Changeling

  No one in my life had ever accepted me exactly the way I was. I didn't fit in as a Rowlands. Within my coven I stood out as a strong blood witch, and it had become clear to me that not even Robbie and Bree, my closest friends, could feel entirely comfortable around me anymore. Hunter and Sky and Eoife all seemed to want different things of me, for me to be different somehow, to make different choices.

  My glance flicked back to Ciaran. How far could I push this? Was this the time to ask about the dark wave? Surely he suspected I was up to something. "You're nervous," Ciaran said softly. "Tell me why." It was dark now, and somehow there in the car I felt safe. "I'm incredibly drawn to that picture of Woodbanes," I told him honestly. "But I hated Selene Belltower and everything she stood for. She tried to kill me, and I know she had murdered others. I don't want to be like that."

  He waved his hand in dismissal. "Selene was an overambitious, overconfident climber---in no way did she represent what my coven is about." "What is your coven about?" I asked clearly. "I saw what you were doing in New York. What was that? Is there some larger plan?"

  Ciaran sat back against the passenger door. His eyes on me were bright in the darkness, his powerful hands still on the wool of his coat. Slowly, slowly, his lips parted in a smile, and I saw his white teeth and his eyes crinkling.

  "You are very interesting, Morgan," he said quietly. "You are a wild, untamed thing with the power of a river about to overflow its banks. Are you afraid of me?" I looked at him, this man who had helped create me, and answered truthfully, "Yes and no." "Yes and no," he repeated, watching me. "I think more no than yes. Yet you have every reason to be terribly afraid of me. I almost took your life." "You almost took my magick---my soul---which is much worse than taking my life," I retorted.

  "But you didn't because you are my father."

  "Morgan, Morgan," he said. "I find you very---gratifying. My other children are afraid of me. They don't ask me hard questions, they don't stand up to me. But you...are something different. It's the difference between a child born of Grania and a child born of Maeve." Frankly, I was feeling kind of sorry for all of us, his children. "You alone I see as being able to appreciate my coven," he went on. "You alone I feel would understand. There is something being planned---" I caught my breath silently, willing him to continue. He stopped and looked out then window, as if he hadn't intended to say so much. "I really should be getting back," he said absently. I squelched my disappointment and frustration. It would be too east for him to pick up on them. Without a word I started my car and backed out of the parking space. We drove back through the night, toward town. I tried not to even think about what he'd almost said, what we'd talked about. There would be enough time for that later. I drove Ciaran back to where he said Killian was staying. The house was nowhere near the deserted road where Killian had had me drop him off. He must have been out---the house was dark.

  "Good-bye for now," he said. "But not for long, I hope. Please call me soon." I nodded and leaned closer. In a low voice I said, "Father, I want to do what you do. I want to work how you work. I want you to show me." He shut the door, his face flushed with emotion at the word father. I drove off without looking back and cried the whole way home. I had called him father. I hated myself. 15. Persecution

  Brother Colin, by now you will have heard of my latest travail. Why God has

  chosen this fate for me, I do not know. All I can do is His will.

  I arrived in Barra Head ten days ago. Father Benedict had changed hardly at

  all and welcomed me most lovingly, which brought tears to my eyes. The

  Abbey had changed for the better, with glass windowpanes, a pigsty, and two

  milk cows. The brothers (there are now eight) were planning the solemn

  celebration of Easter, our Lord's rising, with the handful of villagers who

  shared their worship.

  Between matins and land, I left my cell and headed for the village in the

  darkness. I do not know what my thoughts were on that sole, dark walk, but

  with no warning I was knocked to the ground and a sleek black wolf was

  ripping at my cowl, tearing at my shoulder. With God's grace I held off its

  attack for a moment, and what I saw in these few moments before I fainted

  can only be part of my insanity, I fear. When the moon struck this creature's

  eyes, I saw Nuala, looking out at me. Poor Brother Colin, how you must pity

  me in my madness!

  Now I am in hospital. I envy you, my brother, for having been spared this

  hellish existence. As soon as I am able to travel, I am being sent to the hospice

  in Baden.

  ---Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, March 1771.

