Seeker

3. Good-bye

I can’t believe Hunter is leaving tomorrow. I feel a sense of dread when I think about his being gone. I tried to scry last night but really didn’t pick up anything except images of woods. Frustrating.

Now, on the main thing. I’ve read in Maeve’s Book of Shadows that blood witches can do spells to either get pregnant or not get pregnant. I went yesterday to Practical Magick and tried to find a spell, but I couldn’t and was too embarrassed to ask Alyce. So this afternoon after school, I drove over to Norton, to the Planned Parenthood office there, and got a three-month supply of the Pill and a prescription to fill if I need to.

I parked down the street (so original) and crept up the block to the building, which of course had humongous letters on the side screaming Planned Parenthood! Catholic teenagers having premarital sex against their parents’ wishes, step right up! Goddess, by the time I got inside the building, I was shaking with mortification. If only I were Bree! Bree has her own gynecologist and suavely went on the Pill when she was fifteen. The whole thing only underlines how immature I am. Yet I do absolutely feel ready to go to bed with Hunter. I’ mean, I’m dying to. I’ve been wanting to, but things just haven’t worked out. But tonight is going to be the night—I feel it. I came hoe and took the first pill as instructed. We’ll need to use a condom, too, because the Pill doesn’t kick in for a month and even though I trust Hunter, I’d rather be safe that sorry.

I can’t believe I thought about doing it with Cal. I still feel incredibly sad when I think about him—sad that he’s dead, that Selene destroyed his life, that I had anything to do with it. What I feel for Hunter is so different than what I felt for Cal. I love Hunter truly and deeply, I trust ad admire and respect him. I feel sure that he loves me, that he will take care of me and doesn’t just want to remake me into what he thinks would be a perfect girlfriend. I feel comfortable with him. I feel safe. I trust him.

And physically, oh, Goddess, he makes me crazy. So tonight’s the night. Tonight I’m going to quit being a kid, a little girl. By tomorrow morning, I’ll be a woman.

— Morgan

By Friday evening I was tightly wound. Everything was weighing on my mind: Should I stop the mail or ask a neighbor to gather it? Would my car make it to Canada? Did I have enough money? Thoughts consumed me as I surveyed the table I had set. I looked at it suspiciously, certain I’d forgotten something. Something for the trip, something for dinner? I couldn’t think. Shaking my head, I tugged at the tablecloth and leaned over to light the candles. Dinner was basically done and waiting in the kitchen. I like to cook. I frowned: had I ever seen Morgan be picky about food? I couldn’t remember—my brain was fried. In general, she has an appalling diet. For example, she considers Diet Coke to be an appropriate breakfast food. And she eats these thin, horrible pastries with a teaspoon of jam in the middle and frosting on top. Pop-Tarts. Goddess, it makes me ill just to think about it.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped about a foot in the air— I hadn’t felt her coming up the walk. Automatically I pushed my hand through my hair, then remembered too late that always makes it stand up in a stupid way. Goddess, help me.

I opened the door, my heart already thudding. It was dark out, of course, and Morgan stood framed in our weak porch light, her brown eyes huge.

“Hi,” I said, feeling awash in love for her. “Come on in.”

She came in wordlessly and took off her coat. Hmmm— she was wearing some long skirtlike thing that swept the top of her clogs. Usually she wears jeans, so she had made a special effort for tonight, and I felt oddly pleased in an old-fashioned, male-chauvinist-pig kind of way. Her clingy brown sweater showed off her broad shoulders and her arms, which I knew were strong and toned. Once again the knowledge that she never wears a bra popped into my fevered brain, and I felt my knees start to go wonky. Her skin, and the curve of her waist, and the way she responded when I—“Hunter?” she said, watching my face.

“Ah, yes,” I said, snapping my mind out of the gutter. “Right. Hi, love.” I put my hand on her back and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed me back, her lips gentle on mine, and I was struck by how alive she felt, how vibrant.

“Are you hungry?” I asked when we pulled apart.

She smiled, her eyes lighting up, and I laughed. “What am I saying? You’re always hungry.”

