by Cate Tiernan
I nodded, surprised, and stepped toward him. "What's up?" I asked.
Turning his back on the living room, he pulled a small stone from his pocket. It was smooth, round, and gray—about the size of a Ping-Pong ball. Inscribed on it in black Ink was a rune. I had been reading about runes, so I recognized it instantly: it was Peorth, the rune for hidden things revealed. "I found this stuck into the suspension of my car," Cal whispered. My head jerked up in alarm. "Did Hunter... ?" I didn't finish. Cal nodded. "What does it mean?" I asked.
"It means that he's using dirty tricks to spy on us," he muttered, shoving the stone back into his pocket. "It's nothing to worry about, though. If anything, it proves that he doesn't have much power." “But--”
“Don't worry,”Cal said. He flashed me a reassuring smile. “You know, I don't even know why I bothered showing this to you. It's not a big deal. Really.” I watched him as he headed to the living room to say hi to the others. He wasn't being completely honest with me; I could feel that even without using my heightened witch senses. Hunter's little trick did concern him, at least to some degree.
What is Hunter up to? I wondered again. What does he want with us? Page 23
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It was already nine o'clock, when we usually got started. We drank cider. Robbie played music. I tried to forget about the stone. Looking at the pets soothed me: the dogs snored and twitched in their sleep, and the cats rubbed our legs in quiet demands for attention. I realized that the only one of us missing was Jenna's boyfriend, Matt. Jenna kept glancing at the tall grandfather clock in the foyer. As the minutes went by, she seemed increasingly ill at ease. Her parents wandered in, met us, totally unconcerned with the fact that we were here to perform a Wiccan circle. It must be nice not to worry about making your parents mad, I thought. They headed upstairs to watch TV and told us to have a good time. "Well, I'll get started with the circles," Cal said finally, opening his bag and settling down on the floor. "We'll give Matt ten more minutes." "It's not like him to be late," Jenna murmured. "I called his cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail."
I suddenly remembered seeing Matt's car, parked next to Raven's. Was that only this morning? It had been a long day. I stifled a yawn as I sat on the worn green couch in the living room, watching Cal work.
“What are you doing?" I asked. Usually he drew a simple, perfect circle in salt When we stepped in, he closed it and purified it with earth, air, fire, and water. But tonight's circle was different "This is more complicated," Cal explained.
Slowly the others drifted over to watch him. He was drawing circles within circles, leaving an opening in each one. There were three geometrically perfect circles now, the largest one taking up every inch of available space in Jenna's living room. At the four compass points of the circles Cal drew a rune in chalk and also in the air: Mann, the rune for community and interdependence; Daeg, symbolizing dawn, awakening, clarity; Ur, for strength; Tyr, for victory in battle. Cal named them as he drew them but didn't offer any explanation. Before we could ask, the front door blew open and Matt breezed in, looking uncharacteristically disheveled and scattered.
"Hi, everyone. Sorry I'm late. Car trouble." He kept his head down, not meeting anyone's eye. Jenna looked at him, first in concern, then in confusion as he threw off his coat and came to watch Cal. For a moment Jenna hesitated. Then she walked up to him and took his hand. He gave her a brief smile but ignored her otherwise.
"Okay, everyone, step inside, and I'll close the circles," Cal instructed. We did. I stood between Matt and Sharon. I tried never to stand next to Cal at a circle—I knew from experience that it would be too much to handle or control. Sharon and Matt were safe. "Tonight we're working on personal goals," Cal continued, standing up. He handed Ethan a small bowl of salt and told him to purify the circle. Next he asked Jenna to light the incense, symbolizing air, and Sharon to touch each of our foreheads with a drop of water from its matching bowl. There was a fire in the living-room fireplace—and we used it for fire, naturally. My tiredness started to fade as I glanced around at everyone united for the same purpose. This circle felt special somehow, more important, more focused.
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"During our breathing exercises," Cal said, "I want you each to concentrate on your own personal goals. Think about what you want out of Wicca and what you can offer to Wicca. Try to make it as simple and pure as possible. Stuff like 1 want a new car' isn't it." We laughed.
