Reckoning

  "You found me," he said, sounding kind of pleased. "I'm supposed to give you my phone number," I said, joining him on the bench. "Oh yeah?" he said, arching his brows.

  "Your dad wants it."

  "My dad's been asking for your number?" He laughed, "Is there something going on I should know about?"

  I felt myself blushing. "Um, listen, I'm sorry about yesterday," I said, "I didn't mean..." "No." He shook his head quickly. "No! Don't apologize." He looked around and then checked his watch. "Let me explain, but not here. Can I give you a ride back to Sam's? Things are wrapping up here anyway."

  My ride arrangements where fine with Sam, so I went back inside to change into my clothes, and carefully folded the robe and put it in with my mother's tools. Evelyn gave me a warm hug and another kiss on the forehead as I left. "We have a lot of work to do," she said to me quietly. "We need to put those tools back to good use."

  "Thank you...," I said, not even sure how to express my gratitude. "Call me Grandmother," she said with a smile. "That is my name. Or Grandmom. Gran. Whatever you like."

  I'd only ever had one grandmother, and she was from Buenos Aires. I called her Lita Soto. "How about Lita?" I asked. "It's a nickname for grandmother in Spanish." "I like it," she said with a satisfied nod. "I like it a lot." 18. The Castle

  February 13,

  I sat straight up in bed at three o'clock this morning and screamed.

  Poor Ruth, I think I scared her half to death. I woke little Brigid as well. They both turned up a my door. While I assured them that I just had a bad dream, I knew it was more. My heart ached as though it were broken. It's difficult to explain, but it felt as though a candle that always burned inside me had been snuffed out. I felt an emptiness, an indescribable loss.

  After Ruth and Brigid had gone back to bed, I walked all through the house, trying to convince myself that there was some reasonable explanation for my disturbance. I walked through the basement, the kitchen, and the study, praying to the Goddess that I would find some mundane solution. But in my heart I knew there would not be, and my heart was right.

  In my workroom, Sorcha's old bedroom, I found everything in a shambles. The shelves had collapsed and everything was storing had tumbled down. The carpet was shredded where the bed once stood. I knew then that my worst suspicions were true. My daughter, my lost Sorcha, is dead.

  ---Aoibheann

  Charlie guided the car through the streets of Gloucester, past the huge neon Gorton's fisherman and the crowded pubs along the waterfront. He didn't say anything at first---he just played with the windshield wipers, flicking them on and off, as if they could help him clear his thoughts. I couldn't get a good reading on what he was feeling. It felt like a whole soup of emotions.

  "On Monday," he finally said, "in the basement, I told Brigid what happened." I remembered the wave of emotion I'd felt coming from Brigid as I passed---that whole nasty mix of panic, anger, and sadness. It made me nauseous to think of it. "You mean what happened in the library," I said. "Right." He nodded. "And it was really bad. She was so upset. I've never done anything like that."

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I've caused a mess..." "No!" he said, accidentally jerking the wheel a bit as he turned to look at me. "It's not that I regret it. I'm sorry I was so quiet yesterday. I was just trying to take care of things." "Take care of things?" I asked.

  "I spent yesterday thinking it all over," he continued. "Today I told her that I needed a little time to think things over."

  "You... broke up with her?"

  He stopped for a red light and turned to my. "Yes," he said. "I think so." I nodded, unsure of what to say. I didn't think, "Great!" would be appropriate, but by now it was clear that we had some kind of bond, however strange and undefined. "It's for the best," he said. "We've been together for two years, since she was fourteen. Now she's sixteen and I'm seventeen. I care about her a lot, but we've both grown and changed. I don't think we're the best match for each other." The light turned green, and he drove through the intersection. "I'm going off to college in the fall. I'm going to be leaving Gloucester." His tone was pained, as if he was trying to convince me and convince himself that he had done the right thing. He fell silent for a minute, obviously nor sure what to say next. "Evelyn and I had a talk, too," I said.

  He pulled into a parking lot and killed the engine. "About what?" he said, unsnapping his seatbelt and turned to me. "I mean, everything seemed good at the circle tonight. I was wondering what was going on."

