“I know a good one,” I said, thinking of my aunt’s girlfriend, Paula Steen. Her clinic was the closest one I knew of—only about fifteen minutes away. “Thank you,” I said, and Erin nodded.
I don’t know why, but I turned to the heavyset woman and said, “He’s going to be fine.”
“Bless you,” she replied, which struck me as odd, but sort of sweet and strangely appropriate.
Still cradling Dagda with one arm, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and turned toward my car. Then I heard a voice call, “Morgan?”
It was Mary K. She looked lost. “Can I come with you?” she asked.
I didn’t even have to think. “Let’s go,” I said.
10. Confrontation
October 10, 1971
I finally worked up the nerve to warn my mother bout the book, but she hardly seemd interested. I told her that the powers of Wicca were starting to seem uncontrollable to me—and frightening in a way that they never had before.
Mother didn’t like this. She laid down her knife and told me that I was being “ignorant”. She made it sound like she thought I was a hysteric—like those people during the witch trials. Another Harris Stonghton.
I told her that I had some good reasons to be freaked out, but she just that she didn’t want to hear it. She said that we were responsible witches and that we had a right to our beliefs.
Just at that very moment—I mean exactly as she said that—the silverware drawer flew out. It just flew right out of the cabinet and landed on the floor with a clatter. Then an icy wind blew through the room and the cabinet doors burst open.
“Get down!” Mother yelled as the plates flew out and hurtled the wall—crash crash crash!
I screamed and screamed until the cupboard was empty. I screamed until my mother picked herself off the floor and took me by the shoulder. She shook me, but my scream went on and on until I couldn’t scream anymore.
Then Mother held me and told me that everything would be all right. But I don’t believe her.
There is dark magick in this house. For a while I thought it was the book itself that was responsible, but I know it’s impossible. It’s just a book. It may be full of evil, but it can’t actually make things happen.
I can hardly bear to think it, but I have to. Could Sam be behind it?
— Sarah Curtis
“May I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked as I rushed into the veterinary clinic. She was middle-aged with dyed blond hair and looked bored.
“I’m here to see Paula,” I said in a rush. “Dr. Steen.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked.
“No, I—” Just then Mary K. walked in with Dagda in her arms. The woman took one look at Dagda and said, “Come with me.”
We followed her down a long white hallway and into a small room. “Just a minute.” The woman hurried out of the room. Barely a minute had passed before Paula walked in.
“Morgan!” She looked surprised and pleased. “Mary K.!” A quick glance at Dagda and her smile evaporated. “What happened?” she asked.
“He was hit by a car,” I said as Mary K. laid Dagda gently on the steel table at the center of the room. Dagda struggled to get up but couldn’t.
Paula pursed her lips. She palpated Dagda’s ribs and stomach gently. Then she touched his left foreleg and frowned. “This needs an X-ray,” she said.
“Is he going to be all right?” Mary K. asked nervously.
Paula looked at her and smiled reassuringly. “This is one lucky kitty,” she said. “I think his leg is broken. He might have to hobble around on a cast for a while, but all things considered, that’s pretty minor.”
I exhaled with relief. “That’s great news,” I said.
“Why don’t you guys wait outside while I take the X-ray?” she suggested. “If we do have to put a cast on, we may have to sedate him. It could take a little while.”
I threw myself into one of the large, comfortable chairs in the waiting room while Mary K. went outside to the pay phone to let our parents know where we were. I was glad we had come here. I didn’t know where the receptionist was, but she was no longer behind her desk. I was alone in the waiting room as the sky outside grew from pink to dusky gray and the shadows disappeared.
What had happened today? I dug a hand into my pocket, remembering the feeling of the door slamming into my back, the fear as I left the ground, Alisa’s screams. Thank the Goddess that Erin was there, I thought. She saw everything. She knows I couldn’t have levitated myself. Especially not with my power restrained the way it is.
But then, who did it?
There was a sudden blast of cold air as Mary K. stepped back into the clinic. “I finally reached Mom,” she reported. “She said she hopes Dagda’s okay and she’s glad we thought to go to Paula.”
“Thanks, Mary K.,” I said.
“I called Alisa, too,” Mary K. said, sliding into the seat next to mine. “But her dad said she’s too sick to come to the phone.” Mary K.’s voice told me that she wasn’t exactly sure this story was true. She looked at me sideways. “What happened in there?” she asked. “Why did she run out of our house?”
I sighed. “I’m really not sure.” It was the truth. “I’m not sure why she came bursting into my room in the first place.”
Mary K. shrugged. “She wasn’t feeling great. Maybe she just got confused which door was which.”
I thought about Alisa’s face, distorted in fear. “She doesn’t like me.”
“She doesn’t know you,” Mary K. replied. After a moment she added, “And you don’t know her.”
Something in her tone of voice made me look at her. “What do you mean?” I asked.
Mary K. sighed. “It’s just—Alisa’s going through some pretty rough family things right now. She’s not. . not at her best.”
I sank back into the chair, wondering what was going on with Alisa. But Mary K. clearly didn’t want to tell me, and I didn’t want to press her for details. Suddenly I felt guilty for not reaching out to Alisa more. It was obvious that she was troubled and that probably the animosity she felt toward me didn’t really have anything to do with me.
Still, at least she had a friend like Mary K. Someone who didn’t give up secrets easily. Someone who cared. I gave my sister a sideways look, loving her. I really hoped we could get past the trouble we were having now.
Paula came out with Dagda in her arms. He was wearing a small cast on his foreleg, which stuck out awkwardly from the rest of his limbs. “Here you go,” Paula singsonged. “Good as new—or almost. He’s a little out of it from the sedation, but that’ll wear off by morning.”
I rushed over, and Paula handed Dagda to me. He stirred in my arms, and Mary K. scratched him behind the ears. “Thank you so much, Paula,” I said. Dagda’s breathing was perfectly normal, and he didn’t seem to be in any pain. And thank you, Erin, I added silently.
“It’s just a fracture. You’ll need to come back in two weeks so we can check on his progress,” Paula said. “But I think we’ll be able to take the cast off then.”
We said good-bye, and I handed Dagda to Mary K. so I could drive. On the way home Mary K. asked, “Who was that woman who was at the house today? She was the same one you were at the library with, right?”
I winced. I should have seen this question coming. “She’s a tutor.”
“And a witch, right?” Mary K. asked.
“Anyone who has been initiated into a coven is a witch,” I replied, figuring that a half-truth is better than no truth at all.