by Cate Tiernan
other.
"Let's make a circle," said Cal.
13. Starlight
March 17, 1982
St. Paddy's Day in New York City. Below, the city is
celebrating a holiday they imported from my home, but I
cannot join in. Angus is out looking for work. I sit here by the
window, crying, though the Goddess knows I have no more
tears left.
Everything I knew and loved is gone. My village is burned
to the ground. My ma and da are dead, though it's still hard for
me to believe it. My little cat Dagda. My friends. Belwicket has
been wiped out, our cauldrons broken, out brooms burned, out
herbs turned to smoke above our heads.
How did this happen? Why didn't I fall victim as so many
others did? Why did Angus and I alone survive?
I hate New York, hate everything about it. The noise
blunts my ears. I can't smell any living thing. I can't smell the
sea or hear it in the background like a lullaby. There are people
everywhere, packed in tight, like sardines. The city is filthy;
the people are rude and common. I ache foe my home.
There is no magick in this place.
And yet if there is no magick, surly there is no true evil,
either? --M.R.
We purified our circle with salt and then invoked earth,
air, water, and fire with a bowl of salt, a stick of incense, a
bowl of water, and a candle. Cal showed us the rune symbols
for these elements, and we worked to memorize them.
"Let's try to raise some energy and focus it," said Cal.
"We'll try to focus it in ourselves, and we'll limit its effects to a
good night's sleep and general well-being. And does anyone
have any particular problem they'd like help with?”He met my
eyes, and I could tell we were both thinking of my parents. But
Cal left it up to me to ask for help in front of everyone, and I
said nothing.
"Like, help my stepsister quit being such a pain?" Sharon
asked. I hadn't known she had a stepsister. I was between
Jenna and Sharon, and their hands felt small and smooth in
mine.
Cal laughed. "You can't ask to change others. But you could ask
to make it easier for you to get along with her."
"My asthma's been acting up since it got colder," Jenna
said. I remembered her coughing but hadn't known she had
asthma. People like Jenna, Sharon, Bree—they ruled our school.
I had never really considered that they might have problems
and difficulties. Not until Wicca came into all our lives.
“Okay, Jenna's asthma,”agreed Cal. “Anything else?”
None of us said anything.
Cal lowered his head and closed his eyes, and we did the
same. The room was filled with our deep, even breathing, and
little by little, as the minutes passed. I felt our breathing tune
in to each other, becoming aligned so that we inhaled and
exhaled together.
Then Cal's voice, rich and slightly rough, said:
"Blessed be the animals, the plants, and alt living things.
Blessed be the earth, the sky, the clouds, the rain.
Blessed be all people,
those within Wicca and those without.
Blessed be the Goddess and the God,
and all the spirits who help us.
Blessed be. We raise our hearts,
our voices, our spirits to the Goddess and the God."
As we began to move deasil, the words rose and fell in a
pattern so that it became a song. We half skipped, half danced
in our circle, and the chant became a joyous cry that filled the
room, filled all the air around us. I was laughing, breathless,
feeling happy and weightless and safe in this circle. Ethan was
smiling but intent his face flushed and his corkscrew curls
bouncing around his head. Sharon's silky black hair was flying,
and she looked pretty and carefree. Jenna looked like a blond
fairy queen, and Matt was dark and purposeful. Robbie moved
with new grace and coordination as we spun foster and faster.
The only thing I missed was Bree's face in the circle.
I felt the energy rise. It coiled around us, building and
thickening and swirling in our circle. The living-room floor was
warm and smooth beneath my socked feet, and I felt like if I let
go of Jenna's and Sharon's hands, I would fly off through the
ceiling into the sky. As I looked above me, still chanting the
words, I saw the white ceiling waver and dissolve to show me
the deep indigo night and the white and yellow stars popping
out of the sky so brightly. Awestruck, I gazed upward, seeing
the infinite possibilities of the universe where before there had
been only a ceiling. I wanted to reach out and touch the stars,
and without hesitating, I unclasped my hands and stretched my
arms overhead.
At the same instant everyone else let go and threw their
arms overhead, and the circle stopped where it was while the
swirling energy continued to coil around us, stronger and
stronger. I reached for the stars, feeling the energy pressing
against my backbone.
"Take the energy into you!" Cal called, and automatically I
pressed my clasped fist against my chest I breathed in warmth
and white light and felt my worries melt away. I swayed on my
feet and once again tried to touch the stars. Reaching
overhead, I felt myself brush a tiny, prickly firelight that was
hot and sharp against my fingers. It felt like a star, and I
brought down my hand.
With the light in my hand I gazed at the others,
wondering if they could see it Then Cal was at my side because
I always channeled too much energy and had to ground myself
afterward. But this time I felt fine—not too dizzy, not too sick,
just happy and lighthearted and full of wonder.
