Spellbound (5 page)

When I got there, Hunter was standing by Sky’s car, waiting for me. He opened Das Boot’s door and climbed into the front seat. He was in a tense, angry mood, and the funny thing was, I picked up on that just from waves of sensory stuff I got from him, not from the look on his face or his body language. It was as if he was projecting those feelings and I could just sense them. My witch powers were developing every day, and it was wonderful and a bit scary at the same time.

I waited for him to speak, looking out the windshield, catching the faintest hint of his clean, fresh smell.

“I talked to Bob Unser this morning,” he said. “There wasn’t any brake fluid in the car, but more than that, the actual brake lines had been severed, right by the fluid reservoir.”

I turned to stare at him. “Severed?”

He nodded. “Not cut exactly, not as smooth as that. He couldn’t say for sure that someone had cut them. But he did say that it was unusual since both brake lines looked fine when he checked the car last week. It didn’t seem like they could simply wear through so quickly.”

“Did you check the car for spells, magick?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “There wasn’t anything, apart from the spells of protection I’d put on it.”

“So what does that mean? Was this an accident, a person, a witch, what?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think it was a person rather than an accident. I think it was a witch because I just don’t know that many nonwitches, and I certainly haven’t got any nonwitch enemies.”

“Could it have been Cal?” I forced myself to ask. “Or Selene?”

“They’re the first ones I thought of, of course,” he said matter-of-factly, and the hair on my arms rose. I remembered the guy I’d seen in the parking lot this morning—the one I’d thought was Cal.

“But I still don’t think they’re in the area,” he added. “I run a sweep every day, checking this whole area for signs of them, and I haven’t picked up on anything. Of course, I’m not as powerful as Selene,” he said. “Just because I can’t feel her doesn’t mean she’s truly gone. But I can’t help thinking that I would pick up on something if they were still around.”

“Like what?” I asked. My mouth felt suddenly dry.

“It’s hard to say,” Hunter said. “I mean, sometimes I do feel . . . something. But there are so many other things going on that I can’t really delineate it.” He frowned. “If you were stronger, we could work together, join our powers.”

“I know,” I said. I was too freaked to bristle at being called weak. “I’m just a newbie. But what about Sky?”

“Well, Sky and I have already joined our powers,” he said. “But you have the potential to be stronger than either of us. That’s why you must be studying and learning as much as you can. The faster we can get you up to speed, the faster you can help us, help the council. Maybe even join the council.”

“Ha,” I exclaimed. “There’s no way I’m joining the council! Be a hall monitor for Wicca? No thanks!” Then I realized how that must have sounded to Hunter, who was a member of the council himself, and I wanted to take the words back. Too late.

Hunter pressed his lips together and stared out his window. No one else was around: it was a Sunday afternoon and not warm enough for kids to be on the playground. Silence filled my ears, and I sighed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean that. I know that what you do is more important than that. Much too important for me to contemplate doing it,” I said honestly. “It’s just I can hardly manage to dress myself these days, much less think about doing anything more. Everything is so . . . overwhelming right now.”

“I understand,” Hunter surprised me by saying. “You’ve been through a lot. And I know I’m putting a lot of pressure on you, and sometimes I forget how new this is to you. But a talent, a power like yours is rare—maybe once in a generation. I don’t want to give you an inflated sense of your own importance, but you should realize that you are and will become an important person in the world of Wicca. There are two ways of dealing with it: You can become a hermit, shutting yourself away from people, studying and learning on your own. Or you can embrace your power and the responsibility it brings and accept the joys and heartbreaks associated with it.”

I looked at my lap, feeling self-conscious.

“There’s something I wanted to mention to you—a way of acquiring a lot of knowledge quickly. It’s called a
tàth meànma brach
, and it’s basically a supercharged
tàth meànma
.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“You do a
tàth meànma
with a witch who knows a lot more than you, who’s more learned and more experienced though not necessarily more powerful,” Hunter explained. “The two of you join very deeply and openly and in essence give each other all your knowledge. It would be as if you suddenly had a whole lifetime’s worth of learning in a couple of hours.”

“It sounds incredible,” I said eagerly. “Of course I want to do it.”

He gave me a warning look. “It’s not something you should decide lightly. It’s a big thing, both for you and the other witch. It can be painful and even dangerous. If one witch isn’t ready or the two personalities are too dissimilar, the damage can be severe. I heard of one case where one of the witches went blind afterward.”

“But I would know so much,” I said. “It would be worth the risk.”