Half an hour later I was pleased by the fact that Morgan wasn’t picky about food. While I wasn’t sure if she knew the difference between bad food (instant tarts and diet soda) and good food (the linguine I had made for dinner), still, the fact that she ate everything and seemed to enjoy it was heartening.

“How did you learn to cook?” she asked, taking another thin slice of bruschetta.

“Self-defense. My aunt Shelagh was pretty uninspired. I couldn’t blame her—she had years of cooking for twelve people at every meal before she caught on and started making the oldest kids help out.”

Morgan laughed, and I felt the same kind of inner glow that came over me when I had worked a particularly nice bit of magick. I loved her. I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted her to be packed, to be ready to get in my car tomorrow morning and drive off with me. Like her, I was frustrated by the fact that she was only seventeen.

“I brought dessert,” she said, going into the parlor. She returned with a white pastry box and opened it at the table.

“Voilà. Two éclairs.”

“Brilliant,” I said, reaching for one. Witches and sweets seem to go together. I know that after spell-working, I tend to fall upon whatever sweet carbohydrate there is. Even Aunt Shelagh, during her macrobiotic period, had been observed wolfing down a brownie after a Lammastide rite.

As I fixed a pot of tea, I began to realize that Morgan was coiled almost as tightly as I was. I knew she was upset about my leaving tomorrow. I was both upset and incredibly excited. Part of me was aching to go jump in the car right now and set off, every minute bringing me closer to my long-lost parents. I tried as unobtrusively as possible to feel her aura. Regular people can’t feel someone do this; even a lot of witches would be pretty unaware of it. I’d had a lot of training in feeling auras as a Seeker. It was literally my job to know people, to be able to detect nuances about their behavior, their energy.

“What are you doing?” Morgan asked.

I sighed. Served me right for trying to scan someone as strong as she was.

“Feeling your aura,” I said, turning on the hot water in the sink. “You seem kind of. . tense. Are you okay?”

She nodded, not looking at me, and drank the last of her tea. “Um, could you leave that till later?” she asked, gesturing toward the kitchen mess. “I just—want to be with you now. It’s our last night, and I want us to spend time together, just us.”

“Sure, of course,” I said, turning off the water. I put my arm around her shoulders and led her from the kitchen.

She leaned against me. “Let’s go up to your room.”

All my senses jumped to full alert. “All right,” I said, feeling my throat contract. Our chances to be alone and physical were few and far between, and I had been hoping we could take advantage of the opportunity tonight.

We walked upstairs, where Sky had one bedroom and I have the other. As we walked in, I could see all at once how impersonal the room seemed. Even after being in Widow’s Vale for months, I hadn’t spent much time settling in. The room contained my bed, my almost bare desk, and three boxes of books, which remained unpacked. There were no curtains, no rugs, no photographs or knickknacks. It was almost like walking into an abandoned dormitory. I felt a sudden embarrassment at the complete lack of mood.

Morgan left me and walked to the bed, which was still, after months of my living here, just a box spring and a mattress on the floor. She kicked off her clogs, sat down, and leaned back against the pillows. Then she looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

My nerves jolted awake as desire flared to life. For once we didn’t have to worry about Sky coming home; it was a weekend night, so Morgan wouldn’t have to leave by nine; we had the rest of the evening together and an empty house with no disruptions. Then we were lying next to each other, and I was kicking off my boots and my hands were reaching around her sides, feeling her curves. The idea that Morgan was lying on my bed went right to my head, and then all thoughts fled as we kissed deeply, our mouths joined, our bodies pressed together. Goddess, she felt good. I have always found her intensely attractive, everything about her: her body, her face, her scent, how she moved against me, the sounds she made as we kissed, tiny whimpers of pleasure. I leaned into her, deepening our kiss.

“Hunter, Hunter,” she said, pulling her mouth away from mine.

“Mmm.” I followed her mouth, but her hands pressed against my chest and pushed. I swam toward coherence and looked into her eyes to see her gazing at me seriously. “What, love, too much?” Please don’t say it was too much. “What?” I asked again.

“Hunter, I want us to make love,” she whispered, her eyes glancing at my mouth. “I love you. I’m ready.”

My brain struggled to process the words. Had I really heard that, or was this some cruel fantasy? I looked down at her face, her incredible, sculptured face. Was she serious?

