Bree sat cross-legged on the living room floor, doing a yoga stretch. “Look, I know you’re trying to protect Killian, but personally, I’m not sure his being gone is such a loss.”
From the couch Sky said, “I know what you mean.”
Hunter’s eyes focused on me. “I want to go over what happened last night when you and Killian sensed that hostile presence. I know you think you told me everything, but tell me again. Even the littlest details, no matter how unimportant they might seem.”
I sat down on the couch. “We were in the living room, just talking, when we both felt a presence. Killian said something was trying to get into the apartment. I sent that message to you then, and we both searched with our senses. Then I went to the intercom and called the doorman to see if he’d seen anyone. Killian did a scan of the hallway. And then there was a big thump at the window that nearly scared us both to death—”
“You didn’t mention anything about a thump last night,” Hunter said sharply.
“That’s because was it nothing. Just a pigeon. And then right after that you showed up.”
Hunter frowned. “A pigeon?”
“What?” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“Pigeons aren’t nocturnal,” Hunter said. He looked tense. “What exactly did you see?”
I felt a stirring of alarm. “Um, it was just a blur. Feathers. Brown and gray, I think. About this big.” I held up my hands to make a shape the size of a large cantaloupe.
“That’s too big to be a pigeon,” Hunter said instantly. “I suspect it was an owl.”
My mouth went dry. “You mean…”
He nodded. “I mean one of the shape-shifters from Amyranth.”
There was a long silence. I tried to still the flutterings of terror in my stomach.
“At least we can be reasonably sure we were right about Killian being their target,” Hunter said. “Obviously Amyranth followed him here.”
“He knew,” I said, suddenly understanding why Killian was so subdued after the “pigeon” incident. “He didn’t tell us, but I’m sure he knew exactly what it was.”
Hunter blew out a long breath. “Now the question is whether Killian cut out on his own or whether Amyranth somehow managed to spirit him away. But it all comes down to the same thing. Somehow we’ve got to find him before anything happens to him.”
I thought about Ciaran’s watch, wondering if we could somehow use it to figure out where Ciaran was. “Hunter,” I said, feeling nervous. “I need to show you something. Come with me for a minute.”
Bree and Sky both gave me questioning looks as Hunter followed me into the guest room. Wishing I’d been straight with him from the start, I took the watch from my jacket pocket and handed it to him.
One blond eyebrow arched as he unwrapped the green silk covering. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his eyes unreadable.
I told him the whole story then.
Hunter listened silently. Then for an endless stretch he just looked at me. I didn’t need my witch senses to know that I’d disappointed him—by acting so rashly, by having kept the whole thing secret from him, especially once I knew Ciaran was the Amyranth leader.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have told you.”
“Yes. You should have.” He sounded weary. “Nevertheless, the watch might be a valuable aid. Let’s see if it will help us.” He wound the stem a few turns. “Since you’re connected to Maeve and it was hers, you need to be the one to hold it.”
I took the watch from him and held it in my hand. Intuitively we both slipped into a meditative state, focusing on the rhythm of the watch’s ticking.
Hunter chanted a few words in Gaelic. “A spell to make visible the energies of those who once held the watch dear,” he explained.
I felt a warmth along the watch’s golden case and a rush of tenderness wound through with what I’d come to recognize as my mother’s energy.
“Maeve cherished it,” I told Hunter.
He sketched a rune in the air, and I recognized Peorth, the rune for hidden things revealed. “What else?” he asked.
Something flickered along the surface of the shiny, gold case. A bit of green. Maeve’s wide green eyes, then her russet-colored hair. I felt my throat go thick with tears. The last time I’d seen a vision of Maeve, it had been of her trapped in the burning barn. Dying.
Here she stood in an open field, her eyes lit with joy and love. The image changed. This time it showed Maeve in what must have been her bedroom. A small space tucked under the eaves with a narrow bed covered by a brightly colored quilt. Maeve stood in a white nightgown, gazing from her window at the moon, a look of yearning on her face. I was sure she was thinking about Ciaran.
Now show me Ciaran, I entreated the watch silently. But there was only Maeve, and her image lasted just a moment before fading away.
I looked up at Hunter. “Not much help, I’m afraid. Just my mother from back before I was born.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded, wrapped the watch back in its green silk, and returned it to my jacket pocket.
“Well, there’s one more thing I can try,” Hunter said. He reached into his back pocket and drew out what looked like a playing card, only on it was an image of the Virgin Mary, shown with a spiky golden halo and a little angel over her head.
“The Virgin of Guadalupe,” Hunter explained. “When I finally found Killian in the abandoned building last night, I found this in there with him. I’ve traced it to its source.”
“Huh?” I wasn’t following this at all.
Hunter smiled. “Want to come with me and see where he got it?”
My day suddenly looked brighter. I was going to spend it with Hunter!
In the living room we had a brief confab about plans for the day. Sky and Raven were going to the Cloisters. Bree and Robbie were still undecided. We were all going to meet that night for our one real restaurant splurge.
Hunter and I walked across town to the West Village. Hunter led the way to a small store just west of Hudson Street. The shop’s crowded window was filled with candles in colored glass jars, crosses, rosaries, statues of the saints, gazing crystals, herbs, oils, and powders. We stepped inside, and I smelled an odd blend: frankincense and rosemary, musk and myrrh.
“This is weird,” I whispered to Hunter. “It feels like a cross between an outlet for church goods and a Wiccan store.”
“The woman who runs this place is a curandera,” Hunter explained in a low voice. “A Mexican white witch. Central American witchcraft often has a good deal of Christian symbolism mixed in with the Wicca.” He rang a bell on the counter. My eyes widened as a beautiful, dark-haired woman stepped out from the back room. It was the witch from the club, the one who’d told me that I needed to heal my own heart.
“Buenos días,” she said. Her eyes lingered on me, and there was a silent moment in which we each recognized and acknowledged each other. “Can I help you?”
Hunter held out the card with the Virgin on it. “Is this from your shop?”
She studied it for a moment, then gazed up at him. “Sí. I sometimes give these cards to those in need of protection. How did you trace it to me?”
“It carries the pattern of your energy.”
“Most witches wouldn’t be able to pick that up,” she said. “I put spells on my cards so that they can’t be traced.” She looked at him more carefully. “You’re from the council?”
He nodded. “I’m looking for a witch called Killian. I think he’s in danger.”
“That one is always in danger,” she said, but her eyes were suddenly wary.
“Do you know where he is?” Hunter asked.
Silently she shook her head.
“If you see him,” Hunter said, “would you contact me?”
She gazed at him again, and I had the feeling that she was reading him the way she’d read me. “Yes,” she said at last, “I will.”