by Cate Tiernan
They turned into a narrow side street called Printer's Alley. Only a bare strip of sunlight lit the very center of the slanted cobbled road. Buildings on either side rose three stories in the air, their gray stucco chipped in places and exposing stones and bricks. A few tiny shops, barely more than closets with open doors, dotted the street like colorful flowers growing out of concrete.
"It was just really brilliant," Moira said. "He's so great- so funny. We looked around the cafe and made up life stories about everyone who sat there. I thought I was going to fall out of my chair." She didn't mention the magick they had done. It seemed private, a secret between her and Ian.
Vita laughed. "Sounds like a good time was had by all. Do you think he could be your-" She paused, exchanging a glance with Tess. "Your muirn beatha dan?"
Moira's cheeks flushed. The truth was, she'd been wondering the same thing for a while now and especially after yesterday. Ever since she'd first learned what a muirn beatha dan was, she'd been dreaming of what it would feel like to meet hers. A true soul mate-it was just incredible. And what if Ian really was her MBD? It would be so amazing if she'd already found him. "I don't know," she admitted. "But… maybe."
"So did you talk about your covens at all?" Tess asked. "What's his take on Belwicket?"
"We only talked about it a little bit," said Moira. "Like about being initiated. And how he was a high priestess's son, and what that meant, and how my mum would probably be high priestess someday. It's something we have in common, trying to live up to powerful parents."
"I don't know, Moira," said Vita. "Your powers are wicked. The ladybug thing…"
Moira laughed, enjoying the remembered triumph. "Anyway," she said, "enough about me. Are you going to circle tonight, then?"
"Sure," said Vita. They were almost at the home of their spellcraft teacher, and unconsciously the three girls slowed down, reluctant to spend a rare sunny day inside studying.
Tess heaved a long-suffering breath. "Yeah, kicking and screaming," she said. "It's bad enough I have to spend part of my Saturday day at initiation class when I don't care about being initiated, but to give up Saturday night, too… It's just brutal."
"You still don't want to get initiated?" Vita asked her, brushing her feathery blond hair out of her face. "Ten years from now you'll be the only adult who still can't work the harder spells."
"I don't care." Tess scuffed her black suede boots against the uneven cobbles of the street. "It just isn't for me. It's so old-fashioned. The other day I had a splitting headache, and Mum was like, let me brew some herbs. I just wanted to go to the chemist's and get some proper drugs." She frowned and played with the magenta tips of her dark hair.
Moira gave her a sympathetic look, then realized they were at their teacher's stoop, a single concrete block in front of a red-painted door.
Tess sighed in resignation, and then the door opened and Keady Dove smiled out at them. "Hello, ladies," she said. "Come in. What a beautiful day, nae? I won't keep you too long."
Inside the small house the three girls went automatically to the back room that overlooked the garden. The sun overhead shone on the neat rows of herbs and flowers; there was a tiny patch for vegetables in the southern corner. Everything was tidy, the roses deadheaded, the cosmos tied up, the parsley trimmed. Moira thought it looked soothing and restful, like a good witch's garden should. She saw Tess looking at it also, an expression of disinterest on her face. Moira was torn-she admired Tess's outspokenness and could sympathize with her not wanting automatically to continue on a path she herself hadn't chosen. Still, to Moira, Wicca seemed as natural and omnipresent as the sea.
"Right," said Keady, rolling up her sleeves. She sat down at the tall table, and the three girls sat on the tall stools across from her. "Let me see what you've done since Monday. You were supposed to craft one spell using a phase of the moon and one that would affect some kind of insect."
Moira handed hers over. She'd gone ahead and written up the ladybug spell, planning to emphasize its excellent spell- craft and skim over the fact that it was frivolous and purposeless. She waited silently while Keady looked at it, keeping her face expressionless when her teacher frowned slightly and looked at her. Keady closed Moira's book and slid it back across the table.
"I remember how proud your dad was when you took first place in junior spellcraft," Keady said, her casual mention of Colm making Moira press her lips together. "Your dad didn't make spells often, but when he did, they were lovely, clean, well-crafted. As yours are. However, his had more use and were less self-centered. Have you looked at his old Books of Shadows?"
