Awakening

  "We don't need dykes in this neighborhood!" called another. In one instant I got it, and then I was running hard toward the house, anger coursing through my veins like alcohol. "Come on out, bitch!" one of the boys yelled. "Meet your neighbors! We're the welcome wagon!"

  I heard the sound of glass shattering as at least one of the rocks connected. The boy closest to me looked up, his alarm quickly replaced by naked aggression.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, breathing hard. "Get out of here, and don't come back!"

  The boy couldn't be older than me, I saw. He had a shaved head, a nose that was nearly flat, and pale blue eyes. "Who are you?" He sounded amused. "One of their dyke friends? You don't know what you're missing, baby." "Get. Out. Of. Here," I said, my voice vibrating with only marginally controlled fury. I felt on fire with rage. The guy with the shaved head advanced on me, and his two friends closed in behind him. "Or what?" he said nastily. "You'll hit me with your purse?" He turned around to his friends, and the three of them laughed. My hands were trembling, clenched into fists, and I felt almost ill. "Leave," I said, eerily calm. My voice didn't sound like my own. "Don't make me hurt you."

  He burst into laughter. "Baby, maybe what you need is a man. Like those other dykes." He opened his arms wide. "Let me show you how it's supposed to be."

  One of his friends laughed.

  "You don't know what you're doing," I almost whispered. Grinning, Flat Nose reached out to grab my arm, but before he touched me, I shot out my hand and sent a burning, crackling ball of blue witch fire at his throat. I didn't even think about it—I just unleashed my fury. The fire hit him so quickly, he had no time to react. His hands went to his throat, and he dropped to his knees. He doubled over, making little whimpering sounds of pain. I felt encased in ice, completely calm, ready to annihilate them all. I began to call on my power. "An di allaigh, re nith la," I murmured. The two friends were staring at Flat Nose and then back at me as they tried to figure out what happened. Flat Nose was gagging and retching on the cold sidewalk. He glared up at me and tried to climb to his feet. I pushed the air and he sank, crumpled, to the cement. I used my power to pin him like a bug without even touching him. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I felt unbelievably powerful.

  "Shit," said the second guy. He and the third guy stared fearfully at each other. Then they turned and pounded down the street, looking back over their shoulders.

  I leaned over the worm who lay writhing and frightened on the sidewalk. He was getting just what he deserved, I gloated with satisfaction. I felt filled with power, and I liked it.

  I took a deep breath and stepped back, smelling the acrid scent of his fear. "Go," I whispered, and released him with my mind. Clumsily he scrambled to his feet and backed away from me. Then he spun around and ran off. It was over, and I had won. I felt dizzy, a little nauseous, the way I sometimes felt in circles Page

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  when power rushed through me. I took a few moments to ground myself, then I looked up at the house.

  The bay window was smashed, as well as another one on the first floor. Where were Eileen and Paula? I wondered. Were they hurt? Or had they seen what I'd done?

  Wondering how I would explain it, I walked up to the door and rang the bell. Winter-bare rosebushes in front of die house were sparkling with shards of glass.

  No one answered. I cast my senses and felt both Eileen's and Paula's familiar energy inside the house. They were okay. They were just afraid to answer the door, and I felt angry all over again. Prisoners in their own house. It was disgusting!

  "Aunt Eileen, it's me, Morgan!" I called through the broken window. "Morgan?" A minute later the door opened, and my aunt swept me into her arms. "Are you okay? There were these idiot boys outside—" She hadn't seen me. Relief.

  "I saw them," I told her.

  Paula gave me a hug, too. "Welcome to the neighborhood," she said shakily.We all stepped in, and Aunt Eileen shut the front door, locking the dead bolt. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her own shoulders as if for comfort. "I'm glad they left before you got here," she said. "But I'm sorry they didn't stick around long enough for the police to show up. I just called them." "We probably shouldn't clean up the glass until the police have seen it." Paula ran a hand through her sandy blond hair. "I guess we're an official crime scene now."

