Blood Witch

CHAPTER 15 Presence

September 4, 1998

Uncle Beck hit me last night. Today I have a shiner and a split lip. It looks really impressive, and I'm going to tell people I got it defending what's left of Athar's honor.

Two years ago, on the dawn after my initiation, Uncle Beck told me why Mum and Dad disappeared. How Mum had seen the dark cloud coming when she was scrying, and how it had nearly killed her, right through the vision. And how, right after they escaped and went into hiding, their coven was wiped out. I remember all the witches in the coven, how they were like aunts and uncles to me. Then they were dead, and Linden and Alwyn and I came to live with Beck and Shelagh and Ather and Maris and Siobhan.

Since then I've been trying to find out about the dark wave, the force of evil that destroyed my parent's coven and made them go into hiding. I know it's got something to do with Woodbanes. Dad is—or was—Woodbane. The last time I was in London, I went to all the old bookshop where they sell occult books. I visited the circle of Morath, where they keep a lot of the old writings. I've been reading and searching for two years. Finally last night, Linden and I were going to try to call on the dark side, to get information. Since Linden's initiation last month, he's been pestering me to let him help, and I had to say yes, because they were his parents too. Maybe in two years, when Alwyn's initiated, she'll want to work with us. I don't know.

Anyways, Uncle Beck found us in the marshes a mile from the house. We hadn't even got far in the rite, and suddenly Uncle was storming up, looking huge and terrible and furious. He broke through our circle, kicked out our candles and our fire, and knocked the athame from my hand. I've never seen him so angry, and he hauled me up by my collar as if I was a dog and not sixteen and as tall as him.

"Call on the blackness, will you?" he growled, while Linden jumped to his feet. "You bloody bastard! For eight years I've fed you and taught you and you've slept under my roof, and you're out here dealing with blackness and leading your young brother astray?" Then he punched me, knocking me down, and I hit the ground like an unstrung puppet. The man has a fist like a ham—only harder.

We had words, we thrashed it out, and at the end, he understood what I wanted, and I understood that he'd rather kill me than let me do it, and that if I involved Linden again I would need to find another place to live. He's a good man, my uncle, and a good witch, though we ofter clash. Mum is his sister and I know now that he desires to right the wrong done to her as much as I. The difference is that I was willing to cross the line to do it, and Beck isn't.

— Giomanach

"Hello?" I said into the receiver. I realized that I had no sense of who it was, even though I usually did before I picked up the phone.

Silence.

"Hello?" I said again.

Click. Drone of dial tone.

Okay, I knew, of course, that people get wrong numbers all the time. But for some reason, maybe because I was still caught up in images, emotions, and sensations from the fire, this silent phone call unnerved me. Every spooky movie I had ever seen came back to haunt me: Scream, Halloween, The Exorcist, Fatal Attraction, Blair Witch. My only thought was: Someone was checking to see if I was home. And I was. Alone.

I punched in star sixty-nine. Nothing happened. Finally a computerized female voice told me that the number I was trying to reach was blocked.

Feeling tense, I slammed the phone down on the hook. Then I began to race around the house, locking the front and back doors, the basement door, locking windows that had never been locked in my memory. Was I being stupid? It didn't matter. Better stupid and safe than smart and dead. I turned on all the outside lights instead of just the dim yellow glow of the front porch fixture.

I didn't know why I felt so afraid, but my first sense of alarm was rapidly growing into pure terror. So I retrieved my trusty baseball bat from the mudroom, locked that door, scooped up Dagda, and scampered upstairs to my room, glancing over my shoulder. Maybe it was still the aftermath of the accident, but my hands were clammy. My breath came quickly. I locked my bedroom door, then locked the door that led from the bathroom to Mary K.'s room.

I sat down on my bed, clenching and unclenching my fists. Cal, was all I could think. Cal, help me. I need you. Come to me.

I sent the witch message out into the night. Cal would get it. Cal would save me.

But the minutes ticked by, and he didn't come. He didn't even call to say he was on his way. I thought about calling him, but then I remembered what he'd said about not answering the phone during the circle.

Didn't he get my message? I wondered frantically. Where is he?

I tried to calm myself down. Mom and Dad would be home soon. So would Mary K. Anyway, it was just a phone call. A wrong number. Maybe it was Bree calling to apologize, and she'd lost her nerve.

But why would Bree's number have been blocked? It could have been anyone, though: a prank call by some pimply sixth grader whose mom caught him just before he spoke. Or maybe it was a telemarketer….

Calm down, calm down, I ordered myself. Breathe. A faint prickling at the edge of my senses made me sit up straight. I cast out my senses, searching as hard as I could. Then I knew what it was. Someone was on the edge of the property. Fear oozed through me like burning lava.

