Blood Witch (13 page)

“Why do you want to know?” I asked. It seemed so oddly normal, coming right after all this talk about a Council of Witches and ancient magickal clans.

“I’ve been thinking about our future,” he said. His tone was very straightforward, relaxed. “I was thinking about going to Europe next year, maybe taking a year off to travel. I was also thinking, maybe I could get us a little place when I come back and we could both go to the same school.”

My eyes widened with shock. “You mean . . .
live together
?” I whispered.

“Yes, live together,” he said, flashing me a little half grin, as if he were talking about doing our homework together or going to see a movie. “I want to be with you.” He drew back and looked deeply in my eyes. “No one’s ever wanted to protect me before, like you do.”

My breath came fast at the thought. Laughing, I grabbed him, knocking him back on the sofa. I meant to kiss him, but we ended up toppling onto the floor with a thud.

“Ow,” said Cal, rubbing his head. He smiled at me and I kissed him. But right at that moment I caught a glimpse of an old grandfather clock. My spirits sank. It was getting late. Mom and Dad would start to worry.

“I have to go,” I said reluctantly.

“Someday you won’t have to,” he promised.

Then I was getting into my coat, melting with happiness, and Cal was walking me out. I didn’t even feel the cold until I was almost home.

On Friday when I woke up, the remnants of disturbing dreams fluttered in my mind like torn banners. I stretched several times, trying to snap myself out of it—and then they faded, and I had no idea what they’d been: there were no lingering images or clear emotions to give me a clue. I just knew they’d been bad.

I had stayed up too late the night before, reading both Maeve’s Book of Shadows and the book about Woodbanes that Alyce had given to me. It was still very strange for me, knowing Maeve was my birth mother and now knowing she was also Woodbane. Throughout my entire life I had felt just a bit different from my family, and I had wondered why. The odd thing was, now that I knew my origins, I felt more like a Rowlands and less like an Irish witch.

I could tell it was cold and disgusting outside just from looking out the window. And I was snug in my bed, and I had beside me a small kitten who was completely adorable and sound asleep.

So there was no way I was getting up.

“Morgan, you have to hurry!” Mary K. shouted, sounding frantic. A second later she burst into my room and tugged at my comforter. “We have ten minutes to get to school, and it’s snowing and I can’t ride my bike. Come on!”

Damn, I thought, giving in. One day I would really have to act on my desire to skip school.

We made it just as the late bell rang, and I skittered into class just as my name was called for roll.

“Here!” I said unnecessarily, panting and sliding into my seat. As Tamara smirked at me, I pulled out my brush and began untangling my hair. Across the room Bree sat talking to Chip Newton. I thought about Sky and Raven and their coven, about Sky telling them about the dark side. I still didn’t have a clear idea of what the dark side was except for some vague paragraphs in one of my Wicca books. I would have to do more research. I would have to finish reading the book Alyce had given me about the Woodbanes. Cal had said there was no dark side per se, there was only the circle of Wicca. Maybe I should ask Alyce about it.

I glanced over at Bree, as if looking at her would tell me what she was doing or thinking. I used to be able to look in her eyes and know exactly what was going on with her—and also tell her exactly what was going on with me. Not anymore. We spoke different languages now.

 

It was an odd day.

At school Matt wouldn’t meet my eyes. Jenna seemed nervous. Cal was fine, of course; we both knew we had reached a new level of closeness. We’d made plans for the future. Every time we saw each other, we smiled. He was a ray of light to me. Robbie was his usual comforting self, and it was interesting to see how girls who’d never noticed him before were now going out of their way to talk to him, to walk next to him, to pepper him with questions about homework and chess problems and what kind of music he liked. Ethan and Sharon were still circling each other flirtatiously.

Yet the whole day I felt on edge somehow. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and I had too many questions ricocheting around my brain. I couldn’t relax and pay attention in class. In my mind I kept going over what I had read in Maeve’s book. Then my thoughts would flash to Hunter’s bizarre behavior—and then to lying with Cal in front of the fire at his house, feeling so full of love for him. Why couldn’t I focus? I needed to be alone or, better yet, with Cal—to meditate and focus my energy.

After school I waited for Cal by his car. He was talking to Matt, and I wondered what they were saying. Matt looked uncomfortable, but he was nodding. Cal seemed to be making him feel better. That was good. But I also hoped he was letting Matt know that it was very uncool to mess around with Raven behind Jenna’s back.

Finally Cal saw me. He strolled right over and put his arms around me, pinning me to his car. I was aware of Nell Norton walking by, looking envious, and I enjoyed it.

“What are you up to right now?” I asked. “Can you hang out?”

“I wish I could,” he said, holding a handful of hair and kissing my forehead. “Mom has some people in from out of town, and she wants me to meet with them. People from her old coven in Manhattan.”

“How many covens has she had?” I asked, curious.

“Hmmm, let’s see,” Cal said, counting under his breath. “Eight, I think. She forms a coven in a new place and makes sure they’re really strong, then she trains a new leader, and when they’re ready, she moves on.” He smiled down at me. “She’s like the Johnny Appleseed of Wicca.”

