Awakening (16 page)

In my hideous, piebald car, I drove to a fabric shop to get gold cloth and crimson embroidery thread. I needed them for the protection charm I was going to make for Aunt Eileen and Paula. It would be a little pouch embroidered with the rune Eolh, containing herbs and a crystal.

After that I drove to my mom’s realty office. Das Boot no longer made a grinding metallic noise; in fact, the engine sounded perfect. But I was ashamed of how my beloved car looked. I parked at an angle and tried not to look at the nose as I walked to Mom’s office.

Widow’s Vale Realty was in a small, white-shingled building. Inside, the look was deliberately cozy, with polished hardwood floors, lots of plants, and arts-and-crafts-style rugs and furniture.

“Oh, Morgan, honey. Hi. Did you get your car?” My mom peered out from a desk piled high with three-ring binders, file folders, and loose computer printouts. She looked overworked and overwhelmed. I sighed. I was glad I’d be able to help.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s fixed. But please don’t make me talk about how it looks.”

My mom tried unsuccessfully to bite back a smile. A non-car lover, like Hunter. What strange creatures they were.

 

Thursday and Friday were uneventful days at Widow’s Vale High. I met with Cirrus on Friday morning before classes. Everyone was excited about having a circle the following night with Hunter.

“I’ve been reading this guy, Eliade, who’s an expert in the history of religions, and Eliade talks about sacred space,” Ethan said. “I’m thinking that’s where Hunter took us. And that’s exactly what ritual is supposed to do.”

I tried not to gape. If anyone had told me two months ago that Ethan Sharp would be discoursing on ritual and sacred space, I’d have told them they were nuts.

“That never happened with Cal,” Jenna pointed out. “We did feel magick that one time, but with Hunter it was different. It was just this incredible . . . connection.”

“That first circle with Hunter changed me,” Sharon stated. “I can never go back to thinking about anything the way I did before.”

Suddenly I realized they were all feeling something similar to what I’d felt during our very first circle with Cal, when he’d opened me up to magick. It
had
changed everything. And I ought to be feeling glad instead of resenting the coven and Hunter because my own experience in the circle had been so frustrating.

Matt, whom I’d considered totally self-absorbed, caught me off guard. “But Morgan didn’t like it,” he said. “It’s funny that Hunter has all this power and the one blood witch among us doesn’t think he’s so great.”

Blood witch? I looked up.

“Robbie told us. It sort of came out when he was explaining about Cal,” Jenna said gently. “It’s okay. We pretty much knew, anyway.”

“Uh,” I started, flustered. “It’s not that I don’t like Hunter.”

“What is it, then?” Sharon asked.

It was complicated. It was Cal, losing Cal. Hunter being a Seeker and the one who’d made me see the truth about Cal. Hunter suspecting David of dark magick. I shook my head. I couldn’t even begin to explain it. So I just shrugged and said, “I don’t know, exactly.”

Fortunately the first bell rang then. I hurried away, mumbling about how I had to get to my locker. How could I explain my feelings about Hunter to them when I couldn’t even explain them to myself?

 

Saturday dawned cold and bleak. I woke up just after sunrise—unusual for me—shaken by a dream I couldn’t remember. Dagda was curled up against my chest. I kissed the top of his silky head and tried to fall back asleep, but it was useless. My thoughts were already roiling. Hunter’s face kept rising in front of my eyes. I wondered how Stuart Afton was doing. I needed to get a start on my physics homework and also get back to the realty office to input listings.

That night I had a circle, and Hunter wanted to get together on Sunday for a lesson. I’d told Aunt Eileen and Paula that I’d help them unpack sometime during the weekend, but what I really needed to do was get the last ingredients for my protection charm so I could place it in their house. That meant I had to go to Practical Magick and face David. Would he be able to sense my uncertainty about him?

Already totally stressed, I gave up on sleep, got out of bed, and got dressed. Then I settled at my desk and opened my physics book.
Plot the trajectory of a baseball that’s been struck by a batter at a 45-degree angle and is traveling at 100 mph (assuming no air resistance),
read the first problem. “Why?” I muttered. It was hard to imagine anything more irrelevant to my life, but I started crunching numbers and kept at it until nine, which seemed a respectable hour for me to show up for breakfast on a Saturday morning.

My mom was already gone when I got downstairs, the weekends being prime workdays for Realtors. My dad sat at the table, reading the paper. “Morning, sweetie,” he said.

Mary K. was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. “Want some oatmeal?” she asked.

“No thanks.” I started to prepare my own nutritious breakfast regimen of Pop-Tarts and Diet Coke.

She scraped her oatmeal into a bowl. “I talked to Aunt Eileen last night, and I’m going over there after church tomorrow to help them unpack. Want to come?”

“Yes, I told them I would. But can we talk about it later?” I said. “I’ve got a million things to do this weekend, and I’m not sure how the timing’s going to work out.”

My father lowered the paper. “What do you have to do?”

I blew out a stream of breath as I carefully edited my answer. “Um . . . working at Mom’s office, errands, schoolwork, and getting together with friends tonight.” My parents knew that on Saturday nights I attended Wiccan circles, but I tried not to mention it directly too often.

My father studied me with concern. “I trust schoolwork isn’t coming last on your list?”

