The Calling

  “There’s someone I need to talk with,” Hunter said in my ear. “Do you mind if I leave you on your own for a few minutes?”

  “No, of course not,” I said, though I did mind. I was feeling more insecure and provincial by the second.

  Hunter blended into the crowd. I tried not to feel irked by the fact that Sky went with him, no questions asked. I stood there, trying to look casual and feeling completely out of my element. I walked back to the edge of the dance floor. In an effort to stop focusing on my insecurities, I opened up and let my senses explore.

  There was a thick, throbbing feel to the air. After a moment I realized it wasn’t just the music—the club was actually pulsing with magick. I’d never felt anything like it before. There must be dozens of blood witches here, I thought. I could pinpoint a few of them even in this crowd, not so much because of what they were doing, but because power streamed out from them in a way that was almost tangible.

  Most of the blood witches I knew must keep their power damped down, I realized suddenly. But not these people. Not the tall, thin African American man with the shaved head who stood on a

  low stage, dancing. The skinny kid in the oversize green suit. The sleek, blond woman in the

  low-cut, slithery dress and her dance partner, a rangy, loose-limbed guy with a beard. I frowned. Wow. There seemed to be some kind of weird psychic duel going on between the two of them. I could practically see the crackling energy that passed between them. Another woman, with long gray hair and the most extraordinary amber jewelry, danced by herself. She was surrounded by an aura of deep, vibrant green—it was so strong that I wondered if even those who weren’t blood witches could see it.

  Cal came to my mind again, unbidden. He would have loved this, I thought sadly, all these beautiful witches using their magick so freely. He would have felt at home here. Robbie came up to me, looking slightly stunned. “Is it just me, or is there something weird in the air here?” he shouted over the throbbing drums and bass. Well, that answered my question. “It’s not you,” I told him. “It’s magick. A lot of these people are blood witches.”

  “I think I’m a little out of my depth,” he murmured. “Me too,” I admitted. Seeing the downcast look on his face, I asked, “Where’s Bree?” Robbie gestured silently toward the café. I spotted Bree talking to a tall, handsome man with copper-colored hair. As we watched, she turned to a younger guy, maybe seventeen or so, and with a hand on his arm she drew him into the conversation, giving him a teasing smile. Robbie groaned. “Tell me the truth, Morgan. Am I a masochist or simply out of my mind? I mean, why do I even bother?”

  “I know it looks bad,” I said, trying not to get angry at Bree, “but I really don’t think it means anything.”

  “Well, it feels awful,” Robbie said. “It—” He was cut off when a girl wearing body glitter, a gold sports top, and tiny little gold shorts took his hand. “Dance with me?” she asked. Robbie gulped, nodded, and let himself be led out onto the dance floor. My senses were wide open now, trying to process the stunning array of magick. One guy in particular caught my eye. He was probably nineteen or twenty, with a muscular body and glossy, dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He was heading toward Raven, who stood near me, and there was something reckless and confident in his eyes. He wasn’t exactly gorgeous, but he was very sexy. And I could sense his power from yards away. He was strong. Then, to my shock, he stopped in front of me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asked with a frown.

  Was that a pickup line? I wondered, slightly panicked. Or did he really know me? Come to

  think of it, there was something vaguely familiar about him, too….

  “Um—I’ve never been here before,” I said cautiously. “Hmmm. Well, stop looking so impressed,” he said with a grin. “These New York witches all think they’re so hot. It’s not healthy to encourage them. Besides”—his eyes raked me appraisingly—“I reckon you’re worth the lot of them.” Before I could figure out how to respond to that, he walked past me to Raven, stopped in front of her, and said, “There you are, love. I’ve been waiting for you.” Raven glanced at him in surprise. His grin got even wider, and he pulled her onto the dance floor.

  I recognized a familiar presence behind me. Sky. There was nothing sloppy about Sky’s being or her power. Everything about her was clear, precise, and honed, like an elegant arrow. “So, what do you think of this place?” Sky asked. “It’s…intense.”

  She looked at me and laughed. “That’s a good word for it. There are more blood witches here than you may ever see in one place again. Some of them highly eccentric.” “What do you mean?” I asked. Sky knew so much about the world I’d only recently come to be part of.

