Part 1 (2/2)

Consciously I let my mind sink deeper into meditation. Everything around me faded out as I concentrated on the stone. My breathing was slow and deliberate, my chest barely moving. I no longer felt my fingers on the stone, my b.u.t.t on the hard floor, my knees touching Hunter's.

The stone was black, blank. Or . . . looking closer, could I detect the barest, rounded outlines of . . . what? I looked at the stone so intently, I felt like I had fallen into a well of obsidian, surrounded by cold, hard blackness. Slowly I became aware of movement within the stone-that I was getting a scried vision. A vision of billowing, black, choking smoke.

”The blackness is the vision,” I murmured. ”Do you see the huge cloud of smoke?”

”Not clearly. Is it from a fire?” I shook my head. ”I can't see a fire. Just billows of black, choking smoke.” An image of my birth mother, who had been killed by fire, came to me, and I frowned. What did it mean? Was this an image of the future? Was this directed at me? Did it mean I would suffer the same fate as Maeve, at Ciaran's hands?

For five more minutes I stared at the smoke, willing it to clear, to dissipate, to show me what was behind it. But I saw nothing more, and finally, my eyes stinging, I shook my head and sat back.

”I don't know what that was about,” I told Hunter in frustration.”I didn't get anything besides smoke.” ”It was a dark wave,” Hunter said quietly.

”What?” I felt my back stiffen with tension. ”What do you mean? Was this a prediction of a dark wave? It seemed to be about me.” I got to my feet, feeling upset. ”Is a dark wave coming for me?”

”We don't know for sure-you know scrying can be unpredictable,” Hunter said, trying to comfort me.

”Yeah, and you know that almost every image I've ever seen scrying has come true,” I said, rubbing my arms with my hands. I felt nervous and frightened, the way I'd felt as a kid, playing with a Ouija board, when it had moved on its own.

”I'll follow you home,” Hunter said, and I nodded. Another downside of Mr. Niall living with him was that Hunter and I had no privacy anymore. It was one thing to be alone in Hunter's room when Sky was around, but there was no way I felt comfortable with his father in the next room. I felt depressed as I got into my jacket. Hunter and I really needed time alone to talk, to be together, to hold each other.

”Will you be okay at home?” he asked as we walked outside.

I thought.”Yeah. My house is protected out the wazoo.”

”Still, I reckon it wouldn't hurt to add another layer of spells.”

At my house, though we were both exhausted, Hunter and I made the rounds and added to or increased the protective powers of the spells on my house, on Das Boot, and on my parents' cars. When we were done, I felt drained.

”Go on inside,” Hunter said. ”Get some sleep. These spells are strong. But don't hesitate to call me if you sense anything odd.”

I smiled and leaned against the front door, exhausted, wanting to be safely inside yet reluctant to leave Hunter. He came up the steps and I went into his arms, resting my head against his chest and feeling amazed at how, once again, he had seemed to read my mind.

”It'll be okay, my love,” he said against my hair. One strong hand stroked my back soothingly while the other held me closely to him.

”I'm tired of it all,” I said, suddenly feeling close to tears.

”I know. We haven't had a break. Listen, tomorrow why don't we go to Practical Magick, see Alyce? That'll be nice and normal.”

I smiled at his idea of nice and normal: two blood witches going to an occult bookstore.

”Sounds good,” I said.Then I lifted my face to his and was at once lost in the heady pleasure of kissing him, his warm lips against mine, the cool night air surrounding us, our bodies pressed together, magick sparking. Oh, yes, I thought. Yes. More of this.

”What's wrong?” I asked the next afternoon. Ever since Hunter had picked me up, he'd seemed edgy and distracted.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ”I've been trying to reach the council for news on Ciaran,” he said.”But I haven't been able to get through to anyone-not Kennet, not Eoife. I talked to some underling who wouldn't tell me anything.”

Eoife was a witch who had tried to convince me to go study with Wiccan scholars in the wilds of Scotland. I had said I needed to finish high school first.

Kennet Muir was Hunter's mentor in the council and had helped guide him through the hard process of becoming a Seeker. Hunter still spoke to him about council business, but their relations.h.i.+p had been permanently damaged when Hunter realized Kennet had known where his parents were in Canada and hadn't bothered to tell him. If Kennet had let Hunter in on their whereabouts earlier, Hunter might have seen his mother alive. I knew this idea was hard for him to accept. In fact, he was so hurt by Kennet's betrayal, he never even confronted him about it. ”It'll never be the same between us regardless,” he'd reasoned.

”Okay, so we don't know,” I said, watching the old farm fields fly past the car window. After being winter brown for months, it was heartening to see tinges and flecks of green here and there. Spring was coming. No matter what.

”No. Not yet.” Hunter sounded irritated. Then he seemed to make an effort to cheer up. Reaching out one hand, he interlaced his fingers in mine and smiled at me. ”It's good to spend time with you. I missed you so much when I was in Canada.”

