Blood Witch

CHAPTER 1 Secrets

May 4, 1978

Today for the first time I helped Ma cast a circle for Belwicket. In time I'll be the high priestess. Then I'll be leading the circles as she does now. Already people come to me for charms and potions, and me only seventeen! Ma says it's because I have the Riordan sight, the Riordan power, like my grandma. My own ma is a very powerful witch, stronger than anyone in Belwicket. She says I'll be stronger than that yet.

And then what, I wonder. What will I do? Make our sheep healthy? Make our fields more fertile? Heal out ponies when they go lame?

I have so many questions. Why would I have such power, the power to shake mountains? My granny's Book of Shadows says that our magick is just to be used here, in this village, this place in the country, so far away from other towns and cities. Is that so? Maybe the Goddess has a purpose for me, but I cannot see it.

— Bradhadair

For a moment the name hung in the air before me, wavering like a black insect in front of my eyes. Bradhadair! Also known as my birth mother, Maeve Riordan. I was holding her Book of Shadows, started when she first joined her mother's coven, when she was fourteen. Her Wiccan name, Bradhadair, was Gaelic for "fire starter." And I was reading words she had written in her very own hand—

"Morgan?"

I glanced up, startled. And then I felt a jolt of alarm.

My boyfriend, Cal Blaire, and his mother, Selene Belltower, stood at the entrance of the secret library. Their bodies were backlit by a shaft of light from the hall. Their faces were blank masks, hidden in shadow.

My breath caught in my throat. I had entered this room without permission. Not only had I kept Cal and our other friends waiting, I had trespassed in a private area of Selene's house. I had no business being in this room, reading these books. This I knew. A hot flush of shame made my face burn.

But I couldn't help myself. I was desperate for more knowledge—about Wicca, about my birth mother. After all, I'd only recently uncovered extraordinary secrets: that I'd been adopted, that my birth mother, a powerful witch, had been murdered, burned to death in a barn. But so many questions still remained unanswered. And now I had found Maeve Riordan's Book of Shadows: her private book of spells, thoughts, and dreams. The key to her innermost life. If the answers I sought were anywhere, they were in this book Subconsciously—in spite of my guilt—my hands tightened around it

"Morgan?" Cal repeated. "What are you doing in here? I've been looking all over for you."

"I'm sorry," I said, the words rushing out I looked around, wondering how I could explain being in this place. "Uh—"

"The others went on to the movie," Cal interrupted. His voice hardened. "I told them we'd try to catch up with them, but it's too late now."

I glanced at my watch. Eight o'clock. The movie theater was at least a twenty-minute drive from here, and the movie started at eight-fifteen. I swallowed. "I'm really sorry," I said. "I just—"

"Morgan," Selene said. She stepped farther into the room. For the first time I saw tense lines on her youthful face, so like Cal's. "This is my private retreat. No one is allowed in here except me."

Now I was nervous. Her voice was calm, but I sensed the leashed anger underneath. Was I in real trouble? I stood up at her desk and closed the book. "I–I know I shouldn't be in here, and I didn't mean to intrude. But I was walking along the hall, and then suddenly I just fell against this door, and it opened. Once I was inside, I couldn't stop looking at everything. It's the most amazing library…." My voice trailed off.

Selene and Cal gazed at me. I couldn't read their eyes, nor could I get any sense of what was going through their minds, and that made me even more nervous. I wasn't lying, but I hadn't told them the whole story, either. I had also been trying to avoid Sky Eventide and Hunter Niall, two English witches who were here tonight to take part in one of Selene's circles. For some reason, these two guests of Selene's filled me with inexplicable dread. When I'd heard them coming along the hall, I had tried to avoid them—and had ended up stumbling into this secret library. It had been an accident

That's right, I thought. It had been an accident. Nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, I wasn't the only one who had some explaining to do. I had a few questions for Selene.

"This is Maeve Riordan's Book of Shadows," I found myself saying. My voice sounded loud, harsh in my ears. "Why do you have it? And why didn't you tell me you had it? You both know I've been trying to find out about her. I mean… don't you think I'd want to see something that belonged to her?"

Cal seemed surprised. He glanced at his mother.

Selene reached behind her and shut the door, closing us all inside the secret room. No one walking down the hall would ever notice the door's almost invisible line. Her beautiful eyebrows arched as she came closer to me.

"I know you've been trying to find out about your mother," she said. In the golden halo of the lamplight her expression seemed to soften. She glanced at the book "How much have you read?"

"Not a lot." I chewed my lip anxiously.

"Have you come across anything surprising?"

"Not really," I said, watching her.

"Well, a Book of Shadows is a very personal thing," Selene said. "Secrets are revealed there, unexpected things. I was waiting to tell you about it because I know what it contains, and I wasn't sure you were ready to read it." Her voice fell to a whisper. "I'm not sure you're ready now, but it's too late."

My face tightened. Maybe I had been violating a private area of her house, but I had a right to know about my mother. "But it's not really your decision to make," I argued. "I mean, she was my mother. Her Book of Shadows should be mine. That's what you're supposed to do with Books of Shadows, pass them down to your children. It is mine."

Selene blinked at my strong words. She glanced at Cal again, but he was looking at me. Once more my fingers tingled as they traced the book's worn leather cover.

"So why do you have it?" I repeated.

