Reckoning s-13

by Cate Tiernan

  She leaned her back against the refrigerator, legs akimbo, looking more like a stunned teenager than the imposing, matronly woman I had known. "That's why I couldn't see that book for years," she added. "I was open to ideas the first time I found it. When my mind closed up, the book became invisible to me. All these years…" She shook her head as realization lit her eyes. "I could have done something about these problems. Oh, Goddess, Sorcha…"

  Suddenly Evelyn's composure completely abandoned her, and her face crumpled into a sob. "Sarah, your mother," she whimpered as her age finally seemed to show, "she had it, too. She stripped herself because she was frightened by her powers. Her telekinesis." Evelyn closed her eyes and sobbed again. "Oh, Goddess, I could have saved her…"

  I shook my head, reaching out to take her hand. "You didn't know," I said.

  "I should have," she whispered. "It was all there for me to put together. If I had been honest with her, if I had told her about what was happening to me instead of just pushing her away…"

  "You couldn't have known what she was planning," I said, squeezing her hand. "She was frightened, and she didn't tell you how deep her fears went."

  Evelyn sighed wearily. "I could see how frightened she was, I thought I could take care of Oona on my own." She looked me in the eye. "I pushed my daughter away," she concluded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "And I lost her."

  She looked over at me, slowly regaining her composure. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was suddenly profoundly aware that I could pass on telekinesis to my daughter, if I ever had one. Looking at Evelyn's tearstained face, I swore to myself that I would always be honest with my children. And open.

  "I'll have to tell them the truth," she said, sitting up straight again. "There is no Oona."

  "No," I said. "You were right. She was real, and she cast the spell that is affecting us."

  "I suppose," she replied. "All these years, I thought it was something entirely outside myself, something I could eventually control. But it was coming through me. It was always me."

  I could tell it was more than she could bear.

  "The Seeker," she said, "he's working with a chaos specialist in London to find a remedy?"

  "A chaos speicalist?"

  "That's what someone who specializes in uncontrollable magick is called." She smiled wryly.

  "Yes," I answered, slightly chilled by the term chaos specialist. That had a really bad sound to it. Hunter had obviously been trying to be delicate. "He is."

  "Well, then," she said. "I suppose we'll have to see what he comes up with." She pulled herself off the floor, moving stiffly.

  "I'm not going to tell anyone up here about this," I said as I watched her. "I'm only going to tell some people in my coven and that man Ardán. This can just be between us. We'll tell them that we found something to bring Oona partially under control."

  Evelyn's eyes looked pale and red rimmed in the sunlight from the window. She turned to me. For the first time I felt something coming from her, something warm.

  "Thank you," she said simply.

  "I should go," I said, gathering up my things. "I mean… I should rest before the circle."

  Evelyn nodded and put her hand on my shoulder as she walked me to the front door. "Have a good rest, Alisa. And thank you." She looked me in the eye. "I am very lucky you chose to visit."

  "You're welcome," I whispered, and walked slowly down the front steps and along the road to Sam's house. I wasn't very tired. I just thought Evelyn needed some time alone. She's just learned some serious things about my mother and her leaving, and I knew it would take her a long time to come to terms with them.

  If she ever did.

  17. Mermaid

  November 14, 1971

  Sorcha has been gone for one month. Hugh and I have decided that we will not scry for her anymore. She is gone.

  Somhairle raged when we told him of our decision. He screamed. He threatened to leave as well, to go and find her himself. Then he stormed out of the house to walk off some of his anger. Soon, I think, his emotions will regulate themselves and he will understand. Sorcha has willingly given up her power. She has refused the blessing of the Goddess and turned her back on her heritage. When a witch is stripped, it is understood: No longer shall that witch be one of us. Sorcha made it easier for everyone by taking herself away.

  While I know what I must do, and while I know I am right, my heart is broken. I feel hollow, as if a hole has been drilled in me and all feeling has gone forever. Hugh looks gray, and I worry about his health. This has taken a great toll on him.

  After Somhairle left, we heard noise upstairs in Sorcha's room. We found her quilt in shreds, her books on the ground, and her bedroom window broken. Hugh and I stood there, looking at each other, unable to express the blackness that has taken over our lives.

  — Aoibheann

  We met at Evelyn's at eight o'clock. Kate and Charlie's dad were in the hallway talking, waiting for the bathroom so that they could change into their robes.

  Evelyn swished down the hall from the direction of the kitchen, elegant in a long purple robe with wide, sweeping sleeves. She had a beautiful silver pentacle around her neck. She came right for me, her face serene, and kissed my forehead. I noticed that stopped the conversation Kate and Sam had started. I don't think Charlie's dad noticed anything.

  "Come with me for a minute, Alisa," Evelyn said, drawing me into the study and shutting the doors behind us.

  On her desk there was a large, dusty old box. She walked around to it and opened the limp flaps at the top.

  "It's time these saw the light of day again," she said, looking down into the contents. She seemed lost in whatever it was she was looking at; then she waved me over and pushed the box toward me.

  "These are for you," she said.