"Whoa," Ethan whispered, his eyes on me.
"What is that?" asked Sharon.
"Morgan!" Jenna said in awe. Her breath sounded tight I
and strained, and she was breathing fast and shallowly. I
turned to her. I felt like I could do anything.
Reaching out, I pressed the light against her chest She
gasped with a small "Ah!" and I traced a line from one side to
the other beneath her collarbones. Closing my eyes, I flattened
my hand on her breastbone and felt the starlight dissolve into
her. She gasped again and staggered on her feet and Cal put
out his hand but didn't touch me. Under my fingers I felt
Jenna's lungs swell as she sucked in air. I felt the microscopic
alveoli opening to admit oxygen, tiny capillaries absorbing the
oxygen; I felt it as, from the smallest veins to the thick, ridged
muscles of her bronchial tubes, each one expanded in a domino
effect, loosening, relaxing, absorbing oxygen.
Jenna panted.
My eyes opened, and I smiled.
"I can breathe," Jenna said slowly, touching her chest "l
was starting to tighten up. I knew I'd need my inhaler after the
circle, and I didn't want to use it in front of everyone" Jenna's
eyes sought Matt, and he came to put his arm around her. "She
opened up my lungs and put air in with that light" Jenna
said,
sounding dazed.
"Okay, stop," Cal said, gently taking my hands. "Quit
touching things. Like on Samhain, maybe you should lie down
and ground yourself."
I shook off his hands. "I don't want to ground myself”said
clearly. "I want to keep it" I flexed my fingers, wanting to
touch something else, see what happened.
Cal looked at me. Something flickered in his eyes.
“I just want to keep this feeling.”I explained.
“It can't stay forever,”he said. “Energy doesn't linger—it
needs to go somewhere. You don't want to go around zapping
things.”
I laughed. “I don't?”
“No he assured me. Then he led me to a clear place on the
polished wood floor, and I lat down, feeling the strength of the
earth beneath my back, feeling the energy cease its whizzing
around inside me, being absorbed by the earth's ancient
embrace. In a few minutes I felt much more normal, less light-
head and ...I guess, less drunk. Or at least, that's what I
imagined feeling drunk was like. I didn't have much practice
with it.
“Why can she do this?” Matt asked, his arm still
protectively around Jenna. Jenna was taking deep,
experimental breaths. “It's so easy,”she marveled. “I feel
so...so unconstrained.”
Cal gave a wry chuckle. "It freaks me out too, sometimes.
Morgan does things that would be amazing for a high priestess
to do—someone with years and years of training and
experience. She just has a lot of power, that's all."
"You called her a blood witch," Ethan remembered. "She's
a blood witch, like you. But how is that?"
"I don't want to talk about it" I said, sitting up. "I'm sorry
if I did something I shouldn't have—again. But I didn't mean to
do anything wrong. I just wanted to fix Jenna's breathing. I
don't want to talk about being a blood witch. Okay?"
Six pairs of eyes looked at me. The members of my coven
nodded or said okay. Only in Cal's face did I read the message
that we would definitely have to talk about it later.
"I'm hungry," complained Ethan. "Got any munchies?"
"Sure," said Matt, heading toward the kitchen. "Too bad we
can't go swimming again," Jenna said regretfully.
"We can't?" Cal asked with a wicked smile at me. "Why
not? My house isn't that far away."
Cringing, I crossed my arms over my chest
"No way," Sharon scoffed, to my relief. "Even if the water
is heated, the air's way too cold. I don't want to freeze."
"Oh, well," Cal said. Matt came in with a bowl of popcorn,
and he helped himself to a big fistful. "Maybe some other
time."
When no one could see me, I made a face at him,
and he laughed silently.
I leaned against him, feeling warm and happy. It had been an
amazing, exhilarating circle, even without Bree.
My smile faded as I wondered where she and Raven were
tonight and who they were with.
14. Lessons
May 7, 1982
Were leaving this soulless place. I've been working as a
cashier in a diner, and Angus has been down in the meat
district, unloading huge American cows and putting their
carcasses on hooks. I feel my soul dying, and so does Angus.
We're saving every penny so we can leave, go anywhere else.
Not much news from home. None of Belwicket is left to
tell us what happened, and what little bits and pieces we get
aren't enough to figure out anything. I don't even know why I
write in this book anymore, except as a diary. It is no longer a
Book of Shadows. I hasn't been since my birthday, when my
world was destroyed. I haven't done any magick since being
here, nor has Angus. No more will I. It has done nothing but
wreak destruction.
I am only twenty, and yet I feel ready for death's
embrace.