Moira nodded, embarrassed. "A bit. He didn't do many spells."
"No," Keady agreed. "How about your mother, then? She's been crafting rites and spells along with your gran for years. Have you looked at her books?"
"A few. Some of the recent ones."
"It would also be interesting to look at the ones she started keeping right at the beginning, even before she was initiated." Keady looked at her pupils. "That's how we learn, from the past, from the witches who went before us. The books of our families are always particularly helpful because different forms and patterns of spells often run in families and clans. Sometimes that's due to tradition, sometimes to little quirks in our heritage that make one type of spell more effective for us. My mum always crafted terrific spells with gems, rocks, and crystals." Keady grinned, her smooth tan face creasing with humor. "However, we ran like hell when she tried to get us to sample her herbal concoctions."
Moira and Vita laughed, and even Tess cracked a smile.
The class turned to business as their teacher critiqued their homework in more detail and assigned them work for next Wednesday. Then she led them to her circle room for practice.
Quickly and accurately, Keady drew an open circle on the smooth wooden floor. Its once-dark boards were irrevocably stained white from years of making chalk circles. Keady actually made her own chalk sticks, and they were part of her rituals. There were natural chalk pits not far from Cobh, and for a fee one could go and hack bits out of a wall. Keady did this, then carefully carved the hard white chalk into shapes, wands, figures of people or animals, short staffs topped with runes or sigils. She kept Margath's Faire stocked with special chalks and made some extra money this way.
"Everyone in," she directed. The three girls walked through the opening of the circle and sat down, one at each of the corners of the compass, with Keady to the east. "We're going to practice transferring energy," Keady said. "Each of us will meditate alone for five minutes, drawing energy to us, using the spell I taught you. At the end of five minutes, after you've opened yourself to receive energy from the universe, we'll join hands. Going deasil, we'll pass energy to each other through our hands. If we do it right," she said with a grin,"you should be able to feel something."
What a waste of time.
Moira jerked her head toward Tess, shocked that her friend would actually say this out loud, in front of their teacher. Tess sat cross-legged, her eyes closed, her hands in a loose, upward pinch on her knees. Her face was blank. Quickly Moira looked at Keady, then at Vita, and weirdly, neither of them seemed to have had any reaction. Oh, wow, I picked up on it Cool. Witches of a certain power could send or receive witch messages-Moira, Tess, and Vita had been practicing for the past year, with varying degrees of success. Moira and her mum could definitely send messages to each other. But to pick up on someone's strong thoughts without their meaning to send them was something else. Moira smiled to herself, pleased at this demonstration that her own powers were slowly increasing.
Moira closed her eyes and straightened her spine, resting her hands lightly on her knees as the others were doing. Right Concentrate. Her trousers were itching her, right in back where the tag was. She wondered if she looked like a scarecrow in them. Vita had soft, feminine curves, with actual hips and boobs. When a dip at school had tried to tell her she was fat, Vita had just laughed. "I think I look good," she had said. "A
nd so does your boyfriend." Moira smiled at the memory. Vita was really comfortable with herself, her body. Unlike Moira, who was so tall and thin. Not slender, not petite, not in shape, just thin. Mum kept telling her she would fill out, but-
Moira's all over the place.
Moira's eyes snapped open at Keady's voice, ready to deny it. But again, everyone's eyes were closed, and her teacher gave no indication that she had spoken. Moira felt a jolt of excitement. Wow-this was amazing. She was definitely getting stronger. Now concentrate, concentrate. Focus. Breathe.
For as far back as Moira could remember, her mother had said those words. In the small room tacked onto the living room, where the family worked their magick, Moira had witnessed her parents, and especially her mother, meditating, focusing, breathing. She had allowed Moira to join her when Moira was three. Moira thought sadly on those days, when she had felt so close to her mum. She'd always felt really close to her until just last year, when suddenly Dad had seemed more understanding. It was when she had begun to prepare for her initiation, she realized. The whole thing seemed to make Mum tense, anxious that Moira do well.
