by Cate Tiernan
Bree's face floated suddenly into my mind. I seized on it. Bree, Bree, I thought, closing my eyes and concentrating. Bree, I need your help. Cal has me. He's taking me to Selene. Please come help me. Get Hunter, get Sky. I'm in my car. Cal is desperate. He's going to take me to Selene. Bree? Robbie? Hunter, please help, Hunter, Sky, anyone, can you hear me?
Working this hard mentally was exhausting, and my breath was coming in shallow pants.
"You don't understand," Cal went on. "Do you have any idea what they'd do to me if I showed up without you?" He gave a short barking laugh. "Goddess, what Hunter did to me that night was child's play compared to what they would do." He looked at me then, his eyes glittering eerily. He looked belovedly familiar and yet horribly different. "You don't want them to hurt me, do you? You don't know what they could do to me…."
I closed my eyes again, trying to shut him out. Cal had always been so in control. To see him this way was sickening, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I swallowed and tried to go deep inside myself, deep to where the power was. Bree, please, I'm sorry, I thought. Help. Help me. Save me. Selene is going to kill me.
"Stop that!" Cal suddenly shouted, leaning over and shaking my shoulder hard.
I gasped, opening my eyes. He glared at me in fury. "Stop that! You don't contact anyone! Anyone! Do you hear me?" His angry voice swelled in the car's interior, filling my ears and making my head hurt. One hand shook me until my teeth rattled, and I clenched my jaws together. I felt the car making big swerves on the road and prayed to the Goddess to protect me.
"Don't you wreck this car," I said, unclenching my lips enough to speak.
Abruptly he let go of me, and I saw the glare of headlights coming at us and then the long, low blare of a truck horn blowing. It swept past us as I drew in a frightened breath.
"Shit!" Cal said, jerking the steering wheel to the right. Another horn blared as a black car screeched to a halt just before ramming my side. I started to shake, slumped against my door, so afraid, I could hardly think.
You, afraid? part of me scoffed. You're the Woodbane princess of Belwicket. You could crush Cal with the power in your little finger. You have the Riordan strength, the Belwicket history. Now, save yourself. Do it!
Okay, I could do this, I told myself. I was a kick-ass power conduit. Letting my eyes float closed again, trying not to think about the chaos raging around me, I let the music come to me, the timeless music that magick sent. An di allaigh an di algh, I thought hearing the tune come to me as if borne on a breeze across clover-covered hills.
An di allaigh an di ne ullah. Was that my voice, singing in a pure ribbon of glorious sound that only I could hear? My fingers tingled, as if coming awake. An di ullah be nith rah. I drew in a deep, shuddering breath, feeling my muscles twitch, my toes curl. I am breaking this binding spell, I thought. I am smashing it. I am tearing it like wet tissue. Cair di na ulla nith rah, Cair feal ti theo nith rah, An di allaigh an di aigh.
I was myself. I had done it. I stayed exactly where I was, opening my eyes and gazing around. With a flare of alarm I recognized the tall hedges that surrounded Cal's property. He swung Das Boot into a side road, skidding a bit, and we began to crunch on icy gravel.
Bree, Sky, Hunter, Robbie, anyone, I thought, feeling my radiating power. Alyce, David, any witch, can you hear me?
The side road to Cal's driveway was long, with tall, overhanging trees. It was pitch-black except where moonlight glistened off snow. The dashboard clock said six-thirty. My family was sitting down to eat. At the thought I felt a surge of anger so strong it was hard for me to hide it I couldn't accept the possibility that I might never see them again, Mom, Dad, Mary K., Dagda. I would escape. I would get out of this. I was very powerful.
"Cal, you're right," I said, making my voice sound weak. I couldn't even feel the effects of the binding spell anymore, and a surge of hope flamed in my chest. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't realize how important this was to you. Of course I'll go talk to your mom."
He turned the wheel and paused, reaching out his left hand and pointing it ahead of him. I heard the metallic rumbling of heavy gates, heard them swing on hinges and clunk open with a bang.
