by Cate Tiernan
I felt a huge surge of energy inside me—it seemed to start in the ground, then it shot through me and out from my fingers and the top of my head. It was warmth and light and energy and happiness all at once: my magickal power. Then the faces were here, and the air and the earth ripped open in front of me, as if the whole world as I knew it, reality, were just a painting that someone had slashed. The gold pocket watch I had placed on the ground exploded, and the blast knocked me off my feet. I flew backward and my head cracked against a marble tombstone. Sparks exploded in my throbbing head, and I cried out. Ten feet away, I saw the dark wave suddenly rushing down into the rip, the bith dearc I had made. The ghost faces in it looked surprised, then horrified, then enraged. But they had no power over the spell I had cast. The whole wave disappeared into the rip while I stared. Then my vision went fuzzy, and everything became blessedly quiet and safe, black and still.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, trying to feel the back of my head. “Oh, God, this hurts.”
“Stay still for a moment,” said Morgan’s voice.
I blinked up at her. She was sitting next to me, and she seemed to be smashing some greenish moss together in her hands. “My head hurts,” I said, like a little kid, and then I remembered everything. “Oh, God!” I cried, trying to sit up, only to be struck down by pain. “Morgan, what happened? What happened?”
When her eyes met mine, I realized that she was no longer inside my mind, but separate and herself. In her eyes I saw so much more than I had ever seen before. It was like a wise, learned woman was inside Morgan’s body, and that woman’s eyes were telling me things I could only barely begin to understand.
“Morgan?”
“Hold on,” she said, then gently lifted my head and pressed her gunk against where it hurt.
“Ow!”
“You’ll feel better soon,” she said.
A shadow fell across me, and I looked up to see Hunter. He crouched down next to me, and Morgan nodded as if to tell him I would be all right.
“You did it,” Hunter said, his voice sounding raspy. “Alisa, you did it. You performed the spell. It worked. You saved us.”
Unexpectedly this made me start crying, which made my head hurt more. Morgan, whom I’d always thought of as a little cold, took my hand and patted it, her own eyes shining with tears.
“Morgan did it,” I said, trying to stop crying. “I almost forgot everything. She told me what to do.”
“Hunter’s father told me what to say to you,” she said. “It was him. I was just a messenger.” She looked wrung out and tired, and there were bits of dried grass and leaves in her hair.
Very slowly I sat up and found that the horrible throbbing in my head had lessened. “Where is Mr. Niall?” I asked. “I don’t feel him anymore.”
“Right there.” Hunter pointed. About fifteen feet away, Hunter’s father was kneeling on the ground. “He’s closing the bith dearc forever,” Hunter explained. “Only this one, of course. There will always be more, and other dark waves, too. But as far as we know, this is the first and only time anyone’s ever defeated one. Now we can teach others how to do it. By this time next year maybe we’ll have put a stop to Amyranth for good.”
Morgan fished in her coat and found a purple scarf, which she tied over my head. “When you get home, leave that stuff on for another two hours. Then wash your hair,” she instructed me. “Then take some Tylenol and pass out. You’ve earned it.”
I looked around. “I can’t believe it,” I said. “It worked. We’re still alive. Everyone’s still alive.” More tears coursed down my cheeks, and I rubbed them away with my sleeve.
Morgan leaned against Hunter, and he put his arm around her.
“I used my powers,” I said in wonder.
“You sure did.” A hint of a smile crossed Morgan’s face.
We looked at each other for a long moment, and I realized that Morgan and I understood each other. We had bonded. We were witches.
15. Morgan
“The Nal Nithrac spell is lengthy and difficult, but not impossible for one witch to perform. While the basic spell can be utilized against any dark wave, care must be taken to make it accurate as to the place, time, and people involved. As was shown in Widow’s Vale, it is of great value to have some item that carries the vibrations of the wave creator, but it is not always necessary.”
— Daniel Niall of Turloch-eigh
“I can’t believe it’s over,” said Hunter.
I nodded, smiling weakly. “I just want life to get back to normal—whatever normal is,” I said. I stretched my feet toward the fire in Hunter’s living room. It had taken us a while to make it back to our cars and figure out if we could drive or not, but now we were resting and drinking hot mulled cider.
“All of you performed magnificently,” said Hunter’s father.
“We made a great team,” said Hunter. Alisa looked pleased. Which reminded me. I got up and checked the back of her head. She’d stopped bleeding an hour ago, and she said it didn’t hurt that much anymore. I had given her some arnica montana to take every six hours for two days, and I knew she’d heal pretty quickly.
“I can’t wait for other witches to hear about this,” I said. “For so long no one’s had any defense against a dark wave. Now they do. It’s like you discovered penicillin, Mr. Niall.”
“Please call me Daniel,” he said, “or Maghach.”
Thank the Goddess, I thought. He was finally accepting me. Besides, my tongue kept tripping over “Mr. Niall,” and we’d already been through a tàth meànma together.
“I’m hopeful that the spell will work in other places, when needed,” Daniel said. “As long as the specifications and limitations are adjusted accordingly. But yes, this is wonderful news for the whole witch community.”
“I still can’t believe what it felt like, when I felt the power flow through me,” Alisa said. “It was... really...”
“Indescribable,” I said, and she nodded.
“In a good way,” she added.
“Good,” said Hunter. “Now we have to start teaching you things. But first, I’m starved—I haven’t eaten in a week, it seems like.”
“I’m hungry, too,” said Daniel.
“Pizza would be good,” Alisa suggested.
“Yeah, we could—” I stopped and gasped, then looked at the mantel clock. “Oh, no, I am way late!” I said, scrambling to my feet. I still felt like I was recovering from the flu, but I knew I was getting better, and that made it okay. “Mom is going to kill me—this is the second time this week.”
When I looked up, three pairs of eyes were watching me with amusement. “What?” I said.
“You just saved all of Kithic,” Alisa said, snickering.
“And you’re worried about being late for dinner,” said Hunter.
“Do you want me to call your parents?” Daniel offered. “I could explain why you were unavoidably delayed.”
We all broke into laughter, and I shook my head.
“I really should get home,” I said. “But I’ll see you guys soon.”
I got into my coat, and Hunter walked me out to the front porch.
“Can you make it home okay?” he asked, putting his arms around me, holding me tight.
“Yeah.” I snuggled closer. “We really stopped it. We stopped the dark wave.”
“Yes, we did.” His hand stroked my hair, which I knew still had grass in it.
I looked up at him. “Now we have to look toward the future. Like figuring out what you want to do if you leave the council. And if we’re ever going to have time alone together,” I said meaningfully, and he grinned.
“Yes, we must talk about that soon.”
We kissed good-bye, and I walked out to Das Boot. The dark wave was no more. Ciaran was no longer a threat to me or anyone else, and someday I hoped to come to terms with how that had happened. Hunter and I were thinking about our future—together.
When I pulled into my driveway and walked slowly up the path, I f
elt unnaturally light and free. The humidity and weight were gone from the air. I almost felt like skipping.
Then my gaze fell to the ground beneath me. I knelt down to get a closer look, and when I saw them, I let out a gleeful little laugh.
My mother’s crocuses, bright purple and yellow, had miraculously sprung back to life.
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