Awakening (3 page)

“Morgan,” Hunter said as he pulled up in front of my house. “You do understand, don’t you, that you can’t let your guard down? Cal may be gone, but it’s likely he’ll come back.”

Come back? Hope, fear, rage, confusion swept over me. “Oh, God.” I doubled over in my seat, hugging myself. “Oh, God. I loved him. I feel so
stupid.
”

“Don’t,” Hunter said quietly. I looked up. His face was turned away from me. I saw the plane of his cheek, pale and smooth in the milky starlight that filtered in through Das Boot’s windshield.

“I know how much you loved Cal,” Hunter said. “And I understand why. There’s a lot in him that’s truly beautiful. And—and I believe that he loved you, too, in his own way. You didn’t imagine that. Even though I was one of the ones telling you otherwise.”

He turned to face me then, and we stared at each other. “Look. I know you feel like you’ll never get past this. But you will. It won’t ever go away, but it
will
stop hurting quite so much. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

I was reminded of the time he and I had joined our minds, and I’d seen that he had lost not only his parents but also his brother to dark magick. He’d suffered so much that I felt I could believe him.

He made a movement as if he were going to touch my face with his hand. But he seemed to stop himself and pulled his hand back. “You’d better go in before your parents come out here,” he said.

I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t start crying all over again. “Okay,” I whispered. I sniffed and looked at my house. The lights were on in the living room.

I felt suddenly awkward. After that moment of connection, should I shake Hunter’s hand? Kiss his cheek? In the end I just said, “Thanks for everything.”

We both got out of the car. Hunter gave me my keys and headed down the dark street to where Sky waited in her car. I walked up the drive, my body on autopilot. I hesitated at the door. How was I going to act normal around my parents when I felt like I’d been ripped apart?

I opened the front door. The living room was empty, and the house smelled of chocolate chip cookies and wood smoke. There were still embers in the fireplace, and I could smell a faint tinge of the lemon oil that my mom used on the furniture. I heard my parents’ voices in the kitchen and the sound of the dishwasher being unloaded.

“Mom? Dad?” I called nervously.

My parents, Sean and Mary Grace Rowlands, came into the living room. “Morgan, you look like you’ve been crying,” my mom said when she caught sight of me. “Was the fight with Cal very bad?”

“I—I broke up with Cal.” It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t the falsehood that shocked me as much as the truth of my situation. Cal and I were no longer together. We were not a couple. We were not going to love each other forever. We were not going to be together again. Ever.

“Oh, honey,” said my mom. The sympathy in her voice made me want to cry for the hundredth time that awful night.

“That’s too bad,” my dad chimed in.

“Um, I also had a little accident in Das Boot,” I said. The lie slipped out before I’d even fully formulated it. I just knew I had to explain the crumpled hood of my car somehow.

“An accident?” my dad exclaimed. “What happened? Are you all right? Was anyone else hurt?”

“No one got hurt. I was pulling out of Cal’s driveway and I hit a light pole. I kind of messed up the hood of my car.” I swallowed. “I guess I was pretty upset.”

“Oh my God,” Mom said. “That sounds serious! Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe we should run you over to the ER and have them take a look at you.”

“Mom, I didn’t hit my head or anything.” I smothered a cough.

“But—” my dad began.

“I’m fine.” I cut him off. I had to get to my room before I had a nervous breakdown right in front of them. “I’m just beat, that’s all. I really just want to go to bed.”

Then, before they could ask any more questions, I fled up the stairs. I was relieved to see that the door to my sister’s room was closed. I couldn’t handle another explanation. Or even another syllable.

In my room I paused briefly to pet Dagda, my little gray kitten, who was curled up on my desk chair. He mewed a sleepy hello. I went over to my dresser to get out my softest flannel pajamas. But I paused, staring at a tiny gift box on top of my dresser. It was one of the birthday gifts Cal had given me last week: a pair of earrings, golden tigereyes set in silver. I couldn’t stop myself from opening the box to look at them again. They were as beautiful as I remembered: the silver swirling in delicate Celtic knots and the stones that were the same color as Cal’s eyes. I could still see him, his dark, raggedly shorn hair, his sensual mouth, the golden eyes that seemed to see right into me. The way he used to laugh. The way he had felt like a soul mate from the start.

I laid the earrings on my palm. They gave off a little pool of heat. They’re spelled, I realized with a rush of nausea. Goddess, they’re just another tool to control me, to spy on me. I remembered thinking, when he gave them to me, that these gifts were wrapped in his love. But the fact was, they were wrapped in his magick.

I couldn’t keep them anywhere near me
,
I realized. I would have to find a safe way to dispose of everything Cal had given me. But not tonight. I stashed the earrings in the back of my closet, together with his other gifts. Then I put on my pajamas.

As I was pulling back my covers, there was a soft knock at my door. A moment later my mom stepped in. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked. Her voice was quiet.

And then the tears were flooding down my cheeks, my defenses completely overwhelmed. I sobbed so hard, my whole body shook.

I felt my mom beside me, her arms encircling me, and I clung to her as I hadn’t in years. “My darling,” she said into my hair. “My daughter. I’m so sorry. I know how much you must be hurting. Do you want to talk about it?”

I raised my head and met her eyes. “I can’t . . . ,” I whispered, gasping. “I can’t. . . .”

She nodded. “All right,” she said. “When you’re ready.”

When I’d crawled into bed, she pulled the comforter up to my chin and kissed my forehead as if I were six. Reaching over, she turned off my light. “I’m here,” she murmured, taking my hand in hers. “It’ll be all right.”

