Blood Witch (21 page)

Hunter chuckled softly. “Oh, no, I’m afraid it’s much too late for that. You see, the council would never forgive me if I left Morgan in your clutches.”

“What?” I was practically screeching. What the hell did the council care who I dated? I hardly even
knew
about the council. How could they know so much about me?

“You should know about forgiveness,” Cal snapped. “After all, the council has never quite forgiven you for killing your brother, right? You’re still making up for that, aren’t you? Still trying to prove it wasn’t your fault.”

I stared at the two of them. I had no idea what Cal was talking about, but his tone terrified me. He sounded like a stranger.

“Go to hell,” Hunter snarled, his body tightening.

“Wiccans don’t believe in hell,” Cal whispered.

Hunter started toward us, his face stiff with fury. All at once Cal ducked into the car and snatched the athame he’d given me from the pile of gifts. My pulse shot into overdrive. This isn’t happening, I thought in panic. This can’t be happening. I watched, immobile, as Cal backed away from me. Hunter glanced between the two of us.

“You want me?” Cal taunted Hunter. “You want me, Hunter? Then come get me.” With that, he turned and sped straight for the dark woods bordering the property. I blinked, and he was out of sight, hidden by trees and darkness.

Hunter was wild-eyed as he scanned the woods’ edge.

“Stay here!” he commanded me, then he raced off after Cal.

I stopped for just a moment. Then I ran after them.

By the time I reached the edge of the woods, it had started to snow again. While Cal and I were inside, the sky had been consumed by thick gray clouds that blotted out the moon and the stars.

“Dammit,” I whispered. Cal had obviously led Hunter away to protect me, but how could he expect me to stand around, waiting to see what happened? I didn’t know what was going on between the two of them. All I knew was that I would never forgive Hunter if he hurt Cal.

The woods were dense and untamed, the undergrowth thick and impossible to run through. I ran into a low-hanging branch, and I stopped. I had no idea where Cal and Hunter had gone. It was absolutely black here, and for a moment I trembled. I had to breathe slowly, to focus and concentrate. I clenched and unclenched my fists and squeezed my eyes shut.

“One, two, three,” I counted. I breathed in and out.

A moment later I opened my eyes and found that my magesight had kicked in and I could see. Trees stood out as dark verticals, the undergrowth was defined, and the few nocturnal animals and birds who weren’t hibernating glowed with a pale yellow light. Okay. I scanned the area, and easily picked up the rough track Hunter and Cal had made as they crashed through the woods: the forest floor was scraped and disturbed, and small branches were snapped.

As quickly as I could, I followed their trail. My feet and nose were freezing, and snow began to fall and bleach the surroundings. Slowly I became aware of a dim, rhythmic pounding. It wasn’t the blood in my veins. Then it came to me: of course. Selene and Cal lived at the edge of town; their house was practically on the Hudson River. The surging waters were dead ahead. I quickened my pace, grabbing trees to push me forward, stumbling against rocks, cursing.

“You’re bidden to come with me!”

It was Hunter’s voice. I stopped silent, listening—then rushed forward and came out into a narrow, treeless strip that ran parallel with the river. Hunter was backed against the edge of the cliff, and Cal, holding my athame in front of him, was moving forward. I was lost in a swirl of fear and confusion.

“Cal!” I shouted.

They both turned, their faces unreadable in the snow and darkness.

“Stay back!” Cal ordered me, flinging out his hand. To my utter shock I stopped hard, as if I’d struck a wall. He had used a spell against me.

The next instant Hunter hurled a ball of witch light, and it knocked the athame from Cal’s hand. Cal’s jaw dropped. I struggled to believe that this was real, my real life, and not just a screen full of computer-generated effects. Hunter leaped away from the edge and onto Cal, who was scrambling back toward the knife. As I tried to move forward, I felt like I was wrapped in a thick wool blanket. My legs were made of stone. The two of them rolled over in the new-fallen snow, light hair and dark flashing against the ground and the background of night.

“Stop it!” I shouted as loud as I could, but they ignored me.

Cal pinned Hunter on the ground, then closed his fist and smashed it into Hunter’s face. Hunter’s head whipped sideways. A bright ribbon of blood streamed from his nose. The redness on the snow reminded me of the spilled communion wine last Sunday, and I shuddered. This was wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. This kind of anger, of long-held hatred, was the antithesis of magick. I had to separate them.

Gathering all my strength, I pictured myself breaking out of an eggshell and then tried to shove my way out of Cal’s binding spell. This time I was able to move. A few feet away I saw the athame, and I lunged for it—at the very moment Hunter shoved Cal off him. We all stumbled to our feet at the same time, panting heavily.

“Morgan, get out of here!” Hunter yelled at me, not taking his eyes off Cal. “I’m a Seeker, and Cal has to answer to the council!”

“Don’t listen to him, Morgan!” Cal retorted. I saw flecks of Hunter’s blood on his fist. “He’s jealous of anything I have, and he wants to hurt me. He’ll hurt you, too!”

“That’s a lie,” Hunter spat angrily. “Cal’s Woodbane, Morgan, but unlike Maeve, he hasn’t renounced the dark side. Please, just get out of here!”

