by Cate Tiernan
"So," I said, "do you have a boyfriend, or…?"
"I did," he said. "We separated about two months ago."
"Oh." I pushed some leaves around with my foot. "Sorry."
"Don't be," he said genuinely. "Shawn and I decided that we needed to be apart for a while."
"Shawn… was he a witch?" I asked.
"Yes." Sam nodded, staring out at the street. "He lives in Holyoke. It's nearby." He snapped back to his normal, sunny demeanor. "Okay," he said, "we're getting way too serious. Let me show you the cool stuff."
I followed Sam along, and pointed out favorite restaurants, shops, and houses. We passed Bell, Book, and candle—the shop where Charlie worked. We stepped in, but he wasn't there. I had to hide my profound disappointment. It wasn't like the blows to my head had given me amnesia. The incident in the library had been on my mind more less nonstop from the moment I woke up. I wondered what had happened between Charlie and Brigid. It couldn't have been good. Maybe, I thought, cringing with guilt—maybe he was breaking up with her at this very moment. Maybe that's why he wasn't at work.
Not likely.
Uggggh. Too much to think about. I still felt guilty. Maybe it was a good thing the plates had knocked me senseless that night. I probably would be a basket case otherwise. After picking up a birthday gift for Ruth, Sam took me to an old hotel for lunch. He told me stories about my mother, all kinds of brother-sister high jinks. As we were talking and enjoying ourselves, I realized how good Sam was being to me. He'd put me up and cared for me with no advance warning at all. He'd stood up to his family to defend me. I owed him honesty. There was a convenient lull in the conversation as Sam was eating, I decided to use it.
"My dad doesn't know where I am," I said, not looking up. "I ran away."
Sam stopped eating, set down his fork, and waited for me to continue. He didn't look at all that surprised. With that stunning introduction, I proceeded to tell him the whole story—and I mean the whole story. Everything from the dark wave to Hilary to the night I ran away. The entire Alisa Soto soap opera.
"I've been calling someone from my coven," I said, coming to an end. "She put a watch sigil on me so that she'd be able to find me if I wasn't in touch."
"That's something, I guess," he said, processing the information for a moment. Then he dug into the pocket of his brown suede jacket, pulled out a tiny call phone, and plunked it down on the table.
I got the hint.
When the first sound I heard was Hilary's voice, I readied myself to snap the phone closed again but then thought better of it. Sam was trusting me to call my family—ans Hilary, like it or not, was family now.
"Hi, Hilary," I said, trying to sound cheerful, as if this was the most normal call in the world.
"Alisa? Is that you?" She sounded breathy, really alarmed.
"It's me. Hi."
"Where are you?"
"Safe," I said firmly. "Fine. Staying in a nice warm house, eating three meals a day. Nothing to worry about."
"Nothing to worry about? Alisa, your father's about to have a heart attack, and…" I heard her stop and steady herself. She must have known I could be spooked away.
"I just called to tell you guys that I was okay," I said. "That's all. Is Dad around?"
"No, he's at work, sweet—Alisa."
She caught herself so abruptly, I actually felt bad, like I'd been way too rough on her. I knew she wasn't all bad.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"How am I feeling?" She was surprised. "Oh, I'm fine. Good. A little jumpy the last few days."
We actually made some small talk over the next few minutes. I think I was even able to convince her that I was fine. I didn't sound crazy or strung out. In fact, I was about a million times calmer than I usually was at home. She told me that they'd stopped doing any planning or moving during the time I'd been gone, but that she'd had an ultrasound done. I was going to have a little brother. This news didn't nauseate me as much I would have imagined, and I even congratulated her with some real excitement. As I said goodbye, I felt like a changed woman. She would probably recommend to my dad that I be allowed to run away more often.
I'd asked Sam if I could make one more quick call, and he'd agreed. I dialed Hunter's number.
Hunter, I noticed, sounded even more adult and more British on the phone. His voice was deeper, and I could feel him pacing.
"Alisa!" he said, exhaling loudly.