"I got it by accident," Selene said. A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Though of course most witches don't believe in accidents. My hobby is collecting Books of Shadows—really, I collect almost any book having to do with witchcraft, as you can see." She waved an elegant hand at the shelves in the room. "I work with several dealers, mostly in Europe, who have standing orders to send me whatever books they have of interest—any Book of Shadows, no matter what its condition. I find them fascinating. I take them with me wherever we go and set them up in a private study, as I did here when we moved in this past summer. To me, they're a window into the human side of the craft. They're diaries, records of experiments; they're people's histories. I have over two hundred Books of Shadows, and Maeve Riordan's is just one of them."

I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. Her response sounded strangely voyeuristic—especially from a high priestess, someone who was otherwise so in touch with people's feelings. Why couldn't she see that Maeve Riordan's book wasn't just another Book of Shadows? At least not to me.

My initial guilt and nervousness were giving way to anger. Selene had read my mother's private words. But right then Cal stepped across the room and put his hand on my shoulder, rubbing gently. He seemed to be saying he was on my side, that he understood. So why couldn't his mother? Did she think I was too much of a child to handle my mother's secrets?

"Where did you get this Book of Shadows?" I asked insistently.

"From a dealer in Manhattan," Selene said. Once again her tone was impossible to read. "He had acquired it from someone else—someone who had no credentials, who may have stolen it or found it in a second-hand store somewhere." She shrugged. "I bought it about ten or eleven years ago, sight unseen. When I opened it, I realized it was by the same young witch who I'd read about dying in a fire, not far from here. It's a special Book of Shadows, and not just because it's Maeve's."

"I'm going to take it home," I said boldly, surprising myself again.

For a long moment silence hung thick in the air. Again my heart started to race. I'd never challenged Cal's mother before; I hardly ever challenged adults at all.. and she was a powerful witch. Cal's eyes flashed between the two of us.

"Of course, my dear," Selene finally said. "It's yours."

I let my breath out silently. Selene added, "After Cal told me your story, I knew one day I would give it to you. If, after you read it, you have any questions or concerns, I hope you'll come and talk to me."

I nodded. "Thanks," I mumbled. I turned to Cal. "You know, I really just want to go home now." My voice was shaky.

"Okay," Cal said. "I'll drive you. Let's get our coats."

Selene stepped aside to let us pass. She remained in the study, probably to look around at what else I had touched or examined. Not that I could blame her. I didn't know what to feel. I hadn't meant to abuse her trust, but there was no denying the reward: I now possessed an intimate record of my birth mother's life, written in her hand. No matter what mysteries lay inside, I knew I could handle them. I had to handle them.

Cal squeezed my shoulder as we walked down the hail, reassuring me.

Outside, the November wind whipped through my hair, and I brushed it out of my face. Cal opened his car and I climbed in, shivering against the cold leather seats and pushing my hands deep inside my pockets. The Book of Shadows was zipped up inside my jacket, next to my chest.

"The heater will warm things up in a minute," Cal said. He turned the key and punched buttons on the dash. His handsome face was just a silhouette in the dark of night Then he turned to me and brushed his hand, surprisingly warm, against my cheek. "Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded, but I wasn't sure. I was grateful for his concern, yet I was all wrapped up in the mystery of the book and still uneasy about what had just happened with Selene.

"I wasn't trying to spy or sneak around," I told him. The words were true, but they sounded even less convincing the second time around.

He glanced at me again as he turned the Explorer onto the main road. "That door is spelled shut," he said thoughtfully. "I still have to get Mom's permission to go in—I've never been able to open the door by myself. And believe me, I've tried." His grin was a white flash in the darkness.

"But that's weird," I said, frowning. "I mean, I didn't even try to open the door—it just popped open, and I almost fell down."

Cal didn't respond. He concentrated on the road. Maybe he was trying to figure out how I had gotten in there, wondering if I'd used magick. But I hadn't, at least not consciously. Maybe I had been destined to find my way into that study, to find my mother's book.

Snow had started to fall, and now it brushed against the windshield, not sticking anywhere. It would be gone by morning. I couldn't wait to get home, to run upstairs to my room and start reading. For some reason, my thoughts turned to Sky Eventide and Hunter Niall. I had instantly disliked both of them: their piercing gazes, their snotty English accents, the way they looked at Cal and at me.

But why? Who were they? Why did they seem so important? I'd only seen Sky once before, in the cemetery a few days ago. And Hunter—Hunter upset me in a way I couldn't explain. I was still thinking about it when Cal pulled into my driveway and switched off the engine.

"Are your folks home?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to come in?"

"That's all right," I said, appreciating his offer. "I think I'll just hole up and read."

"Okay. Listen, I'll be home all night. Just call me if you want to talk."

"Thanks," I said, reaching for him.

He came into my arms, and we kissed for a few moments. The sweetness momentarily washed away any confusion and uncertainty I was feeling about my encounter with Selene. Finally, reluctantly, I untangled myself and opened the car door.

"Thanks," I said again. "I'll call you."

"Okay. Take care." He gave me a smile and didn't leave until I was inside.

"Hi!" I called. "I'm home."

My parents were watching a movie in the family room. "You're early," said Mom, looking at the clock.

I shrugged. "We missed the movie," I explained. "And I just decided to come home. Well, I'll be upstairs." I fled up to my room, ditched my coat, and flopped down on my bed. Then I pulled out a Scientific American magazine and got it ready in case I suddenly needed to cover the Book of Shadows. My parents and I had reached an uneasy truce— about Wicca, about my birth mother, about all the deception. It was best not to disturb that. I didn't want to have to explain anything painful to them.

Maeve Riordan's own words, I thought.

My hands trembling, I opened my mother's Book of Shadows and began to read.