  I felt so sorry for them—and so furious at those small-minded idiots. "It's just glass," Aunt Eileen said, putting an arm around her. "We can have new glass put in." She looked at me. "I'm sorry, Morgan. This isn't a good welcome for you. Come in, take off your coat, and we'll give you the grand tour of broken glass and packed boxes."

  We walked through the empty rooms, and Paula and Aunt Eileen explained their plans for decorating and renovating to me. They were both doing their best to sound excited, but I could sense their tension. The thugs had shaken them badly.

  When the doorbell rang, we all jumped. My senses told me it was safe, though, and when Aunt Eileen opened the door, we saw two cops. Officer Jordan was a tall man and black. His partner was a younger woman with short, curly blond hair, whose badge said Officer Klein. I stood by as Aunt Eileen and Paula gave their report and showed them the damage. "Did you get a good look at these boys?" Officer Jordan asked. "We know there were three of them," Aunt Eileen told him. "But we stayed in the house."

  "I saw them as I came up," I said. "They were about my age, juniors or seniors in high school. One of them was wearing camouflage. Another was bald with a flat, broken nose and blue eyes." Paula looked at me in surprise. "How did you get such a good look at them?"

  "They, um, they ran right past me," I explained. "Another guy was little, maybe five-five, with a brown crew cut. The third guy had blond hair, slicked back, and thick lips."

  Officer Jordan took notes on all of that, then looked at my aunt. "It looks like you people just moved in. Any idea of why these kids went after you?" "Because we're gay," Aunt Eileen said matter-of-factly. "They called us dykes." I noticed Officer Klein's lips tighten. "Some people are just ignorant," she muttered.

  "I hope you catch them," Paula said. "Before they actually hurt someone."

  The police left, and I helped Aunt Eileen and Paula clean up the shattered glass and seal off the broken windows with cardboard and tape. "God, that's ugly," Paula said, looking at our handiwork. "It's temporary," Aunt Eileen assured her. "I'll call a glass company tomorrow."

  I glanced at my watch. "Oh, wow, I'd better get home, it's after six." Aunt Eileen and Paula both hugged me and told me to come back anytime. As I walked down the front steps, I turned back to wave and saw the two of them hugging each other tightly. Paula's face was buried in Aunt Eileen's Page

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  shoulder. I could feel their tension from where I stood. And I knew what they were worried about. I'd had the same thought This wasn't over. Those kids would talk themselves out of their fear at what I'd done. And then they'd be back.

  13. Protection

  Litha, We've in Prague now, but Fiona feels we'll have to leave again soon. A dubious legacy of the dark wave—ever since she saw it in her leug, she can sense it coming.

  It's been two years now since we left our lives behind us. Two years of running, hiding, locking our magick away to keep it from betraying us. Two years of longing for news of our children, yet not daring to reach out to them. Two years of Fiona gradually withering, racked by ailment after ailment. We've come to believe it's the effect of the dark wave itself—that it crippled her somehow when she saw it in her leug. So far we've found now cure. -Maghach

  That night I blew off my homework. I went through every magick book I had, looking for something that would help me protect Aunt Eileen and Paula. I could put runes of protection around their house, I reasoned. That would be a i start, at least.

  Too bad I couldn't get them to wear talismans for personal safety. Somehow I couldn't picture either of them wearing Wicca paraphernalia, no matter how
open-minded they might be.

  "Ew," I said as I found the instructions for making an old protection called a Witch's Bottle. The Witch's Bottle was not only supposed to shield you from evil but also to send the evil back to its source. It called for filling a small glass bottle halfway to the top with sharp objects: old nails, pins, razor blades, needles, and so on. Then you filled the bottle the rest of the way with urine and, ideally, some blood, too. Then you sealed the jar and buried it twelve inches deep. The bottle and its protection was supposed to last until the bottle was dug up and smashed.