I swallowed hard. “You want to—”

“I’m ready, Hunter,” she said, her voice soft but sounding confident. “I want to make love with you.”

It was as if the entire universe had just dropped literally into my lap. We had come close several times, and I had been keen to since practically the first moment I saw her, but it had never quite worked out.

“Are you sure?” I felt compelled to ask. Please, please, please.

She nodded, and my heart began to pound. “I started taking the Pill.”

My eyebrows rose. She was serious; she had thought it out; she was ready. I sent out a huge, silent thank-you to the universe and pressed against her, holding her close.

“I really want that, too,” I murmured against her hair. “I’ve been wanting to.” I tried to quell the urgent impulse to simply leap on her—don’t scare her off—and instead kissed her gently down the side of her face and neck. She wriggled to give me better access and made little sounds in her throat.

“Do you know about conception spells?” I asked, stroking her hair away from her face.

“Yes—but I couldn’t find any, and I couldn’t ask Alyce.”

“When did you start taking the Pill?”

“This afternoon. I brought condoms, too.”

I grinned at her, and after a moment she grinned back. “Right. We better do a barrier spell just to be safe,” I said, and she nodded, her cheeks flushing a beautiful rose color. Pathetically, it had been a long time since I had needed one, and I had to look it up. In the interests of continuing her education, I explained the basics to Morgan and saw her eyes widen as she grasped the basic image. “Let me go do this, and I’ll be right back,” I said, running the tip of my tongue along the curve of her ear.

“Hurry,” she said, looking extremely witchy, and I almost raced out of the room and stumbled down the hall to Sky’s.

When I came back a few minutes later, Morgan was under the covers up to her shoulders. I took in the sight of her skirt, jumper, camisole, and her socks on the floor. Oh, yeah, I thought, yanking my shirt over my head and unsnapping my jeans.

“Come here, come here,” she said, smiling and holding out her hands, and I almost tripped getting out of my pants. Then I was sliding under the covers, feeling her skin against mine, her knickers against me, and I practically lost my mind. At last, at last, at last. I held her head in my hands and kissed her deeply, again and again until we were both breathing fast and Morgan’s eyes were glittering, her pupils wide and dark.

This was something I had been dreaming about for months. Her arms were clasped around my back, holding me close, pressing her small, beautifully shaped breasts to my chest. Our legs were tangled together, hers long and smooth.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, stroking her, caressing her, watching her eyes unfocus as she moved under my hands. I knew she hadn’t done this before, and I wanted to make sure this was fabulous for her, that she was comfortable and happy.

“I love you, too,” she said, her voice sounding tight. She moved against me restlessly, twining closer to me as if she had been doing this all her life. Her hands moved over my skin, over my chest, around my back, stroking my face. . I held my breath as her hand tentatively touched me, and I leaned closer to touch her in the same way. Morgan gave a little gasp and stilled, her eyes locked on mine. I could hardly breathe—it was incredibly exciting, incredibly sexy, like falling off a cliff, falling down endlessly and being able to see only Morgan’s eyes, her soft mouth.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, moving so I could touch her more.

“Yes,” I said, lost, leaning in to kiss her neck.

“Hunter,” she whispered back. “Yes.”

“This is so right,” I muttered, kissing her. “You’re everything to me.”

She made an indistinguishable reply and hooked one leg over my side, curling around me. I never dreamed my last night here would end so perfectly, I thought dimly. Morgan’s eyes were closed; the only sounds she was making were anxious little “mm, mm, mms.” Tonight we were going to make love.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that Morgan had decided she was ready. What timing—this would be the perfect memory to have when I was far away in. . uh, far away in. . Canada.

Morgan clutched my arm hard and pushed herself against me, and I thought, Yes, this is going to work, this is fantastic. . I will miss this so much when I am. . in Canada. Far away in Canada. Tomorrow. Uh. . I quickly tried to push away those bothersome thoughts. Focus, I ordered myself. Concentrate. You have Morgan close to naked in your bed. Get it together. You’re almost home.

“I’ll think about this the whole time you’re gone,” said my love’s voice, and I felt her breath against my cheek.