--M.R,
The next morning during church I suddenly had an idea. I
glanced over at the dark confessionals. After the service was
over, I told my parents that I wanted to make confession. They
looked a little surprised, but what could they say?
"I don't want to go to the diner today," I added. "I'll just
see you at home later."
Mom and Dad looked at each other, then Dad nodded.
Mom put her hand on my shoulder. "Morgan—“ she began,
then shook her head. "Nothing. I'll see you later, at home."
Mary K. looked at me but didn't say anything. Her face
was troubled as she left with my parents.
I waited impatiently in line as parishioners went in to
confess their sins. I realized I could probably tune into what
they were talking about, but I didn't want to try. It would be
wrong. Father Hotchkiss heard some pretty steamy stuff
sometimes, I'd guess. And probably some really boring, petty
things, too.
Finally it was my turn. I knelt inside the cubicle and
waited for the small grated window to slide open. When it did, i
crossed myself and said, "Forgive me, Father, for I have
sinned. It's been, urn ..." I thought back quickly. "Four months
since my last confession."
"Go ahead, my child," said Father Hotchkiss, as he had all
my life, every time I had confessed.
"Um..." I hadn't thought ahead this far and didn't have a
list of sins ready. I really didn't want to go into some of the
things I'd been doing, and I didn't consider them sins, anyway.
"Well, lately I've been feeling very angry at my parents," I
stated baldly. "I mean, I love my parents, and I try to honor
them, but I recently ... found out I was adopted.”There. I had
said it, and on the other side of the screen I saw father
Hotchkiss's head come up a bit as he took in my words. "I'm
upset and angry that they didn't tell me before and that they
won't talk to me about it now," I went on. "I want to know
more about my birth parents. I want to know where I came
from."
There was a long pause as Father Hotchkiss digested
what I had said. "Your parents have done as they thought
best," he said at last. He didn't deny that I was adopted, and I
still felt humiliated that practically everyone had known but
me. "My birth mother is dead," I said, pushing on. I
swallowed, feeling uncomfortable, even nervous talking about
this. "I want to know more about her.”
"My child," Father Hotchkiss said gently. "I understand
your wishes. I can't say that I would not feel the same, were I
in your place. But I tell you, and I speak with years of
experience, that sometimes it really is best to leave the past
alone."
Tears stung my eyes, but I hadn't realty expected
anything else. "I see," I whispered, trying not to cry.
"My dear, the Lord works in mysterious ways," said the
priest, and I couldn't believe he was saying something so
clichéd. He went on. "For some reason, God brought you to
your parents, and I know they couldn't love you more. He
chose them for you, and He chose you for them. It would be
> wise to respect His decision.”
I sat and pondered this, wondering how true it was. Then
I became aware that other people were waiting after me and it
was time to go. "Thank you. Father," I said.
"Pray for guidance, my dear. And I will pray for you.”
"Okay." I slipped out of the confessional, put on my coat,
and headed out the huge double doors into bright November
sunshine. I had to think.
After so many gray days it was nice to be walking in sun-
light, kicking through the damp, brown leaves underfoot Every
now and then a golden leaf floated down around me, and each
one that fell was like another second ticking off on the clock
that turned autumn to winter.
I passed through downtown Widows Vale, glancing in the
shop windows. Our town is old, with the town hall dating back
to 1692. Every once in a while I notice again how charming it
is, how picturesque. A cool breeze lifted my hair, and i caught a
scent of the Hudson River, bordering the town.
By the time I got home, I'd thought about what Father
Hotchkiss had said, I could see some wisdom in his words, but
that didn't mean I could accept not knowing the whole truth. I
didn't know what to do. Maybe I would ask for guidance at the
next circle.
Walking two miles had warmed me up nicely, and I tossed
my jacket over a chair in the kitchen. I glanced at the clock. If I
assumed my family followed their usual routine at the diner,
they wouldn't be home for another hour or so. It would be nice
to have the house to myself for a while.
A thump overhead made me freeze. Weirdly, the first
thought I had was that Bree was in my house, possibly with
Raven, and they were casting a spell on my bedroom or
something. I don't know why I didn't think of burglars or a
stray squirrel that had somehow gotten in—I just immediately
thought of Bree.
I heard scuffling sounds and the loud scraping noise of a
piece of furniture being jolted out of place. I quietly opened the
mudroom door and picked up my baseball bat Then I kicked off
my shoes and headed upstairs in my stocking feet.
By the time I reached the top of the landing, I could tell
the sounds were coming from Mary K.'s room. Then I heard her
voice, saying,"Ow! Stop it! Damn it, Bakker!"
I stopped, unsure of what to do.
"Get off me," Mary K. said angrily.
"Oh, come on, Mary K.," was Bakker s response. "You said