”I missed you, too.” Once again exercising my gift for understatement. Then, taking a breath, I decided to bring up a sensitive subject. ”Hunter-I've been wondering about your dad. I mean, he knows I'm not in league with Ciaran, right? He knows Ciaran tried to kill me, doesn't he?”

Hunter tugged at the neck of his sweater, pretending to not understand me.”He just needs more time.”

Great. I looked out the window again.

”Is it Rose?” I asked suddenly, turning back to Hunter. ”Is it because I'm a descendant of the witch who created the dark wave? I mean, he was running from the dark wave for eleven years.” Eleven years, while Hunter was separated from his parents, thinking they'd abandoned him and and his brother and sister. My stomach plummeted as I realized yet again how many horrible things my blood relatives were responsible for.

Hunter glanced over at me, taking his eyes off the road, and in that quick glance I caught a world of rea.s.surance. ”He just needs to get to know you, Morgan. You are not your ancestors. I know that.”

I sighed, watching the bare trees pa.s.s overhead. If only I could convince myself.

Red Kill, the town where Practical Magick was, came into view slowly, the farm fields giving way to suburban lawns, then more streets and actual neighborhoods. Hunter turned down Main Street and drove almost to its end, where the small building that housed Practical Magick stood. He parked, but I made no move to get out of the car.

”It's just, I want your father to like me,” I said, feeling self-conscious. ”And I don't want to come between you and your dad. I don't want you to have to choose.” I looked down at my hands, which were twisting nervously in my lap. I forced them to be to be still on my jeans.

”G.o.ddess,” Hunter muttered, leaning over the gear s.h.i.+ft toward me. He took my chin in his hand and looked intently into my eyes. His were the color of olivine, a clear, deep green. ”I won't need to choose. Like I said, Da just needs more time. He knows how much I love you. He just needs to get used to the idea.”

I sighed and nodded. Hunter touched my cheek briefly, and then we opened the doors, climbed out, and headed for the store.

”Morgan, Hunter! Good to see you.” Alyce Fernbrake waved us in from the back of the store.”I haven't seen either of you in a while. Hunter, I want to hear all about Canada. I couldn't believe your news.Wait-I'll fix tea.”

We threaded our way through the scented, crowded store: my home away from home. Alyce disappeared into the small back room, separated from the main room by a tattered orange curtain. Her a.s.sistant, Finn Foster, nodded at Hunter with reserve: many witches didn't trust Seekers. ”'Lo, Morgan,” he said. ”Have you heard Alyce's news? The shop next door is moving to a bigger location. Alyce is going to move to that s.p.a.ce and make Practical Magick almost twice as big.”

My eyebrows rose. ”The dry cleaners are moving? What about her debt to Stuart Afton? Can she afford to lose their rent?”

Alyce bustled back with three mugs. ”Well, fortunately, my business has been getting better and better the last couple of months. The real estate market is good enough that if I move into the store next door, I can rent this s.p.a.ce for almost as much as the dry cleaners paid. And we'll just have to keep our fingers crossed that our increased sales will make up for the rest. It's a gamble, but I think it will be worth it in the end.” She smiled.

”Congratulations,” Hunter said, taking his mug. ”It would be fantastic if the shop were bigger.”

Alyce nodded, looking pleased. ”It's going to be a lot of work,” she said, ”and I really don't know when I'll have the time. But I think the business could support the extra room. I would love to expand what I carry.” She gestured to a pile of about five paper grocery bags, each packed with old-looking books.”I buy stuff at yard sales, estate sales, things that interest me, but I don't really have the s.p.a.ce to put them out.You should see what I have in storage. But now I want to hear about you. It's amazing that your father has come to live with you.”

Hunter nodded, and the two of them drifted over to the checkout counter, where Alyce propped herself on a stool and Hunter leaned against the lighted case. I went over to the bags of old books and started poking around, sure that Alyce wouldn't mind. I decided to sort them for her and started making piles of nonoccult books and some history books. Then, in the second bag, I found some t.i.tles about Wicca, the history of the sabbats, some spell-crafting guides, some astrology charts. Hunter and Alyce were still chatting, Alyce occasionally taking a break to wait on customers. Finn was reorganizing the essential oils shelves, and everything around me smelled like cloves and vanilla and roses.

Now I was surrounded by stacks, and in the fifth bag I found some interesting older books about weatherworking and animal magick. There were a couple of old Books of Shadows, too, handwritten, filled with writing and diagrams. One looked quite old: the writing was spiky, from a fountain pen, and the pages were deep tan with age. Another book looked newer and also less interesting: fewer drawings and long periods of no writing. There was another BOS, in a green-cloth-bound diary. It looked much newer and less romantic than the others, but I flipped through it. It was written by a witch during the seventies! So cool. Most recent Books of Shadows are still in the possession of their owners.This was unusual, and I started reading it.

”Morgan, shall we?” Hunter asked a few minutes later.

I nodded. ”I sorted your books,” I told Alyce, gesturing to my piles.

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