I filled him in on the situation so far, and he hmm-ed and ah-ed in typical Hunter fashion. He'd gotten most of the story from Morgan, so I didn't have to start form the very beginning.
"Have you spoken to your father?" he asked, with just a slightly parental edge to his voice. "Morgan tells me he's very upset, understandably."
"I just spoke to Hilary for a few minutes," I said. "Everything's fine."
"Well," he said, clearly not sure if he believed that last statement of mine, "I have some news as well, and it fits in rather neatly with what you've just told me. I spoke to both Ardán Rourke and Jon Vorwald. Jon said that it's possible that you have a trigger element, but he'll have to test you in person to figure out what that might be. He also said that he'd heard of one case, back in the fifties, of a telekinetic power that seemed to be passed down via first born female children."
"Firstborn females?" I frowned. Actually, that would why my mother and I had telekinesis, but not Sam or Ruth. But if it was passed down to my mother…then Evelyn…
"That's right." Hunter's crisp voice interrupted my thoughts. "Also, and this is very interesting, Ardàn knew of at least one case of a witch in the 1800s who had telekinesis. What's interesting about her is that when she got older, maybe sixty or seventy, her telekinetic incidents became more violent, harder to control. He thinks that it's possible that as witches get older, they lose some of their inhibitions. Their emotions become stronger and harder to reign in."
"I don't understand," I said. "What does that have to do with me? I'm fifteen."
"Think about it," he said. "You have telekinesis. Your mother had it. It's quite possible, then, that your grandmother has it. You just said that the incidents were getting worse with time and that they also flared up during times of family crisis."
Evelyn. I sucked in my breath. This could be Evelyn. It made complete sense—to me anyway. When Evelyn was upset or under stress, that was when Oona was at her worst. But what could I do with this information? If she didn't already hate me, Evelyn would lose it if I came forward and suggested that she was responsible for all of the horrible things that had happened to her family. Besides that, I didn't have enough proof to be sure it was true.
"Hello?" Hunter drew me back to reality. "Alisa?"
"Still here," I said, gripping the lobby wall. "God, Hunter. What do I do now?"
"I wouldn't do anything yet. We can't be sure that this is actually what's going on. It's just a theory. Ardán's looking into the matter some more. Your case really interested him, and he wants to come over and meet you."
"What can I say?" I said. "I'm fascinating."
"So," he said, "when can we expect to see you?"
"Uh…" I shifted from foot to foot. "Soon. I promise. Spring break is almost over. I just need a little more time."
In the end, I had to promise to call him the next night, after the Ròiseal circle. Reeling from what I'd just heard, I headed back into the dining room. Should I tell Sam? No. Hunter had said to wait until he had more information. Waiting. Not my strong suit. As I came into the dining room, the waitress approached our table with the biggest brownie sundae I had ever seen. I sighed. Sam is the best.
15. Ròiseal
February 3, 1955
The baby will be coming any day now. At the Imbolic celebration last night, all of Ròiseal performed a ritual to ensure a safe birth.
Just as I knew Sorcha was a girl. I know this is a boy— a rascally little boy, at that. From the way he kicks, I tend to think that he will give his sister no peace! He's so feisty! We
have decided to call him Somhairle.
Sorcha seems to know that something is going on. I can tell by the look in her eye. She likes to run up and touch my stomach, then she giggles and runs away way. She'll sometimes drag Hugh over and point it out to him, her eyes full of wonder. My little girl—she's so full of the Goddess!
— Aoibheann
"Looks like we're the last ones here," Sam said as we parked between Charlie's volkswagen and red motorcycle. Just the sight of Charlie's car turned me into jellyfish woman, with wobbly legs and a googly stare, but I managed to pull myself together enough to be able to walk to the front door like a normal human.
Sam let us right in and headed for the living room, where everyone was already gathered. A fire was going strong in the fireplace. In the middle of the room there was a cauldron filled with cool water and flower blossoms. Ruth's birthday cake was set on a small table, uncut.
