Strife s-9

by Cate Tiernan

  I waited nervously. Alisa glanced at me, then picked up a pile of my books. “She has to be careful not to get buried in this pile of crap,” Alisa said as she slid my books into place on the shelf. “I was just recommending that Morgan wear bright-colored clothing so we can find her if she gets hidden in the next locker paper slide.”

  I gathered the rest of my papers and scrambled to my feet. “Just a second, Mary K.,” I said. “Let me find what I need. I’ll be ready to roll in a minute.”

  “Actually,” Mary K. said, “I’m here for Alisa. We’re going over to her house to study.” She turned to Alisa. “Ready?”

  “Sure,” Alisa replied. “See you around, Morgan,” she said over her shoulder as she turned to walk down the hall.

  “See you later,” Mary K. added, giving me a small wave. “I called Mom already—I won’t be home for dinner.” She trotted after Alisa.

  “Okay,” I said. “See you.” Watching their retreating figures, I couldn’t help feeling a little stab of jealousy. . and fear. Sure, Alisa had just covered for me now—but what if later she told Mary K. that the coven was dealing with powerful forces? What if she described what had happened on Saturday night?

  Would my sister turn against me even more?

  6. Restricted

  I tried to talk to Morgan today. I told her that I was uncomfortable with some of magick being used in Kithic. So, naturally, Morgan said, “Oh, Alisa, thank you so much for telling me. I’m sure that if you’re uneasy, others in the coven must be, too. I’ll be sure to tone down my freakish witch powers so that we can all enjoy the simple, quiet magick of Wicca together. Without unleashing dark forces of the underworld over which we have no control.”

  Yeah, right. Actually, what she said was more like, “Whatever. Too bad for you.”

  So now I’ve said that I’m leaving Kithic. There’s only one problem. That means I actually have to leave Kithic. There’s a nursery rhyme that keeps repeating in my mind. I think my mom must have said it to me when I was little: “No beginning or no end to hearth, home, or friend.” It’s about belonging.

  I feel like I belong in Kithic. But Morgan doesn’t care.

  I wonder if other people in Kithic have really thought about what Morgan is doing. I mean, her powers are amazing. I guess it’s possible that everyone is so wrapped up in the mystique that they haven’t really bothered to think what she’s doing or where it might lead. Or maybe they have, but they just cover up better than I do.

  It’s not that I think Morgan is evil. I just don’t think she realizes how dangerous she is. Maybe I should write a letter to town paper to warn people that this is happening. It feels kind of underhanded. But this is dangerous stuff. I feel that people have a right to know.

  I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.

  — Alisa

  The bell over the door at Practical Magick jingled as I walked inside. Closing the door quickly against the cold, I breathed in the warm spicy scent of incense and the familiar smell of old books. Alyce looked up at me from behind the counter, and her face instantly broke into a smile. “Morgan,” she said, “you’ve got a visitor.”

  There were two other people in the store, browsing through the herbs. “Is she here already?” I whispered as I walked to the counter.

  Alyce nodded gravely. “In the back.”

  I grimaced. That meant I was late. “Thanks.” I hurried past the tall wooden bookshelves toward the curtain that separated the rear of the store. I was irked that I couldn’t stop to chat with Alyce. Besides being the owner of Practical Magick, she was the leader of the Starlocket coven and a good friend. We’d been through a lot together these last few months.

  “You’re late,” Erin said coolly as I pulled back the curtain and stepped into the combination storeroom-office.

  “So I heard,” I replied, sliding into the folding chair across from hers. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and wasn’t in the best of moods.

  Erin’s eyes flashed. “Morgan, I am here at the behest of the council. I’ve traveled a long way to get here,” she said. “And I’ve got less than two weeks to teach you everything I know about magickal defenses.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled to the table. Okay, so I was late. Was that the world’s biggest tragedy? Did she have to treat me like a five-year-old? It was bad enough that the reason I was late was that my English teacher had grabbed me on my way out of school and lectured me for twenty minutes about how I wasn’t "working up to potential.”

