I wondered if I could outrun her and realized that I was too worn out to try. I slowed to a walk, my heart pounding, and let her catch up with me. She was panting, too. She waited until her breathing slowed before saying, "A formal questioning by a Seeker is never easy to witness." "Easy?" I nearly shrieked. "I would have settled for non-horrific. I can't believe that Hunter chooses to do that." Sky's jaw literally dropped. "Do you think he enjoyed that?" I was still repulsed and sickened by what I'd seen. "He chose it," I said. "Hunter became a Seeker, knowing what he would be required to do. He's good at it."
There was long beat of silence, and then Sky said, "I'd slap you silly if I thought you knew what you were talking about" Before I knew what I was doing I had shot out my hand, spinning off a ball of witch fire. Instantly Sky held up a finger, and the fire fizzled out Page
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like a Fourth of July sparkler.
"You're not the only blood witch here," she told me in a low, angry voice. "And while you may have more innate power than any witch I've seen, I've had a great deal more practice working it. So don't turn this into a fight because you won't win."
I hadn't meant to send the witch fire at her. I was just so angry and sickened and exhausted that her threat was enough to make something inside me lash out. "I'm too tired to fight," I said. "Fine, then get over yourself and listen for a minute. What Hunter does is harder on him that it is on anyone else." "Then why does he do it?" I choked out the question. "Why?" Sky thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "In large part because of Linden's death. He still feels responsible. Being a Seeker is Hunter's atonement. He feels that if he can protect others from courting the dark, then maybe his brother's death won't be in vain. But it eats him alive whenever he has to do something like what he did to David." The wind picked up, and I pulled my collar higher. "It sounds like he's punishing himself."
"I believe that's true," she admitted. "Even though the council acquitted him of all responsibility in Linden's death. Hunter's like a pit bull. He doesn't let go of anything—not the good or the bad. He'll be loyal to the death, but he'll also carry every grief with him to the grave." We were drawing closer to another strip mall. There were neon lights, cars, people hurrying into stores. It seemed so strange that the normal world existed so close to the woods where David had been just bound by an ancient and terrible magick.
"I still don't see how Hunter can stand to be a Seeker," I said. "It's as if he's chosen to always be miserable." Sky turned to face me. "There's another way to look at it, you know. Hunter's seen the destruction and grief caused by the dark side, and he's dedicated his life to fighting it. He's fighting the good fight, Morgan. How can you hate him for that?"
"I can't" I said quietly. "I don't."
"There's something else," she went on. "As the only surviving descendent of Behvicket, you must realize how vital it is that you help him in this fight We can't let the dark wave win."
I shook my head, feeling dazed. "I thought I was finally okay with all of this—being a blood witch, being adopted, even dealing with Cal and what he did to me. Now there's this war against the dark side, too." "Yes," Sky said. "And it's as dreadful and painful as any war ever fought. I'm sorry you're caught in it."
"My family doesn't even know the dark side exists." "I wouldn't say that They're Catholics, aren't they? The Church has a pretty well-defined notion of evil. They just give it different names than we do and use different means to deal with it Darkness and evil have always been part of the world, Morgan."
"And I just lucked into getting close to it?" Sky smiled. "Something like that. The only comfort is knowing you're not alone in the fight." She nodded toward a phone booth at the end of the strip mall. "I told Hunter to take David home. We'd better call someone if we're ever going to get home from here. How about Bree?" I dug some change out of my pocket. "I'll call her." Bree came and got us and drove us home. I went to sleep at once, and the next day I lay low at school. I avoided everyone in the coven, even avoided friends who weren't part of my Wiccan life. I was aching everywhere. I felt beaten, hurt, betrayed by my own birthright. I couldn't help thinking of that first circle with Cal. Wicca had been so beautiful to me. Now it was wound through with pain.
After school I drove Mary K. home and immediately shut myself in my room to do homework—calculus and history and English, all of it reassuringly mundane. I wanted nothing to do with magick. Mary K. poked her head in at one point, told me she was going out with her friend Darcy and that she'd be home in time for dinner. It was my turn to cook, so at five-thirty I went down to the kitchen and started rummaging through the pantry and freezer. I found some ground beef, onions, canned tomatoes, garlic, a can of mild green chiles, and a box of cornbread mix.