It wasn't exactly a rocking party. Brigid, Ruth, and Evelyn sat together on a long sofa, all looking uncomfortable. Ruth's heavy cast was obviously itching. Brigid looked tired and pensive. Evelyn was her usual sparkling self. The three of them were having a quiet conversation with Kate Giles. Ruth and Kate each gave me a hug when they saw me. Brigid and Evelyn each gave me a thousand-yard stare.
After giving Ruth her gift, Sam settled down across the room, where Charlie was sitting with an older man. Tried to look casual as possible as I joined him there—my mind, however was constantly replaying our kiss. I had the DVD version going, with multiple angles, the trailer with the highlights, and the full director' cut. Charlie eyed the bruise near my eye, and I nodded to indicate that I was really all right.
The man next to Charlie was dressed kind of formally in a neat gray suit with a light cream-colored sweater underneath the jacket. He was just as tall, but heavier. He looked like Charlie, with the same kind face and the mischievous peaked eyebrows, and though his hair was shot through with silver gray, it curled defiantly. I knew instantly that this was Charlie's father.
"You're Alisa!" the man boomed, looking straight at me. He spoke so loudly that it startled some of the others. No drawn-out introductions needed here. Everyone should have a weird witch vibe. It makes things so much easier.
"My dad," Charlie said.
"I understand you were raised by nonwitches, Alisa! I'd love to know what that was like," his dad added. Charlie's eyes went wide, then rolled back into his head in comic grief.
"My dad," Charlie repeated, containing an exasperated sigh. "Right at the point."
"Did I say something wrong?" His father asked innocently. From Charlie's description of his father, I could easily see that he might have some strange people skills.
"It's okay." I laughed. "If you have a few days to spare, I can tell you the whole story."
"I'm not sure if I have a few entire days," he said, sipping his tea and honestly thinking it over, "but I'll check my schedule. Perhaps we can do a few blocks of time over the course of a week."
Okay. He was very literal, too, but he seemed nice enough. I couldn't imagine Charlie coming from a family that wasn't nice.
"I was just going to get something to drink," Charlie said, standing up. "Would anyone like anything?"
He ended up getting orders from almost everyone in the room, so I immediately sprang up and offered to help, praying that I didn't look too obvious and scheming. However, I did notice Brigid slipping me a steely glare as I left.
I followed Charlie into the kitchen. He was at the counter, setting down the glasses. He looked so good, just simply dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt and jeans. He seemed extra tall, so much more adult looking than me. There was no way I could have kissed him. I must have been delusional.
"Hi," I finally said. That was the best I could do. Words were failing me.
"Hey," he said, giving me a little smile—not his usual light-up-the-room beam. "How are you? Are you okay?" I thought I saw his hand moving, as if he was going to reach out to me, but he pulled it back and moved the glasses around instead.
"I'm fine." I nodded. "Thanks for coming last night, I felt a lot safer knowing that you protected the house. Sorry I was, um… unconscious."
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I guess it was that whole getting hit-on-the-head-with-everything-in-the-kitchen thing."
"Something like that," I agreed.
I could see the coppery freckles under his eyes in the warm glow of the kitchen light. I felt warmth coming from him but also something else—pain, maybe. Definitely stress. It made me want to… I don't know, give him a big hug or something. He wasn't himself.
"Maybe we could talk?" I said.
"This really isn't a good time," he said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out some drinks. His smooth brow furrowed, as if he really, really had to concentrate on sorting out the beverages.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Everything's fine."
That wasn't true. I could see that. "You're not supposed to lie to witches," I said. "Remember? You're not even supposed to tell half-truths to half witches."
"Right." He sighed, putting the drinks on the counter and leaned against the refrigerator. "Good point. Sorry."
"So," I said, "what's up?"
"Look," he said, as if he was searching for the words, "I can't talk right now."
"Okay," I said uncertainly. "Do you want to give me a call later?"
"I'm going to be busy tonight." He sighed again. "Maybe tomorrow, okay?"
