The council. Sky had once told me that when Hunter acted as a Seeker, he had access to the extraordinary powers of the council. It was a dangerous weapon to call on, taxing to the Seeker, reserved only for emergencies. Like this one.
Hunter stepped forward. The silver chains of thebraigh glimmered in his hands. He intended to bind Ciaran, to bind his magick. But I could sense no fear in Ciaran at all.
“Hunter, don’t!” I croaked. “He’ll kill you!”
“This is getting tiresome,” Ciaran said. He muttered a few syllables, and thebraigh suddenly dropped from Hunter’s hand. I saw him bite back a scream.
Desperately I summoned the source of all my magick. “Maeve and Mackenna of Belwicket,” I whispered, “I call on your power. Help me now!”
Nothing happened. No awakening of magick. Nothing. I was sick with disbelief. My mother’s and grandmother’s magick had failed me.
Ciaran said, “Bind him,” and the other members of the coven surrounded Hunter and enclosed him in binding spells. The jackal gave Hunter a savage kick. He went down with a groan.
“Stop it!” I cried. My voice came out as little more than a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Morgan,” Hunter said, and the grief in his voice broke my heart. “I’ve failed you.”
“No, you haven’t. It’s all right, love,” I said, trying to comfort him. I couldn’t say more. Total, soul-destroying despair overtook me. It was I who had failed him. Hunter and I were both lost now, and all because of my fatal arrogance. Neither one of us was going to get out alive. I’d signed my own death warrant and Hunter’s as well.
“Put him somewhere safe,” Ciaran ordered. “We’ll take care of him later.”
The jackal and the weasel dragged Hunter out of the room. A few moments later they returned. The bear picked up the chant again. The ritual was resuming. I didn’t care.
The animals circled widdershins. The circle suddenly stopped moving and parted. And Ciaran in his wolf mask stepped to the head of the table. He placed a deliberate hand on either side of my forehead.
“No!” I screamed. I knew what was going to happen. He was going to force tàth meànma on me. Even if I hadn’t been drugged and weak, I doubted I would have stood a chance against Ciaran. He was the strongest witch I’d ever known. He’d have access to my every memory, thought, and dream. There was nothing I could hide from him.
I tried to sink into the haze that was clouding my mind. I tried to have no thought. I felt Ciaran’s power streaming through his hands into me. For a heartbeat I fought him, and then I was hallucinating, reliving my life in flashes from the moment of my birth. Watching and feeling image after image as they flared in bright, almost unnatural colors.
The rush of air, light, and sound as I came through the darkness of the birth canal.
Angus, with his fair hair and bright blue eyes, touching my arm, tentative and sweet.
A day later. Maeve cradling me, gazing into my face with tears running down her cheeks. Saying, “You have your father’s eyes.”
“Bloody hell!” It was Ciaran swearing.
He broke the connection, and my vision clouded over. Another spell to obscure something they didn’t want me to see. I heard footsteps and the sound of a door closing.
The air in the room had changed. Ciaran was gone. And so was Hunter.
13. Truth
February 29, 1984
The light of day dawns…and with it love dies.
Maeve woke in my arms. Morning dew glistened on her skin. I pulled a bit of straw from her hair and told her how beautiful she was.
“No, Ciaran!” She scrambled to her feet. “This can’t be. I’ve made my life with Angus, and you have a wife and children—”
“Forget my wife and children. I’ve left them. And damn Angus!” I cried. “I’m tired of things coming between what we know is meant to be. We are mùirn beatha dàns. We are meant to be together.”
But she wouldn’t hear of it. She went on and on, scourging herself with guilt. Angus had been so good to her, so patient and kind. How could she hurt him this way? What we were doing was wrong, immoral, a betrayal of the worst kind.
“What about betraying our love?” I asked. “You’ve been perfectly willing to do that these last three years.” I explained that I’d given up my life in Scotland. My family, my coven, they were no longer a part of me. I was here in America prepared to start my life over with her. What more could she want from me?
“I can’t live with you and live with myself,” she said. She fled the field like a frightened rabbit, she who was once destined to be high priestess of Belwicket.
“Well, I can’t watch you live with Angus,” I shouted at her fleeing form.
So tell me, Maeve, now that you’ve chosen a course I can’t forgive, what is the value of your life?
— Neimhidh
With Ciaran gone from the room, the owl took over. “The rites must continue,” she said.
They started their chanting again. I felt the dark energy building, the summoning of the purple-black light that would take my magick from me. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was completely outmatched.
I thought about Hunter. How much I loved him. How he was about to lose his life for me. How he was mymùirn beatha dàn and I’d known it all along but had never let myself embrace that truth. And I’d had the nerve to criticize Bree.
A world of regret rose up inside me. Regret for everything I’d done wrong.
I’d never told my parents how much I appreciated them. They’d given me a wonderful home and all their love, and when I’d found out I was adopted, all of that had seemed insignificant. Because of me, Mary K. had been kidnapped. Because of me, Cal was dead. He’d given his life for me and I’d wasted it completely.
Because of me, Hunter was going to die. That was the hardest thing of all.
My mind was spinning. I’d been alive only a little over seventeen years. How had I managed to make such a complete disaster of everything? The purple-black light crackled around me, and I thought, Take my power. Take my life. You’re welcome to it.
Well, I’ll drink a toast to you, Maeve Riordan. You pulled one over on me from beyond the grave. You were so young and beautiful when you died. I daresay you wouldn’t find me attractive now. My own reflection stares back at me from this silver goblet, distorted, gruesome. How did I ever get such a beauty to love me, even for a night? Look at my eyes, two dark muddy slashes unlike anyone else’s…except this girl’s.
What do you think, Maeve? You know me better than most, so answer the question that looms before me: Can I now destroy our daughter?
The purple-black light surrounded the inner circle, holding me fast. The masked Amyranth witches stood in a circle around me, murmuring their chant.
I couldn’t even control my own muscles. I tried to cast my senses to see just how much my tormentors were enjoying the show. But by now I was too weak even to do that.
The cougar held up a hand, and with a dull horror I saw that a cat’s curved claws were growing from human fingertips. He muttered an incantation. The purple-black light crackled loudly and shot through my chest. I felt it wrap around my heart, squeezing mercilessly.
The magick was ebbing out of me. I felt it leaving. I didn’t want to give in to Amyranth, to Ciaran’s coven. I didn’t want to let go of my magick. But I was so very tired of fighting. I felt the last bit of my resistance float away, and I followed it.