The Calling

  the window that nearly scared us both to death—”

  “You didn’t mention anything about a thump last night,” Hunter said sharply. “That’s because was it nothing. Just a pigeon. And then right after that you showed up.” Hunter frowned. “A pigeon?”

  “What?” I said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Pigeons aren’t nocturnal,” Hunter said. He looked tense. “What exactly did you see?” I felt a stirring of alarm. “Um, it was just a blur. Feathers. Brown and gray, I think. About this big.” I held up my hands to make a shape the size of a large cantaloupe. “That’s too big to be a pigeon,” Hunter said instantly. “I suspect it was an owl.” My mouth went dry. “You mean…”

  He nodded. “I mean one of the shape-shifters from Amyranth.” There was a long silence. I tried to still the flutterings of terror in my stomach. “At least we can be reasonably sure we were right about Killian being their target,” Hunter said. “Obviously Amyranth followed him here.”

  “He knew,” I said, suddenly understanding why Killian was so subdued after the “pigeon” incident. “He didn’t tell us, but I’m sure he knew exactly what it was.” Hunter blew out a long breath. “Now the question is whether Killian cut out on his own or whether Amyranth somehow managed to spirit him away. But it all comes down to the same thing. Somehow we’ve got to find him before anything happens to him.” I thought about Ciaran’s watch, wondering if we could somehow use it to figure out where Ciaran was. “Hunter,” I said, feeling nervous. “I need to show you something. Come with me for a minute.”

  Bree and Sky both gave me questioning looks as Hunter followed me into the guest room. Wishing I’d been straight with him from the start, I took the watch from my jacket pocket and handed it to him.

  One blond eyebrow arched as he unwrapped the green silk covering. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his eyes unreadable.

  I told him the whole story then.

  Hunter listened silently. Then for an endless stretch he just looked at me. I didn’t need my witch

  senses to know that I’d disappointed him—by acting so rashly, by having kept the whole thing secret from him, especially once I knew Ciaran was the Amyranth leader. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have told you.” “Yes. You should have.” He sounded weary. “Nevertheless, the watch might be a valuable aid. Let’s see if it will help us.” He wound the stem a few turns. “Since you’re connected to Maeve and it was hers, you need to be the one to hold it.” I took the watch from him and held it in my hand. Intuitively we both slipped into a meditative state, focusing on the rhythm of the watch’s ticking. Hunter chanted a few words in Gaelic. “A spell to make visible the energies of those who once held the watch dear,” he explained.

  I felt a warmth along the watch’s golden case and a rush of tenderness wound through with what I’d come to recognize as my mother’s energy. “Maeve cherished it,” I told Hunter.

  He sketched a rune in the air, and I recognized Peorth, the rune for hidden things revealed. “What else?” he asked.

  Something flickered along the surface of the shiny, gold case. A bit of green. Maeve’s wide green eyes, then her russet-colored hair. I felt my throat go thick with tears. The last time I’d seen a vision of Maeve, it had been of her trapped in the burning barn. Dying. Here she stood in an open field, her eyes lit with joy and love. The image changed. This time it showed Maeve in what must have been her bedroom. A small space tucked under the eaves with a narrow bed covered by a brightly colored quilt. Maeve stood in a white nightgown, gazing from her window at the moon, a look of yearning on her face. I was sure she was thinking about Ciaran.

  Now show me Ciaran, I entreated the watch silently. But there was only Maeve, and her image lasted just a moment before fading away. I looked up at Hunter. “Not much help, I’m afraid. Just my mother from back before I was born.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded, wrapped the watch back in its green silk, and returned it to my jacket pocket. “Well, there’s one more thing I can try,” Hunter said. He reached into his back pocket and drew out what looked like a playing card, only on it was an image of the Virgin Mary, shown with a

  spiky golden halo and a little angel over her head.

  “The Virgin of Guadalupe,” Hunter explained. “When I finally found Killian in the abandoned building last night, I found this in there with him. I’ve traced it to its source.” “Huh?” I wasn’t following this at all.