Then, as if he had finally heard me, Cal looked over. "What?" He stepped on the gas, and we rolled through the gate. Ahead of me was a dark roofline, and I realized we were in the backyard, and the building in front of me was the little pool house. Where Cal had his seomar.
"I said, I'm sorry," I repeated. "You're right. You're my muirn beatha dan, and I should trust you. I do trust you. I just—felt unsure. Everyone keeps telling me something different, and I got confused. I'm sorry."
Das Boot rolled slowly to a halt, ten feet from the pool house. It was dark, with the car's one headlight shining sadly on the dead brown ivy covering the building.
Cal turned off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition. He kept his eyes on me, where I leaned awkwardly against the door. It was all I could do to keep my hand from grasping the door handle, popping the door, and running with all my might. What spell could I put on Cal to slow him down? I didn't know any. Suddenly I remembered how his pentacle had burned at my throat when I used Maeve's tools. I'd felt better without it on. Was it spelled? Had I been wearing a spell charm all this time? I wouldn't doubt it at this point.
With agonizingly slow movement, I slipped my right hand down into my pocket and pulled out Cal's pentacle. He hadn't noticed I wasn't wearing it yet and I let it slip from my fingers to the floor of the car. As soon as it left my hand, my head felt clearer, sharper, and I had more energy. Oh, Goddess, I was right. The pentacle had been spelled all this time.
"What are you saying?" Cal said, and I blinked.
"I'm sorry," I repeated, making my voice a little stronger. "This is all new to me. It's all confusing. But I've been thinking about what you said, and you're right. I should trust you."
His eyes narrowed, and he took hold of my hand. "Come on," he said, opening his door. His grip on my hand was crushing, and I dismissed the possibility that I could slip out suddenly and run. Instead he pulled me out the driver's side door and helped me stand. I pretended to be weaker than I was and leaned against him.
"Oh, Cal," I breathed. "How did we get into such a fight? I don't want to fight with you." I made my voice soft and sweet, the way Bree did when she talked to guys, and I leaned against Cal's chest. Seeing the mixture of hope and suspicion cross his face was painful. Suddenly I pushed hard against him, shoving with every bit of strength in my arms, and he staggered backward. I raised my right hand and shot a spitting, crackling bolt of blue witch fire at him, and this time I didn't hold anything back. It blasted Cal right in the chest and he cried out and sank to his knees. I was already running, my boots pounding heavily toward the metal gates that were swinging closed.
The next thing I knew my knees had crumpled and I was falling in slow motion to land heavily, facefirst, on the icy gravel. The breath left my lungs in a painful whoosh, and then Cal stood over me, cradling one arm against his chest, his face a mask of rage.
I tried to roll quickly to shoot witch fire again, the only defensive weapon I knew, but he put his boot on my side and pressed down, pinning me to the cold ground. Then he grabbed one of my arms, hauled me to my feet, and squeezed the back of my neck, muttering another spell. I screamed. "Help! Help! Someone help me!" but of course no one came. Then I sagged, a deadweight.
"An di allaigh," I began in a choking voice as Cal hauled me toward the pool house. I knew where we were going, and I absolutely did not want to go there.
"Shut up!" Cal said, shaking me, and he pushed open the changing-room door. Bizarrely, he added, "I know you're upset, but it will all be okay. Everything will be all right soon."
Reaching out, I grasped the door frame, but my limp fingers brushed it harmlessly. I tried to drag my feet, to be an awkward burden, but Cal was furious and afraid, and this fed his strength. Inside we lurched through the powder room, and Cal let me slump to the fl
oor while he unlocked the closet door. I was trying to crawl away when he opened the door to his seomar, and I felt the darkness come out of it toward me, like a shadow eager to embrace.
Goddess, I thought desperately. Goddess, help me.
Then Cal was dragging me by my feet into his room.
With my magesight I saw that it had been cleared of everything, everything I could have used for a weapon, everything I could have used to make magick. It was bare, no furniture, no candles, only thousands and thousands of dark spells written on the walls, the ceiling, the floor. He'd prepared my prison in advance. He'd known this would happen. I wanted to gag.