“Don’t decide right now,” he went on. “I just wanted to let you know about it. It would increase your ability to protect yourself—the more knowledge you have, the better you’ll be able to access your power. And part of the reason I’m telling you this is because you’ve already attracted the attention of some very powerful people: Selene and the rest of her Woodbane organization. The sooner you can protect yourself, the better.”

I nodded. “I wish I knew where they were,” I said. “I’m afraid to look over my shoulder. I keep expecting to see Cal or Selene.”

“I feel the same way sometimes. Not about them specifically, but I’ve made enough enemies in my job as a Seeker to have an assortment of witches who would love to see me dead. Which, by the way, is something I’ve been thinking about in regard to the cut brake line. I’d be stupid if I didn’t take every possibility into account.” He shifted in his seat. “Really, all I’m trying to say is that we both have to be extra careful from now on. We need to strengthen the protection spells on your car and your house, and my car and house, and Sky’s car. We have to be vigilant and prudent. I don’t want anything to happen to . . . either of us.”

For several minutes we sat quietly, thinking things through. I was worried, but Hunter’s presence made me feel safer. Knowing he was in Widow’s Vale made me feel protected. How long would I have that feeling? How long before he would have to leave?

“I don’t know how much time I’ll have here,” he said, unnerving me with the accuracy of his response to my thoughts. “It could be another month, or it could be a year or more.”

I hated the thought of his leaving and didn’t want to examine why. Then his strong hand was brushing back a tendril of hair off my cheek, and my breath caught in my throat. We were alone in my car, and when he leaned closer to me, I could feel the warmth of his breath. I closed my eyes and let my head rest against my seat.

“While I’m here,” he said softly, “I’ll help and protect you in any way I can. But you need to be strong with or without me. Promise me you’ll work toward that.”

I nodded slightly, my eyes still closed, thinking, Just kiss me, kiss me.

Then he did, and his lips were warm on mine and I coiled my hand up to hold his neck. The barest wisp of Cal’s image brushed across my consciousness and was gone, and I was drawn into Hunter’s light, the pressure of his mouth, his breathing, the hard warmth of his chest as he pressed closer. I felt something else, too—a feathery touch deep inside me, like delicate wings brushing against my very heart. I knew without words, without doubt, that I was feeling Hunter’s essence, that our souls were touching. And I thought, Oh, the beauty of Wicca.

4

Begin

 

 

 

 

“Open a window. This smell is making me sick,” Mary K. complained.

I put down my paint roller and flung open one of my bedroom windows. Instantly frigid air rolled in, dispelling the sour, chemical smell of the wall paint. I stepped back to admire what my sister and I had already done. Two walls of my room were now a pale coffee-with-cream color. The other two walls were still covered by the childish pink stripes I was trying to obliterate. I grinned, already pleased with the transformation. I was changing, and my room was changing to keep up.

“You’re only going to live here for another year,” Mary K. pointed out, carefully edging a line by the ceiling. A paint-spattered bandanna covered her hair, and though she was in sweatpants and a ratty old sweater, she looked like a fresh-faced teen singer. “Unless you go to Vassar or SUNY New Paltz or something and just commute.”

“Well, I don’t have to decide about that for a while,” I said.

“But why worry about your room now?” Mary K. asked.

“I can’t take this pink anymore,” I said, rolling a swath of paint over the wallpaper.

“Remember when I asked you if you’d had sex?” Mary K. suddenly said, almost making me drop my roller. “With Cal?”

There it was, the familiar wince and stomach clench I felt whenever that name was mentioned.

“Yeah?” I said warily.

“So, did you guys ever do it? After we talked?”

I took a breath and slowly released it to the count of ten. I focused on rolling a smooth, broad line of paint across the wall, feathering the edges and rolling over any drips. “No,” I managed to say calmly. “No, we never did.” A bad thought occurred to me. “You and Bakker . . .”

“No,” she said. “That was why he always got so mad.”

She was only fourteen, though a mature and curvy fourteen. I felt incredibly thankful that Bakker hadn’t managed to push her further than she was ready to go.

I, on the other hand, was seventeen. I’d always assumed that Cal and I would make love someday, when I was ready—but the times he’d tried, I said no. I wasn’t sure why, though now I wondered if my subconscious had picked up on the fact that I wasn’t in a safe situation, that I couldn’t trust Cal the way I would need to trust him to go to bed with him. Yet I had loved the other things we had done: the intense making out, how we had touched each other, the way magick had added a whole other dimension to our closeness. Now I would never know what it felt like to make love with Cal.

“How about Hunter?” Mary K. asked, looking down at me thoughtfully from her ladder.

“What about him?” I tried to sound careless, but I couldn’t quite pull it off.