  Hunter smiled. “Want to come with me and see where he got it?” My day suddenly looked brighter. I was going to spend it with Hunter! In the living room we had a brief confab about plans for the day. Sky and Raven were going to the Cloisters. Bree and Robbie were still undecided. We were all going to meet that night for our one real restaurant splurge.

  Hunter and I walked across town to the West Village. Hunter led the way to a small store just west of Hudson Street. The shop’s crowded window was filled with candles in colored glass jars, crosses, rosaries, statues of the saints, gazing crystals, herbs, oils, and powders. We stepped inside, and I smelled an odd blend: frankincense and rosemary, musk and myrrh. “This is weird,” I whispered to Hunter. “It feels like a cross between an outlet for church goods and a Wiccan store.”

  “The woman who runs this place is acurandera ,” Hunter explained in a low voice. “A Mexican white witch. Central American witchcraft often has a good deal of Christian symbolism mixed in with the Wicca.” He rang a bell on the counter. My eyes widened as a beautiful, dark-haired woman stepped out from the back room. It was the witch from the club, the one who’d told me that I needed to heal my own heart.

  “Buenos días,” she said. Her eyes lingered on me, and there was a silent moment in which we each recognized and acknowledged each other. “Can I help you?” Hunter held out the card with the Virgin on it. “Is this from your shop?” She studied it for a moment, then gazed up at him. “Sí. I sometimes give these cards to those in need of protection. How did you trace it to me?” “It carries the pattern of your energy.” “Most witches wouldn’t be able to pick that up,” she said. “I put spells on my cards so that they can’t be traced.” She looked at him more carefully. “You’re from the council?” He nodded. “I’m looking for a witch called Killian. I think he’s in danger.” “That one is always in danger,” she said, but her eyes were suddenly wary.

  “Do you know where he is?” Hunter asked.

  Silently she shook her head.

  “If you see him,” Hunter said, “would you contact me?” She gazed at him again, and I had the feeling that she was reading him the way she’d read me. “Yes,” she said at last, “I will.”

  Hunter hesitated, then said, “Do you know anything about Amyranth?” “Brujas!” she said, shivering. “They worship darkness. You don’t want to go near them.” “We think they may have Killian,” Hunter said. Something unreadable flickered in her eyes. Then she scrawled a name on a piece of paper and handed it to Hunter. “She once had the misfortune to be the lover of Amyranth’s leader. She has been trapped in terror ever since. I don’t know if she’ll talk to you, but you can try. Show her my card.”

  “Thank you,” Hunter said. We turned to go. “There’s something you’ve been putting off, Seeker,” the woman said. Hunter turned back to face her, startled. “Do it now,” she urged him. “Do not hesitate. Otherwise you may be too late.Comprende? ” I was baffled, but Hunter’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Wait, I have something that might help you.” The woman disappeared into the back room and reappeared with what looked like a large seedpod. “You know what to do with this?” she asked. “Yes,” Hunter said again. His face had turned pale. “Thank you.” “Hasta luego, chica,” she called to me as we left. “What was that all about?” I asked when we were outside. Hunter took my arm and steered me west, toward the Hudson River. “She’s befriended Killian,” he explained. “She’s been trying to help him. I’m fairly certain she’s the one who told him to hide out in that b
uilding in Chelsea. The church across the street was called Our Lady of Guadalupe.”

  “But what was she talking about at the end?” He was silent for almost a block. Then he said, “She’s very empathic. She can pick up on

  people’s deep fears and worries.”

  “I noticed,” I said, thinking back to what she’d said to me at the club. “And?” “And…she picked up on my worry about my mum and dad. She gave me a safe way to contact them—I think. With this.” He stared at the seedpod. “How does it work?” I asked.

  “Indirectly, as I understand it,” Hunter said. “I’ve never used one of these before—they’re rather a specialty of Latin witches. It’s supposed to work something like a message in a bottle, but with a very low-level finding spell on it that will seek out the person you’re trying to reach. The spell is so slight that with any luck, it will slip right under the radar of anyone who might be watching. The drawback is that with such a weak spell, the message could take a while to reach its destination—and anything might happen to it along the way.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But I have to try it.”