The whole time you’re gone. “Mmm,” I breathed as I felt her tongue tickling my ear. Goddess, this was fun, this was perfect; I was here with Morgan, Morgan, whom I loved and wanted so much. So much for having an early night—I wanted to do this all night long until the sun came up and—

Oh, bloody hell. When the sun came up, I would be taking off. I didn’t know how long I would be gone. I didn’t know what I was going to find. I could find something that would change my life forever. My parents had been on the run from Amyranth for eleven years. I could be heading into serious danger. Or I could be heading into having a family for the first time in eleven years. A family I wouldn’t want to leave.

And then where would I be? Away from Morgan. And who would I be? Someone who slept with his girlfriend right before leaving her.

Damnation.

“Hunter?” She sounded worried, and I looked down and touched her face.

“It’s nothing,” I told myself as much as her. I closed my eyes and kissed her again, feeling how right it was, how incredible. What was I doing? Should I be doing this? Was this a good idea?

It was a fantastic idea, and I pulled her against me more tightly, feeling sweat break out on my forehead. Morgan had thought about this, had decided she was ready, and Goddess knew I was. We were going to do this tonight. How could I possibly stop now?

I couldn’t; there was just no way. Tonight was all about Morgan and me. Morgan, who trusted me. Trusted me not to hurt her. Oh, no. No. I pulled my weight back onto my arm. Morgan’s eyes were wide. “Did I—is something wrong?”

The insecurity in her voice made me jerk my head down to look at her. “No!” I said strongly, holding her closer. “No, of course not.”

“Then what’s going on?” She snuggled closer to me, and once again I had to fight a vicious battle between the top half of my body and the lower half. The top half, which included my barely functioning brain, won, but only by a minuscule margin.

I sighed. “Morgan—I’m wondering. . is this the best idea?” The words caught in my throat, but I forced them out, feeling like I should be awarded a big medal for valor and chivalry.

“Whaaat?” she said, drawing back from me. I felt her aura, her vibrations instantly change. They had been incredibly strong, vibrant, involved, excited. Now they were cooling, stilling rapidly as she retreated. No, no, no, I wanted to howl.

Talk fast, Niall. “Morgan,” I said, still trying to hold her close. “Listen—I want to make love with you practically more than I want to breathe at this very moment. But is this really the best thing? I mean, I’m leaving tomorrow; I don’t know when I’ll be back; I don’t know what I’ll find or what will happen to me while I’m there. I’m saying my future is somewhat up in the air at the moment. It seems—irresponsible for me to make love with you now.”

“Irresponsible?”

I winced at the cool tone in her voice, and she pulled away from me physically and emotionally while I swore to myself in four different languages, including Middle Gaelic, which isn’t easy.

“Love, this is killing me,” I said with complete sincerity. “I want this very much. And here you are, giving yourself to me, and it’s our first time, and it’s incredible. I absolutely don’t want to hurt you. But—what if something happens that keeps us apart? I don’t want to do this just once and then forget about it. I want our first time to be only the first in a long, long series of us being together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Wait—stop.” She had scooted to the side of the bed, and the sight of her bare, beautiful back, stiff with anger and hurt, pained me almost as much as the athame she had once sent into my neck a long time ago. “Please, Morgan, wait. Hear me out.” I lunged and grabbed her around the hips, my cheek pressed against her back as she tried unsuccessfully to get up. “I’m dying to sleep with you!” I said. “I’m mad with wanting you! There’s nothing more that I want than to be in bed, making love, all night long!”

“Except to be responsible.”

“Morgan! Just think for a minute. Do you really think that the night before I leave for Goddess knows how long is the best time for us to sleep together for the first time? I mean, if we had been sleeping together for a while, this would be fine. But this is our first time together. It should be perfect. It shouldn’t be part of a good-bye.”

Her jaw barely moved. “In your opinion.” Icicles dripping. She took advantage of my momentary appalled shock to leap out of bed. I scrambled after her, wondering where the hell I had thrown my underwear. In seconds she had pulled on her camisole with the lace and was reaching for her sweater and socks.

“Morgan, Morgan,” I said, looking desperately around the floor. “This isn’t my decision alone. We need to agree on this. I mean, I hate this. All I want to do is make love with you. But can you try to see where I’m coming from, a little bit?”

