It was such a beautiful day, the incidents of the night before seemed unreal. . and unlikely. Had everyone really freaked out over a few lightbulbs bursting? That could have been an electrical surge—a problem in the wiring at Hunter’s house. And the figure in the fog could have just been an odd mist formation. Clouds took on strange shapes all the time, I reminded myself.
I lay in bed, enjoying the warmth of my flannel sheets and down comforter, listening for the sounds of my parents and sister as they went through their usual Sunday routine of showers and breakfasts. But the house was silent. Rolling over, I glanced at my digital clock. Nine forty-seven! They hadn’t even bothered waking me for church.
I lay back against my pillows, unsure how I felt about that. Wicca was my religion, after all, the religion that felt like home to me, as natural as breathing. And I hadn’t been going to church much lately. Still, our church filled me with warm feelings. It held lots of good memories for me, memories of my family and of my community.
Suddenly I felt like the last child to be picked up from a party—neglected and forgotten. I knew the feeling was childish, but I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t so much that I really wanted to go to church. I just wanted to be asked.
Slowly I crept out of bed, moving aside my cat, Dagda’s, warm, furry form. He mewed softly, then stretched and rolled onto his back, only to curl up again and doze off. What a life.
After a long, steamy shower I began to feel almost human again. I puttered around the house awhile, reading the paper and microwaving myself a bowl of oatmeal. Desperate to talk to somebody, I called Robbie, but he wasn’t home and I didn’t leave a message. I didn’t know what I wanted to say. Finally I decided to meet my parents for brunch at the Widow’s Diner. It was a tradition for my family to eat there after church. This would be a good chance to show my mom that I could spend time with the family and still be involved in Wicca. Besides, I wanted to see them.
Quickly I pulled on a gray cable-knit sweater and my faded jeans. I put on my thickest socks and sank my feet into my heavy brown boots. In just a few minutes I was in Das Boot, tearing up the road on the way to the Widow’s Diner.
As I walked into the diner, my stomach squirmed with nerves. Between Mary K being mad at me and the lecture I’d gotten from my mom, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I glanced around and saw that my family was sitting in our usual spot—the booth against the windows. They were all laughing at something someone had said. Across from my mom and dad was the back of Mary K.’s head. . and someone else, a girl with thick, golden brown hair. I stopped short. Who was that? Then my mom looked up and saw me. She looked surprised and pleased. She waved me over.
Mary K. turned around in her seat. After a moment she flashed me an uncertain smile, and the nervous caterpillars in my stomach quieted. Had she forgiven me? I hoped so. I grinned back and hurried toward them. The other girl still hadn’t looked up, so I didn’t see until I got to the table that it was Alisa.
“Hi, everyone,” I said, sliding into the booth next to Mary K. The Formica tabletop was littered with my family’s half-eaten lunch. “Hey, Alisa,” I added when she didn’t look up from the straw wrapper she was fiddling with on the table. For a moment I wondered what she was doing there. But I knew that she went to our church and that she and Mary K. had gotten pretty tight ever since Mary K.’s best friend, Jaycee, had found a boyfriend. Alisa had been close to Jaycee, too, so I guess that made both Alisa and Mary K. boyfriend refugees.
Alisa gave me a hesitant smile. “Hi,” she said. There were dark circles under her eyes and a strange note in her voice that brought back the eerie scene from the night before. Instantly I remembered just how real it had all been. Alisa went back to fiddling with her straw wrapper.
“Have you eaten yet, sweetie?” my mom asked, and my dad twisted in his seat to flag the waitress down.
“Some oatmeal,” I replied. “I really just came by to see you guys.”
“Only oatmeal? Have a bagel,” my mother urged, “or a cup of soup. It’s lunchtime—you should have a bite to eat.”
I realized that my parents wouldn’t be satisfied until I ordered something, so I asked for some wheat toast and chamomile tea. By the time I’d finished ordering, my mom and dad were engrossed in a conversation about some problem she was having with her boss. I turned to say something to Mary K., but now she had her back to me. She was whispering something into Alisa’s ear. My heart sank, and I had the strangest feeling. It was almost as if I were invisible. I sat quietly, staring out the window for a few moments, waiting for my tea. Here I was, right in the middle of my family—and missing them more than ever.
I spent the afternoon trying to do all the math homework that I should have done the week before. I actually finished most of it before I drove to Hunter and Sky’s place at eight to meet with Erin.
Hunter let me in. Erin and Sky were sitting on the couch as we walked into the living room. The lamps were glowing with new lightbulbs, and the books sat quietly on their shelves. There was no sign of what had happened the night before.
“I’ve already told Sky and Erin about last night’s fog,” Hunter said as I pulled off my jacket and kicked off my duck boots. Padding across the room in my thick socks, I curled up into the corner of the large brown velvet armchair that sat to the side of the couch, pulling my legs beneath me.
“You say the shape you saw looked like a woman?” Erin said to Hunter. He nodded.
Erin pursed her lips. “Did she say anything?” she asked me abruptly.
I flushed slightly under her intense gaze. “No. She didn’t do anything at all,” I said. “She just looked at us a minute and disappeared.”
Erin lifted her eyebrows and turned to Hunter for confirmation. He nodded again.
“But there’s no doubt in your mind that this was something?” Erin asked. “This wasn’t just some kind of problem with the weather—a strange-looking patch of mist?”
“It was real enough that I nearly drove the car off the road.” Hunter’s voice was certain, but I remembered the flash of doubt I’d felt that morning.
Erin sat back and pressed her lips together. She sat perfectly still, and with her pale skin and delicate features, she looked almost like she was made of marble.
“Do you think it was Ciaran?” Sky asked. Her oval face was tense.
“Perhaps,” Erin said. Her gaze locked on my face.
The look made my stomach lurch. I felt afraid and defensive at the same time. “Do you think it was me?” I demanded.
Erin was unperturbed. “Perhaps,” she replied coolly.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Erin cut me off. “Morgan, I merely said it was a possibility. You may be causing these incidents unconsciously—we simply can’t rule it out. But right now, only two things are certain: strange things are happening, and they seem to involve you.”
“Or Hunter,” I pointed out.
“That’s true,” Hunter agreed. He quickly described what had happened in the movie theater a few nights before.
Erin seemed to ponder this a moment. “It seems that someone is trying to get in touch with one of you,” she said. “Perhaps it’s time we went looking for them.”
“Should we scry?” Hunter asked.
“The sooner the better, I should think,” Erin said. She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and returned with a small stone bowl filled with water. I was intrigued by the fact that she chose to scry with water—I’d heard most witches found it unreliable.