With Brigid. That's what he wasn't saying. He was going to be talking to Brigid. His girlfriend. The person he was supposed to be talking to.
"Oh, sure," I said. Though I tried to keep smiling, I felt my face fall. I was rapidly coming to my senses. Why had I followed him? What had I been expecting him to say? Did I think he was going to jump up and down with joy and tell me that he'd ditched Brigid? At best, our kiss had caused major problems. At worst, he was regretting he ever met me. Although who could say? Maybe there was something even worse than that.
I turned and started filling glasses quickly.
"Alisa…," he said. Again I saw his hand moving, as if he wanted to take hold of me. Again he held himself back. There was a rush of frustration coming from him.
"It's okay," I told him, fixing the limp smile back on my face. "Tomorrow or whenever you get a chance. Just give me a call."
I saw that he was about to reply, but I scooped up some of the glasses and headed out. One more word and I knew I would be bawling, I couldn't risk it.
Back in the living room, I passed around the drinks and sat down next to Sam, who gave me a strange look. I knew he must have realized I was upset about something, but he probably assumed that it was related to Evelyn. He inched closer to me, and I felt a little better having him by my side. Charlie followed a moment later and gave out the other cups.
"It's a little chilly in here," Ruth observed, pulling her sweater around her uncasted arm.
Since Charlie was next to the fireplace, he reached down and put another log on the fire. I was sitting next to the fireplace, and he glanced up and caught my eye for a moment. I couldn't meet his gaze, so I threw my attention across the room. Of course, I looked right up at Evelyn. She was staring at me. The room was cold. Very cold. And the force of her stare made it even colder.
Suddenly Ruth screamed, and I felt a rush of extreme heat cutting the chill. As if it had been stirred by some unnatural breeze, the dire in the fireplace leapt out, blue with heat. It reached for Charlie, licking at his clothes, his skin. I felt a fear rising up through me. Charlie was going to be hurt—badly.
No, I couldn't let this happen.
Water… I thought, my body standing itself up and my hand raising without my willing either to do so. I pointed at the caldron, and it lifted itself from its resting place. Time was slow now—I was unaffected by it. The water would do what I needed it to do; I had to ask it. Once again words came to me from the recesses of my mind, in an echo of a woman's voice, a voice I c
ouldn't quite place.
"Cuir as a srad," I said, moving my pointed finger to indicate Charlie. "Doirt air."
The caldron sailed through the room, past Charlie, and smashed itself against the smoky brick of the fireplace, spilling all of the flowers and water onto him. He stumbled back as it thundered to the floor and rolled back and forth before the fire.
The crash brought me back in step with everything else, and I lurched forward, as if I was in a car that had skidded to a halt. Charlie quickly rolled away from the fireplace and looked down at himself in shock. He was soaking wet and covered in soggy flower pieces. His hands were singed, but the water had protected him somewhat, keeping his clothing from igniting.
"I'm okay," he said, patting his body down and checking for injuries. "I'm okay," Brigid and Ruth descended on him, dragging him off to the kitchen to attend to the burns. The whole thing had happened in less than a minute.
"Goddess," said Kate once they had gone, "did everyone just see that?"
I became aware of the fact that everyone left in the room was staring at me. My hand was still outstretched. I jammed it behind my back.
Charlie's father was next to me. All traces of cosmic goofiness were gone from his face.
"Thank you," he said, reaching out to squeeze my arm. His face was pale with shock. "I've never seen anyone do a deflection that quickly before."
"You're welcome," I mumbled. "I mean… I just did it."
Sometimes I just blow myself away with fancy talk.
"You do know," he said seriously, "that you moved the cauldron almost simultaneously with the flame, killing its progress—don't you?"
"I did?" I said, feeling very dull-witted.
"You gave a command spell," Charlie's father said. "Very simple. The energy was channeled through the water. The Gaelic charge was basic. But it was very, very fast, and you brought up a lot of energy within a moment."
I wobbled, and Sam gently helped me to sit down. Evelyn, I noticed, had returned and was looking at me up, down, and sideways.