  "So this was a good day," Bree said. She propped one booted foot up on the stone bench next to me. "It's not snowing, it's almost forty degrees, and I missed both trig and chemistry because of that fake fire alarm. Not bad for a Wednesday." "Do we know who did the fire alarm?" I asked. "I heard it was Chris Holly," Robbie said, coming up behind us. Chris was en ex-boyfriend of Bree's and a typical Bree castoff: good-looking in a jock kind of way, with the IQ of your basic

  garden toad.

  "Oh, jeez," Bree groaned.

  Robbie grinned. "Word is that he didn't study for his English and panicked. Unfortunately, he was observed pulling the handle."

  I shook my head. "What a loser."

  A muffled ringing sound overlaced their laughter. "Your purse is ringing," Robbie told Bree, who was already taking out her phone. She said hello, hang on a minute, then handed the phone to me, mouthing, "Killian." "Little sister!" came his cheerful voice. "I haven't seen you in days! How are you?" "I'm fine," I said, smiling at the sound of his voice. "What have you been doing?" "This and that," he said lightly, and I mentally groaned, wondering what mischief he'd been causing. "Want to get together tonight? Maybe all the gang?" "Yeah, let's get together," I said, walking a few paces away from my friends. "But can it be just you and me? I want some time to hang out and talk." "Sure," Killian said. "Alone's fine, too. Let's meet at that coffee place in that row of shops you took me to. We can decide what to do from there." "Great," I said. "I'll see you there at eight tonight." I hung up and gave Bree back her phone. "Okay, I'm gone." Robbie kissed Bree on the cheek and took off, not noticing how virtually every female around turned to look at him. Bree watched him till he got into his red Volkswagen Beetle. "You do good work," she said, referring to the fact that Robbie had once been incredibly unattractive and now looked like a god, thanks to a little spell I had done. It had unintended effects. Another lesson for me. "How are things with you two?" I asked.

  "Up and down," she said, clearly not wanting to talk about it. "What about you? How are you doing with your parents out of town, broken up with Hunter, and with a bunch of new relatives you hadn't known about?"

  For a long moment I looked at Bree. Until four months ago I had know her as well as myself. But now we each had big secrets, unshared things between us. And I couldn't share this with her---about my mission, about my imminent betrayal of Killian and Ciaran, about my fear of being inevitably pulled toward dark magick. "It's been up and down," I said, and she smiled. "Yeah. Well, see you later. Call me if you want to get together." "I will," I said.

  At eight o'clock I walked through the door of the coffee place that Killian and I had agreed to. I ordered a decaf latte and a napoleon.

  An hour later I was royally pissed and rehearsing how I would blast him when he finally did drag his ass through the door. Except that I wouldn't be here to blast him because I was going home. I stomped outside to Das Boot and opened my door, only to see Raven's battered black Peugeot pulling up next to my car.

  "Where's your friend Killian?" she said through her open window. "He's somewhere being an hour late to meet me," I snarled. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? He was meeting me." "Au contraire," I said". "We had an eight o'clock date."

  "Well, princess," she sai
d. "Your time is up. I've got him at nine. See ya." I frowned. This was too strange. Why would Killian stand me up? What if he had messed up somehow, pissed someone off---had Ciaran done something? Or allowed someone else to do something to him?

  I looked at Raven. "Will you do me a favor? Will you follow me to the house where he's staying?"

  She frowned. "Why? He's supposed to meet me here, not at his place." I gestured to the empty parking lot. "Do you see him? Besides, if he's on his way, we'll pass him and you can turn around. I just have a funny feeling about this." Furrowing her brows, Raven glanced around the empty parking lot one last time. "All right," she said finally. "But if we pass him, we turn around and you go home." "Deal." I climbed into Das Boot and headed out.

