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Authors: Cate Tiernan

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BOOK: Spellbound
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At any rate, Clyda’s health is Clyda’s concern. She doesn’t ask for or want my care, and now I need her less and
less in my studies. Since the Great Trial, I can learn any
thing easily; of course, the strength and the weakness of Wicca is that there’s always more to be learned.
I just reread this entry and can’t believe I’m yapping on
about an old woman’s health when just last night my life changed again. Clyda finally introduced me to some members of her coven, Amyranth. Even now my skin gets chilled, just writing the name. I won’t lie: they terrify me, by reputation, by
their very existence. And yet I’m so drawn to them and their mission. I have no doubt I was meant to be part of them. From birth I was marked to be in Amyranth, and to deny that would be lying to myself. Oh, I have to go—Clyda is calling.
—SB
 
There were only four other cars in the parking lot of St. Mary’s when I pulled in to drop off Mary K. Probably thirty years ago, weekday-morning services were more attended, but nowadays it seemed amazing that Father Hotchkiss bothered to have them at all.
“You sure you want to go?” I asked Mary K. “Wouldn’t you rather just go get coffee instead?”
My sister shook her head but made no move to get out of the car.
“What’s going on, Mary K.?” I asked. “You seem so unhappy lately. Is it because of Bakker?”
Again she shook her head, looking out her window. “Not just Bakker,” she said finally. “All guys. I mean, look at you and Cal. And Bree and all her boy toys. Guys are just . . .”
“Losers?” I suggested. “Jerks? Imbeciles?”
She didn’t smile. “I just don’t get it,” she said. “It’s just—I feel like I never want to date again. Never want to be vulnerable again. And I hate that. I don’t want to go through my whole life alone.”
I closed my mouth hard before I could say something stupid like,You’re only fourteen, don’t worry about it.
Instead I said, “I know how you feel.”
She looked at me, troubled, and I nodded.
“I feel the same way sometimes. I mean, Cal was my first boyfriend, and look what a mistake that turned out to be. After that, how can I ever be sure of any guy again?”
“You can be sure of Hunter,” she said. “He’s a good guy.”
“I think so. But then I think, Cal seemed like a good guy, too.” I grimaced. “You know what the really sick thing is?”
“What?”
“I miss Cal,” I admitted. “I felt like I knew him, like I understood him. Now I know he was lying to me, using me, setting me up. But it didn’t feel that way at the time, so I don’t remember it that way. I’m drawn to Hunter, really drawn to him, but I feel like I don’t know him and never will.”
We sat in Das Boot, feeling depressed. Instead of cheering her up, I had only brought myself down. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to go off on my own problems.”
“Want to come to church with me?” Mary K. asked with a touch of humor.
“No.” I gave a tiny laugh. “Want to come to Practical Magick with me?”
“No. Well, I’d better go in. I’ll walk home after. Thanks for the ride.”
“Sure.”
“And thanks for talking, too.” She gave me a sweet smile. “You’re a good sister.”
“You are, too,” I said. I loved her so much. She got out and walked up the church steps, and I put Das Boot in gear and headed north, to Red Kill and Practical Magick.
 