  I put down the book, completely grossed out. Did I have the stomach to be a witch? This was disgusting. But if it would really protect Eileen and Paula ... I read it through again. No, it wouldn't work. The Witch's Bottle was to protect against negative magick. The guys who'd attacked Aunt Eileen and Paula's house were negative, all right, but they weren't using magick. I finally settled on a protection charm that I could place in their house without their noticing. It called for ingredients that I didn't have, and Page

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  I decided to make a trip to Practical Magick as soon as I had my car back. Robbie followed me and Mary K. out to Unser's on Tuesday morning, then drove us to school. My plan was to go to my mom's office after school and spend some time inputting listings, then get a ride home with her. Mary K. was going to Jaycee's house. Jaycee's mom would drop her at our house in time for dinner. After school I set out alone on the long walk to Mom's office, shivering and hoping someone I knew would drive by and offer me a ride. Be careful what you wish for. A familiar pale green Ford pulled up at the curb, and the passenger window rolled down. Sky Eventide leaned over from the driver's seat, her white-blond hair luminous. "Hop in," she said. "Were you out looking for me?" I asked, perplexed. "Or is this just a coincidence?"

  Sky raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you yet learned that there are no coincidences?"

  I stood on the sidewalk, staring stupidly at her. Was she joking or not? I wasn't sure. Just like Hunter, Sky wasn't easy to read. Seeing my confusion, she said, "Hunter asked me to come pick you up. I even left work early. You're supposed to come to our house for lessons." I had heard that Sky worked at a used-record store. She was so ethereal, it was hard to picture her doing mundane things like working a cash register. "But I already told Hunter I couldn't come," I protested. "And my mom's expecting me."

  Sky tapped a gloved finger on the steering wheel impatiently. "Call her from our place. This is important, Morgan." She was right, I realized, though not for the reasons she thought. I couldn't keep putting off talking to Hunter. Biting my lip, I opened the passenger door and climbed in.

  My stomach felt fluttery. I still didn't feel ready to talk about seeing Cal, but I knew I had to face it sooner or later. And sooner was probably safer. Sky pulled out into traffic and accelerated. She drove fast and tended to stomp on the brakes harder than she needed to at red lights. "Sorry," she said as I jerked forward against my seat belt "I'm not used to all this power-assisted driving."

  I glanced at her as she made a right turn. Her profile was pure, almost childlike, with its perfect nose and arched brows, the smooth curve of cheek covered with the finest, faintest golden down. She and Hunter looked very much alike, but while Sky seemed deceptively fragile, Hunter's face had a masculine angularity that projected strength.

  "Why is Hunter doing this?" I found myself asking. "Why is he so concerned about making sure that I become a proper witch?" Sky smiled slightly. "Wicca isn't something you can learn in a correspondence course or figure out on your own. It's experiential. You need someone who's gone through it before you as a guide. Otherwise bad things can happen. Especially with the kind of power that you've inherited." "That's not what I was asking," I said. "Why Hunter? Doesn't he have more important things to do than worry about me?" "He's a Seeker," Sky replied. "It's his job to make sure witches don't misuse their magick. And—" She broke off. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added, "And you're Woodbane."

  I bristled. "So he's waiting for me to turn bad?" "You might," Sky said bluntly. "He can't ignore the possibility." I folded my arms and pressed my back against the cushioned seat. So Hunter was acting as my watchdog, making sure I stayed on the path of righteousness. I was his assignment, just as I had been Cal's assignment. I remembered how much I had hated both Sky and Hunter when I'd first met them. With Sky it was mostly from jealousy—her beauty and poise were intimidating to me. But, I realized now, it was also that I'd sensed their suspicion. I could feel that Sky still didn't truly trust me; even though we'd served together, she continued to scrutinize me. Apparently Hunter was doing the same thing. The thought sent a sharp pain through me. Hunter looked up when I walked in with Sky. "Thanks," he said to her. "Ta," Sky said. She tossed her leather jacket on the sofa, then pointed to the phone. "Feel free," she said, then disappeared up the stairs. "How long can you stay?" Hunter asked me. "We've got a lot to talk about"

  "I'm not staying," I said. "Sorry Sky went to all that trouble, but I have work to do." I crossed to his phone. "If you won't drive me, I'll call a taxi."