The look she gave me was distant, and my heart dropped down to my bare knees. She shrugged and sat on the bed to pull on her socks. “I don’t get it. You want to, but you won’t. You love me, but you won’t sleep with me. I feel like a leper.”

I ditched all thoughts of underwear and pulled on my jeans, being careful with the zipper. “Morgan, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my whole life. And I’m ecstatic that you feel ready for us to go to bed. That’s what I’ve wanted ever since I met you.” I knelt down in front of her and looked up into her eyes, her shuttered face. “I love you. I’m so attracted to you. Please believe me. I mean, you felt it. This has nothing, nothing to do with how much I want you or how sexy you are. It’s just about timing.”

“Timing.” She sighed and lifted her long hair away from her neck, then let it fall. I thought of it spread over my sheets, over my pillows, and began to think I was completely mad.

“Morgan, I don’t want to hurt you. But either option is bad: if I ask you to wait for the next time we can be together, it hurts your feelings and makes you think I don’t want you. Which isn’t true. But if we go to bed tonight and then something happens and we’re apart for a long time, would that be better?”

She glanced away, seeming for the first time to examine the state of my room. Great. I saw her gaze trace the bare floor, the gutted candles on my desk, the boxes still unpacked. With no warning, an image of Cal Blaire’s bedroom came to mind. I had seen it when I’d been in Selene’s house, undoing spells, setting other spells. Cal’s bedroom had been huge, quirky, and romantic. His bed had been an antique, hung with mosquito netting. Everything in that room had been beautiful, luxurious, interesting, seductive. Feeling bleak, I rested my face on my outstretched arm, wondering if I had just buggered things up in a really huge way.

“Morgan, please,” I said. When I raised my head, she was examining me calmly, and I damned her ability to rein in her strongest emotions. I covered her hand with one of mine, and she didn’t flinch. “Please don’t be angry with me or hurt. Please don’t leave like this. Please let’s have tonight be a good thing for both of us. I don’t want this to be the moment we both look back on while I’m gone.”

My words seemed to reach her, and I felt the sharp edges of her anger soften. A tiny bit. Then her face crumpled, and she said, “Hunter, you’re leaving tomorrow. I want us to be joined together in a real way before you go. Here I am, I’m seventeen”—she threw out her arm in a disgusted, disbelieving gesture—“and you’re nineteen and can be with anyone you want, and I want you to feel connected to me!” Her voice broke and she clenched her fists, looking embarrassed and angry with herself for seeming weak.

Her words completely threw me, and I gaped at her. One of my favorite Tynan Flannery quotes came back to me: “Women are impossible, witches are worse, and women who are powerful witches are going to be the death of me.”

I reached up and enfolded her in my arms, resting my head against her chest just under her chin. “Love, we are joined together in a real way because I love you, and you love me. We’re mùirn beatha dàns,” I said quietly. “You say I can be with anyone I want—well, you can be with anyone you want, too. I choose to be with you. Who do you choose?” I tilted my head back and looked up at her.

“I choose you,” she muttered ungraciously, and I wanted to laugh but had enough sense left not to.

“I feel connected to you,” I went on. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with us having sex. Not that I don’t want to have sex!” I added hastily. “I definitely want to have sex! Make no mistake! The second I come back, I’m going to jump you, wherever you are, and initiate you into the sublime joys of womanhood.”

She burst into laughter, and I grinned. “My mother will be thrilled,” she said dryly.

“Me too,” I promised with intense sincerity, and she laughed again.

We sat there, hugging, for a long time. I hoped that we had somewhat mended our earlier rift, and I again started to question whether or not I should just go for it. Hell, Morgan wanted to, I wanted to, it would make us happy. . for the next couple of hours. What about after that? I was conducting a debate within myself when Morgan gently disengaged from me.

“It’s late. I better go.”

“Uh. .”

She kissed me, holding my face in her strong hands. “Drive carefully tomorrow. Call me when you can. I’ll be thinking about you.”

Then she stood up and left, her clogs loud on the stairs. I trotted after her, still trying to figure out what I wanted. She turned and gave me a last, wistful smile, and then she was gone. I sat down on the steps, unsure of what had happened between us, unsure if I had done the right thing, unsure about everything.