  This was one of those times when I should have slowed down, thought things through, asked

  myself questions like, is this smart? Am I likely to be killed or maimed doing this? Should I have some kind of backup plan? Any plan at all? I screeched to a halt in front of the house where I knew Killian was staying. No cars were in the driveway, but the house was ablaze with light, and even from out on the sidewalk I could here music blasting. Raven and I looked at each other. I rang the doorbell four times, but no one answered. Picturing Killian lying in a pool of blood, I used a little unlocking spell that Hunter had taught me and opened the door. The scent of incense drifted towards us. The house wasn't large, but it was old, and even I could tell it was beautifully decorated. A hundred candles of every color were burning in the living room. There was an open bottle of scotch on the coffee table and a couple of used tumblers. Raven frowned, and I followed her glance. At the entrance of the hall leading to the back a black leather jacket lay on the floor. We walked over to it: a clue. My eyebrows rose. This jacket was Sky's---I recognized the silver pentacle hanging from her zipper. Together Raven and I, the unlikely duo, looked farther down the hall. I recognized Sky's black boots on the floor. "What the hell?" Raven muttered, stalking forward. Right next to Sky's boots was a man's belt. I thought I remembered Killian wearing it but wasn't sure. As if we were two puppets drawn on strings, Raven and I went forward. We came to a door that was slightly ajar. I heard the murmur of voices, and then good sense at last kicked in and I decided to get the hell out of here. Whatever Killian was doing, he was fine. But Raven, not coming to this same conclusion, punched the door open with her fist. I knew it must have hurt, but not as much as the scene before us. Sky was sitting on the bed, and Killian was standing at the foot. They looked up in surprise when the door burst open, saw us, and started laughing. Killian was wearing only a pair of black pants. Sky was in a camisole and her underwear. My mouth dropped open in naive shock. Ridiculously, I remembered Hunter saying he didn't think Sky was actually gay---she just like who she like. Apparently right now she was liking Killian.

  "Hi," Sky said, and laughed so hard she almost fell sideways. She was drunk! I couldn't believe it. Killian, however, seemed a little more together. "Little sister!" he said, and hiccupped, which made him laugh more. "Oops, I forgot our date, didn't I?" All around the room I could detect the faint traces of tingling magick, in the air, on the bed, on the floor. Goddess only knew what they'd been doing. "And ours, too, you bastard!" Raven screeched, launching herself at Killian. He was unprepared and so went down heavily under her fury. She smacked the side of his face as hard as she could, and I winced as his head snapped to the side. "Ow, ow," he said, but was still laughing weakly. "Oh, stawp, stawp," Sky was saying ineffectually in her slurred English accent. Leaving Raven and Killian rolling gracelessly on the floor, I went in search of a phone. Once I found it I called Hunter.

  "Come get Sky. She's smashed," I said, and gave him the address. When I got back to the room, Raven was shrieking at Sky, Killian was on the floor, watching the scene with fascination, and Sky was starting to yell awful things back at Raven, personal things about their relationship that made me ears burn. "Hold it!" I yelled, waving my arms. "Hold it!" Surprisingly, the three stopped to look at me. I snatched up Sky's black leather pants and what I hoped was her shirt. Leaning over the bed, I grabbed her arm, hard. "You come with me," I said firmly, and she actually did, practically falling off the bed. I dragged her out into the hall and down to the bathroom, where I shoved her roughly into her clothes. As soon as her arms were in the correct sleeves, I heard Hunter slam through the front door, shouting for Sky.

  I produced her, handing him her boots and jacket. At that moment the other two Stooges emerged from the bedroom. Raven's face was still contorted with fury, and Killian was starting to look a little less cheerful. Sky laughed when she saw him, and as Hunter began hauling her toward the door, she yelled, "Go for it, Raven! He's a great kisser!"

  I dropped my head into my hands. I was completely disgusted with all of them. Was everyone

  going completely insane? Looking at Raven and Killian with disdain, I left the house and went to see if I could help Hunter pour Sky into his car. He was buckling her in. She looked tired and wasted but not unhappy. He turned to me, his face furious. "Are you happy with your charming brother now?" My mouth dropped open. "I don't---"

  "When is he going to learn to consider others?" he shouted. "Does he think it's a game, making magick in there, in this situation? Does he think it's funny to do this to Sky?" I stood there, shocked, as he swung into the driver's seat and slammed the door. I knew he was upset about Sky, but I felt like he was blaming me for Killian's behavior. And I was the most blameless person in this ugly scene!

