In a few moments I saw Erin’s familiar face and twinkling eyes. She was sitting in a room surrounded by candles. Her face was lit with a golden glow. I felt the delicate bones of her hands in mine, and I knew that she and Hunter were holding hands. They were ready to begin the circle.
I had to blink back tears. Although I had feared that Ciaran might have been behind the strange accidents all along, somehow finding out for certain didn’t fill me with relief; it filled me with sadness. I’d known he could be incredibly cruel, but a small part of me simply didn’t want to believe that he was capable of hurting me. He was my birth father, after all. My only living parent. To know that he had actually tried to harm me, even knowing I was his daughter, was almost incomprehensible. And I couldn’t understand why.
Can we have the circle without Sky and Alyce? I asked.
Sky has already left, Hunter replied, and Alyce is busy with the store. But it doesn’t require as much magick to release the spell as to put it in place.The three of us can do it.
All right, I said. But first I have to tell you something. I took a deep breath. Alisa is very sick. She’s in the hospital. Mary K. and I went to see her this afternoon, and she had some kind of crash. I’m worried. I didn’t tell him that I might have been responsible for what had happened. I simply couldn’t allow myself to think those thoughts.
That’s terrible, Hunter replied. I could feel his concern, then confusion as he added, Do you think we should send some healing spells her way?
No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Even though I felt certain that I hadn’t actually performed any magick that afternoon, that Alisa’s crash was just a coincidence, the idea of doing a spell for her was terrifying. What if we ended up hurting her? I couldn’t take the chance. Alisa quit the coven, I explained. I don’t know if she would want a spell done for her. And I wouldn’t want to do anything against her wishes.
All right, Hunter conceded, even though I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. Let me know how she’s doing, won’t you, Morgan?
Of course, I promised. I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for the task to come. Let’s begin, I said with Hunter’s voice.
Erin began a low hum at the back of her throat, then, in a voice that was almost a whisper, she began to chant.
The words went on, and the magick that welled up in me was like cool, clear water, fluid and bracing. I waited for Erin to pull out Harris Stoughton’s book, and I was surprised to realize that she wasn’t going to. She didn’t even seem to have the book with her. Instead, she reached for a large white dish and a white teapot. With a steady hand she filled the dish with steaming liquid. My nostrils were filled with the scent of mint and rosemary, and I nearly laughed to realize that my connection with Hunter was so strong that I could actually smell what he smelled. Reaching into a green velvet pouch beside her, Erin pulled out a handful of something and crumbled it into the water. The water shimmered for a moment, like the ocean in the setting sun. There was a light hissing sound and the scent of lavender, then Erin looked up and smiled.
“We have released the witch from his own restraints.” Erin sounded as happy and relieved as I felt. “He will no longer be his own victim.”
I inhaled deeply, still taking pleasure in the beautiful smells that lingered around me. Undoing the deflection spell had been as beautiful and easy as putting it on had been ugly and horrible. I felt wonderful now, even though the magick hadn’t been directed at me. I was safe now—Ciaran couldn’t threaten me any longer, and my magick was intact.
Morgan, thank you, Hunter’s voice echoed in my mind.
For what?
There was a moment before he replied. For everything, he said finally. For everything, he repeated, soft as the sound of water flowing over smooth stones. In the next moment he was gone.
The lapis lazuli made a slight click as I placed it back on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. I love you, Hunter Niall, I thought as I pulled the comforter up to my chin. I looked out my window, into the depths of the starry sky.
“I did it.” Bree leaned against a bank of lockers, clutching her books to her chest. There were dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well.
“You talked to Robbie?”
Bree gave a faint nod.
“How did it go?” I asked. It was five minutes to the first bell.
“Badly,” Bree said. “But better than I thought it would.”
“So are you. .” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“We’re still together,” Bree replied, tucking her silky hair behind one ear. “He was hurt, though. Really hurt about the stuff with Matt.” She looked at me, her eyes rimmed with red. “That was the worst part. I’ve never—”
“I know,” I said. “It’s okay.”
“He said that he loved me.” Bree’s voice was small and fragile, like a little girl’s teacup. “I’m glad I told him, even though it wasn’t easy.”
We stood there a moment, not saying anything.
“I guess I’m afraid,” Bree said finally.
I thought about Bree—about all the nights she ate dinner alone because her father was out of town on business. I thought about the brother she hadn’t spoken to in over a month, the mother she hadn’t seen in years. Bree knew about difficult love. No wonder she was afraid. “Robbie is special,” I told her. “And you’re strong.”
Bree nodded, as if what I’d said was something she knew already—something she’d forgotten. She squeezed my hand, then let it go. “You’re strong, too.”
The bell rang, and we were swept down the hall toward homeroom in a churning sea of students. Neither one of us said anything more. Neither one of us had to.
16. Letting
October 14, 1971
I couldn’t hide it from them forever. Even though I tried.
My parents wanted to take me to see John Walter, the best healer in our coven. I knew he’d tell them the truth, so finally I had to admit what I’d done. My mother cried for two days, and my father stopped speaking to me altogether. My parents had always told me that there was nothing I could do that would made them stop loving me.
But I guess I found that one thing.
There’s nothing I can do about it now. I couldn’t bring my magick back even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. Even though I’m still weak from the ceremony, I would rather feel pain myself than run the risk of putting someone else in danger. I know that Wicca is dangerous. Beautiful, but dangerous. I just wish that someone would talk to me, would try to understand why I did what I did. Don’t they understand that I’ve lost even more than they have?