  She nodded toward a woman spinning in place to the beat, one arm stretched high overhead. “That one, for instance. She’ll only cast spells that involve using nightshade. And he,” she said, gesturing toward a small, dark-haired man at the bar, “spent years living in a cave on the coast of Scotland.”

  “Why?”

  “Teaching himself to work with the sea. He’s remarkable at scrying with water. And he has a strong affinity for the ocean and its creatures.” “Sky,ma chère .” A tall, elegant woman in a silver gown came up, kissed Sky on both cheeks, and began a rapid exchange in French.

  I watched, slightly awed.

  “That’s Mathilde,” Sky said as the Frenchwoman moved on. “Sorry I didn’t introduce you, but she was in a hurry. She’s got an amazing greenhouse on her roof. Every herb a witch could want.”

  “How do you know all these people?” I asked.

  “Some I know from Europe. Others I met coming here with Hunter,” she explained. “This is a good place for him to make connections.” I glanced around but didn’t see Hunter’s blond hair anywhere. Sky answered my unasked question. “He’s upstairs, talking to some people. Trying to get leads.”

  A shout drew our attention back to the dance floor, where a space had opened around Raven and her partner. They were doing some kind of dance that involved a lot of athletic gyrating and shimmying.

  I glanced at Sky. Her face was blank, neutral, but her eyes never left Raven and her partner. As if conscious of her gaze, the wild guy looked straight at her and laughed. I felt sudden sympathy for Sky. “Don’t let them upset you.” As the words left my mouth, I was shocked at my own presumptuousness. Me, consoling Sky? But she simply gave me a rueful half smile. “I’ll get over it. Raven has to be who she is.” She nodded toward Robbie and the gorgeous girl dancing with him. Robbie looked mystified by the attention.

  “He still doesn’t understand how attractive he is,” Sky said. “I wonder if Bree does.” Bree was still standing in the café, three men around her, but her gaze was focused across the floor on Robbie.

  “Maybe she’s starting to,” I said.

  Hunter came up behind me then, and I felt a thrill along my nerve endings as he rested his hands lightly on my hips. “How are you doing?” he asked. “I’m a little overwhelmed,” I answered, turning to face him. He gave me an apologetic smile. “I should have prepared you.” “No, it’s okay. Sky’s orienting me. It’s…fascinating. I just didn’t expect it.” “Yes, well, meet your people,” he said wryly. “Did you talk to the DJ?” Sky wanted to know. Hunter nodded. “If he knows anything, he’s not telling. But I did find someone who used to

  date a member of Amyranth. He’ll talk to me, but not here. I’ve arranged to meet him tomorrow

  at a ridiculous hour of the morning, at the most inconvenient, out-of-the-way place he could think of.” He gave Sky a grin. “Sorry. I know you’re not a morning person. But I really need you with me. This one sounds like he might give me some trouble.” Sky nodded. “Fine. Just promise you’ll buy me a coffee.” My rational, mathematical self told me I was being silly—Hunter was keeping me out for my own safety—but I couldn’t help feeling irked at the way they both just took it for granted that Sky was the one who helped Hunter, that the two of them were a team, while I
was just a bumbling novice who had to be kept out of harm’s way. It wasn’t fair—especially not now. It wasmy dream that had started this, after all. A black light flared above us, turning Hunter’s white shirt neon purple, his hair a bright silky lavender. He kissed me lightly on the mouth. “I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back. Dance, why don’t you?”

  “Oh, thank you very much,” I muttered. “You know how much I love dancing. Especially alone.”

  But he was already moving past me to have a quick whispered conference with Sky, which did nothing to improve my mood. Then he headed off toward the stage. The tall African American man pointed at Hunter with a knowing grin, then made his way down from the stage to talk to him. I had to admit, it was impressive seeing how at ease Hunter was with so many people. I knew I could never extract information from strangers like that. Sky drifted back toward me, and I had the feeling that Hunter had told her to look out for me. My irritation deepened. Luckily I was relieved of the need to make awkward conversation by Robbie, who came up to us looking sweaty and exhausted. “Man, that girl can move,” he said, waving at his partner. He blinked in surprise as a waitress approached him with a glass of wine balanced on a round tray.