I’d come to Practical Magick looking for Christmas gifts, but once I got there, I realized I really wasn’t in the mood to shop. I’ve got time, I told myself. I’d get those silver earrings for Mary K., and then everyone in my immediate family would be accounted for. That left my aunt Eileen and her girlfriend Paula, my aunt Margaret and her husband and kids, and Robbie . . . and after that I was in a gray area. Should I give Hunter a gift? It seemed almost too intimate for whatever our relationship was—but on the other hand, he’d bought me my beautiful hex quilt. And then what about Bree? Were we exchanging gifts this year or not? I sighed. Why did it all have to be so confusing?
A comforting voice interrupted my thoughts. “You look like you need to take your mind off your troubles. Come up and see my new apartment,” Alyce suggested. After David’s departure, she’d moved into one of the apartments upstairs from the store; it had been David’s aunt Rosaline’s apartment. David had inherited the shop—and Rosaline’s considerable debts—when she’d died not long ago. Trying to find a way out of the debts was what had led him into his disastrous experiment with dark magick. Now that Alyce owned Practical Magick, she was paying back the money Rosaline had owed, on a long-term schedule.
Alyce told Finn where we’d be, and then we went out the front doors. “Since I’m running the shop, it makes sense to live close by, and it saves on rent,” Alyce explained. Outside were three other doors, all in a line to the right of the store’s glass double entrance. Alyce unlocked the door in the middle, and we went up a steep, narrow wooden staircase.
At the top of the stairs were two small, narrow apartments. Alyce led me through the door on the left. The living room was small and bare but freshly painted a warm cream color. Sitting on a surprisingly modern couch was Sky Eventide, reading a leather-bound book.
“Hey,” I said. I hadn’t seen her since last Saturday’s circle.
“Hi,” she answered, searching my face. I wondered if Hunter had told her about our vision of his father and about the dark wave.
“Sky and I have been working together,” Alyce explained, stepping into the tiny windowless kitchen to make tea. I sat down on a large pillow on the floor.
“When you came in today, I thought maybe the three of us could have a circle,” Alyce went on, getting out cups and saucers. “It’ll help center you, Morgan. Also, you and Sky are both working with unanswered questions, and it could be helpful.”
I thought about the two circles I had been to recently where my powers had been nonexistent and dreaded the idea of feeling that again.
“Yeah, okay,” I said, taking the cup of tea that Alyce offered me.
 
Our circle was small, just the three of us, and somehow intensely
Alyce:
open, receptive, nurturing, strong, very womanly.
We stood, hands linked, in the middle of the living room. Pale winter sun streamed through the windows. Closing our eyes, we each chanted our personal power calls.
“An di allaigh, ne ullah,”
I began.
Sky and Alyce each quietly chanted to themselves: Alyce’s was in English, while Sky’s sounded more like mine, Celtic, old, incomprehensible. Three times we walked deasil around our central candle. By the third cycle I felt power flowing from Sky’s fingers to mine, from my fingers to Alyce’s. The power had a distinct and different quality: eternal, life enhancing.
Then Alyce invoked the four elements, the Goddess and the God, and said, “Lady and Lord, we are each on a personal quest. Please help us to be open to the answers that the universe provides. Please help us open our minds to the world’s wisdom.
“My quest is as leader of Starlocket,” Alyce went on. “Help me open my consciousness to receive the wisdom I need to guide the women and men of my coven. Help me understand why I have been chosen as leader. Help me fulfill my duties with love.”
Then her blue-violet eyes were on Sky, and she nodded. Sky looked thoughtful, then said, “My quest is . . . whether I’ll live up to my parents’ heritage. Whether my magick will be as strong, as pure as theirs.”
I looked at her, surprised to hear her doubt her own power and ability. She’d always struck me as arrogant, even overconfident, and I knew she had much more knowledge and spellcraft than I did. Now I saw that she had weaknesses, too.
Alyce looked at me, and I felt unprepared. This wasn’t what I had come here for, and I had no ready statement. Which quest should I mention? I had so many unanswered questions: about Cal, Selene, Maeve’s tools, my natural father, Hunter, Bree. . . . Where to begin?
“No, dear,” Alyce said softly. “It’s more than that.”
Oh. Then I thought of the circle we’d had at Sharon’s house, and it came to me. “My personal quest is about my own nature,” I said, knowing it was true as the words left my mouth. “Am I more likely to lean toward evil because of my Woodbane blood? Will I have to fight it twice as hard as anyone else? How can I learn to recognize evil when I see it? Am I . . . can I escape the darkness?”
I felt rather than saw Alyce’s approval that I had found the right questions, and Sky’s piqued interest and slight alarm. We held hands for a moment longer, just standing there, and I felt the power flowing among the three of us, almost like an electric current. I am strong, I thought. And I have good friends. Hunter, Robbie, Bree, Alyce, even Sky—they would all stand by me and help me to make the right choices. For a moment I held that sure knowledge in my mind, and it gave me a sense of comfort and peace.
Then we walked widdershins three times, Alyce disbanded our circle, and we snuffed the candle.
“Thank you both,” Alyce said. She began to put away her ritual cups. “Now my apartment will be blessed with good energy. And we’ve each found a question in our hearts that must be answered before we move forward.”
“How do we find the answer?” Sky asked, sounding frustrated.
Alyce laughed and said gently, “That’s part of the question, I’m afraid.”
 