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I was putting diced onions into the cast-iron skillet when I sensed Hunter's presence. Dammit, I thought, what do you want now? Resigned, I turned off the flame beneath the pan.
Hunter was coming up the walk when I opened the door. He looked drained. "I'm making dinner," I said. I turned around and went into the kitchen. I knew he was hurting, but I couldn't bring myself to even look at him. Despite what Sky had told me, despite what I knew in my own heart, all I could see right now was the Seeker.
He followed me into the kitchen. I turned the burner back on beneath the skillet and started chopping up the tomatoes. "I came to see if you were all right," Hunter said. "I know yesterday was rough on you."
"It doesn't look like it was great for you, either." He moved as if he were badly beaten up.
"It's always hard," he said in a low voice. "And I didn't manage to deflect all the witch fire he shot at me." I was surprised to realize how much the thought of him being hurt scared me. "Are you all right?" I asked.
"I'll heal."
I added the chilies and tomatoes to the pan and poured the cornbread mix into a bowl.
"I've got bad news," Hunter said. "I've heard from the council. They've passed sentence on David."
I dropped the wooden spoon I was holding. Hunter reached for it in the same instant that I did. He caught it and handed it to me. "David must be bound and his magick stripped from him." Hunter's jaw trembled as he spoke, and I knew with certainty that this was harder on him than on anyone, except maybe, in this case, David. David had once told me that witches can lose their minds if they can't practice magick. "So the council strips him?" I asked.
Hunter's face looked harsh beneath the kitchen's fluorescents. "I do. Tomorrow at sunset at my house. I'll need witnesses. Four of them—blood witches."
I stared at him, seeing the pain on his face, and knew what he wanted to ask me. "No," I said, backing away from him. "You can't ask me to be part of that."
"Morgan," he said gently.
Suddenly I was crying, unable to hold it back anymore. "I hate this," I sobbed. "I hate it if having magick means I have to be part of this. I never asked for this. I'm tired and I hurt and I don't want to hurt anymore." "I know," Hunter told me, his own voice breaking. His arms wrapped around me, and I let myself fall onto his chest When I looked up, I saw that his eyes were wet with tears. "I'm so sorry, Morgan." At that moment I remembered something Cal had told me: that there is beauty and darkness in everything. Sorrow in joy, life in death, thorns on the rose. I knew then that I could not escape pain and torment any more than I could give up joy and beauty.
I clung to Hunter, sobbing, in the middle of my kitchen. He murmured nonsense words and stroked my hair gently. Finally my sobs quieted, and I pulled away. Wiping my eyes, I turned the heat off under the frying pan before it all burned. Hunter drew a deep breath and brushed a tear from my cheek "Look at us. Two kick-ass witches falling to pieces." I reached for a tissue on the counter and blew my nose. "I must look like hell."
"No. You look like someone who has the courage to face even what breaks your heart, and I find you ... beautiful." Then his mouth found mine and we were kissing. At first the
kiss was gentle, reassuring, but then something in me took over, and I pressed against him with an urgency and intensity that shook us both. It was as though there was something in Hunter I wanted with a hunger I barely recognized—something in him I needed the way I needed air to breathe. And clearly he felt that way, too. When we pulled back, my mouth felt swollen, my eyes huge. "Oh," I said. "Oh, indeed," he said softly.
We stood there for a long moment, looking at each other as if we were seeing each other for the first time. My heart was beating like crazy, and I was wondering what to say when I heard my dad's car pulling into the driveway. Page
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"Well." Hunter ran a hand through his hair. "I'd better go." "Yes."
I walked him to the door, and suddenly the reason for his visit came rushing back. "Tomorrow is going to be terrible, isn't it?" I said. "Yes." He waited, not looking at me.
"All right." I leaned my head against the door frame. "I'll be there." I wanted to cry again, and I said, "Oh, Goddess, is anything ever going to feel good again?"