  “Are you sure you should?” I asked hesitantly. “I mean, the council told you to leave it to them. I know I’m not the council’s biggest fan in general, but maybe they’re right about this. It seems too dangerous for you to do on your own.” “They’ve had no success,” Hunter said. “And I’ve been getting the feeling that time is short—that I’ve got to contact Mum and Dad now. I hope I’m wrong, but I don’t dare wait any longer and find out too late that I was right.” The wind rose as we drew closer to the river. “This way,” Hunter said, leading me to a small commercial pier. There was a metal gate with a lock on the pier, but Hunter spelled it, and it popped open. We walked through the gate and past a bunch of industrial drums and crates. Hunter knelt by the water, a smooth sheet of lead gray. Carefully he opened the pod. I watched as he drew sigils that glittered softly on the air before disappearing into the pod. He sang a long Gaelic chant, something unknown to me. Then he closed the pod and wrapped it in more spells. Finally he threw the pod into the water. We watched it bob on the surface for a few moments. I gasped as it finally sank beneath a swell. Hunter reached out and took my hand, and I tried to give him my strength. “I’ve done what I can,” he said. “Now I just have to wait—and hope.” Signs

  December 14, Greer has been dead a month now of a heart attack, and if anyone suspects that I helped to hasten her death, they dare not accuse me. Liathach is mine now. Andarra, Grania’s father,

  doesn’t quite understand that. He’s still grieving. He came to tonight’s circle and chanted the

  opening invocation to the Goddess and the God. His eyes filled with confusion when I thanked him for it and took over. I had to. He wanted to spend the entire night sending on Greer’s soul, which I believe we took care of immediately after her death. She had so many dealings with the taibhs, the dark spirits. Doesn’t he know they came for her in the end? It’s almost Yule, the time of the return of the God, an appropriate time for me to take over Liathach. Greer was a power, I’ll grant, but she wasn’t bold enough. She was always worrying about the council. It’s time to turn the tables. Now Liathach will come into its own, and the council will fear us.

  —Neimhidh

  Hunter came back to the apartment with me, then went off to look for Ciaran’s former lover. Bree had gone for a pedicure, and Robbie and I were alone in the apartment. I was glad—I wanted to try to work things out with him. But to my dismay, when I came back into the living room after using the bathroom, he was pulling on his coat. “Where are you going?” I asked, feeling forlorn. “Museum of Natural History,” Robbie said briefly. He’d barely spoken to me since our argument.

  “Want company?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying not to show how much that hurt. “But Robbie? I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said yesterday. I need to talk to you about it. Um—can I walk you to the subway?”

  After a moment he nodded, and I put my coat back on. We walked up to Twenty-third Street. Robbie’s plan was to take the bus across to Eighth Avenue, where he could pick up the C train. The wide cross street was jammed with buses, trucks, and taxis. An ambulance and a fire truck, sirens wailing, tried to make their way through the gridlock. Talking—or rather, hearing—was almost impossible.

  “Want to stop in a coffee shop?” I shouted over the commotion. “My treat.” “Not really,” Robbie said again. He stepped forward as a bus pulled up to the stop. I gritted my teeth. “Okay,” I said. “We’ll talk on the bus.” Fortunately the bus wasn’t too crowded. We got a seat together. “I want to apologize to you,” I said. “You were right—I shouldn’t have messed with that woman.”

  Robbie looked straight ahead. He was still angry.

  “This being a blood witch and having power, it’s still kind of new to me,” I went on. “I’m not saying that excuses what I did. Only that I’m still getting used to it, still trying to figure out when I should and shouldn’t use magick. And the truth is, the power is a kick. I get tempted to use it when I shouldn’t. So I’m probably going to screw up now and then.” Robbie folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me something I don’t know.” I sighed. “You’re not making this easy.” He looked at me coldly. “You can make it easy. Just cast a spell on me.” I winced. “Robbie, listen. I promise I’ll be more careful. I give you my word that I’m going to be more conscious and try not to abuse my power. And I’ll never put you in a bad position again.”