  While I didn't explain had transpired in detail, I told him that Evelyn and I had reconciled, and I

  explained what had been in the box in the back. "Alisa." He broke into a smile and took my hands. "That's great. I can't believe I didn't notice... I'm sorry."

  "It's all right," I said, smiling, too. "You had a lot on your mind. How do you feel?" "Well," he said, "I feel like a jerk for what I've done to Brigid, even though I think it's for the best. And I feel incredibly happy that you're here." He watched me to see what affect his words were having. I'll tell you what effect they had---I almost melted. Kissing energy was on the rise. "I wanted to show you this place," he said, pointing out into the shadows. "Take a look." I leaned forward and glanced up through the windshield. Then I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It was a medieval castle---complete with turrets, drawbridge, the works. I wondered if he had spelled some kind of illusion.

  "It's called Hammond Castle. It's real," Charlie said, answering my unspoken question. "Well, it's a real fake. It was built in the 1920s by a rich inventor. He wanted a nice place for his art collection."

  "This is really strange," I said, "but cool." And absurdly romantic, of course. "Over there," he said, pointed out into the inky darkness of the water, just past the catle, "is one of the most famous places along the shoreline. It's a rock called Norman's Woe, the site of many shipwrecks and the inspiration for the poem 'The Wreck of the Hesperus,' which I will now recite to you."

  He drew himself up, as if he was about to give a big speech, I stared blankly. "Just kidding," he said quickly, breaking into a grin. "But the force of the sea and the spirit's of the sailors give this place tons of energy. It's our local power sink. I've performed some amazing magick here."

  We got out of the car and sat down on a bench in a small stone bell tower, where we could hear the roar of the ocean just below. The floodlights illuminated the towers above us and threw strange shadows on the ground.

  "Hold on," he said. He went back to his car and came back with his messenger bag. "Want to learn a little spell?" he asked. "As long as it doesn't make anything fall over or break," I said. "Or make my clothes disappear!"

  "No." He laughed. "Nothing like that. This one brings back something that made you happy once, a good experience. Sometimes just something like to eat or a beautiful sunset. It's a small spell, but it's a nice one. It reminds you of a joy in your life." "That sounds nice," I said. "Sure. Show me." He penciled the Gaelic in a slip of paper and went over pronunciation with me. I practiced it a few times. After the dark wave spell this little three liner was nothing. Then he poured about a half cup of coarse sea salt into my hand. "Okay," he said. "I'll draw the circle. You will walk deasil three times. Say one line each time you go round. After you recite the spell, close your eyes and throw this straight up in the air, right above your head. Get it all up there in one strong, fast throw, Keep facing up, letting it fall back down to you."

  Taking some more of this salt, he drew a circle on the asphalt, leaving me a space to step inside. He closed it behind me. Then he drew sigils in the air, signifying the four elements. He nodded at me to begin. I made my three circles, reciting one line each time. "Ar iobart ar miann

  an sòlas goit foad till

  tromhad tràth-sa"

  I closed my eyes and with one swift stroke I threw the salt into the air. I was expecting it to rain back down on my head, but it never came. Instead the snapping ocean breezes seemed to stop. I couldn't hear the waves hitting the shore, and I couldn't smel
l the salty air. "What is this?" I said, suddenly panicking. "Relax," I heard him say. "Just let it come. Close your eyes and breathe slowly." Now the air felt warm to me, like a heady summer breeze or like everyday in Texas, where I

  was born. There were chirping cicadas. There was grass, soft grass high around my ankles. I

  felt unsteady, but a pair of strong hands were holding mine, stretching my arms above my head.

  I smelled lilacs.

  My mother. My mother was teaching me how to walk. She was taking me over to a pot of flowers. I started to run to them and lost my balance, but the hands caught me. I heard laughter. She was encouraging me.

  "You've got it, Alisa," the voice was saying. Her voice. ""Good girl. You did it." I looked up, and I saw her. Her face was like mine. "You did it," she repeated.

  Encouraged, I took off again toward the flowers, but they faded from my view. In a moment the sound of the ocean returned, and the wind kicked back up. The fragrance rose like lifting fog and dissipated. I kept trying to breathe in more deeply, just to get one last breath. Different hands held me. Larger hands, with cooler skin and longer fingers that could grip my arms all the way around.