Breathe. Focus. Quit thinking. Moira imagined a candle in front of her, a white pillar on the floor, glowing with a single flame. She focused on its flickering, on the ebb and flow of the flame growing and dying, one second at a time. In a few moments she became the flame, inhaling its heat and light and releasing its energy with her breath. I am the flame. I am burning. I am white-hot I am made of fire.
"Right," said Keady's quiet voice, floating gently through the air. "Slowly, slowly, open your eyes, as if they were fine linen being lifted by a breeze."
Moira opened her eyes, and it seemed that the room had changed somehow. Maybe the sun had shifted. Something felt different. Looked different. Moira blinked. Things looked a little hazy. No, wait-it was just around their heads. There was a bright glow around Tess's, Vita's, and Keady's heads.
"Now," Keady said, "let's hold out our hands. When I tell you to, join hands. One person will send, one will receive. Repeat after me: A force of life I draw to me. It fills me with its light I use this light to help me see. And in my spells I use its might."
Moira repeated the words, and they seemed to sink deep within her, as if they were smooth stones dropping gently through water to land silently on a bed of silt. "Tess, receive my energy," said Keady, holding out her hand. Tess reached out and clasped her hand, then gave a small but visible jump. Her eyes opened a bit wider, and she lost her bored demeanor for a second.
"Now, Tess, give your energy to me and to Vita."
Tess clasped hands with both Vita and Keady, and though Vita seemed expectant, her expression didn't change. "I don't feel much of anything," she whispered.
"That's all right," Keady said. "Now, Vita, give your energy to Moira and Tess."
Moira held out her hand and took hold of Vita's smooth, soft palm. Vita's hand was smaller than hers and much less muscular. Moira let her eyes close halfway and focused on what she was receiving from Vita. Was that a faint tingling sensation? Yes, she thought it was. So Vita was actually sending her energy? Cool. She opened her eyes and nodded at Vita, who grinned and looked pleased.
"Good, Vita," Keady said encouragingly. "I can see your extra practicing has paid off. Right, then, now Moira. Give your energy to me and Vita."
Moira closed her eyes. Focus. Breathe. Silently she repeated the words: A force of life I draw to me. It fills me with its light I use this light to help me see. And in my spells I use its might.
She breathed in, and with that breath she seemed to draw the whole room in with her. Holding her breath, she felt energy rise within her-something she'd never felt so strongly before. It was a bit scary, actually, but Keady was here and would keep her safe. Power and energy and magick and joy seemed about to explode inside her. Slowly she held out her hands, unsure if she was doing anything correctly or if she had gotten it all wrong. Energy, I send you out. Moira imagined herself as a glowing flame, pouring energy out through her hands like sunbeams.
Keady took her hand first, and Moira felt an electrifying contact, like pure heat was pouring through her hand. Suddenly Moira knew a kind of exhilaration she'd never imagined existed. In the next second Vita took her other hand, and Moira felt it all again, but only for a second. Vita gasped and dropped her hand quickly, and Moira's eyes snapped open.
Vita looked startled and a little afraid. She stared first at Moira and then at her own hand. Moira quickly glanced at Keady and saw that the older woman was gripping her hand firmly, easily taking the sent energy and measuring it. As soon as Moira's concentration broke, everything shut down, and within a minute she felt almost totally normal. Almost.
Self-conscious, and a mite dizzy, Moira drew her hands back and folded them in her lap.
"What did you do?" asked Vita.
"What happened?" Tess asked, having seen nothing except Vita dropping Moira's hand.
"Very good, Moira," said Keady quietly, looking at Moira's face. "Have you been practicing?"
"A little. Not a whole lot," Moira admitted. "But I remembered seeing my mum call energy. She talked about how it can increase the power of spells and so on." Moira shrugged and began to trace a random pattern on her knee.
