan no-no. “I was sent there to stop her and destroy her list.”
“Did you?” I asked, remembering the emotion on Hunter’s face when I had scried for him.
“Yes.” Hunter frowned, and his voice grew softer. “Justine was very passionate about what she believed in. When you saw us, we were arguing about whether the list was inherently bad. I was under a lot of stress, and she was very. persistent.”
I stared at him, dreading his next words.
“I kissed her,” Hunter continued, and my heart plunged. “I knew as soon as I did it that it was a mistake. I was lonely and. sad. I missed you. I wanted you.” Hunter groaned softly. I turned away. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I couldn’t look at him right now.
“How does kissing another woman. mean that you want to spend time with me?” I stared at the wall. I couldn’t imagine wanting to kiss anyone else, anyone but Hunter, for any reason. I struggled to get it all to make sense, but I just couldn’t.
I could hear Hunter’s sigh. “I don’t know, Morgan, and I’m sorry. So sorry. If there was some way that I could undo it, I would.”
I shook my head. “But you can’t.”
“I know.” I felt Hunter’s fingers touch my back, but I scooted away. “Morgan, I don’t know what to say, how to explain it all to you. I love you very much. You’re my mùirn beatha dàn, and I know that.”
I let out a ragged breath, like I was about to cry. Dammit—no! I took a deep lungful of air, not wanting to fall apart in front of Hunter. I wanted to hear what he had to say about this. I wanted to act like an adult.
Hunter went on. “The whole drive home, you were all I could think about. If you want to know why in that moment I kissed Justine, I can scarcely figure it out myself. It happened quickly. I felt like everything in my life was going the wrong way. My job with the council, my father—”
“—and me,” I finished for him. “Because I scried for you. Without asking. And before you left—” My voice caught again. Before Hunter left, we had been planning to make love. But at the last minute Hunter had backed out. He’d said he didn’t want to love me and leave me—he wanted to be there for me, my first time, on the morning after. I had felt ridiculous then, and I felt even more so now.
Hunter put his hand on my shoulder, and this time I was too busy trying not to cry to pull away. “Morgan, this has nothing to do with what happened before I left. I love you, and of course I want to make love with you—it just wasn’t the right time. You know that. I was startled when you scried for me, and everything else was going wrong. I suppose I was angry. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Justine means nothing to me. It’s you I love.”
Sniffling, I tried to calm myself down. I reached for my tea and took a sip, then sighed and slowly turned my body to face Hunter. “I know you do,” I whispered. “It just. hurts. And I still don’t understand.”
Hunter frowned, leaning forward to brush my hair out of my eyes. “Maybe I can’t make you understand,” he said softly. “I can only say again that I love you, and I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
I looked up into Hunter’s eyes—they were warm, filled with concern and love. But I still hurt. “Maybe,” I said softly. “I can’t say I forgive you yet. You’ll have to give me some time.”
Hunter nodded, and I could see sadness welling up in his eyes. “Morgan, I can’t say I’m sorry enough.”
I looked down at my tea, cradling the cup in my hands. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say anymore.
Hunter sat back in the sofa. “Morgan, there’s more news—if you want to hear it.”
I turned the teacup in my hand, feeling utterly overwhelmed. “What next?” I asked sarcastically. I was dreading his next revelation. Everything up to this point had been awful.
“First,” he said after a moment, “the council. Morgan, the council had been in contact with my parents months ago—back when my mother was sick, before she died. They knew where my parents were and didn’t tell me.”
I turned to look at him. “What? How do you know? Are you sure?”
Hunter nodded. “My da told me. He thought I already knew. My mentor, Kennet—he sent a healer for my mum back in December.”
I frowned. “So—”
“So they betrayed me. They probably wanted me here, to protect you. And I don’t regret that—truly, I don’t regret that at all. But they didn’t give me the choice. They let me believe that my parents were still missing.”
I stared at him, at the hurt in his face. I could see how this would affect him. He had missed seeing his mother alive because he’d had to stay here and protect me. Hunter had placed all of his trust in the council since he had become their youngest Seeker a year ago, and this was how they treated him. “What are you going to do?”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know.”
I slowly put my cup down. “Was there something else?” I asked shortly, dreading the answer.
Hunter nodded, looking stung. I knew he wanted forgiveness, but I wasn’t ready to give him that. “Stay here for a moment,” he said as he slid off the couch and went upstairs to his bedroom. In a few seconds he thumped back down the stairs, holding an ancient-looking book under his arm.
“What’s that?”
Hunter came closer and held it out to me. “This is very interesting. It’s a record of sorts. My father found it in Justine’s library.”
I shuddered at hearing her name again, but I composed myself and took the book from him carefully, so that I didn’t have to touch his hands. I ran my hands over the cover, which was made of torn and faded leather. Opening it, I could see that the pages were handwritten. “A Book of Shadows?”
“Not a Book of Shadows, exactly.” Hunter flipped the pages back to the beginning, where a handwritten title page read, A Book of Spelles and Memories, by Rose MacEwan. “It’s more like a memoir.”
“Rose MacEwan,” I whispered. “Do you think.?”
Hunter nodded gravely. “She lived in Scotland during the Burning Times. It’s very likely that she was an ancestor of yours. This book could be invaluable for what it can tell us about the dark wave spell and how it came into being. My da’s read most of it, but I haven’t looked at it at all.” He closed the cover of the book and looked up at me hopefully. “Would you like to read it with me, Morgan?”