"Yes." Hunter kissed me again, quickly. "It will. I promise. But not until after tomorrow."
On Tuesday at sunset we gathered at Hunter and Sky's house for the ceremony. Sky and Hunter were there, of course, and so was a skinny teenage boy who looked familiar. "Where do I know you from?" I asked him. "Probably from the party at Practical Magick. I play guitar with The Fianna. That was a sweet night," he said sadly. "You're Alyce's nephew."
He nodded and held out his hand. "Diarmuid." He shifted uneasily. "Lousy occasion to be formally introduced." "Will Alyce be here?" I asked. "Already is," he said in a grim tone. "She started crying the moment we walked through the door. She's upstairs with Sky now. Auntie Alyce always wants to believe the best of everyone. She still can't quite believe it—that David called on the dark side. He's her dear friend, you know." When everyone had assembled, there were five of us in the living room: Hunter, Sky, Alyce, Diarmuid, and me. Wordlessly Hunter led us to the room at the back of the house.
Candles flickered on the altar and in each of the four corners of the room. Outside, wind swept through the ravine, sending a high keening sound into the room.
David knelt in the very center of the room, inside a pentagram of glowing sapphire light. He wore a simple white shirt and white pants. He was barefoot. His hands were bound behind him with rope, his head bowed. He looked fragile and frightened. I ached to hold him, to comfort him somehow. But I knew I couldn't get past the light.
Hunter gestured, and we each stood on one point of the pentagram, with Hunter at the top of it. I noticed a drum on the floor behind Sky. Alyce stood quietly, her eyes locked on David and filled with grief. Hunter surrounded the pentagram in a circle of salt, tracing signs for each of the four directions and invoking the Guardian of each. "We call on the Goddess and the God," he began, "to be with us in this rite of justice. With the setting of the sun we take from David Redstone the magick that you gifted him.
"No more shall he wake a witch. No more shall he know your beauty or your power. No more shall he do harm. No more shall he be one of us. "David Redstone, the International Council of Witches has met and passed judgment on you," Hunter went on in a still, neutral voice. "You called on a dark spirit, and as a result a man nearly died. For that you are to be punished by having your powers stripped from you. Do you understand?" David lifted his head and nodded. His eyes were shut, as though he couldn't bear to keep them open.
"You must answer," Hunter said. "Do you understand the punishment that is now passed on you?"
"Yes." David's voice was barely audible. Alyce bit back a cry of dismay, and I saw Diarmuid grasp her hand. "Anger has no place here," Hunter cautioned us. "We are here for justice, not vengeance. Let us begin."
Sky began to beat a slow, solemn rhythm on the drum. The drumbeats seemed to go on forever. Gradually I noticed something shifting in the room. The drum was guiding us, subtly working on each one of us so that our breath aligned with it, our pulses followed it, and our energy joined and began to travel along the sapphire blue light of the pentagram as a line of blazing white. I saw David hunch in on himself, as if trying to make himself small so that neither the blue light nor the white light could touch him. The drum beat faster, more insistently, and the light intensified. The energy of five blood witches was fully intertwined now. The energy flowing around the pentagram crackled with power. We all held out our hands, drawing on the power, and I almost wept to feel my energy pouring out, familiar and strong. Hunter stepped forward and touched the hilt of his athame to the Page
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pentagram. For a second the knife lit with blue and white light. The light continued to define the pentagram, but now Hunter walked around it, drawing his athame in a spiral around David, and the sapphire and white light blazed in a spiral as well.
I watched as our power flowed into the spiral and the spiral began to whirl around David. He whimpered as a transparent, smokelike image of a boy I recognized as himself appeared and vanished on the whirls of the spiral. Next came images of David in his robe, athame in hand, casting spells; David finding a wounded bird, making the sign of a healing rune over it and watching in delight as the bird flew from his hand; David charting the phases of the moon and its effect on the tides; David scrying with a crystal; David purifying Practical Magick with cedar and sage; David and another man facing each other in a circle and chanting in perfect harmony. All of it was leaving him, flying up the spiral like escaping spirits. And with each thing that left him, he sobbed with grief, a man watching everything he loved being destroyed. These were the experiences that had shaped him, that he used to define himself. They had formed the fabric of his life, and we were unraveling it. When the very last of David's magick had vanished on the whirls of the spiral, Hunter held out the hilt of his athame, drawing the glowing spiral into it once again. "David Redstone, witch of the Burnhides, is now ended," Hunter said gently. "The Goddess teaches us that every ending is also a beginning. May there be rebirth from this death."
