Blood Witch

CHAPTER 4 Spell

Litha, 1990

I'm frightened. I woke up this morning to the sound of weeping. Alwyn and Linden were in my room. They were crying because they could not find Mum and Dad. I was angry and told them that they weren't babies anymore. I said that Mum and Dad would be back soon. I thought they must have run into town for something we needed.

But night has fallen and we are still alone. I've heard no word from our neighbors, none from Mum and Dad's coven, I went to Siobhan's house, and to Caradog Owens's house over in Grasmere, to ask if they knew where Mum and Dad were. But there was no one home.

And there's something else. When I was making my bed I found Dad's lueg under my pillow—the stone he uses to scry with. How did it get there? He always keeps it safe with the rest of his magick tools. He never even let me touch it before.

So how did it get under my pillow? I have a bad feeling….

Dad has often told me that when he and Mum are on their errands, I am master of the house. It is my job to watch over my brother and sister. But I am not a man like him. I am only eight years old. I won't be a witch for many years yet. What can I do if there is trouble?

What if something happened to them? They have never left us alone like this. Did someone take them away? Are they being held prisoner somewhere?

I must sleep, but I can't. Alwyn and Linden can sleep for me. I must be strong for them.

Mum and Dad will come back to us soon. They will. I know it.

Goddess, bring them home.

— Giomanach

As if he sensed our approach, Hunter stood quickly. His green eyes were puffy and bloodshot. His face was pale from the cold, and snowflakes had settled on his hat. But aside from the redness of his eyes, he looked like he was carved of marble—still and somehow dangerous. Why was he looking under the car? More important, why did I find him so threatening? I didn't know the answers, but I knew that as a blood witch, I should trust my instincts. I shuddered inside my coat.

"What are you doing, Niall?" Cal demanded. His voice was so low and steady that I hardly recognized it I looked at him and saw that his jaw was tight His hands were clenched at his sides.

"Just admiring your big American car," Hunter said. He sniffed, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He must have a cold, I thought. I wondered how long he'd been out here in the snow.

Cal flicked his gaze to the Explorer, sweeping it from bumper to bumper, as if scanning for something out of place.

"Hello, Morgan," Hunter murmured. With his sickly nasal voice the greeting sounded like an insult. "Interesting company you keep."

The falling snowflakes were cold against my hot skin. I shifted my books to my other arm and gazed at Hunter, confused. Why should he care?

Hunter stepped onto the sidewalk. Cal turned to face him, placing himself between me and Hunter. My hero, I thought. But a part of me still felt a palpable fear as well. Hunter scowled, his cheekbones so sharp that snowflakes seemed to glance off them.

"So Cal is teaching you the secrets of Wicca, is he?" he asked. He leaned nonchalantly against the hood of the car, and Cal didn't take his eyes off him for a second. "Of course, he has quite a few secrets of his own, eh?"

"You can leave now, Niall," Cal spat.

"No, I think not," Hunter replied evenly. "I think I'll be around for a while. Who knows, I might have to teach Morgan a thing or two myself."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

Hunter just shrugged.

"Get away from me," Cal commanded.

Hunter stood back with a slight smile, his hands in the air as if to show he was unarmed. Cal glanced from him to the car. I'd never seen Cal so angry, so on the verge of losing control. It frightened me. He was like a tiger, waiting to pounce.

"There is one thing you should learn, Morgan," Hunter remarked. "Cal isn't the only blood witch around. He'd like to think he's a big man, but he's really just small fry. One day you'll realize that. And I want to be there to see it."

"Go to hell," Cal spat.

"Look, you don't know me," I told Hunter loudly. "You don't know anything about me. So shut up and leave us alone!" I stomped angrily to the car. But as I pushed past Hunter, barely brushing against him, a sickening rush of energy hit me in my stomach—so hard that I gasped. He's put a spell on me, I thought in a panic, groping for the door handle. But he'd said nothing, he'd done nothing that I could see. I blinked hard.

"Please, Cal," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Let's go."

Cal was still staring at Hunter as if he'd like to rip him apart. His eyes blazed, and his skin seemed to whiten.

Hunter stared back, but I felt his concentration break: he was shaken for a moment. Then he steeled himself again.

"Please, Cal," I repeated. I knew something had happened to me; I felt hot and strange and desperate to be gone, to be at home. My voice must have alerted Cal to my distress because he took his eyes off Hunter for a second. I stared at him pleadingly. Finally he pulled his keys from his pocket, slid into the car, and opened my door.

I collapsed inside and put my hands over my face.

"Good-bye, Morgan!" Hunter called.

Cal gunned the engine and sped backward, shooting snow and ice toward Hunter. I peeked through my fingers and saw Hunter standing there with an indecipherable expression on his face. Was it… anger? No. Snow swirled around him as he watched us leave.

It wasn't until we were almost at my house that it suddenly hit me.

The look on his face had been hunger.