"It's more like, I want to be more patient, or I want to be more honest, or I want to be braver. Think about what that means to you and how Wicca can help you achieve it. Any questions?" I shook my head. There were so many things about myself I wanted to improve. I pictured myself as a smiling, confident person—open and honest and giving: a poster girl for Wicca. Feeling no anger, no envy, no greed. I sighed. Yeah, right. Accomplishing all that was a pretty ambitious project. Maybe too ambitious.
"Everyone take hands, and let's begin our breathing exercises," said Cal. I reached for my neighbors. Mart's hand was still cool from being outside. Sharon's bracelets jingled against my wrist I began to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to let all the day's negativity and tensions drain from my body, trying to draw in all the positive energies I could. I consciously relaxed every muscle, starting at the top of my head and working my way down. Within a few minutes I felt calm and focused, in a meditative state where I was only semiaware of my surroundings. This was good. "Now think about your goals." Cal's voice seemed to float from everywhere at once. Unbidden, we began to move in a circle, first slowly, then more quickly and smoothly. My eyes opened, and I saw Jenna's living room as a series of dark smudges, a wild blur as we spun around and around. The fireplace marked our turns, and I looked into the fire, feeling its warmth and light and power. "I want to be more open," I heard Sharon murmur, as if on a breeze. "I want to be happy," said Ethan. There was a moment of silence while I thought about what I wanted, and then Jenna said, "I want to be more lovable."
I felt Matt's hand clench mine for an instant, and then he said, "I want to be more honest." The words sounded reluctant and pained.
"I want to be strong," Cal whispered. "I want to be a good person," said Robbie—and I thought, But you are. I was last. I could feel the seconds ticking by. I still didn't know what I needed to work on the most. Yet words seemed to explode from my mouth, as if by their own accord. They hung on the air like smoke from a bog fire.
"I want to realize my power."
As soon as I said it, a current ran through the circle, like a wind whipping a rope. It was electric: it charged me, so that I felt I could fly or dance above the earth. Page 25
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A chant came to my lips, one I didn't remember ever hearing or reading. I had no idea what it meant, but I let it flow from me, as my wish had flowed from me.
An di allaigh an di aigh An di allaigh an di ne ullah An di ullah be nith rah Cair di na ulla nith rah Cair feal ti theo nith rah An di allaigh an di aigh.
I chanted it by myself, very softly at first—then more loudly, hearing my voice weaving a beautiful pattern in the air. The words sounded Gaelic and ancient. Someone was speaking through me. I lost myself, but I wasn't frightened. I was exhilarated. I threw my arms up in the air and swirled in circles within our circle. Together the coven spun in orbit; they were planets around a shining star—and the shining star was me. Silver rain was sprinkling down on my head, making me a goddess. My hair came undone from its tidy braid and whirled in a stream, catching the firelight. I was all-powerful, all-knowing, all-seeing—a goddess indeed. It came to me that the words must have been a spell, an ancient spell, one that called power.
It had called power to me tonight. "Let's take it down."
The voice belonged to Cal. Again his words seemed to come from e
verywhere and nowhere at once. In answer to his bidding I slowed my whirling and let myself come to a wavering stop. I was as old as time itself; I was every woman who had ever danced for magick under the moon, every goddess who had celebrated life and death and the joy and sorrow in between.
Hunter Niall's face suddenly flashed into my mind, his superior, contemptuous smirk. Look at me, Hunter! I wanted to shout Look at my power! I am a match for you or any witch! Then, all at once, with no warning, I felt frightened, no longer in control. Without Cal telling me, I immediately lay face down on Jenna's wooden floor—with my hands flat by my shoulders to ground my energy. The wood was warm and smooth beneath my cheek, and energy flowed over and around me like water.