The drumbeat finally stopped, and with it the sapphire light of the pentagram winked out. David lay collapsed on the floor, a hollow shell. I wanted to fall over, too, but I stayed upright, feeling if I moved, I would crack into a million brittle pieces.
Alyce bent down slowly and put her arms around David. "Goddess be with you," she murmured; then Diarmuid had to lead her out because she was weeping uncontrollably.
Sky watched silent and stricken as Hunter cut the bonds on David's wrists and gently helped him to his feet. "I'm going to give you some herbs to help you sleep," Hunter told David. The stern Seeker was gone from Hunter now, and he seemed only tender and sad. "Come with me," he said, taking David by the hand.
David let himself be led, walking with halting steps, like a lost child in a man's body.
Sky ran her hand through her hair and blew out a breath. "Are you all right?" she asked me as they left the room.
"It wasn't what I expected," I said. "I thought it would be more like the braigh."
"You mean, physical torture?"
I nodded. "This was gender. And yet, much worse." I thought of how Selene had wanted to take my power for herself. Goddess, what would that have been like? It was unthinkable.
"I never want to do anything like it again." Sky walked to each corner of the room and extinguished the candles there but left the two on the altar lit. "Let's get out of here," she said with a shudder. "I'll come back in and do a purification ceremony in the morning." Moving in slow motion, I followed her into the living room. "We found out what happened, you know," Sky said. "The taibhs terrified Afton so badly that he wanted nothing to do with the store. That's why he forgave the debt. Then, later, the continued stress of the encounter led to the stroke. Receiving Alyce's muffins was what pushed him over the edge." "You mean Alyce ..." It was unbelievable. "She had sent them as a thank-you. But dark forces work in devious ways, and so her kindness resulted in a terrible ev
ent" Sky put a finger to her lips. "She doesn't know, and I hope you won't tell her. It would hurt her too much." I nodded. Then a thought occurred to me. "What happens to the store now?"
"Hunter spoke with Afton. He's getting better, but he wants nothing to do with Practical Magick. And the bookstore deal fell through, so the building has lost its value." Sky shrugged. "I think Alyce will probably have to pay off the debt but Afton seems willing to work with her on the timing. She'll be able to keep the store running." She touched my shoulder comfortingly, and left the room. I heard Hunter coming down the stairs and turned to look at him. "Morgan," he said. "You're still here." He looked exhausted and so much older than he had earlier that day. He came to stand before me. "Thank you. I know how hard that was for you."
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I looked at him. He wasn't a monster. He had done what he had to, and through it all there'd been an undercurrent of compassion streaming from him, from Hunter to all of us.
"I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and took out a clear, faceted crystal.
"Quartz?'' I guessed.
He gave me a look that made it clear that was the wrong answer. "Oh, Hunter, please, I'm too worn out for guessing games." "Tell me what it is," he said softly.
So I tried, thinking of the stones I'd learned, trying to fit a name to it: Zircon? Danburite? Diamond? Albite? It couldn't be moonstone. Frustrated, I sent my energy into the stone, asking it to yield its name to me. The answer it gave made no sense.
I gazed up at Hunter, baffled. "What it tells me is beryl, but that can't be right. Beryl is either aquamarine or emerald, and this is—" "Morganite," he told me. "Your name stone, another form of beryl." "Morganite?"
"It changes colors with the sunlight, At different times of day it will be white, lavender, pink, even pale blue. It's a powerful healing stone. And there's something else it can do." His hand closed around the stone. He looked at me, and his green eyes were as fathomless as the sea. "If a blood witch holds it and sends energy into it it will reveal what is deepest in his heart" Hunter opened his hand, and in the very center of the crystal I saw myself.