  Robbie shut his eyes. When he opened them, the anger was gone and in its place was sorrow. “Morgan, I’m not trying to punish you. I just don’t know how to trust you anymore,” he said. “I don’t know how we can be friends. I don’t want to lose you, but—” He raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “You’ve got all the power. The playing field is nowhere near level. That makes it pretty hard to have a real friendship.” I felt my hope draining away. I’d assumed that we would talk and everything would be okay again. Robbie and I had never stayed angry with each other before. But Robbie was right. Things were unequal. I was operating in a different realm now, with different rules. He got off the bus, and I followed him down the steps into the subway station. The train came, and we got on it.

  “So, my being a blood witch means I’ve got to lose your friendship?” I bit down on my lip to keep from crying as the train moved out of the station. “I don’t know,” Robbie said. “I don’t know what to do about it.” We hurtled through several stops, during which I did my best not to break into tears. Things with Bree would never be the same. And now I was losing Robbie, too. Why did being a blood witch mean I had to give up my best friends? The subway came to a stop at Seventy-second Street, and I glanced at the map. The next stop was Robbie’s.

  “I don’t want to give up on our friendship,” I said stubbornly. “I need you. I need Robbie who’s not a blood witch and who knows me better than almost anyone. I—” I wiped my nose. “Robbie, you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. I can’t bear to lose you.”

  Robbie gave me a long, complicated look—sympathy, love, and a weary exasperation all bound

  together. “I don’t want to give up on us, either,” he said just as the subway rolled into the Eighty-first Street station. “You want to come see some dinosaurs?” “Sure.” I managed a shaky smile.

  We got off the train together, but as we walked through the turnstiles, a cloud of intense exhaustion dropped down over me. Then came vague nausea. “Uh…Robbie? I think I need to bail on the museum.” “After all that? You won’t even see dinosaurs with me?” “I want to, but I feel really wrung out all of a sudden. I think I just need to sit down for a while.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  I nodded. I wanted to give Robbie a hug, but by this time I was focusing on not throwing up. He hovered uncertainly for a moment. Then he said, “Okay. See you later,” and walked toward the museum.

  I crossed the street t
o the park and sat down on one of the benches. The nausea hadn’t let up. If anything, I felt worse, weak and disoriented. I shut my eyes for a second. When I opened them again, I was no longer looking at the wide steps and columns of the museum. The scene in front of me had changed. A blur of gray-brown branches. Across from them, a tall, narrow house obscured by snaky, tangled wisteria vines. Sirens and an emergency light flashing, cars speeding by. A doorbell hidden in a stone gorgon’s head. Screams and the sound of a struggle. A man’s voice, familiar but somehow terrifying. Blurry figures wearing animal masks. A bound figure, lying on a stone table.

  I felt something nudging my ankle, and I snapped out of the vision with a cry, startling the poor dog who was sniffing my shoe. The dog’s owner pulled it away, giving me an indignant look. Goddess, what was that? I wondered. I’d never had anything like it before—a waking vision, something that just came to me with no prompting. It was clearly connected to the dream I’d had. But it was different—more real somehow. Was I seeing Killian being tortured by Amyranth? I had to talk to Hunter. I sent him an urgent witch message. Then I sat there, shaken, waiting for

  him to answer. But there was no response. Hunter, now is not the time to ignore me, I thought. I

  tried again, letting my fear permeate the message. Still nothing. I felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t like him to ignore an urgent summons. Had something happened to him? After waiting another minute I tried Sky. But she didn’t respond, either. Were my messages even getting through? Trying not to give in to panic, I found a pay phone and pulled out the phone card my parents had given me for emergencies. I punched in the number of the apartment. No one answered, but I left a message just in case Hunter or Sky came in. Next I called Bree’s cell phone. Bree picked up at once. “Speak,” she said loftily. “It’s me,” I said. “Where are you?”