We stayed in Alyce’s apartment for another half hour or so, just talking, enjoying one another’s company. Then Alyce had to go back to the shop, so Sky and I reluctantly left. “That was nice,” Sky said as we came out onto the street.
“Yeah.” I smiled, enjoying the moment of uncomplicated friendliness.
“Well, see you later.” She walked down the street to where her car was parked.
As I started Das Boot, I thought about our circle. Oddly, I felt more afraid than I had before, now that I had openly acknowledged my greatest fear. I kept glancing over my shoulder the whole way home, as if expecting the dark wave to loom up in my rearview mirror.
Not really thinking, I started to take the road home that led past Cal’s old house. At the last minute I realized what I was doing and swerved back into my lane, causing an angry honk from in back of me. I made an I’m-sorry kind of wave and took another route home. I didn’t want to pass his house. Not today.
8
Attacked
Samhain, 1975
 
Last night my two-year apprenticeship with Amyranth ended. So much has changed in my life in the past five years. When I think back to who and what I was, it’s like looking
back at a different lifetime, a different person. Who I am now is so much more intense and fulfilling.
We’re in northern Scotland now, and it’s as bleak and
forbidding a place as there is. The land is wild here, and I
love it, even though I know I wasn’t meant to live here. But here we are, and my bones are soaking up the power that seeps
from the very rocks in this place.
Two years ago, when I was inducted into Amyranth, I’d
heard only vague rumors of dark waves. Since then there have been three events that I know of, but I wasn’t allowed to participate in them or know the details. Last night that changed.
The coven we took was Wyndenkell, and it was older than anyone knew. It had existed for at least 450 years. I can’t imagine that. In America, most of our covens have existed for less than a hundred. The magick here is ancient and compelling, which is why we wanted it.
I’m bound not to describe the event, nor what we did to call
the wave. But I will say that it was the most terrifying, exhil
arating event I’ve ever witnessed. The sight of the huge, fierce
wave, the purplish black color of a bruise, sweeping over the gathered circle—feeling its icy wind snatching the souls and power of the witches, feeling its energy being fused into me, like
lightning—well, I’m a changed woman, a changed witch. I’m a daughter of Amyranth, and that fact alone gives my life meaning and joy.
Now the Wyndenkell coven’s knowledge and magick are ours. As they should be.

SB
 
“Now, this is a nice car,” Hunter said, running his hand over Breezy’s leather seats. “German engineering, fuel efficient.”
My eyes narrowed. Was that a dig against Das Boot? It wasn’t my car’s fault that it was made before fuel economy became a desired trait. I tried to glare at Hunter, but I couldn’t hold a grudge. It was just too beautiful a Friday, sunny, perfectly clear, and almost forty degrees. To have even a little break from the hellish winter we’d been having was a treat.
“Yeah, I like it,” Bree said from the front seat. She navigated the on-ramp smoothly, and then we were on the highway, headed toward the nearby town of Greenport. Its downtown area had lots of cute shops and restaurants, and Bree had talked Robbie and me into an outing. After which I’d taken my nerve in both hands and called to invite Hunter to come, too. It wasn’t exactly a date, but I was starting to feel more and more like we were a couple.
“Did you speak to the council about what we saw in the scrying stone?” I asked Hunter in a low voice.
He nodded. “I told Kennet Muir, my mentor. He promised the council would look into it. He warned me not to scry again, that it would only lead the dark wave to Mum and Dad. I know he’s right, but . . .” He trailed off. I heard the impatience and frustration in his voice. I knew exactly how he felt. Even to know they were dead would in some ways be better than this constant state of limbo. I reached over and took his hand.
He turned to me, and we shared a look that seemed to melt my very soul. When had I ever felt so in tune with anyone?
“I know,” he whispered, and I understood that he was saying he shared my feelings. My heart soared, and the bright day suddenly seemed almost too brilliant to bear.
BOOK: Spellbound
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