  Erin leaned forward, and I felt compelled to look up at her. “There are some members of the council who put a great deal of stock in your powers,” she said in a voice that sounded almost like a purr or a growl. “But let me tell you something—those powers will never be anything but a dangerous toy until you learn to control them.”

  There was half a moment while we stared at each other, and I felt Erin’s intensity like heat from a fire.

  “Here we are!” said a voice. Suddenly the curtain was pulled back, and Alyce bustled in with a teapot and mugs. She glanced at Erin. “Licorice still your favorite?”

  I looked from one to the other. “Do you two know each other already?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Alyce said. “We’ve been friends for years.”

  I tried to hide my surprise. They were friends? But they were such opposites—Erin seemed as hard as steel, while Alyce was about as hard as a featherbed.

  “We haven’t seen each other in a long time, though,” Erin said, smiling at Alyce.

  “Too long,” Alyce said. “Which reminds me. I’ve been saving something for you.” Pulling a key ring out of her pocket, she crossed to a heavy wooden desk at the back of the room. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a large gray metal box. Then she chose another key, opened the box, and pulled out something large and flat and wrapped in a piece of dark cloth. When she came closer, I saw that it was a square of black silk. My pulse quickened. Black silk had strong blocking properties—it was often used to wrap magickal objects that might be dangerous. Alyce put the object on the table, then pulled the fabric away from it, revealing an ancient leather-bound book.

  “Where did you get this?” Erin whispered. She’d gone pale.

  “At a library sale, if you can believe it,” Alyce said. “About a year ago. I don’t think they had any idea what they were selling.”

  I read the faded gold lettering on the cover. On the Containement of Magick, it said. “Harris Stoughton,” I said aloud, looking at the author’s name. It sounded vaguely familiar to me.

  “A horrible man,” Erin said. “A witch who used hysteria to wipe out other witches.”

  When she said that, I remembered where I’d heard the name before—from some of my reading on the Salem witch trials. I hadn’t read anything about his being a witch, though.

  “I thought that you should have it,” Alyce said to Erin. “I don’t like keeping it here, but I don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, either.”

  Erin flipped through a few of the pages warily, as if the book were something dangerous, then snapped the cover closed. “It’s a rare book.” Looking up at Alyce, she added, “Thank you. A book like this can be dangerous, but it can also be useful.” Erin faced me. “The first rule of magickal defenses is ‘Know your enemy.’ ”

  The bell over the front door jingled, and Alyce went to see to the customers.

  Erin pushed herself up from the table and walked over to the curtain. Tracing her fingers around its edges, she muttered a harsh-sounding phrase. “Now no one will be able to hear us,” she explained when she saw my confused expression. “Ready?”

  I stood up and followed her to the center of the room. We faced each other for a moment. In a flash Erin caught my wrist, and I felt a crackle of electricity ripple through me. But I had been expecting this move. Quickly I threw up a block, as Hunter had taught me. Instead of building, the energy quickly dissipated through my body. Where she held my wrist, I felt the energy die in Erin’s hand
as well.

  Erin stepped back. “That was good,” she said simply. “You know the divagnth. And you’re strong.”

  Damn straight, I thought, feeling a rush of pride.

  Erin took a step away from me. I took in her small form. I stood at least a full head taller than her. I felt great— strangely strong, physically powerful, as if I’d been pumping iron or something. Weird, I thought. But very cool.

  “Things are not always as they appear,” Erin said. As I stood wondering what that meant, she suddenly seemed to grow taller. Her mouth elongated, and she smiled, revealing long sharp fangs, each as thick as my finger. I felt my pride evaporate as her shoulders broadened and her green eyes turned darker, glowing with a cruel light.

  I shrank away from her as cold panic washed over me like a slap of icy water. With horror, I understood that she was more powerful than I was and that she was evil. Why hadn’t I seen it before? She had put up a spell so that no one could hear us, and now she was going to kill me and take my magick.