"I see," said Keady. She got to her feet and opened the circle, murmuring words to dispel magick and restore calm to the room's own energy. "I think that's enough for today. You have your assignments for next Wednesday. Go home and work on your spells and your Books of Shadows, and I'll see you at the circle tonight." Moira started to pull on her jacket, but Keady put out a hand to detain her. Tess and Vita left without her, looking back with raised brows. Moira shrugged a silent "I don't know" and pantomimed calling them later.
Keady put the kettle on for tea, glancing thoughtfully at Moira.
"That was both unexpected and expected," she said, putting out their cups. "It was unexpected because I haven't seen that level of power from you before, and we've been working together for eight months now. It was also expected because you're Morgan Byrne's daughter. I couldn't help wondering if you had inherited her power."
Moira looked into Keady's clear eyes, the color of fog. "I feel like my powers are growing, getting stronger," she said. "But I don't know if it's like my mum's power-I don't even know what her power's like. I mean, I know she's a strong healer. People call her from all over the world for help. The spells she works look effortless, smooth and perfect. And I know everyone speaks of her power and her magick. But I don't think I've seen her work too much really big magick."
For a minute her teacher was quiet. She swirled the loose tea leaves in the steamy water. The sweet smell of tea filled Moira's nose, and she inhaled.
"If you have the power of a huge, rushing river, sometimes it's most effective to harness it and dole it out, as with a dam," her teacher said finally. "Sometimes if you let the river run free, it can destroy more than it can build."
Moira looked at her. It seemed a quality of witches to never answer questions directly. "It's just strange-I know she's powerful, she's Morgan of Belwicket. But that kind of big 'rushing river' stuff doesn't come up in the day-to-day." She laughed a little, and Keady smiled. "How much do you know about your mum's life before she came here and helped revive Belwicket?"
Moira frowned. "Well, she's American. She was adopted. She found out she was a blood witch when she was sixteen. After high school she went to Scotland for a summer to study with the Gray Witches. When Gran found out Maeve Riordan's daughter was alive, she tracked Mum down and asked her to move here and help re-form the original Belwicket. Then Mum married Dad, and I was born. Now she's become an important healer, and she travels a lot." Moira let out a breath, releasing the tension she felt about how much her mum worked. "Now Mum's getting ready to become high priestess of Belwicket."
"It isn't my place to tell you any more about your own mother," said Keady. "But I can tell you that the fact that you've not witnessed anything that would strike fea
r into your soul is a good thing." She smiled dryly when Moira frowned. "The true strength of a witch can be measured by how much she or he does not resort to big magick, how much they can give themselves over to study, reflection, peace. The fact that someone can work big magick is an accomplishment. The fact that someone can work big magick but chooses not to unless strictly necessary is a greater accomplishment. Do you see?"
This was a picture of her mother that Moira was having trouble imagining. "Are you saying that Mum could strike fear into someone's soul?" she asked.
"I'm saying that yes, your mother is a witch of unusual, and even fearsome, powers," Keady said solemnly. The words gave Moira a slight chill. "There have been very few witches within recorded history who could equal Morgan," her teacher went on. "A power that great is a beautiful and also a frightening thing. And Moira? There are very few happy uses for a power such as that, do you understand? It isn't your mother's place to bring springtime or end war, or make everyone fall in love, or keep a whole village healthy. And your mother would never use her magick for dark purposes, we know. Can you think of a purpose that is left, that is both true and on the side of right, yet would allow the expression of an almost inconceivably great power?"
Moira frowned at Keady, realizing what she was getting at.
"It would be for defense," Keady said, her voice very quiet and deliberate. "To fight evil. It would be used in a battle of good against evil on a scale that's difficult for you to comprehend. And it's difficult for you to comprehend because… your mother, and your father, too, worked very hard their whole lives to make sure that you, their daughter, lived in a world where the most appropriate expression of power… is to heal people."
Moira felt as if she had stepped out of her normal Saturday spellcraft lesson and into a comic book about superheroes.
"To be fifteen years old, the daughter of Morgan Byrne, and to have no idea of such matters-it's a blessing, a gift. One that you will be thankful for, again and again, in the future." Keady looked at Moira steadily, then seemed to think she had said enough.