And so, clutching her hand tightly, I fell asleep.

2

Changes

I drifted awake on Monday, aware that the house was awfully quiet. Was I actually up before my parents or my sister? It didn’t seem possible. They were all morning people, insanely perky long before noon, a trait I could not fathom. It should have been the great tip-off that I was adopted.

I squinted at my clock. Nine forty-eight?

I bolted upright. “Mary K.!” I yelled.

No answer from my sister’s room. I cast my senses out and realized I was alone in the house. What is going on? I wondered, sitting up.

A cough tore at my throat. Within the next instant everything that had happened last night came back to me. The enormity of it overwhelmed me. I dropped back against my pillows again and took a deep breath.

Nine forty-eight. Calculus would be starting soon. It suddenly hit me that I would never share my calculus and physics classes with Cal again, and anguish clawed at me. How stupid are you? I asked myself in disgust.

I staggered to my feet and padded downstairs. A note from my mom lay on the kitchen counter.

I blinked, feeling both grateful and guilty. There was so much they didn’t know; so much I could never tell them.

I stuck a Pop-Tart in the toaster and got a Diet Coke from the fridge. The first sip, though, convinced me it was a mistake. The bubbles of carbonation stung like little pin-pricks as they went down my throat. I made some tea instead and skimmed through the newspapers. The local paper came out only twice a month, and of course there was nothing in
The New York Times
or the
Albany Times Union
about a minor fire in Widow’s Vale, two hours away from either city. I could watch the local news later on TV. I wondered if my school would have some kind of explanation for Cal’s disappearance.

By the time I’d finished breakfast, it was after ten. For a moment I debated crawling back under the covers with Dagda. But I needed to deal with Cal’s gifts right away, so a trip to Practical Magick was in order. I figured the people who ran the shop, Alyce and David, would know what to do.

Then a horrible thought occurred to me: David and Alyce were part of Starlocket, Selene’s coven. Could they have had anything to do with what happened to me?

I sank back into the chair, resting my elbows on the kitchen table, my forehead in my hands. My stomach roiled. Had everyone I’d trusted betrayed me? Practical Magick was almost a sanctuary to me; Alyce, in particular, a kind of guide. Even David, who had initially made me feel uncomfortable, was turning out to be someone whose friendship I valued.

Think, I told myself. I’d felt awkward with David but never threatened. I hadn’t heard their voices while I was trapped in the pool house. And Hunter had explained to me that Selene created covens wherever she went—and then destroyed the non-Woodbane members. Neither David nor Alyce was Woodbane. They would have been in danger from Selene as well—wouldn’t they?

It’s okay, I told myself. David and Alyce are my friends.

I called my mom at her office and thanked her for letting me stay home.

“Well, I know that you share some classes with Cal,” Mom said. “I thought it might be hard to see him today.”

Her words reminded me: she didn’t even know he was gone. My stomach knotted up again. My mom thought all I was suffering from was my very first broken heart. That was certainly true, but it was also so much more than that, Cal’s betrayal so much deeper.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’ve got to run,” she said. “I’ve got an appointment to show a house in Taunton. Will you be all right? Want me to come home at lunch?”

“No, I’m okay,” I said. “I think I’ll go out and run some errands.”

“Staying busy is a good idea,” she said. “And if you feel like calling later, just to talk, I’ll be here most of the afternoon.”

“Thanks.” I hung up and went upstairs. I changed into jeans and a heavy ski sweater that my aunt Margaret had given me last Christmas. I don’t ski, and the sweater was kind of snowflaky for my taste, but I was cold, and it was the warmest thing I owned.

I went into my closet, where I had shoved Cal’s gifts. My hands shook as I put them in my backpack. I set my jaw and willed myself not to grieve over them, over him. Then I grabbed my parka and hurried out of the house.

I drove north in my battered, rattly car, beneath bleak, wintry skies that seemed leached of all color. Despite the salt on the roads, a thin sheet of ice covered the ground. All the cars were moving slowly. I switched on the radio, hoping for the local news, but instead got a weather report stating that the temperature was currently eighteen degrees and would drop to ten by evening. With the wind chill, it was even more brutal.

I pulled into a parking spot right in front of Practical Magick; for a change, parking was easy, as the block was practically empty. Only after I had climbed out of my car did I remember that there was one more gift from Cal, the one I’d loved best of all: the pentacle that he had worn around his neck. It was somewhere on the floor of my car, where I’d let it fall the day before when it had hit me that Cal was using it to enhance his control over me. I leaned down, searched the damp floor mats, and found the little silver circle with its five-pointed star. Without looking at it, I slipped it into the outer pocket of my pack.

I pushed through the heavy glass doors into Practical Magick. The shop was dark and cozy; half of it given to books on every aspect of Wicca, the occult, and New Age spiritual practices; the other half filled with a huge variety of supplies: candles, herbs, powders, crystals, ritual tools like athame
s,
pentacles, robes, even cauldrons. The warm air was scented with herbs and incense. It all felt familiar, reassuring, safe—all feelings I had in very short supply at the moment.

I was surprised to see a customer in the shop, since there weren’t any cars out front. Alyce was talking to a young woman who wore a sling with a baby in it and was holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about four years old.

As the woman spoke to her, Alyce nodded, dislodging several strands of gray hair from her long braid. She tucked them back in without ever taking her blue eyes from the young woman’s face. It looked like a serious conversation. I wandered along the rows of books, waiting until they were done. I wanted to be able to talk to Alyce and David privately.