  Erin—or whatever the thing before me truly was—sent out slim wisps of gray smoke. The dark vapor grew thicker and began to fill the room. I felt myself choking.

  The creature took a step toward me, and I stumbled away from it. It opened its horrible jaws. “Fight,” it said in a voice that was more animal than human. “Fight me.”

  I racked my brain for a blocking spell, but I couldn’t think clearly. My body was pulsing with adrenaline. Did Alyce know that Erin was evil? Did Hunter know? What would happen to them once I was gone and this thing had my magick? I had survived so much in the last few months. Was this really how I would be done in?

  The creature leaned toward me as the darkness closed in. I didn’t know what to do. Blindly I threw out my hands and sent a white ball of energy at the creature. It was fearsome-looking, brilliant and powerful. I had never called up something like that before, and for a moment I felt a surge of hope. But the creature merely made a flicking gesture with its left arm and easily deflected the ball across the room. It slammed against a metal shelving unit with an enormous crash. Back stock of notebooks flew off the top shelf and rained all over the floor. I could hardly see anything through the black vapor. I cowered against the wall behind me and finally sank to the floor.

  The creature reached out a claw and grabbed my shoulder. “Morgan,” said a voice through the darkness. It was a lovely, musical voice, and for a moment I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before. “Morgan,” it repeated, “are you all right?”

  I looked down at the horrifying claw on my shoulder. Slowly it began to shift and change. The thick, muddy gray skin began to lighten, and the cruel claws receded until it was nothing but a small, pale hand almost the size of a child’s. I looked up into Erin’s clear green gaze. “Are you all right?” she repeated.

  The fog around me began to lift, and I sat up. “What happened? ”

  “Take a deep breath,” Erin advised. “Now release it. Do it again,” she urged. “Focus on the breath. Now ground yourself.”

  Leaning forward, I placed my forehead against the cool tile floor. Slowly my head cleared. “You need to learn to control your emotions,” Erin said. “Pride and fear can cut you off from your power and leave you vulnerable. I’m sorry,” she added as I sat up. “You fooled me with the divagnth. I didn’t realize you weren’t ready for that lesson.”

  Standing up, Erin reached out her hand and pulled me to my feet. “You’re strong, Morgan,” she said. “That’s your weakness.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “You have strong native power,” Erin explained. “Strong abilities. You just called up white witch fire, no easy task. But you don’t have control.” She gestured toward the scorched metal shelves and the Books of Shadows that had spilled all over the floor. “That makes you dangerous.”

  “But you’re here to teach me control,” I protested.

  “Morgan,” she said with forced patience, “I understand that you’ve been in a complicated situation. I don’t know all the details, but I do know that you’ve been forced into a situation in which you’ve had to begin your education in the middle of things, instead of at the proper beginning.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked warily.

  “I’m saying that you should back up.” Erin’s voice was brittle. “Take a break from magick that is too advanced for you and focus instead on learning your plants and witch history. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but when you’re sailing in the wrong direction, sometimes it’s faster to go back than it is to keep pushing on until you’ve gone around the world.”

  “I feel like you’re punishing me,” I said bitterly.

  “It’s for your own safety.” Erin’s voice was like a door slamming shut, and I knew that there was no use arguing. “And it’s not forever, Morgan,” she added. “We’ll begin again tomorrow, at the library. At three-thirty sharp.”

  The bell over the door jingled again—the customers leaving—and Alyce poked her head through the curtain. “Is everything okay back here?” she asked. Her eyes fell on the ruined mass of notebooks. “Oh, my.”

  “We were just about to clean that up,” I said quickly. Erin and I walked over to the pile of Books of Shadows and began brushing them off and placing them back on the shelf. Thankfully, most of them were undamaged. Erin told Alyce that she would pay for the ones that were.

  “It’s my fault,” Erin told her, digging in her bag. “Besides, the cost of a few blank Books of Shadows isn’t one-tenth of the value of this book.” She jerked her head in the direction of On the Containement of Magick.

