"Are you guys all right?" Bree asked. I saw fear and concern in her eyes.
I nodded. "Nothing feels broken. I must have landed on something soft," I said.
"That was me, I think. But I'm all right, more or less," Hunter added. He put a hand to his side and winced. "Just a few scrapes and bruises."
Sky put her arm around my waist and helped me around to the front of the house and inside.
"What happened?" Matt asked, following us. "Was the wood rotten?"
The coven members gathered around, going over what had just happened. As soon as they'd seen the stairs collapsing, they had crowded back through the kitchen door. I was so glad no one else had been hurt.
Sky left the kitchen, and Bree led me to a chair. "That was terrifying," she said. "Seeing you and Hunter go down." She shook her head.
"Here. I found some kava kava tea," said Jenna, pressing a warm mug into my hand.
I nodded and took it from her. "Thanks." I sipped the herb tea, hoping it would take effect soon. What a night it had been already, between hearing Cal's voice and then having this accident.
A few minutes later Sky came back in. "Hunter's looking at the porch," she reported. "Now let's get you cleaned up." She fetched a small basket of supplies from the bathroom and started washing my cuts and bruises. "Arnica," she said, holding out a small vial. "Good for trauma."
I was letting the pills dissolve under my tongue when Hunter limped in, his face grim. He had scrapes on his cheek, and his sweater was ripped and bloody on one side. For myself, knew I'd have bruises on my back and legs, but that was pretty much it.
"The posts were sawed," Hunter announced, throwing down the coil of rope.
"What?" Robbie exclaimed. He, Bree, and Jenna were hovering by my chair. Matt, Raven, Sharon, and Ethan were standing at the back door, looking out at what was left of the porch. Thalia, Alisa, and Simon hadn't arrived yet.
I stared at Hunter in alarm, and Cal's voice echoed in my head again. "Sawed with a saw, or spelled to break?" I asked.
"Looked like a saw," Hunter said as Jenna gave him a mug of the same tea I was drinking. "I didn't sense any magick. I'll have a closer look tomorrow, in the daylight."
He looked at me: we needed to talk. This was the second time we had almost been killed when we were together. It couldn't be coincidence.
"Maybe we should call the police," said Jenna.
Hunter shook his head. "They'd think we're subversive Wiccan weirdo's who are being persecuted by the neighbors," he said dryly. "I'd rather not bring them into this."
"Okay, everybody, I'm going to lead the circle tonight," Sky announced, getting everyone's attention. "We'll start in a few minutes. Why don't the rest of you come to the circle room and start getting settled in while Morgan and Hunter finish their tea?"
They all trooped out. Robbie cast a worried glance over his shoulder at me as he left.
Alone, Hunter and I sat in silence for a moment.
"Neither of these accidents looked like magick," Hunter said at last. He breathed in the steam from his mug. "But as I said, I just can't think of any enemies I might have who aren't witches."
"What about someone who used to be a witch?" I asked, thinking of how David had been stripped of his magick. David was in Ireland, but Hunter must know other witches whose magick was bound.
"That's a thought," Hunter agreed, "although I pretty much know the location of the ones I've had to work against, and none of them are anywhere nearby." He put down his mug. "I'd better get cleaned up," he said, wincing as he stretched his arm. Automatically I followed him to the downstairs bathroom.
He snapped on the light. The room was small, unrenovated, with old-fashioned white tiles. It was scrupulously clean, and he started rummaging in the medicine cabinet. I perched on the edge of the tub. "I have something to tell you," I said.
He turned to look at me. "That sounds ominous." With careful movements he stripped off his dark, ripped sweater and the torn T-shirt underneath. Then he was wearing only his jeans, and I was trying not to stare at his naked, muscled chest. He was much fairer than Cal, his skin a smooth ivory color, and he had more chest hair than Cal. It was a golden brown and stretched from beneath his collarbone down in a V to where it disappeared into his pants, at eye level to where I was sitting. My mouth went dry, and I tried to focus on the large scrapes that sullenly oozed blood along his side.
When I dragged my eyes up to his face, he was looking at me with an almost glittering awareness. Wordlessly he handed me a wet washcloth, then held his arm away from his side.
Oh, I thought, standing up and starting to wash away the blood and dirt. My fingers tingled where they touched him. He turned for me, and I saw his back had been scraped as well, though not as badly. His skin was smooth, and he had pale freckles across both shoulders. I remembered that he was half Woodbane. He and Cal had the same father.
"Do you have a Woodbane athame?" I asked. "The birthmark?"
"I do, actually," he said. "Do you?"
"Yes." I dropped the washcloth in the sink and reached for the antibiotic ointment.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said with a wolfish smile.
Mine was under my left arm, on my side. Since I couldn't see his, I could only assume it was somewhere under his pants. My mind couldn't even begin to go there, so I said nothing.
"Don't you want to know where mine is?" he asked teasingly, and I could feel my blush starting at my neck and working its way upward. He leaned over me and brushed my hair over my shoulder, then traced my jaw line with one finger. I remembered the way he felt, pressed against me, and most of my coherent thoughts fled.
"No," I said unconvincingly, lost in his eyes.
"I want to know where yours is," he breathed, his mouth close to mine.
The idea of his hands under my shirt, roaming over my skin, almost made my knees buckle. "Uh," I said, trying to talk myself out of whipping off my shirt right there. Focus. Come on, Morgan.
"Cal called me tonight," I blurted.
His hand fell away from my cheek. "What?" His voice reverberated loudly off the tiles.
"On my way over here. He sent me a witch message. I heard it in my head."
Hunter stared at me. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"
I just looked at him, and then he realized what had happened as soon as I got here.
"Right. I'm sorry. Well, what did he say? Could you tell where he was? Do you know where he is? Tell me everything." Moments before he had been playful and flirtatious; now he was intense, all business.
"There's nothing much to say," I explained. "I was driving here, and suddenly I heard Cal say, 'Morgan. That's all. I was totally freaked and sent my senses out to find him but didn't feel him anywhere. I mean, I didn't feel a thing. And that was all he said."
"Do you know where he is?" Hunter demanded, holding my shoulders. "Tell me the truth."
"What do you mean? I am telling you the truth! I don't know where he is." I stared at him in bafflement. How could he think I might lie about something so important to both of us?
"Cal! That bastard," Hunter snapped, letting go of me. His hands clenched into fists, and the bathroom seemed too small to hold his rage. "Are you sure he didn't say anything else?"