Slowly, very slowly, my breathing returned to normal. The fear fluttered, weakening. I became aware that someone was taking my right hand. Page 26
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I blinked and glanced up. It was Jenna. "Please," she said, placing my hand on her breastbone. I knew that she wanted me to help her. A week ago I had sent energy into her and eased her asthma. But I didn't think I had the power left now to do anything. Still, I closed my eyes and concentrated on light . . . white, healing light I gathered it within me and sent it coursing down my arm, through my hand, into Jenna's constricted lungs. She breathed deeply, exclaiming slightly at the warmth. "Thank you," she murmured.
I was lying on my side now. Suddenly I noticed that everyone was staring at me. Once again I was the center of attention. Self-consciously I pulled my hand away, wondering why a minute ago it was so natural to dance alone in front of everyone while now I felt embarrassed and shy. Why couldn't I hold on to those wonderful feelings of strength? Matt put his hands on Jenna's shoulders, the most attention he'd shown her since he'd arrived. He was panting slightly from the effort of the dance. "Did Morgan help your breathing?" he asked. Jenna nodded, a blissful smile on her lips. Cal crouched by my side, his hand on my hip. "Everything all right?" he asked. He sounded excited, breathless. "Uh ... yeah," I murmured.
"Where did the chant come from?" he asked, brushing my hair off my shoulder. "What did it do?" "I don't know where it came from, but it seemed to call power to me," I said. "It was so beautiful," said Jenna. "Pretty witchy," said Sharon.
"It was really cool," said Ethan. I looked at Robbie, and he gazed calmly back at me, warm satisfaction on his face. I smiled at him. At that moment I was perfectly content—but the mood was abruptly broken when I felt nails on the back of my legs.
"Ow!" I muttered.
Half sitting up, I looked over to see the fuzzy, triangular head of a tiny gray kitten. It mewed in greeting, and I laughed. Jenna grinned. "Oh, sorry. One of our cats had kittens two months ago. We're trying to get rid of them. Anyone want a cat?" she joked.
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I picked him up. He looked back at me intently, a world of feline wisdom in his baby blue eyes. He was solid gray, shorthaired, with a fat baby's belly and a short spiky tail that stuck straight up like an exclamation mark. He mewed in my face again and reached out a paw to pat my cheek. "Hello," I said, remembering Maeve's kitten from her Book of Shadows. His name had been Dagda. I gazed at Jenna's cat in wonder, suddenly knowing that he was meant for me, that this was a perfect way to end the evening.
"Hi," I said softly. "Your name is Dagda, and you're going to come home and live with me. All right?"
He mewed once more, and I fell in love.
6. Communion
Imbolc, A seeker is here. He came two days ago and took a room above the pub on Goose Lane. A talked with Uncle Beck a good while yesterday. Uncle Beck says he'll talk with everyone and that we all have to be honest. But I don't like the man. His skin is white and he doesn't smile, and when he looks at me, his eyes are like two black holes. He makes me feel cold as frost. -Giomanach
"A rat!" Mary K. screeched the next morning, right in my face. Not the best way to wake up. "Oh God, Morgan, there's a rat! Don't move!" Of course by now I was stirring in my bed, and little Dagda was, too. He huddled next to me, small ears flat, body hunkered down. But he summoned enough courage to give Mary K. a good hiss. I wrapped my hand around him protectively. Page 28
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Mom and Dad ran into my room, wide-eyed. "It isn't a rat," I croaked, clearing sleep out of my throat "It isn't?" Dad asked.
I sat up. "It's a kitten," I said, stating the obvious. "Jenna's cat had kittens, and they were trying to get rid of them, so I took one. Can I keep him? I'll pay for his food and litter and everything," I added. Dagda rose up on his little legs and eyed my family curiously. Then, as if to prove how cute he really was, he opened his mouth and mewed. They all melted at once. I hid a smile. Mary K. sat on my bed and gently extended her hand. Dagda cautiously made his way across my comforter and licked her finger. Mary K. giggled. "He's very sweet," said my mom. "How old is he?" "Eight weeks," I said. "Old enough to leave his mom. So—is it okay?" Mom and Dad exchanged a glance. "Morgan, cats cost more than just food and litter," my dad said. "They need shots, checkups...."