  "Alisa!"

  I opened my eyes. I had tipped forward, and Charlie had caught me before I went facedown on the ground. He said a blessing to close the circle and helped me over to the stone bench. As I watched him brush away the salt, my vision grew mistier. No magic this time---I was crying. He looked over in alarm.

  "What did you see?" he asked, coming over and squatting down in front of me. I shook my head. I couldn't describe it.

  "Was it something bad?" he said, his brow furrowed. "This is such a gentle spell. What...?" "It was my mother," I said.

  He exhaled sharply and shook his head.

  "Alisa," he said, "I'm sorry. We're at Norman's Woe. I should have realized that spell would intensify. I'm an idiot."

  "No," I said, wiping my eyes. "No. It was...good." He sat down and just took me in his arms. We listened to the waves hitting the shore just below is. Normally I would have been a complete wreck sitting there, wondering if he was going to kiss me again, worrying about what I should do or say. But my thoughts were on bigger matters, and Charlie seemed to understand that. It was all clear to me now, what all of this had been about. I'd reconciled with my grandmother. I'd gotten the mermaid-handled athame and the rest of my mother's tools. I'd come to grips with my heritage. These were all the things my mother had been trying to show me. Now, I realized, I could go home.

  19. Full Circle

  February 16, I haven't explained to anyone yet what I know to be true: Sorcha is indeed gone. I have performed multiple divination rituals, and the result is always the same. Somhairle will take it very hard. He has never stopped grieving for his lost sister, and I think he has always felt that they would be reunited one day. It was not to be. Some time ago Somhairle told me the he had received word that Sorcha had a child, a baby girl named Alisa. The poor child is without a mother now, only three years old. She will never know the joy of magick, the indescribable feeling of being with the Goddess. If only Sorcha had never left us, if only she had never turned her back on her family or denied the beautiful powers given her by the Goddess. Now this poor child will never know us and will

  never discover the great richness of her Rowanwand heritage. I might have had a

  beautiful, powerful granddaughter.

  Now that is never to be.

  ---Aoibheann

  "Sorry it's so late," I said sheepishly when I called Hunter. "You weren't in bed, were you?" "No, not for hours yet," Hunter said. "How was the circle tonight?" I'd arrived back at Sam's just moments before, and I had immediately picked up the phone. Not only did I owe Hunter a call, but I figures that once I told Hunter I was coming home, I couldn't back out. I had to move quickly before I lost my nerve. "It was good," I said. "Different. My grandmother, she gave me my mother's tools. The athame... it has a mermaid handle."

  Hunter gave a low whistle. He'd heard about my dream from Morgan. "Oh," he said. "I see."

  "At least I know I wasn't crazy," I said. "I never thought you were crazy," he said matter-of-factly. "I did," I said with a laugh. "Plenty of times. But Hunter... I..." "Yes?"

  "I know I need to come home, as soon as possible." "That would probably be for the best," Hunter said, his voice immediately getting very calm. "The longer you wait, the more problems you may have." "Maybe there's a bus leaving tonight," I replied, looking around the room as if Sam would have a huge bus schedule on the wall.

  "No, not the bus. I'll come get you," he said, in a tone that didn't suggest I had an option. "I thought of what was probably an four-hour trip each way. "Hunter, it's far. You don't have to..."

  "I know I don't have to. I want to. I'll leave soon. Tell me exactly where you are." After listening to me making rambling guesses about the driving directions for about five minutes, Hunter cleared his throat and politely interrupted. "That's all right," he said. "I'll find the best route to Gloucester on a map. The sigil will guide me from there." "How will I know when you're coming?" I said. "Should I set an alarm?" "No need," he said. "You'll know. The sigil will warn you." "Hunter... um, thanks. For everything. For what you did the other night---for this. There was a lot I needed to deal with."

  He didn't reply for a second.

  "I'm pleased to help," he said, his voice softening. "And Alisa, I'm glad you found what you were looking for."

