Strife

12 Restoration

October 14, 1971

I can feel the darkness closing in.

Today, the day after my argument with Mother, I went back to the library and pulled out the Book. I don’t know what made me do it—I suppose I thought that it might have some advice on how to stop the same dark magick it unleashed. Which it did. Page after page on binding witches, both in secret and in the open. It even had a section on how to bind one’s own magick. But I wasn’t sure—I mean, I didn’t know for sure that Sam was behind the latest piece of dark magick.

I decided to look for another option.

I flipped through the book, skimming it, and finally came across a chapter called “On the Movements of Objects through the Aire.” Just like the plates and the drawer in the kitchen, I thought, and the lamp in the corner. So I read it. And guess what it said? It said that some witches, when they’re in an agitated state of mind, can mentally move onjects without realizing it.

So Sam could be behind these events, I realized. He wouldn’t have to be into dark magick to be behind them. As long as he is nearby and is familiar with the objects in question, he could move them with his mind. Obviously he’s eaten off the plates in the kitchen often enough to be able to picture them. And he was in the house both times.

I went to leave the library. But as I stood there redrawing the sigils of protection and obscurity around the door, I suddenly realized something.

Sam doesn’t know about the library.

He won’t be shown the library until his initiation. He doesn’t even know it exists. So how could he have made the lamp fall over inside it?

In fact, there’s only one witch in the house who knows about the library and is in an agitated state of mind. The same person who was present at both events. The one person I would never suspect.

Me.

— Sarah Curtis

“With this salt, I purify my circle.” I couldn’t wait to be unbound. I sprinkled salt around the large circle I had drawn lightly on the floor of my room. It was midnight, and my family was asleep. Still, I had shoved a chair up against the door leading from my room into the bathroom and a few books up against the main door to my room. I didn’t want any more people accidentally barging into my room while I was in the middle of making magick.

I picked up the lapis lazuli from where I had placed it at the center of the circle. The stone felt cool in my hand. The gentle silk of my birth mother’s green robe felt smooth against my skin, and even though my power was still reined, these two things made me feel like I was surrounded by good magick.

Lying down in the center of the circle, I placed the smooth stone on my forehead. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do, so I decided to try casting out my senses.

I could feel Hunter’s presence almost like he was in the room with me. My eyes were filled with fog that slowly began to lift slightly. As I looked around me, I saw that I was no longer in my room. I was in Hunter’s living room. Sitting across from me was Alyce. To her right was Sky; to her left was Erin. Sky’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Soon the others closed their eyes, and I saw their lips moving as well. They were chanting, I guessed. I watched all of this through a thin film of haze, like static from a channel that wasn’t coming in clearly. What was this spell they were casting? It looked totally unfamiliar to me.

After a few moments Erin lit a black pillar candle. Then Alyce drew out a long string of thread and burned it over the candle so that it was broken in two. Silver flame licked up the thread, which dissolved into a fine, shimmery powder. Alyce blew on the powder so that it floated through the room, growing into a large cloud of sparkling dust. Soon everyone was covered in it. The powder gave everything it landed on a magickal glow, as if the room were bathed in the rosy light of a sunrise. All the while their lips were moving in the chant. It was eerie, like watching a suspense movie with the sound turned off, but somehow beautiful.

Erin placed her fingers in a bowl of water, then passed her hand over it three times. Quite suddenly the haze began to lift, and I could see everyone clearly. At the same time I realized that for the first time in days, I didn’t have a headache. In fact, I felt wonderful, as if I’d just taken a long nap and a hot shower. I noticed that I was very, very hungry. That was when I knew that the ceremony I had just witnessed had restored my magick.

“Hunter,” Sky said to me. Her voice was far away, like a voice in a dream. “Hunter, is she with us?”

“Yes,” I said to Sky. I had spoken with Hunter’s voice, almost as if we were one person, one will. It was then that I fully understood that I was seeing through his eyes—that I was actually within Hunter. I wasn’t even certain whether the intention to speak had been my own or his. In the next moment I felt a rush of excitement. It was a visceral feeling, almost like lust, and once again I wasn’t sure whether the feelings were Hunter’s or my own. Suddenly I felt very self-conscious.

“Welcome to the circle, Morgan,” Erin said.

There was so much I wanted to say—I wanted everyone to know how grateful I was to have my magick back; I wanted Sky to know that I was sorry she was leaving. But the power of the moment was intense, and it seemed inappropriate to address anything but the grim task at hand. I focused my energy on Hunter’s presence. I felt a warm rush of strength and love and somehow knew that Hunter was sending me his emotions. I pulled those feelings around me like a blanket.

Erin pulled the book, still wrapped in its dark shroud, from its place beside her and placed it in her lap. After untying the silk cover, she turned to a page she had marked with a red bookmark. Erin closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to take a deep breath to steady herself. Then she opened her eyes and began to read the spell aloud.