"He'll need to be neutered," my mom added. I grinned. "Fortunately, we have a vet in the family," I said, referring to my aunt Eileen's girlfriend. "Besides, I have money saved from working last summer. I can pay for all that."
Mom and Dad both shrugged, then smiled. "I guess it's okay, then," said Mom. "Maybe after church we can go to the store and get the stuff he needs."
"He's hungry," Mary K. announced, holding him to her chest. She immediately hopped up and dashed from the room, cradling him like a baby. "There's chicken left over from last night. I'll get him some."
"Don't give him milk," I called after her. "It'll upset his tummy...." I leaned back against my pillow, happy. Dagda was an official member of our family. It was the second-to-last Sunday before Thanksgiving, so our church was decorated with dried leaves, pyracantha branches with bright red berries, pinecones, and rust-colored mums in pots. The atmosphere was beautiful, warm, and inviting. I decided it would be nice to find natural decorations like that for our own house at Thanksgiving.
In some way, I guess because I still wasn't sure about how coming to church fit in with Wicca, I felt strangely detached from everything going on around me. I stood when I was supposed to and knelt at the right time; I even followed along in the prayers and sang the hymns. But I did it without being a part of the congregation. My thoughts roamed freely, without restraint. A thin, wintry sunlight had broken through the clouds. Yesterday's snow had mostly melted, and the church's stained-glass windows glowed with fiery reds, deep blues, pure greens, and crystalline yellows. Page 29
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There was a faint aroma of incense, and as I sank deeper within myself, I felt the weight of the people all around me. Their thoughts began to intrude, their hearts beating incessantly. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes, closing myself off to them. Only when I had walled them out of my senses did I open my eyes again. I felt peaceful and full of gladness. The music was lovely, the ecclesiastical words moving. It all seemed timeless and traditional. It wasn't the bark and earth and salt of Wicca, nor was it the grounding of energy and the working of spells. But it was beautiful, in its own way.
I rose automatically when it was time to take communion. I followed my parents and sister up to the railing in front of the altar. The tall altar candles burned brightly, reflecting off the brass fixtures and dark polished wood. I knelt on the flat needlework pillow that had been embroidered by the women's guild. My mom had made one of these pillows a couple of years ago. My hands clasped, I waited as Father Hotchkiss said the wine blessing for every person in the row. I felt at peace. Already I was looking forward to going home to see Dagda, read Maeve s Book of Shadows, and do some more rune research. Last night
when Cal had drawn runes in the air around our circle, it, seemed to focus our energy in a whole new way. I liked runes and wanted to find out more about them.
Next to me Mary K. took a sip of wine. I caught a whiff of the fruity scent. A moment later it was my turn. Father Hotchkiss stood in front of me, wiping the large silver chalice with a linen cloth. "This is the blood of Christ our Lord," he murmured. "Drink this in his name, that you may be saved." I tilted my head forward to sip.
With an unexpected stumble Father Hotchkiss lurched toward me. The chalice slipped from his hands. It dropped to the white marble floor with a metallic clang, and Father Hotchkiss gripped the wooden rail that separated us.
I put my hand on his, searching his face. "Are you okay, Father?" I asked. He nodded. "I'm sorry, my dear. I slipped. Did I splash you?" "No, no." I looked down, and sure enough, my dress was wine free. Deacon Carlson was hurrying to get another blessed chalice, and Father Hotchkiss stepped away to help him. Mary K. was waiting for me, looking uncertain. I stayed kneeling, watching the dark red wine flow across the white marble floor. The contrast of color was mesmerizing. "What happened?" Mary K. whispered. "Are you okay?" That was when the thought came to me: What if I was the one who had made Father Hotchkiss stumble? I almost gasped, with my hand over my mouth. What if, in the middle of all my Wicca thoughts, a force had decreed that my taking communion was not a good idea? Quickly I stood, my eyes large. Mary K. headed back to our pew and our parents, and I followed her. No, I thought. It was just a coincidence. It didn't mean anything. But inside me a witchy voice said sweetly: There are no coincidences. And everything means something.