  We got off soon after. Where would be plenty of time for me to tell him everything on the long car ride home. I readied myself for a second call. Sam had Charlie's number in his little phone book on the counter. When he answered, I could hear music in the background. He seemed excited that I had called so soon after he dropped me off. But then he seemed to pick up on something, maybe the tone of my voice.

  "Something's up," he said.

  "Yeah," I said sadly.

  "It's not great news," he said, "is it?" "I have to go home. I need to go back to my family." "When?"

  "Tomorrow morning."

  I heard the springs as he sat down quickly on his bed. "Do smell or something?" he said, trying to make his voice sound light. "Because I'll shower..." "I'm sorry. I'd really like to stay, but I have to go before the situation at home gets worse than it already is. My dad is really upset."

  "A runaway." He sighed. "A fugitive. I fell for a dangerous type." Fell for. Charlie had fallen for me. No one fell for me. I fell---into things, over things. I caused

  things to gall over. But no one had fallen for me, until now. I sank into one of the kitchen chairs,

  fighting the urge to call Hunter back and tell him not to come. "But," Charlie went on, "it makes sense. You don't want to mess up your life. As much as I hate the thought of your leaving, it's better that you should go. I don't want you to end up locked up in your house till your ninety-five."

  "If that happens," I replied, "you'll come and bust me out, right?" "Of course!" he said. "But for now, I'll drive you home. I could get the day off, no problem." I'd always thought it was a cliché, but I actually got butterflies in my stomach at the idea of being alone with Charlie on a car for four hours. But my head knew that it wasn't a great idea. "Um, well, my coven leader is going to pick me up," I said reluctantly. "Believe me, it's better that way. It'll be difficult when I get home. That's not the way I'd like you to meet my dad." The music in the background was the only noise I heard for a minute. "You'll be in touch," he said, "right?"

  "I'll annoy you with e-mail," I said. "I promise. You'll be so sick of me." "I'd better be," he said. I could hear that he had smiled as he said that. "I want full reports on the whole Hilary situation."

  "Oh," I said, "don't worry about that. You'll get those. The big wedding is coming up all to soon." Neither if us could figure out how to get of the phone, so we talked for a few more minutes, both of us trying to sound casual. Being Charlie, he had to crack a few jokes about how he had chased me away. Being me, I had to sniffle a lot.
He promised to come and visit New York as soon as he could.

  Just one more gut-wrenching conversation to go. Sam was sitting up in his bed, reading, when I knocked. He welcomed me in. His bedroom was gorgeous. Very Sam. The furniture was huge and antique, with dragonfly-patterned stained glass lamps on either side of the bed. The cats were contently nuzzling each other. I sat down on his down comforter near the foot of the bed. "I have to go home," I said, stroking Mandu as he came up and stood on my lap. "My coven leader is coming for me. He'll be here in the morning, probably pretty early." Sam set down his book and took off his glasses. "Tomorrow morning?" he repeated.

  I nodded.

  "Good luck, Alisa," he said gently, reaching over to take my hand. "I'm not going to say good-bye, because I know you'll be back. The door is always open here." "Thanks," I said, going all misty once again. These good-byes were rough. I could see that his eyes were getting red as well. I sat there for a few moments, petting the cats, just taking in the moment with Sam.

  "You're tired," he finally said, looking me in the eye. "It's time you got some sleep." He was right, I was exhausted, but I was also too edgy to rest. Sam got up and walked me back downstairs, his arm over my shoulders. After he had securely tucked me into my bed on the coach, he put his hand on my forehead, and I felt a slow, blissful relaxation take me over. It felt like I was lying on a raft in a pool, the lulling bump of water pushing me along inch by inch. I was asleep within seconds. I don't even remember Sam turning out the light or going upstairs, so I have no idea how long he sat there. I had another dream that night, but it wasn't like the one about the mermaid. I was back in the yard with my mother, walking towards the pot of flowers. Once again I looked up, but this time I could see her clearly. I saw the almond shape of her eyes, so much like mine. Her pale skin was flushed by the Texas sun.

  "You did it," she said again.

  Then I realized---I wasn't a toddler. It was just me, just as I am now, standing across from her and holding her hands.