I laughed. Cal kissed me again and got into his car, and I headed for Das Boot. A minivan slowed next to me, and the window went down. “Going home with Jaycee!” Mary K. called. She waved, and I waved back. I saw Robbie pull away in his car, and down the block Bree climbed into her BMW and drove off. I wished I knew where she was going but didn’t have the emotional or physical energy to follow her.

Instead I headed for Red Kill.

 

Practical Magick smelled like steam and tea and candles burning. I stepped in and felt myself relax for the first time since I had pried myself out of bed this morning.

For a moment I stood just inside the door, warming up, feeling my chest expand and my fingers thaw. My hair was slightly damp from the snow, and I shook it out so it would dry. David looked up from the checkout counter and regarded me with his full attention. He didn’t smile, but somehow he conveyed the impression of being glad to see me. Maybe I was finally used to him, because it felt like seeing an old friend. I hadn’t felt an immediate connection with him as I had with Alyce, and I wasn’t sure why. But maybe I was getting over it.

“Hello, Morgan,” he said. “How are you?”

I thought for a moment, then shook my head with a tired smile. “I don’t know.”

David nodded, then stepped through a curtained door in back of the counter, revealing a small, cluttered room. I saw a tiny, battered table with three chairs, a rusty apartment-size fridge, and a two-burner hot plate. A teakettle was already starting to whistle there. Strange, I thought. Had he somehow known I was coming?

“You look like you could use some tea,” he called.

“Tea would be great,” I said sincerely, deciding to accept the friendship he seemed to be offering. “Thanks.” I stuffed my gloves into my pockets and looked around the store. No one else was here. “Slow day?” I asked.

“We had some people in this morning,” David replied from behind the curtain. “But it’s been quiet this afternoon. I like it this way.”

I wondered if they made any money doing this.

“Um, who owns this store?” I asked.

“My aunt Rose, actually,” said David. “But she’s very old now, and doesn’t come in much anymore. I’ve been working here for years—on and off since right after college.” I heard some clinking of spoons in mugs, and then he ducked back through the curtain, carrying two steaming cups. He handed one to me. I took it gratefully, inhaling its unusual fragrance.

“Thanks. What kind of tea is this?”

David grinned and sipped his own. “You tell me.”

I looked at him uncertainly, and he just waited. Was this a test? Feeling self-conscious, I closed my eyes and sniffed deeply. The tea had several scents: they blended together into a sweet whole, and I couldn’t identify any of them.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You do,” David encouraged quietly. “Just listen to it.”

Once again I closed my eyes and inhaled, and this time I let go of the knowledge that this was tea in a mug. I focused on the odor, on the qualities carried by the water’s steam. Slowly I breathed in and out, stilling my thoughts, relaxing my tension. The more still I became, the more I felt part of the tea. In my mind’s eye I saw the gentle steam rising and swaying before me, dissolving in the slightest breath of air.

Speak to me, I thought. Show me your nature.

Then, as I watched inside my mind, the steam coiled and separated into four streams, like a fine thread unraveling. With my next breath I was alone in a meadow. It was sunny and warm, and I reached out to touch a perfect, rounded pink blossom. Its heavy aroma tickled my nose and bathed me in its beauty.

“Rose,” I whispered.

David was quiet.

I turned to the next steam thread and followed it, saw it being dug from the ground, black dirt clinging to its rough skin. It was washed and peeled, and when its pink flesh was grated, a sharp tang was released.

“Oh, ginger,” I listed, nodding.

The third strand drifted from rows and rows of low-growing, silver-green plants covered with purple flowers. More bees than I had ever seen buzzed over the plants, creating a vibrant, living mantle of insects. Hot sun, black earth, and the incessant drone filled me with a drowsy contentment.

“Lavender.”

The last thread was a woodier scent, less familiar and also less pretty. It was a low-growing, crinkle-leafed plant, with slender stalks of miniature flowers. I crushed some of the leaves in my hand and smelled them. It was earthy and different, almost unpleasant. But intertwined with the other three scents, it made a beautifully balanced whole: it added strength to their sweetness and tempered the pungent odor of the ginger.

“I want to say skullcap,” I said tentatively. “But I’m not sure what that is.”

I opened my eyes to find David watching me.

“Very good,” he said with a nod. “Very good indeed. Skullcap is a perennial. Its flowering stems help diminish tension.”

By now the tea had cooled a bit, and I took a sip. I didn’t notice the actual flavors so much; I was more aware of drinking the different essences, allowing them to warm me and infuse me with their qualities of healing, soothing, and calming. I perched on a stool next to the counter. But then, without warning, all the unsettled aspects of my life crept up and made me feel like I was suffocating again. Matt and Jenna, Sky and Bree and Raven, Hunter, being Woodbane, Mary K. and Bakker . . . it was overwhelming. The only thing that was going right was Cal.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know anything,” I heard myself blurt out. “I just want things to be straightforward. But things and people have all these different layers. As soon as you learn one, then another pops up, and you have to start all over again.”

“The more you learn, the more you need to learn,” David agreed calmly. “That’s what life is. That’s what Wicca is. That’s what you are.”

I looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“You thought you knew yourself, and then you found out one thing and then another thing. It changes the whole way you see yourself and see others in relation to you.” He sounded very matter-of-fact.