  Inside, there was a bundle of purple cloth. I had scried this! A box, something purple! Eagerly I opened the bundle. As I dipped my hands into the folds I got a sharp spark of electricity and drew my hand back. Evelyn nodded for me to continue, so I reached in again. My hand hit something smooth and flat. I pulled it out. It was a ceramic plate, handmade—very seventies, crafty looking, with a pentagram thickly drawn into the surface. I reached in again and produced a chalice, silver, with a stem made of figures of the moon and stars. A chunk of quartz wrapped in yellow silk. A bolline—the white-handled work knife used to prepare herbs and other magickal elements. Many of these items sat in the small cauldron, which I had to pull out with both hands.

  These were my mother's things. They warmed my hands as I touched them.

  I looked up at Evelyn, unable to speak.

  "There's something else," she said, nodding for me to reach in once again. At the bottom of the bundle there was a pale green linen robe, finely embroidered with runes.

  "She made this by hand," said Evelyn, running her fingers over the embroidery. "Every stitch is sacred."

  I picked it up, but it was surprisingly heavy. Something was wrapped inside. As I unfolded it, I saw a glint of metal. I drew in my breath in surprise.

  "Does it look familiar?" Evelyn said, watching me with glistening eyes.

  It was an athame with a bright silver handle. It was cast in the shape of a mermaid—a steel gray mermaid.

  I ran my hand over the sculpted handle, tears welling up behind my eyes. The mermaid—this was what had been calling me here, and now I had it. The athame was beautiful, and it was my mother's. I imagined her holding it in her hand, wearing the light green robe as she worked some beautiful magick. Before the storm. Before everything changed for her. I looked back at Evelyn as a few tears began to slip down my face. "I can't believe it," I whispered.

  "The Goddess often speaks to us in our dreams," she said.

  Evelyn instructed me to remove all of my clothing, even my underwear, before putting on the robe. I thought this would make me very cold, especially with those seaside breezes blowing all over the place, but I was comfortable in the fin
e linen. The fit was perfect—my mother and I must have been the exact same height. Standing there in my robe and holding the athame, my bare feet on the cool nighttime grass, I felt so witchy… and so natural.

  The house had a large backyard, which I hadn't seen before. It was surrounded on all sides by trees, so we were in a safe little grotto for the circle. White lights had been strung around, making the scene romantic. The large cauldron contained a sweet smelling fire, laced with herbs and fragrant wood. I took my place in the opening of the group, besides Sam, who looked quite dashing in his crimson silk robe. Charlie stood just opposite me, looking amazing in a pale yellow robe. He nodded slightly but approvingly in my direction.

  Evelyn stepped forward and presented the four elements—the candle, the incense, the bowl of water, and the dish of sea salt.

  "Alisa," she said, "if you would please bring out your athame, I would like you to cast the circle."

  She held out a bowl of water and indicated that I should dip my athame in it. When I had done so, she placed the elements in their respective quarters and nodded for me to begin.

  I'd never actually done this before, so I was a bit nervous. You're supposed to try make the circle as perfectly round as possible. Using my right hand, I held the athame out in front of me. Walking deasil around the group, I concentrated on feeling its power, and I visualized the wall of energy that I was drawing. Automatically I started to speak, not really knowing where I had found the invocation. I supposed maybe I'd read it somewhere, but it came out of me naturally, as if I was saying my own name: "I conjure you, circle, to be a protected space, boring down through the earth and rising into the sky. I cast out from you all that is impure. Within your protective embrace, may we honor the Goddess and God."

  Evelyn smiled, and I took my place. I saw quite a number of surprised glances Ping-Ponging between Evelyn and me. The circle was very peaceful—no busted pipes, no floods. When it was over, everyone headed for a table that had been set up next to the house. There were cookies, brownies, and little bowls of milk and rosewater pudding decorated with rose petals. Someone switched on some Celtic music. I stayed with Sam most of the time, chatting with Kate—but I was really scanning the yard for Charlie. He vanished into thin air the moment the circle was over.

  When I was alone for a minute by the table, Brigid approached me, reaching past me for an oatcake. I felt a chilly, brittle energy coming from her.

  "Hi," I said. "This circle—it was great. It was beautiful."

  She picked through all of the cakes very deliberately before choosing one. At last she looked up at me. "You saved Charlie last night. Thank you."

  I opened my mouth to respond but quickly realized that I had no idea what to say. I didn't feel like I should be accepting things for something like that. Finally I just nodded.

  "I'm not happy about what's happened," she said, real sadness tearing at her voice, "but what you did was good."

  Having said her piece, she walked off. I saw her go into the house.

  "What happened?" I said out loud to no one in particular. I desperately wanted to find Charlie and ask, but his dad came up to me at that very moment.

  "I've checked my schedule," he said. "I didn't have a few full days."

  I had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm sorry?" I said.

  "You asked me if I had a few days to listen to your story," he explained. "I do, but not until June. Maybe we could speak on the phone instead. I'd like very much like to hear all about your experiences. Charlie's told me some, and I am absolutely fascinated."

  "Oh," I laughed. "Right. Sure."

  "Wonderful," he said, taking a dish of pudding. "Does Charlie have your phone number?"