  “The lady over there”—she indicated a tall woman with long, ebony hair who was dressed entirely in leather—“sends it to you with her compliments.” “Uh, tell her thanks, would you?” Robbie sounded flustered. “But I don’t drink.” “I’ll tell her,” the waitress said reluctantly. “But if you don’t want to offend her—and I’d advise you not to—you won’t send the wine back.” Robbie smiled weakly at the woman in leather and took the glass of wine. I gave a low whistle. “You’re getting a lot of attention tonight.” I peeked covertly at Bree and was glad to see that she hadn’t missed the exchange with Leather Woman, either. She’d stopped even pretending to flirt with the guys around her and was just standing there, looking sulky.

  Robbie, however, didn’t look pleased. “It’s a little freaky. Two witches have asked me out

  tonight.”

  “You have something against us?” I teased him. “Not you,” he said seriously. “But apart from the fact that I’m in love with Bree, I want a relationship of equals, not someone who can put spells on me without my even knowing.” I winced. When I was just getting acquainted with Wicca, I’d given Robbie a spelled potion to help heal his acne, which had been really out of control. It had done the job—in fact, it had more than done the job; it had gone so far as to correct his terrible eyesight—but Robbie had been upset with me for doing magick on him without telling him. “What is his problem?” Sky said suddenly. Her eyes were on Raven and the long-haired guy. “Is he a complete exhibitionist?”

  I looked, too. The guy had taken off his shirt. His body was thin but looked hard and well muscled.

  Raven sent an amused glance toward Sky, as if to say, Do you believe this? Her dancing partner put his hands on her butt and pulled her close, and then pinwheels of colored light were raining down around them, and Raven was laughing, trying to catch one in her hand. The guy traced a sign in the air, and three of them rested on her palm. I couldn’t suppress a gasp. I was half appalled at his recklessness, half delighted by his clever, beautiful magick.

  “Oh, man,” Robbie muttered. “What is that?” “It’s showy and irresponsible, that’s what it is,” Sky said, sounding angry. “That cocky little bugger. Anyone could be watching him.”

  Raven and the guy were dancing close now, grinding pelvises. “That’s enough,” Sky said, and strode toward them. I saw her take Raven’s arm and say something in her ear. “Maybe I’d better go find Bree,” Robbie said with a sigh. “If she hasn’t already left with someone else.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” I told him.

  “You don’t think so?” Robbie’s smile was sad as he moved away. It made me want to shake Bree. She really liked Robbie. Why couldn’t she just let things happen with him? I headed for the café and got a Diet Coke. Then I looked around for Hunter. Nowhere in sight. I sighed, too, and tried not to feel too much like a wallflower.

  A woman in a short black dress sauntered up to me. “Don’t be so self-conscious,chica ,” she

  said. She was beautiful, with coffee-colored skin and black hair that framed her face in waves. “All this energy spent thinking you are not beautiful enough, not good enough. It’s a waste. You must take all this healing energy you have and make a salve for your own heart, no? Life is too short to be so hard on yourself.”

  I stood there, blinking stupidly. She was gazing into my eyes, into my soul, and I felt stripped, vulnerable.

  “Um…excuse me,” I said. “I have to go.”

  I shut down my senses and bolted for a door marked Exit. I didn’t plan to go far. I just needed to be out of there, away from all that magick for a few minutes. I thought the door would lead to the street. Instead I found myself in a small courtyard planted with skinny oak saplings. I wasn’t alone. A man with short-cropped, silver-flecked dark hair stood in the yard, staring up at a big square of the night sky. Even with my senses shut down I felt a surge of energy—deep, vital energy, not the fractured, hectic kind that ruled inside. Whether it was from the man or the giant orange moon, I couldn’t be sure. I sat down on a bench at the edge of the courtyard and gazed up at the moon, wondering what he was seeing. As I looked, I felt my frazzled nerve endings begin to relax. The moon was so eternal, so familiar in this place where everything else was so strange. I breathed deeply, and peace began to creep back into my body.

  “The moon is our anchor,” the man said without looking at me. Ordinarily I would have been startled by these bizarre words coming from a total stranger. But at that moment my only thought was, Yes. I didn’t feel the need to respond aloud, and he didn’t seem to expect me to.