  I watched Erin hug Alyce as we said good-bye. Erin was stiff, but her affection seemed real as she tucked the silk-wrapped book under her arm. Then again, she’d seemed pretty real when she’d looked like a hideous monster only half an hour before.

  I sensed who was calling a second before the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” I called, starting up from the dining room table, where I was doing my homework. But it was already too late.

  “Hello?” my mom’s voice said from the kitchen. Dad was working late, so she and I were the only ones home. We’d finished dinner about two hours ago, and Mom had been working on her various documents in the kitchen since then.

  “Yes, this is she,” I heard her say. “Oh, hello. Yes. What? Well—no, she didn’t. I see. Mmm-hmm.” Even through the door, I could hear the edge of anger dawning in my mom’s voice.

  I stared down at the books and notebooks spread out before me and tried to focus on the analysis of vectors I was doing for physics, but it was no use.

  “Was that out of a hundred points?” I heard my mother ask, and I bit my lip.

  After a moment I heard Mom hang up, and the door between the dining room and the kitchen swung open. “Morgan, we need to talk.” Her voice was grim.

  My stomach churned. I put down my pencil. “Okay.”

  Sitting down across from me, my mom said, “I just got a phone call from your history teacher, Mr. Powell.”

  I didn’t even bother trying to act surprised. “I know,” I said.

  “He’s concerned about your grade in his class. So am I.”

  “I know,” I said again. Shifting in my seat, I added, “I’ve already talked to him about doing some extra credit—”

  Holding up her hand traffic-cop style, my mom cut me off. “Morgan, I’m not happy about the fact that you failed two tests. But I’m even more unhappy about the fact that you hid it from Dad and me. When were you going to tell us?”

  “I thought that if I brought my grade up—”

  “But what if you didn’t?” my mom interrupted. “Mr. Powell says that these two exams count for fifty percent of your final grade. Were you going to wait until you failed the class to let us know that there was a problem?” She ran her fingers through her russet hair in an I-don’t-know-what-to-do — with-you gesture.

  “With extra credit, I could still get a B in the class!”

  “
You could still get an F!” my mom snapped. “Have you even started this extra-credit work?”

  I dug through my stack of papers and pulled out the notes I’d already made for my history paper. I didn’t realize until after I’d handed them to my mom that I was making a horrible mistake.

  “This can’t be your history paper.” Mom’s voice was tense. “What is this?”

  “We’re allowed to write on any subject,” I explained weakly.

  She simply looked at me for a moment, then slapped the notes down on the table in frustration. “Why do you have to test us? You know how Dad and I feel about witchcraft nonsense!”

  “The Salem witch trials aren’t nonsense,” I pointed out, my own temper starting to flare. “They were an important historical event.”

  “That’s not the point. Morgan, your interest in Wicca has grown to the point where it’s crowding out almost everything else,” my mom said. “I don’t want you throwing your future away.”

  “I’m not!” I cried. “How can you say that?”

  “Look,” my mother went on. “I don’t want to fight about the witch stuff right now. Your grades have to improve, and I don’t see that happening. This is your final warning. If those grades don’t improve, Dad and I are going to start talking seriously about changing your environment.”

  What? This had never come up before. “What do you mean?”

  “Saint Anne’s has a few openings,” my mother said. “It’s a very good school.”

  My jaw dropped open. “It’s a Catholic school.” My voice was harsh. “You’d really send me to a Catholic school?”

  “Why not? The average class size is fourteen students, so they would be able to give you a lot of individual attention.” She reached out and touched my hair almost pleadingly. “We want to help you, Morgan.”

  I stared at her. As if yanking me away from all my friends and sticking me into a place where they still believed in corporal punishment would help! The words I’m not Catholic sprang to my lips, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. It seemed almost like a declaration of war. It wasn’t exactly true, anyway. Catholicism was the religion I was raised with, and I still felt like I was a Catholic in many ways. “Please, Mom,” I answered instead. “Don’t do that. I’ll—I’ll go to the library every day. I’ll bring my grades up, I swear.”