“No,” I assured him. “I already did my physics. I’ve still got a history paper to work on, though.”

He smiled at me. “I know you’ve got a lot going on. I’m proud of you for keeping your grades up, too.”

The light scent of jasmine was in the air when I entered Practical Magick, and Alyce was dressed in an ivory knit dress with a pale pink tunic over it. A strand of rose quartz beads hung from her neck.

“You look ready for spring.” I said. “Three months early.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wishful thinking,” she told me with a smile. “How are you, Morgan?”

“Overwhelmed but okay.” I couldn’t help asking, “Did you hear about what happened to Stuart Afton?”

“Yes, poor man. It’s awful.” She shook her head, her blue eyes troubled. “I thought maybe we would try to send him healing energy at our next circle.”

“So . . . how is your coven going?” I knew that Alyce had been asked to lead Starlocket now that Selene was gone.

Alyce tucked a strand of gray hair back into its twist. “Selene is a hard act to follow. I don’t have nearly the power she had. Then again, I’ve never abused my power the way she did. Our coven has a great deal of healing to do, and since I’ve always loved healing work, that will be my focus, at least for the present.”

“Morgan, good morning,” David said, emerging from behind a bookshelf. I noticed his hand was still bandaged and that some blood had seeped through it, staining the gauze. “Nice to see you.”

I hoped my voice sounded natural as I said, “You too. Um, I need some ingredients.” I took my list out of my pocket.

If he noticed anything in my manner, he didn’t mention it. He simply took the list and scanned it. “Oils of cajeput, pennyroyal, lavender, and rose geranium,” he murmured, nodding. “We’ve just gotten in a fresh stock of pennyroyal, haven’t we, Alyce?”

“Yes. I’ll get the oils,” Alyce said. To me she explained, “We keep the big bottles in the back, by the sink. They’re rather messy to handle. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She bustled off, leaving me alone with David. He looked up from my list. “Burdock, frankincense, and a sprig of ash,” he said in a neutral voice.

“Do you have them?” I asked. I couldn’t read him at all, and it was making me nervous.

“We’ve got them,” he replied. He added in a conversational tone, “These are the ingredients for a protection charm. So what are you protecting yourself against?”

“It’s not for me,” I told him. “It’s for my aunt and her girlfriend. They just moved into a house in Taunton, and they’re being harassed because they’re gay.”

“That’s a shame. It’s never easy to be different,” David said thoughtfully. “But I guess you know that, being a witch.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Do you think this charm will really help?”

“It’s worth trying.”

“I used my power to stop the guys who were scaring them,” I admitted. “With witch fire.” I wanted to see how he would react to this turn in the conversation.

David raised one silver eyebrow but said nothing.

“Even now I want to see them suffer. It makes me worry about myself,” I added.

David pursed his lips. “You’re being very hard on yourself. You’re a witch, but you’re human, too, with human weaknesses. Anyway, dark energy is not in and of itself necessarily evil.” He slid his hand into the display case beneath the counter and took out a necklace with the yin-yang circle worked in white and black onyx. “To me, the most interesting part of this symbol is that the white half contains a tiny spot of black and the black a tiny spot of white,” he said. “You need both halves—bright and dark—to complete the circle. They’re part of a whole, and each contains the seed of the other. So there’s no such thing as dark magick without a bit of light in it or bright magick without a bit of dark.”

Alyce, who’d returned with some vials of oil while he was speaking, shook her head. “That’s fine as philosophy, David, but on a purely practical level, I think we’d all do well to shun the dark.”

David smiled at me. “There you have it, the combined wisdom of Practical Magick. Make of it what you will.”

A customer came in, and Alyce went over to help her.

David rang up my items. Then he reached down and pulled up a paper shopping bag and put it on the counter. He set the vials inside it. “Like it?” he asked, seeing my eyes on the bag. “We had them made as part of our celebration of Practical Magick’s new lease on life, as it were.”

“It’s nice,” I managed. Grabbing the bag, I mumbled a good-bye and hurried out of the store.

Outside, I held up the bag and stared at it. It was forest green, with silver handles. Just like the bag I had seen lying crumpled in Stuart Afton’s hallway the day he’d had a stroke.

17

Breaking In

I sat in Das Boot, trying to take meditative breaths to calm down. It doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. It’s just a shopping bag.

Right. Afton was just the type to shop at Practical Magick.

Twenty minutes later I pulled up in front of Afton’s sprawling home. What was I doing here? How was I going to prove anything?

I gazed gloomily out my car window. It must be garbage day, I realized, spotting the cans lining the curbs.

Could my proof be in those cans? I wondered. I scrambled out of the car and raced to the cans in front of Afton’s house. I opened one, and the stink hit me. Ew. Was I really going to paw through someone else’s trash?

I held a hand over the can, trying to get a sense of what I was looking for. I seek witch power, I thought. If there is an object that has been handled by a witch, lead me to it, please. The tips of my fingers tingled, and I ripped open one of the black plastic bags.

A green shopping bag with silver handles lay on top. The logo for Practical Magick was stamped on its side in silver. A gift card was tied to one of the handles. With shaking hands, I pulled it out of the garbage. I flipped open the card and gasped.
These are for you,
the card read.
You know why.