  "I'll give it to him," I replied. "Have you seen him?"

  "Oh, yes," he said, peering around the yard. "He's on one of the benches in the back."

  Far in the back of the yard, there was a small clump of four tall shrubs. In the middle of these was a tiny white stone bench, and on this bench was Charlie. As usual, my stomach twisted around completely.

  "You found me," he said, sounding kind of pleased.

  "I'm supposed to give you my phone number," I said, joining him on the bench.

  "Oh yeah?" he said, arching his brows.

  "Your dad wants it."

  "My dad's been asking for your number?" He laughed, "Is there something going on I should know about?"

  I felt myself blushing. "Um, listen, I'm sorry about yesterday," I said, "I didn't mean…"

  "No." He shook his head quickly. "No! Don't apologize." He looked around and then checked his watch. "Let me explain, but not here. Can I give you a ride back to Sam's? Things are wrapping up here anyway."

  My ride arrangements where fine with Sam, so I went back inside to change into my clothes, and carefully folded the robe and put it in with my mother's tools. Evelyn gave me a warm hug and another kiss on the forehead as I left.

  "We have a lot of work to do," she said to me quietly. "We need to put those tools back to good use."

  "Thank you…," I said, not even sure how to express my gratitude.

  "Call me Grandmother," she said with a smile. "That is my name. Or Grandmom. Gran. Whatever you like."

  I'd only ever had one grandmother, and she was from Buenos Aires. I called her Lita Soto.

  "How about Lita?" I asked. "It's a nickname for grandmother in Spanish."

  "I like it," she said with a satisfied nod. "I like it a lot."

  18. The Castle

  February 13, 1991

  I sat straight up in bed at three o'clock this morning and screamed.

  Poor Ruth, I think I scared her half to death. I woke little Brigid as well. They both turned up a my door. While I assured them that I just had a bad dream, I knew it was more. My heart ached as though it were broken. It's difficult to explain, but it felt as though a candle that always burned inside me had been snuffed out. I felt an emptiness, an indescribable loss.

  After Ruth and Brigid had gone back to bed, I walked all through the house, trying to convince myself that there was some reasonable explanation for my disturbance. I walked through the basement, the kitchen, and the study, praying to the Goddess that I would find some mundane solution. But in my heart I knew there would not be, and my heart was right.

  In my workroom, Sorcha's old bedroom, I found everything in a shambles. The shelves had collapsed and everything was storing had tumbled down. The carpet was shredded where the bed once stood. I knew then that my worst suspicions were true.

  My daughter, my lost Sorcha, is dead.

  — Aoibheann

  Charlie guided the car through the streets of Gloucester, past the huge neon Gorton's fisherman and the crowded pubs along the waterfront. He didn't say anything at first—he just played with the windshield wipers, flicking them on and off, as if they could help him clear his thoughts. I couldn't get a good reading on what he was feeling. It felt like a whole soup of emotions.

  "On Monday," he finally said, "in the basement, I told Brigid what happened."

  I remembered the wave of emotion I'd felt coming from Brigid as I passed—that whole nasty mix of panic, anger, and sadness. It made me nauseous to think of it.

  "You mean what happened in the library," I said.

  "Right." He nodded. "And it was really bad. She was so upset. I've never done anything like that."

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I've caused a mess…"

  "No!" he said, accidentally jerking the wheel a bit as he turned to look at me. "It's not that I regret it. I'm sorry I was so quiet yesterday. I was just trying to take care of things."

  "Take care of things?" I asked.

  "I spent yesterday thinking it all over," he continued. "Today I told her that I needed a little time to think things over."

  "You… broke up with her?"

  He stopped for a red light and turned to my. "Yes," he said. "I think so."

  I nodded, unsure of what to say. I didn't think, "Great!" would be appropriate, but by
now it was clear that we had some kind of bond, however strange and undefined.

  "It's for the best," he said. "We've been together for two years, since she was fourteen. Now she's sixteen and I'm seventeen. I care about her a lot, but we've both grown and changed. I don't think we're the best match for each other."

  The light turned green, and he drove through the intersection.

  "I'm going off to college in the fall. I'm going to be leaving Gloucester." His tone was pained, as if he was trying to convince me and convince himself that he had done the right thing. He fell silent for a minute, obviously nor sure what to say next.

  "Evelyn and I had a talk, too," I said.

  He pulled into a parking lot and killed the engine.

  "About what?" he said, unsnapping his seatbelt and turned to me. "I mean, everything seemed good at the circle tonight. I was wondering what was going on."

  While I didn't explain had transpired in detail, I told him that Evelyn and I had reconciled, and I explained what had been in the box in the back.

  "Alisa." He broke into a smile and took my hands. "That's great. I can't believe I didn't notice… I'm sorry."

  "It's all right," I said, smiling, too. "You had a lot on your mind. How do you feel?"

  "Well," he said, "I feel like a jerk for what I've done to Brigid, even though I think it's for the best. And I feel incredibly happy that you're here."

  He watched me to see what effect his words were having. I'll tell you what effect they had—I almost melted. Kissing energy was on the rise.