He nodded, his hand stroking up and down my arm. "It's strange when people you think you know really well feel suddenly different somehow."
He sounded like he was speaking from experience, and I looked up at him.
"Like my father," he said. "He was the high priest of my mom's coven when they were married. And he met another woman, another witch, in the coven. Mom and I used to make mean jokes about how she had put a love spell on him, but really, in the end, I think maybe he just… loved her more."
I heard the hurt in his voice and rested my head against his chest, my arms going around his waist.
"They live in northern England now," Cal went on. His chest vibrated against my ear as he spoke. "She had a son, my age, from her first marriage, and they've had, I think, two more kids together."
"That's awful," I said.
He breathed in and out slowly. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just used to it now. But I just think that's how it goes. Nothing is static; things always change. The best you can do is change along with them and work with what you have."
I was silent, thinking about my own situation.
"I think the important thing is to get through the anger and negative feelings because they get in the way of magick," Cal said. "It's hard, but sometimes you just have to decide to let those feelings go."
His voice trailed off, and we stood there comfortably for a while. Finally, reluctantly, I glanced at my watch.
"Speaking of going, I have to go," I said.
"Already?" Cal said, leaning down to kiss me. He murmured something against my lips.
Smiling, I wriggled out of his grasp. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"What?" I asked again, concerned now. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he said. "It's just suddenly I thought of muirn beatha dan. You know."
I looked at him. "What? What are you talking about?"
"You know," he said again, sounding almost shy. "Muirn beatha dan. You've read about it, right?"
I shook my head. "What is it?"
"Um, soul mate," said Cal. "Life partner. Predestined mate." My heart almost stopped beating, and my breath froze in my throat. I couldn't speak.
"In the form of Wicca that I practice," Cal explained, "we believe that for every witch, there's one true soul mate who's also a full-blooded witch; male or female, it doesn't matter. They're connected to that person, and belong together, and basically will only be truly happy with that person." He shrugged. "It sort of… came into my head just now, when we were kissing."
"I never heard of it," I whispered. "How do you know if it happens?"
Cal laughed wryly. "That's the tricky part. Sometimes it isn't that easy. And of course, people have strong wills: They can choose to be with people, insist on believing that this person is their muirn beatha dan when they're wrong and just won't admit it."
I wondered if he was talking about his mother and father.
"Is there any surefire way to tell?" I asked.
"I've heard of spells you can do: complicated ones. But mostly witches just rely on their feelings, their dreams, and their instincts. They just feel this person is the one, and they go with it."
I felt exhilarated, like I was about to take off and fly. "And do you think… maybe we're connected that way?" I asked breathlessly.
He touched my cheek. "I think we might be, yes," he said, his voice husky.
My eyes felt huge. "So what now?" I blurted out, and he laughed.
"We wait we stay together. Finish growing up together."
This was such an amazing, wonderful, seductive idea that I wanted to shout, I love you! And we will always be together! I'm the one for you, and you're the one for me!
"How do you say it again?" I asked.
"Muirn beatha dan," he said slowly, the words sounding ancient and lovely and mysterious.
I repeated them softly. "Yes," I said, and we met again in a kiss.
Long minutes later I pulled away from him. "Oh, no, I've really got to go! I'm going to be late!"
"Okay," he said, and we headed out of his room. It felt so hard to leave this place where everything felt so right. Especially when I knew I had to go home.
Again I thought about the first time I'd been in Cal's room, when the coven had met there. "Are you upset that Beth and Raven and Bree have quit?" I asked as we headed down the stairs.
He thought for a moment "Yes and no," he said. "No because I don't think you should try to keep someone in a coven against their will or even if they're not vary sure. It just makes negative energy. And yes because they were all kind of challenging personalities, and they added something to the mix. Which was good for the coven." He shrugged. "I guess we'll first have to wait and see what happens."
I put on my coat, wishing I didn't have to go out into the cold. Outside the trees wore almost bare, and the leftover leaves were a faded brown everywhere I looked.
"Ugh," I said, glancing out at Das Boot.
"Fall is trying to turn into winter," said Cal, breathing steam in the chilly air.
I watched his chest rise and fell, and a bolt of desire ripped through me. I wanted so badly to touch him, to run my hands through his hair, down his back, to kiss his throat and chest. I wanted to be close to him. To be his muirn beatha dan.
Instead I tore myself away, fumbling in my coat pocket for my keys, leaving Cal standing in the light from his door. My heart was full and aching, and I felt heavy with magick.
CHAPTER 12
Beauty Out
Imbolc, 1982
Oh, Goddess, Goddess, please help me. Please help me. Mathair, her hand rising up black from the smoking ashes. My little Dagda. My own da.
Oh, Goddess, I'm going to be ill; my soul is breaking. I cannot bear this pain.
— Bradhadair
That night my parents tried to act normal at dinner, but I kept looking at them with questions in my eyes, and by dessert we were all staring at our plates. Mary K. was obviously upset by the silence, and as soon as dinner was over she went up to her room and started playing loud music. Ceiling-shaking thumps told us she was dancing out some of her stress.
I couldn't stand being there. If only Cal wasn't helping his mom. Impulsively I called Janice and joined her, Ben Reggio, and Tamara at the dollar movies up in Red Kill. We saw some stupid action movie that involved a lot of motorcycle chases. The whole time I sat there in the dark theater, I kept thinking, Muirn beatha dan, over and over.
On Saturday morning Dad went outside to rake leaves and cut back the shrubs and trees so they wouldn't be broken in a winter ice storm. Mom took off after breakfast to go to her church women's club.
I put on my jacket and crunched my way outside to my dad.
"When are you guys going to tell me?" I said flatly. "Are you just going to pretend nothing happened?"
He paused and leaned on the rake for a moment. "No, Morgan," he said at last. "We couldn't do that, no matter how much we wanted to." His voice was mild, and again I felt some of my anger deflate. I was determined not to let it go and kicked at a small pile of leaves.
"Well?" I demanded. "Where did you get me? Who were my parents? Did you know them? What happened to them?"
Dad flinched as if my words were physically hurting him.
"I know we have to talk about it," he said, his voice thin and raspy. "But… I need more time."
"Why?" I exploded, throwing my arms wide. "What are you waiting for?"