Cal turned to me, and his hot golden eyes caught mine. A fuzzy softness clouded my brain. I blinked. Hunter said something, but it was muffled, and time seemed to slow. What was happening to me? I watched helplessly as Hunter and Cal circled each other, their eyes burning, their faces stony and pale.

Hunter spoke again, waving his arm, and it fluttered through the air slowly. His voice was like the deep growl of an animal. They came softly together—as if their movements were choreographed—and Hunter’s fist connected with Cal’s stomach. Cal doubled over. I winced, but I was trapped in a nightmare, powerless to stop the fight. I clutched the athame to my chest. There was a small knot of heat at my throat. I touched the warm silver of the pentacle hanging there. But I couldn’t move toward them.

Cal straightened. Hunter swung again at him but missed. Then Cal kicked the back of Hunter’s knee, and Hunter crumpled to the ground, the blood on his face smearing the snow. Memories flashed through my mind as Hunter staggered to his feet and threw himself on Cal . . . Hunter telling me Cal was Woodbane, Hunter in the dark outside my house, Hunter being so snide and hateful.

I remembered Cal kissing me, touching me, showing me magick. Showing me how to ground myself at circles, giving me presents. I thought of Bree yelling at me in her car by the side of the road, so long ago. Sky and Hunter together. The images made me unbearably weary. All I wanted to do was lie down in the snow and fall asleep. I sank to my knees, feeling a smile form on my lips. Sleep, I thought. There must have been magick at work, but it didn’t seem to matter.

In front of me Cal and Hunter rolled over and over, toward the river.
“Morgan.”

My name came to me softly, on a snowflake, and I looked up. For just an instant I met Cal’s eyes. They stared pleadingly at me. Then I saw that Hunter was holding Cal down, his knee on Cal’s chest. He had a length of silver chain and was binding Cal’s hands with it while Cal writhed in pain.

I received a sharp flash of his pain. I gasped and grabbed my chest, falling forward onto the snow. As I blinked rapidly, my head suddenly seemed clearer.

I couldn’t hear the words, but I felt them inside my head, and I pushed myself to my feet with one hand.

“You’re through,” Hunter was gasping angrily, pulling the silver chain. “I’ve got you.”

“Morgan!” Cal’s shout ripped through the snowy night and shattered my calm. I had to move, to fight. I loved Cal, had always loved him. I struggled to my feet as if I had been asleep for a long, long time. I had no plan; I was no match for Hunter, but suddenly I remembered I was still clutching the athame, my birthday athame
.
Without thinking, I hurled it at Hunter as hard as I could. I watched as it sailed through the air in a gleaming arc.

It struck Hunter’s neck, quivering there for a second before falling. Hunter cried out and clapped his hand to the wound. Blood began to spout from the open flesh, blooming red like a poppy. I couldn’t believe what I had done.

In that second Cal drew up his knees and kicked Hunter as hard as he could. With a cry of surprise Hunter staggered back, off balance, still clutching his wound . . . and then I was screaming, “No! No! No!” as he toppled clumsily and disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

I stared at the emptiness, dumbstruck.

“Morgan, help!” Cal cried, startling me. “Get this off! It’s burning me! Get it off!”

Numb, I hurried to Cal and pulled at the silver chain looped around his wrists. I felt nothing but a mild tingle when I touched it—but I saw raw, red blistering welts on Cal’s skin where it had touched him. Once it was off, I threw down the chain and scrambled to the edge of the cliff. If I saw Hunter’s body at the bottom, on the rocks, I knew I would throw up, but I forced myself to look, already thinking about calling 911, about trying to climb down there, wondering if I remembered CPR from my babysitting course.

But I saw nothing. Nothing but a jumble of rocks and the gray, turbulent water.

Cal staggered up beside me. I met his eyes. He looked horrified, pale and hollow and weak. “Goddess, he’s already gone,” Cal murmured. “He must have hit the water, and the current . . .” He was breathing hard, his dark hair wet with snow and traces of blood.

“We have to call someone,” I said softly, reaching out to touch him. “We have to tell someone about Hunter. And we have to take care of your wrists. Do you think you can get back to the house?”

Cal just shook his head. “Morgan,” he said in a broken voice. “You saved me.” With fingers swollen from hitting Hunter, he touched my cheek and said tenderly, “You saved me. Hunter was going to kill me, but you protected me from him, like you said you would. I love you.” He kissed me, his lips cold and tasting of blood. “I love you more than I ever knew I could. Today our future truly begins.”

I didn’t know what to say. My thoughts had stopped swirling; they had vanished altogether. My mind was a void. I put my arm around him as he began to limp back through the woods, and I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder to the cliff’s edge. It was all too much to take in, everything that had happened, and I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, feeling Cal rest some of his weight on me as we slogged through the snow.

And then I remembered: it was November 23.

I wondered what time it was—I knew it was very late. I had been born at two-seventeen in the morning on November 23. I decided I must already be officially seventeen. I swallowed. This was the first day of my seventeenth year. What would tomorrow bring?