“It isn’t like that,” Erin said quickly. “It’s unpleasant, but not at all like that. Reining puts limits on your powers, but it doesn’t take them away. You’ll still be able to do some small things, even some bigger things with the help of another, more powerful witch. And you can be unbound once you’ve gotten further in your training. Think of the reining as like a muzzle on a dog. Once the dog is taught not to bite, the muzzle can come off.”
I gripped the steering wheel. “It sounds horrible,” I said.
Erin turned and looked out the window. “It is,” she said softly. “But Hunter and Sky and I will be there to make it as comfortable for you as we can.”
Hunter. A small spark of hope flared in my chest and brought me back to reality. Hunter knew me—he knew I couldn’t possibly be responsible for this. He would convince Erin that my magick didn’t need to be reined. He would convince me.
He had to.
Sky was just striding up the front walk as we pulled into the driveway. She turned and gave us a little wave, as if she were happy to see us. Then we stepped out of the car and she saw our faces. Her smile vanished. Hunter appeared at the door. I guessed that he’d sensed us pull up.
“What is it?” Sky whispered to me as we walked up the front steps.
I didn’t respond. No one said anything as we took off our coats and hats. Hunter went into the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea, and Erin, Sky, and I followed him. As I sat down at their table, I willed myself to relax.
“There’s been another incident,” Erin announced. “Morgan and I were in the library when books began to fly off the shelves, and the entire bookcase nearly crashed down on her head.”
“Morgan?” Sky asked, leaning forward. Hunter turned pale.
“It would now seem that the common denominator for these incidents is Morgan,” Erin went on. “I am concerned that if we allow her magick to remain unchecked, we run the risk of someone getting hurt.”
“I don’t think so.” Hunter shook his head. “I’m almost certain that some of these incidents have been messages from my parents. I don’t know how I know it, but I feel it’s true.”
“Did you feel that what happened at the circle on Saturday was a message from your parents?” Erin asked.
I felt my heart beat once. Twice. Three times. “No,” Hunter replied.
“And this latest incident in the library wouldn’t have been, either,” Erin went on. “Hunter,” she said in a gentler tone, “it’s possible that you are receiving messages from your parents. What happened when we scried and what you described at the movie theater, even the figure in the fog— those things do sound like messages. It’s also possible that Morgan is causing these telekinetic incidents and that they’re entirely unrelated to what you’ve experienced. You’ve said yourself that she has very strong powers and that she isn’t a very skilled witch. . yet.”
“I don’t know.” Sky spoke up, surprising me. “Skilled or not, it seems to me that if Morgan was doing this, she’d feel it.”
I felt so grateful to her that I almost leaped up and hugged her.
“Who, then?” Erin demanded.
“Ciaran,” Hunter suggested.
Erin scoffed. “Hunter, you know as well as I do that proximity is important for telekinesis, even for a witch as strong as Ciaran. He has to be near her. He wouldn’t be able to control books in a library in Widow’s Vale when he’s in Spain—it’s impossible.”
“Well, you were at both Saturday’s circle and at the library, Erin,” I snapped. “And those have been the only two telekinetic incidents so far.”
Erin cocked an eyebrow. “Have they?” she demanded. My mind whirled, and I felt sick as I remembered my books leaping from my locker and scattering all over the floor. “Maybe not,” I admitted.
Sky raised her eyebrows, and Erin leaned back in her chair. Hunter dug his hands into the pockets of his black corduroys. I told them briefly about my locker.
I expected Hunter to ask why I hadn’t told him about this before. But he didn’t. He just turned and gazed out the window for a long time.
It was Sky who broke the silence. “So—what should we do?” she asked.
“I think Morgan’s power needs to be reined.” Erin looked from Hunter to Sky. “Now. This evening.”
Sky looked at Hunter.
“That ritual isn’t to be done lightly,” he said to the window.
“Are you willing to risk it?” Erin demanded. “Someone could have been killed today. Morgan could have been killed.”
Hunter turned and looked at me. His eyes were full of pain. Tell her, I wanted to shout. Tell her that it isn’t me! But what he said was, “I’m sorry, Morgan.”
There was a long creak as Sky pushed her chair away from the table. “I’ve got some white clothes upstairs,” she said. “Come, Morgan.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening—that Hunter was letting this happen. I blinked fast, trying to clear my eyes of bitter tears. I wanted to scream, to shout, but what could I say? I tried to imagine how I would feel if I refused to let my powers be reined and then something horrible happened, but it was too awful to think about.
It’s only temporary, I told myself as I followed Sky upstairs to her room. I tried really hard to believe it.
When I came downstairs, wearing Sky’s white tunic and pants, Hunter had already drawn a circle. At its center was a large, heavy-looking stone basin, filled with water. Thick, pungent incense saturated the air. It was a kind I’d never smelled before, and it had a dark, earthy quality that reminded me of caves and dense forests. The sun had sunk quickly, and the only light in the room came from a few flickering candles.
I stepped inside the circle, and Hunter drew it closed. Each of us stood by one of the four corners—Hunter by earth, Sky by air, Erin by water, and I by fire.
In a low voice Erin began to chant. The words were Gaelic, strange and ancient-sounding.
The water in the basin began to shimmer and glow. For a moment it looked like a pool of liquid gold. Then a light flared from the center of it—small yet brilliant, like a lump of coal that burned as bright as the sun. I couldn’t look directly at it. After a moment the coal sent up a column of light bright enough to bathe the entire room in dazzling whiteness. The column was shot through with glowing sparks, specks of silver confetti.
I felt a similar spark rise in my chest—a brilliant light was growing within me. I felt wonderfully, powerfully alive. My heart leaped, and I wanted to shout, “It’s beautiful!” but in the next moment something happened that made my skin turn cold.
Ugly black smoke began to pour from the bottom of the basin. It was thick and heavy and rolled along the floor. It had gone no more than two feet in all directions from the basin when it slowly began to rise. But it didn’t rise the way normal smoke does, floating on the air through the room. Instead it rose like bars, or long wicked fingers, around the light. It rose until it reached the ceiling, then closed around the light like a dark clutching claw.
My lungs felt tight. I struggled for air. The brilliant light within me was dimming, held in the clutches of the horrible blackness. I fell to my knees.
Hunter, Sky, and Erin began chanting. After a moment the pain in my chest receded and I could breathe, although I felt very sick. The black fingers pulled the brilliant column of light down, slowly, into the bowl, until it was nothing but a swirling pool of gray streaked with flashes of light, like a tiny dark sky full of lightning. The chanting stopped, and I knew that Hunter, Sky, and Erin had done their best to help me. Still, my head was throbbing, and I had to choke down the bile that rose in my throat.