Panting, Cal dropped my feet. He hovered over me, then narrowed his eyes and grabbed at the neck of my shirt. I tried to pull away, but it was too late.
"You took off my charm," he said, sounding amazed. "You don't love me at all."
"You don't know what love is," I croaked, feeling ill. I raised my hands over my eyes and clumsily brushed my hair out of the way.
For a moment I thought he was going to kick me, but he didn't, just looked down at me with the devastating face that I had adored.
"You should have trusted me," he said, sweat running down his face, his breathing harsh.
"You shouldn't have lied to me," I countered angrily, trying to sit up.
"Tell me where the tools are," he demanded. "The Belwicket tools."
"Screw you!"
"You tell me! You should never have bound them to you! How arrogant! Now we'll have to rip them away from you, and that will hurt. But first you tell me where they are—I didn't feel them in the car."
I stared at him stonily, trying to rise to my feet.
"Tell me!" he shouted, looming over me.
"Bite me," I offered.
Cal's golden eyes gleamed with hurt and fury, and he shot out his hand at me. A cloudy ball of darkness shot right at me, hitting my head, and I crashed headlong to the floor, sinking into a nightmarish unconsciousness, remembering only his eyes.
CHAPTER 18
Trapped
June 2001
Litha again. It's not fully ten years since my parents disappeared. When they left, I was a boy, concerned only with building a working catapult and playing Behind Enemy Lines with Linden and my friends.
At the time we were living in the Lake District, across Solway Firth from the Isle of Man. For weeks before they left, they were in bad moods, barking at us children and then apologizing, not having the time to help us with our schoolwork. Even Alwyn started coming to me or Linden to help her dress or do her hair. I remembered Mum complaining that she felt tired and ill all the time, and none of her usual potions seemed to help. And Dad said his scrying stone had stopped working.
Yes, something was definitely oppressing them. But I'm sure they didn't know what was really coming. If they had, maybe things would have turned out differently.
Or maybe not. Maybe there is no way to fight an evil like that.
— Giomanach
When I awoke, I had no idea how much time had passed. My head ached, my face burned and felt scraped from the gravel, and my knees ached from when I had fallen on them. But at least I could move my limbs. Whatever spell Cal had used on me, it wasn't a binding one.
Cautiously, silently, I rolled over, scanning the seomar. I was alone. I cast out my senses and felt no one else near. What time was it? The tiny window set high on one wall showed no stars, no moon. I crawled up on my hands and knees, then unfolded myself and stood slowly, feeling a wave of nausea and pain roll over me.
Crap. As soon as I stood, I felt the weight of the spelled walls and ceilings pressing in on me. Every square inch of this tiny room had runes and ancient symbols on it, and without understanding them, I knew that Cal had worked dark magick here, had called on dark powers, and had been lying to me ever since the day I met him. I felt incredibly naive.
I had to get out. What if Cal had left only a minute ago? What if even now he was bringing Selene and the others back to me? Goddess. This room was full of negative energy, negative emotions, dark magick. I saw stains on the floor that had been hidden by the futon the first time I was here. I knelt and touched them, wondering if they were blood. What had Cal done here? I felt sick.
Cal had gone to get Selene, and they were going to put spells on me or hurt me or even kill me to get me to tell them where Maeve's tools were. To get me to join their side, their all-Woodbane clan.
No one knew where I was. I had told Mom I was going for a drive more than six hours ago. No one had seen me meet Cal at the cemetery. I could die here.
The thought galvanized me into action. I got to my feet again, looking up at the window, gauging its height. My best jump was still two feet short of the window ledge. I pulled off my jacket, balled it up, and flung it hard at the window. It bounced off and clumped to the floor.
"Goddess, Goddess," I muttered, crossing to the door. Its edge was almost invisible, a barely seen crack that was impossible to dig my nails into. In the car I had my Swiss Army knife—patting my pockets quickly yielded me nothing. Still I tried, wedging my short nails into its slit and pulling until my nails split and my fingers bled.