  I stared at the moon, letting it anchor me. Glamor

  July 15, I write this on the ferry crossing the Irish Sea. I’m part of a delegation from Liathach, bound for western Ireland, to the very village where I was born, Ballynigel. We’re going, as clansmen, to pay a visit to the Belwicket coven. I don’t remember any of them at all. I’m very curious to see a Woodbane coven that forswore evil more than a hundred years ago. Bright magick and dark, the Woodbanes have never feared either. How Belwicket could have given up fully half of our ancient, essential powers, I can’t fathom. But that is what we’re going to observe. And we’ll see whether there is anything in Ballynigel strong enough to resist us. We can’t—won’t—risk

  opposition. If we find it…there has been talk of the dark wave.

  Mother stands near the bow with Greer, probably gossiping about the bairns. The two grannies are both mad for little Iona, and a sweet thing she is, though every bit as much trouble as her brother, Kyle. I take it as a good sign that Greer invited me to be part of this mission. Finally she is admitting me to Liathach’s inner circle of leaders. Grania, of course, didn’t want me to go. “You can’t leave me with two little ones to care for all on my own,” she kept telling me. But I can and I have. The dream is still with me, and I long to see Ballynigel again.

  —Neimhidh

  I gazed up at the winter moon. I could feel my own power coursing through me, untainted by questions of whether I’d misused it or whether I was worth the sacrifice of Cal’s life. It was as if my world had silently, subtly slipped into perfect balance. A few yards away from me the dark-haired man stood silent. He hadn’t looked at me once, but I felt a strange connection between us, as sure and strong as if he’d thrown me a rope. Where are you? Hunter’s witch message almost made me jump. Reluctantly I stood up. The man nodded, as if acknowledging that I was leaving, but didn’t say a word. I returned to the club, feeling I’d just been given a strange but lovely gift. I found my friends gathered on a semicircular leather couch in the bar area. The showy witch Raven had been dancing with sat next to her on the very end of the couch. Sky looked up as I approached. “Morgan, this is Killian,” she said, her voice perfectly neutral, which made me wonder what I?
??d missed.

  Killian gave me a grin, held out his hand, and said, “Enchanted.” Hunter made room for me beside him. Killian’s dark eyes flickered between us, and I wondered if he could tell that just sitting next to Hunter made my whole body feel more alive. Bree was looking at Killian with a calculating expression. “So you’re another Brit?” she asked. “Yeah, we’re all over New York, a ruddy plague of us,” he admitted cheerfully. His accent was different from Hunter’s and Sky’s. I was glad when Robbie asked, “Which part of England?”

  “Oh, I’ve done the whole miserable U.K. Born in Scotland, went to school in London, spent time in Ireland, summers in Wales and the Shetlands. And in all those places it rains too bleeding much. I’m still damp.” He held out his arm to me. “Can you see the moss?” I couldn’t help laughing, liking him. He was definitely appealing. His features weren’t perfect,

  like Cal’s had been, and he didn’t have Hunter’s classic, chiseled bone structure, but he had

  energy. There was something wild, almost animal, about him. I wondered which clan he belonged to. But I knew I couldn’t ask. Among witches, that question was considered very intrusive.

  Killian got to his feet. “I’m going to get a beer. Anyone want one?” “You’re twenty-one?” I asked, surprised. He didn’t look any older than the rest of us. “Almost twenty,” he admitted with a grin, “but I age well.” As he spoke, he drew a sign in the air, and the planes of his face became softer and fuller. Lines appeared across his forehead, and a crease deepened between his brows. Anyone would have thought he was pushing thirty. “Now…beer, wine, scotch, anyone?”

  “I’ll have a beer, too,” Raven said, looking smitten. “A Sprite would be great,” Robbie said.

  “Sprite it is,” Killian said graciously, but I could sense mockery. “He’s good,” Bree said as Killian started off for the crowded bar. “It was just a glamor,” Sky said dismissively. “A trick of the eye.” Bree looked at me. “What do you think of him?” I shrugged, unsure of how to answer. On one level, I couldn’t help liking him, his cheerful irreverence and the fact that he seemed to be having such a good time just being Killian. But there was also something about him that alarmed me, something dangerous in his raw, animal spirits. And there was the fact that when he cast that glamor, I felt pure envy. I knew I had the power to pull off magick like that, yet my lack of experience held me back. Alyce didn’t know how to cast glamors, and neither did I.