"Wait here," I whispered idiotically to Dagda.

I crept soundlessly to my darkened window and peered out into the yard. As I looked out, the outside lights all blinked off. Shit. Who had gotten to them?

I could make out the leaves of the shrubs, the swooping shadow of an owl, the crusts of ice hanging on our fence.

That was when I saw them: two dark figures.

I squinted, using my magesight to make out their features, but for some reason I couldn't focus on their faces. It didn't matter, though. For a moment the night's cloud cover broke and allowed the not quite half-moon to appear. The glint of moonlight reflected off pale, shining hair, and I knew who was here. Sky Eventide. The person with her wore a dark knit cap and was too tall to be either Bree or Raven. Hunter. I felt sure it was Hunter.

Where was Cal?

I watched from my crouching position on the floor as they faded into the house's shadows. When I could no longer see them, I closed my eyes and tried to follow them with my senses. I felt them moving around the perimeter of the house slowly, pausing here and there. Would they try to come in? My fingers tightened on the bat, even though I knew it would be of zero use against witches in full possession of their powers. And Sky and Hunter were blood witches.

What did they want? What were they doing?

And then it came to me: of course. They were putting a spell on my house, on me. I remembered reading about how Maeve and her mother, Mackenna Riordan, had put spells on people. They had often needed to walk around a house or a person or a place. To surround something with magick is to change it

Sky and Hunter were surrounding me.

They were circling my house, and I couldn't stop them— I didn't even have any idea what they were doing. It must have been one of them who had called earlier, to make sure I was home. And maybe they had blocked my call to Cal somehow. He might not be coming at all….

I looked at Dagda to see if he was nervous or upset, if his senses had picked up on the vibrations of danger and magick.

He was asleep: tiny mouth slightly open, blue eyes shut, ribby little side rising and falling with sleep-slowed breaths. So much for the power of animals. I scowled, then looked out the window again. The shadowy figures were no longer visible but still present. Feeling terribly alone, I sat on my floor and waited. It was all I could do.

Three times Hunter and Sky moved around the house. I heard nothing and saw nothing, but I sensed them. They were there.

Almost half an hour later they left. I felt them leave, felt them close a circle behind them… felt them send one last line of magick out toward the house and toward me. Soon after that I heard the quiet purr of an engine as it faded down the street. The outside lights all flickered back on. But there was no way I was going outside to see what they had done. No. I was going to stay put.

With my baseball bat at my side, I went back downstairs and watched television until the tow truck driver showed up with Das Boot. Mom and Dad came home a few minutes later. I hurried upstairs to my room before they walked through the front door. I was too wrung out to act normal around them.

Cal never came.

"Hi, honey," Mom said when I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning. "Sleep well?"

"Uh-huh," I said, moving purposefully toward the refrigerator for a Diet Coke. But I was lying. The truth was, I hadn't slept well at all. I'd dozed fitfully, my fleeting dreams filled with images from the fire and the silhouettes of Sky and whoever else had been on our lawn. Finally I'd given up on sleep altogether. I glanced at the kitchen clock. Only eight-thirty. I wanted to call Cal, but it was too early, especially for a Saturday morning.

"Does anyone have plans for today?" Dad asked, folding back the newspaper.

"Jaycee and I are going to Northgate Mall," said Mary K. She fiddled with a box of Pop-Tarts, still in her pajamas. "The pre-Thanksgiving sales are starting."

"I'm going to be getting ready for tomorrow," said Mom. She flashed a meaningful smile at me. "Morgan, do you want an ice-cream cake this year?"

Suddenly I remembered that the next day was my birthday. Wow. Until this year I'd always eagerly looked forward to my birthday, anticipating it for months and months. Of course, until this year I'd had no idea that I was an adopted blood witch from the Woodbane clan. Nor, in previous years, was I being stalked by other witches. Things had changed a little.

I nodded and sipped my Diet Coke. "Chocolate cake on the bottom, mint-chip ice cream on top," I instructed, summoning up a smile.

"And what do you want for dinner tomorrow night?" Mom asked, starting to make a list.

"Lamb chops, mint jelly, roasted potatoes, fresh peas, salad," I rattled off. The same birthday dinner I always wanted. It was comforting somehow. This was my house, my family, and we were going to celebrate my birthday— same as always.

"Are you going to be busy tonight?" Mom asked, averting her eyes. She knew we usually had circles on Saturday nights.

"I'm seeing Cal," I said.

She nodded and thankfully left it at that.

As soon as I was dressed, I went outside and walked around the house. As far as I could tell, I couldn't feel the effects of a spell's magick. Which could very well be part of the spell, of course. Slowly I circled our entire house. I saw no sign of anything. No hexes spray painted on the house, no dead animals hanging from trees. Then again, I knew the signs would be infinitely more subtle than that.

