Erin dropped her backpack and turned to look at me. “Have you finished Legacies of the Great Clans?” she asked.
I groaned. “Not even half of it,” I admitted.
Erin studied my face a moment. “How are you feeling?”
“Like crap,” I said bluntly. “I’ve got a headache that I can’t get rid of.” I ran my thumb along the ridge of my right eye.
“A stabbing pain?” she asked. “Like a knife to the skull?”
That was exactly what it felt like. “Pretty much,” I agreed.
“And your breathing is a little tight? Your chest is heavy?” Erin suggested.
I nodded. “Is that normal?” I asked.
“Unfortunately.” Erin took my wrist and felt for my pulse. She seemed to think for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry, Morgan. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
It was strange. I had gotten so used to magick flowing through me that right now I was feeling like a clogged drain—something less than useless. I remembered when I had first met Cal and my magick had begun to reveal itself. I’d felt frightened and off-kilter. Now I just felt. . hollow.
“Before we begin, I think we should do a little meditation, ” Erin went on. “It should clear your head and make the pain recede.”
I went and dug my altar out of my closet. Erin lit the candle and the incense, and I drew a circle on the floor and turned out the overhead light. It was gray and cloudy outside, so the room was fairly dark. Dagda stalked over to the altar to investigate, sniffed everything, then dashed away at top speed. I opened the door and let him out, then sat on the floor, facing Erin, my back to the bathroom that connected my room with Mary K.’s.
Erin reached out and took my hands in hers. Her fingers were cool and smooth, and the minute we touched, I felt strength and comfort flowing from her. We didn’t speak, but soon I felt magick pulsing through the room.
Clear your mind. I heard the words although Erin hadn’t spoken. I closed my eyes and tried to reach out. An image flashed in my brain—Erin standing before me in a yellow field, wearing a brilliant blue dress made of a delicate fabric, embroidered with symbols older than any I knew. Let go of the pain. Erin reached out to me, and the fabric of her ancient dress rustled in the breeze.
At her touch, the stabbing pain in my forehead dulled a bit. My head was still throbbing, but it was a muted ache. My chest lifted, and I took a deep breath of clean air. I felt infinitely better.
I smiled at her, and she smiled back.
Just then I felt something slam me in the back. I let out a startled cry and heard someone shriek behind me. I opened my eyes to see Erin falling away from me. Everything, the floor, the altar, everything was falling away. Erin’s grip tightened on my hands, and my arm muscles tensed as I tried desperately not to let go. For a dizzy moment I expected Erin to shout at me not to let her drop.
“Oh my God!” the person behind me screamed. I turned and saw it was Alisa. Her face was white and covered in a light film of sweat. She looked confused, like she wasn’t quite sure where she was. But something about her orientation was wrong. She was standing, supporting herself against the door frame to the bathroom. And I was sitting, yet my face was almost level with hers.
“Oh my God!” she screamed again, her eyes wide with horror. That was when I understood what was happening. I was levitating.
My heart clenched in a cold fist of fear. I was going to fall! I flailed with my legs but only succeeded in kicking the bathroom door shut. My hair fell forward over my shoulders. “Don’t let go!” I screamed to Erin. “Don’t let go of me!” In my panic I pictured myself flattened against the ceiling of my room, crushed by the weight of reverse gravity.
Erin closed her eyes and made a low humming noise at the back of her throat. I felt myself sinking slowly, an inch, then another, toward the floor.
Alisa’s face was greenish white. She backed away from me, then ran toward the door that led into the hall. I heard her footsteps thudding on the stairs and saw a gray streak as Dagda dashed after her.
“What’s going on?” I heard Mary K. shout. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that her music wasn’t playing anymore.
I got lower, and lower. . Finally I was only a few inches off the floor. All at once I dropped onto my jute rug in a sprawling heap.
I looked up at Erin. “That wasn’t me,” I said.
“I know,” she said. I looked at her closely and realized that she was afraid.
I heard Mary K.’s footsteps on the stairs, then the front door slamming. All at once there was a squeal of tires and a piercing scream.
Mary K.! I scrambled to my feet and nearly flew down the stairs, Erin right behind me. I dashed out onto the muddy front lawn and came to a stop by Mary K., who was standing perfectly still in the middle of the front walk, her hand covering her mouth. Alisa’s dark form was retreating down the street—she was running home, I guessed. But that wasn’t what Mary K. was looking at. I followed her gaze and saw that she was staring at a car that had stopped in front of our house. The door opened, and a heavyset woman rushed out and peered at something next to her front fender.
At first I thought that she had hit a piece of wood or some garbage in the road. Then I saw the thing move. One gray paw twitched feebly.
Dagda.
My heart clutched. The woman looked up and saw us. “Help!” she cried. Tears began to rain down her cheeks. “Oh God, I’m so sorry! I love cats.” She looked at me helplessly. “He just came out of nowhere.”
I couldn’t speak. I bent mutely over Dagda.
The woman began crying even harder. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.
Dagda’s eyes opened, then closed again. He was alive! But though there wasn’t any blood on him, I could see at a glance that he was badly hurt. I tried to cast my senses, but it was no use. My magick was still reined.
My vision blurred with helpless tears. I turned around and saw Erin behind me. She bent and studied my kitten for a moment. “The injuries are internal,” she said. Her voice was low, but I could tell from her expression that Dagda was dying.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to move him for fear of causing him more pain. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I looked at him, his fur matted and soaked with gray leftover snow.
I couldn’t just let him lie there, die there, in the street. I picked him up, cradling him in my arms.
Mary K. was still frozen to her spot on the front walk. “Morgan,” Erin said. She leaned toward Dagda, and I wanted to scream at her to get away from him, to leave him alone, but I couldn’t. Her hand hovered hesitantly over Dagda, her face questioning.
Then I remembered. Erin is a healer, I thought. I could feel the movement of Dagda’s tiny lungs as he labored to breathe. I started to sob wrenchingly. Could she heal him? Surely he was too far gone, even for a witch’s power.
Erin squeezed my shoulder. Once again strength seemed to flow from her into me. “Quiet yourself,” she said gently. “Don’t let your emotions control you.”
I took a deep breath. Then another. Erin’s strength flowed through my body. I said nothing as she lowered her hand and touched Dadga’s head. She stroked him tenderly, with the force of a butterfly’s wings. Closing her eyes, she stood without moving. Time seemed to stand still, and I held my breath. I don’t know how long we stood there like that—it might have been five minutes or five hours.
Dagda let out a small mew.
“Oh thank God,” the heavyset woman said. “Oh, thank you, Lord! I thought I’d killed him!”
Erin’s face was serious. “He’s badly hurt,” she said, then turned to me. “You should get him to a veterinarian as soon as possible.”