  Futile tears of rage started coursing down my cheeks as Hunter peeled off into the night. I had given up the person I loved most to prevent him from being tainted by my potential inherent evil, and here I was being blamed for my blood ties, even when I had nothing to do with their actions. I was risking my life to try and save Starlocket, and he thought I was cooking up party gamed with those three idiots. Still crying, I was starting to cross the street to get to Das Boot when a car honked in my face and almost gave me a heart attack. I leapt back onto the curb in to see a pimply faced kid race past me in a souped-up muscle car. I watched him speed off, and as he did, he shot me the bird.

  My mouth dropped open for the ninth time that evening. Without having a second to think, I raised my hand in a quick gesture and muttered just five little words. Instantly the kid's car locked up and he started skidding out of control, spinning sideways and heading right for the crash rail in front of a deep ditch. I was shocked. "Nul ra, nul ra!" I said fast, and with another second the kid had gained control of his car and come to a stop. After a moment he started the engine and continued down the road at a slower pace.

  I sat down weak-kneed on the curb. What had I done? I had almost killed a stranger because I was upset at Hunter. I was unbelievable. Just last month I had been involved in two deaths. What was wrong with me, apart from being Ciaran's daughter? Was this how my decent into evil would being? After looking both ways I crossed the street and sat in my car. I cried for a long time, too upset to drive, and then I heard a voice, Ciaran's voice, saying, Power sink. 16. Shape-shifter

  I received your letter yesterday, and I thank you most gratefully. To answer

  your question, this hospice is not at all like a prison; as long as we stay on the

  grounds, we are allowed much freedom. There is no one here who is dangerous

  to himself or another, though we are all tormented. I thank God that Father's

  estate can subsidize my stay here. They have allowed me to wear my monk's

  habit, and I am grateful.

  I do not want to answer your other questions. Forgive me, Brother, but I

  cannot think on it.

  ---Simon (Brother Sinestus) Tor, to Colin, July 1771.

  The old Methodist cemetery was dark and cold, and a frigid wind whipped through the scrub pines and unshaped cedars that surrounded it. I strode forward, casting my senses strongly, and felt Ciaran waiting for me.

  "Thank you for coming," he said in that soothing, accented voice. With n
o warning I burst into tears again, embarrassed to do it in front of him, and then his arms enfolded me; I was pressed against the rough tweed of his coat, and he was stroking my hair. "Morgan, Morgan," he murmured. "Tell me everything. Let me help." I actually couldn't remember the last time Dad had held me when I cried---I was too cool for

  that. I cried alone, in my room, quietly. Ciaran's embrace seemed so welcoming and

  comforting.

  "It's everything," I choked out. "It's being Woodbane and Catholic, it's having witch friends and nonwitch friends. It's Killian and Sky and Raven. Cal and Selene died, and I was so relieved, but I actually miss Cal sometimes. Or the Cal I thought I knew." More sobs racked me, but still Ciaran held me, letting me lean on him. "And my folks are so nice and I feel like scum because I want to know my birth father!" I sobbed and wiped my nose on the back of my glove. "And I wish I had known Maeve in person, but I can't because you killed her, you bastard!" My fist flew out quickly and slammed Ciaran in his chest. He swayed back a bit, but I'd been too close to put much into the punch. I swung again, but he caught my wrist in a grip like a braigh and stilled me.

  "I'm so sorry, Morgan," he said, his voice sounded torn. "I'm tortured about Maeve's death every day of my life. She was the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, and not a day goes by that I don't feel pain and anguish over what happened. The only good thing about her being gone is that she can no longer feel pain; she's no longer vulnerable and can no longer be hurt."

  I leaned backwards into a tall tombstone and buried my face in my hands. "This is all too hard," I cried. "It's too much. I can't do it. I can't bear it." In that second all that felt absolutely true. "No," Ciaran said, holding my wrists gently. "Yours is not an easy path. Your life feels hard and difficult now, and I can promise you it will only become harder and more difficult." I made an indistinct sound of despair, and his voice went on, slipping into me like a fog. "But you're wrong in thinking you can't do it, can't bear it," he said. "You absolutely can. You are Maeve's daughter and my daughter. You have strength in you. You are capable of things beyond your imagination."