Where was Cal? What was taking so long? How long had it been?
Panting, I backed up across the room, then launched myself shoulder first at the small door. The impact made me cry out, and then I slid down to the floor, clutching my shoulder. The door hadn't even shuddered under the blow.
I thought of how my parents had been so devastated when I took up Wicca, how afraid they had been for me after what happened to my birth mother. I saw now that they'd had good cause to worry.
An unwanted sob choked my throat, and I sank to my knees on the wooden floor. The back of my head ached sickeningly. How could I have been so stupid, so blind? Tears edged from my eyes and coursed down my bruised and dirty cheeks. Sobs struggled to break free from my chest
I sat cross-legged on the floor. Slowly, knowing it was pointless, I drew a small circle around myself, using my index finger, wetting the floor with my tears and my blood. Shakily I traced symbols of protection around me: pentacles, the intersected circles of protection, squares within squares for orderliness, the angular runic p for comfort I drew the two-horned circle symbol of the Goddess and the circle/half circle of the God. I did all these things with only the barest amount of thought did them by rote, over and over, all around me on the floor, all around me in the air.
Within moments my breathing calmed, my tears ceased, my pain eased. I could see more clearly, I could think more clearly, I was more in control.
Evil pressed in around me. But I was not evil. I needed to save myself. I was the Woodbane princess of Belwicket. I had power beyond imagining.
Closing my eyes, I forced my breathing to calm further, my heartbeat to slow. Words came to my lips.
"Magick, I am your daughter"
"I am following your path in truth and righteousness.
Protect me from evil. Help me be strong.
Moave, my mother before me, help me be strong.
Mackenna, my grandmother, help me be strong.
Morwen, who came before her, help me be strong.
Let me open the door. Open the door. Open the door."
I opened my eyes then and gazed before me at the spelled and locked door. I looked at it calmly, imagining it opening before me, seeing myself pass through it to the outside, seeing myself safe and gone from there.
Creak. I blinked at the sound but didn't break my concentration. I was unsure whether I had imagined it, but I kept thinking, Open, open, open, and in the darkness I saw the minuscule crack widen, just a hair.
Elation, as strong as my earlier despair had been, lifted my heart. It was working! I could do this! I could open the door!
Open, open, open, I thought steadily, my focus pure, my intent solid.
I smelled smoke. That fact registered only slightly in my brain as I kept concentrating on opening the door. But I realized that my nose was ge
tting irritated, and I kept blinking. I came out of my trance and saw that the seomar was becoming hazy, and the scent of fire was strong.
I stood up within my circle, my heart kicking up a beat. Now I could hear the joyful crackling of flames outside, smell the acrid odor of burning ivy, and see the faint, amber light of fire reflected in the high window.
They were burning me alive. Just like my mother. As my concentration broke, the door clicked shut again. Panic threatened to drown me. "Help!" I screamed as loud as I could, aiming my voice at the window "Help! Help! Someone help me!"
From outside, I heard Selene's voice. "Cal! What are you doing?"
"Solving the problem," was his grim response.
"Don't be stupid," Selene snapped. "Get away from there. Where are the tools?"
I thought fast. "Let me out and I'll tell you, I promise!" I shouted.
"She's lying," said another voice. "We don't need her, anyway. This isn't safe—we have to get out of here."
"Cal!" I screamed. "Cal! Help me!"
There was no answer, but I heard muffled voices arguing outside. I strained to hear.
"You promised she would join us," someone said.
"She's just an uneducated girl. What we really need is the tools," said someone else.
"I'll tell you!" I shouted. "They're in the woods! Let me out and I'll take you there!"
"I'm telling you, we have to leave," someone said urgently.
"Cal, stop it!" said Selene, and suddenly the sound of flames was louder, closer.
"Let me out!" I screamed.
"Goddess, what is he doing? Selene!"
"Get back or I'll torch the whole place with all of us in it," said Cal, sounding steely. "I won't let you have her."
"The Seeker will be here any minute," said a man. "There's no way he won't come for this. Selene, your son—"