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  Hunter rubbed a hand across his chin. "What is the matter with you?" he asked mildly.

  "I don't appreciate you sending your cousin to practically kidnap me off the street" I snapped. "I told you I didn't have a ride, so I couldn't make it" "I'm sorry." To my astonishment, he actually sounded I abashed. "I—well, I thought I was doing you a favor."

  "No, you didn't," I retorted. "You just wanted me to stick to your plan. What gives you the right to just waltz in out of nowhere and take charge? You think just because the International Council of Witches told you to keep an eye on me f that gives you the right to run my life?" "They—" Hunter began, but I cut him off. "You know what? I'm really sick of being somebody's assignment." Tears filled my eyes. I blinked furiously, trying to keep them from falling. "No one seems to care about who I really am, or what I want! What about me in all of this?" "Morgan—" Hunter began, but I cut him off again. "No!" I cried. "Don't! It's my turn." My fingers curled into fists, and I felt pressure build in my chest. "You're so self-righteous about your mission and the council and all that crap, but really you want exactly the same thing as Cal and Selene did—to control me. To use me for your own purposes." To my humiliation, my voice broke. I turned my back on Hunter and stood there, biting down hard on my lower lip as I struggled to hold myself together. He didn't say anything at first, and silence stretched between us. At last he spoke in a curiously subdued voice. "You're not my assignment. The council didn't tell me to keep an eye on you, actually," he said.

  I fought to regain my normal pattern of breathing so that I would be able to understand what he was telling me. I wanted so much to understand, to be wrong.

  I heard Hunter take a deep breath, too. "I'm here of my own choice, Morgan. I did contact them about you, that's true. I told them you were a witch of exceptional power and that I wanted to see if I could help guide you. They said I could do that as long as it didn't interfere with my primary work as a Seeker—which is to track down Cal and Selene and others like them." He paused, and I heard him take a step toward me. Then I felt a feather light touch on my shoulder. "I don't want to control you, Morgan," he said. "That's the last thing I want."

  His hand left my shoulder, his fingers lightly stroking my long hair. He was just inches behind me; I could feel the warmth of his body, and I held my breath. "What I'm trying to do," he went on softly, "in my own clumsy way, is to give you the tools you need to understand the forces that you will inevitably come up against."

  I turned to face him, searching his eyes, wondering what It was that he wanted, what I wanted. His eyes are so green, I found myself thinking, so gentle. I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm everywhere except on the wet trail of tears.

  "I just want...," he whispered, and trailed off. We stood there, our gazes locked, and it seemed to me that once again the univ
erse suspended its motion around us and the only warm, living things in it were the two of us.

  Then Sky's voice called down from upstairs, "Hunter, did you remember to get cheese and biscuits?" and suddenly everything started moving again, and I stepped backward until the backs of my knees hit the worn ottoman and I sat down. I was trembling, and I found I couldn't look at Hunter. "Um—yes, I got them," Hunter replied, his voice raspy and a little breathless.

  "Right, then. I'm going to make a cheese-and-tomato omelette. I'm starved." I heard Sky's boots clattering down f the stairs. "Want some?" "Sounds great," Hunter said. "Morgan, how about you?" "Um—no thanks, my family will be expecting me for dinner at six-thirty," I said shakily. "In fact, I'd better give my mom a call right now and let her know where I am."

  "Tell her I'll run you home by six," he said. Then he added,"If that's all right with you, I mean. If you want to stay." "It's all right," I told him. I didn't feel ready to leave. By the time I hung up, I felt more normal. Hunter led me to the back of the house, where the wood-burning stove filled the long room with warmth. The Page

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  windows were fogged with condensation, but I rubbed one with my sweater and looked outside. Another rickety porch lined the back of the house, and beyond it I could see trees growing from the sides of the ravine: oak, maple, birch, hemlock, and pine. The woods around Widow's Vale tended to have a well-trod, gentle feel to them. But the land behind Hunter and Sky's house felt raw, wild, as though floodwaters had just swept through and carved out something new and highly charged.