Weirdly enough, even the snow-covered ground betrayed no footprints, though it hadn't snowed since before my visitors had arrived. I searched and searched but saw no trace of anyone's having been in our yard at all—except me, just now. Frowning, I shook my head. Had it all been an illusion? Had it been part of my scrying? How much could I trust my own perceptions? But I remembered the images I had seen—so clearly, too—the sights, sounds, and smells that had accompanied my fire scrying.

Most of all I remembered Maeve, standing by her house, smiling and pointing.

Maeve had lived in Meshomah Falls, two hours away. I glanced at my watch, then went inside to call Cal.

"What happened to your car?" Robbie asked half an hour later. We were in the front seat of Das Boot; I had just picked him up. Thankfully the car still worked, although the right headlight had been shattered and there was a massive dent in the front bumper. When I had called Cal, he hadn't been home—Selene had said he was out shopping, and she wasn't sure when he'd be back. Somehow, speaking to Selene calmed me down. I thought of asking her if he'd gotten my witch message, but my mom was in the room and I didn't want to bring it up in front of her. I'd ask Cal later.

Fortunately Robbie had been home, and he was a happy second choice for the road trip I had planned.

"I went into a ditch last night," I said with a grimace. "Slid on the ice." I didn't mention the lights I'd seen. That was something I'd only talk to Cal about. Whatever was going on, I didn't want to drag Robbie into it.

"Man," said Robbie. "Were you hurt?"

"No. But I have to get my headlight fixed. Big pain."

Robbie opened a map across the dashboard as I pulled away from his house. The day was rapidly clearing: I had a hope of actual sunshine before too long. It was still cold, but the snow and ice were melting slowly, and the streets were wet, the gutters running with water.

"You're looking for a town called Meshomah Falls. It should be north, right up the Hudson," I told him, turning onto the road that would lead to the highway. "About two, two and a half hours away."

"Oh, okay," he said, tracing his finger over the map. "I see it. Yeah, take Route 9 north until we get to Hookbridge Falls."

After a quick stop for gas and a supply of junk food, we were on our way. Bree and I used to go on road trips all the time: just day trips to malls or cool places to hike or little artists' colonies. We had felt so free, so unstoppable. But I tried not to dredge up those memories. Now they just filled me with pain.

"Want a chip?" Robbie offered, and I dug a hand into the bag.

"Have you talked to Bree yet?" I asked, unable to tear my mind from her. "About how you feel?"

He shook his head. "I've sort of tried, but it hasn't actually come up. I guess I'm a coward."

"No, you're not," I said. "But she can be hard to approach."

He shrugged. "You know, Bree asks about you, too," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you always ask about her. Well, she asks about you, too. I mean, she never says anything nice about you, you both say mean things about the other one, but even a total idiot could tell that you two miss each other."

My face felt stiff as I stared out the window.

"Just thought you should know," he added.

We didn't say another word for the next sixty miles— not until we saw a sign for the Hookbridge Falls exit. By then the sky had cleared, and it was open and blue in a way it hadn't been for what seemed like weeks. The sun's warmth on my face lifted my spirits. I felt like we were on a real adventure.

Robbie consulted the map. "We get off here and head east on Pedersen, which leads right into Meshomah Falls," he said.

"Okay."

A few minutes after we'd turned off the highway, I saw the sign announcing Meshomah Falls, New York.

A shiver ran down my spine. This was where I had been born.

I drove down Main Street slowly, staring at the buildings. Meshomah Falls was a lot like Widow's Vale, except not quite as old and not quite as Victorian. It was a cute town, though, and I could see why Maeve and Angus had decided to settle here. I picked a side street at random and turned onto it, slowing even more as I looked carefully at each house. Next to me, Robbie chewed gum and drummed his fingers along to the radio.

"So, when are you going to tell me why we're here?" he joked.

"Uh…" I didn't know what to say. I guess I had been planning to pass this off as a simple joyride, just a chance to get out and do something. But Robbie knew me too well. "I'll tell you later," I whispered, feeling unsure and vulnerable. To tell him one part of the story would mean telling him everything—and I had yet to come fully to terms with that

"Have you ever been here before?" Robbie asked.

I shook my head. Most of the houses were pretty modest, but none was immediately recognizable as the house I'd seen in my vision. And they were fewer and farther between now; we were heading into the country again. I started to wonder what the hell I was doing. Why on earth did I think I'd be able to recognize Maeve's house? And if by some miracle I found it, what would I do then? This whole idea was stupid—

There it was.

I slammed on the brakes. Das Boot squealed to an abrupt halt. Robbie glared at me. But I hardly noticed. The house from my vision, my birth mother's house, stood right before my eyes.