The words were harsh and ugly, half of them written in an ancient language that I didn’t understand—one that seemed older than any language I’d heard before. They seemed to force their way out of Erin’s throat, as if she could hardly bear to utter them. Alyce’s eyes were closed, and she was grimacing as if in pain with every word Erin spoke. Sweat broke out on Sky’s forehead, and a bead trickled down the side of her face. Even I felt dizzy and tired, although I couldn’t tell whether it was the effect of the spell or the strain of experiencing the circle through Hunter. I felt a current run through me like a bolt of electricity, and I knew it was the power of the circle growing and combining, running through all of us.

I felt a wave of exhaustion—Hunter’s, I was almost certain. Alyce’s face was flushing pink, then darker red. Her grimace grew wider, and it seemed like she could hardly bear what was happening. Tendrils of her gray hair worked their way loose from her long braid. I noticed this in a moment, a period of time shorter than a heartbeat, then slowly, slowly, the haze began to return. The scene was filling with fog that grew thicker with each passing moment. What’s happening? I thought frantically, but not fast enough. The words beat back against me as if I was shouting into the wind. I felt certain that they had reached no one—not even Hunter.

I became aware of a sound, a sound very much like the roaring ocean beating against the rocks, then drawing back, then beating once again against the rocks. It was a sound I knew, though it took me a moment to place it.

It was the sound of my breathing.

I opened my eyes and found myself in my own room. I tried to cast out my senses again for Hunter but found that I couldn’t. Hunter, Sky, Alyce, and Erin—had their magick been sapped, too? Did that mean the spell had been successful? I had no idea—I hoped so.

I couldn’t believe that everything had happened so quickly. I struggled to sit up, and the lapis lazuli fell from my forehead with a thunk against the floor. I picked it up and held it against my lips for a moment.

I felt like hell.

Standing up, I pulled off Maeve’s robe and folded it carefully. Then I yanked on a flannel nightgown and crept to the hiding place where I kept all of my mother’s tools, behind the HVAC vent, and carefully put the robe back in its place. I set the lapis lazuli on my nightstand. Crawling into bed, I gently lifted Dagda’s soft form and placed him at the end of the bed. I stroked his fur, then pulled the covers over me.

Staring into the darkness, I wished I could call Hunter. . just to hear his voice and to know whether the spell had worked. It seemed cruel to have my magick back—to feel it flowing through me so fiercely for a few moments—and then to have it ripped away again. Still, I knew the magick would return. And I knew that Hunter would, too.

And if there was one thing I had learned how to do lately, it was wait.

I expected to feel better when I woke up the next morning, which is why it was such a rude shock when I still felt horrible. Every muscle ached, and when I tried to sit up, my body actually shook with the effort. Still, I forced myself over to my dresser and pulled on some fresh clothes. I had to go to school today—my history paper was due. I’d spent practically every spare moment, every lunch period and study hall, working on it. Even if it wouldn’t help my quest to stay out of Catholic school, I wasn’t about to let those precious twenty points of extra credit go without a fight.

I thought I’d never make it to fifth period. But when I walked into history class and placed my paper on Mr. Powell’s desk, I felt proud of myself and happy. Even though my parents had never approved of my topic, the paper was good, and I knew it.

After school I came home and fell straight into bed. I didn’t wake up until eight o’clock, when my mom appeared in my bedroom with a tray, looking worried. “Are you all right, Morgan?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said, my voice thick from sleep. “I just stayed up late last night. I had to hand in my history paper today.” Both of these things were true, although unrelated.

My mom nodded. “I made you some soup.” She placed the tray on the floor by my bed. “Lean forward.”

I obeyed, and she plumped up the pillows behind me. Then she placed the tray on my lap. The soup was minestrone—one of my favorites. “Delicious,” I said when I’d had a spoonful.

“I didn’t wake you because I figured you needed your rest,” my mom said. “Besides, Dad and I like to have a romantic dinner alone sometimes.”

“Where’s Mary K.?” I asked.

“She’s over at Alisa’s house.” Mom traced a finger over the edge of my afghan. “Apparently Alisa was out sick today. Mary K. went over to give her the Spanish assignment.” My mother studied the pattern in the blanket carefully. I knew she was holding something back. Almost as if she felt me looking at her, my mom leaned over and brushed my hair away from my face.

“I really don’t feel sick,” I assured her. “I was just tired. I feel better already.”

I think my mom could tell I was lying, but she didn’t press me. Instead, she just stood up. “Leave the tray by your bed when you’re finished,” she instructed. “I’ll come back and get it later.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said.

She nodded and closed the door behind her as she left. I had another spoonful of soup and realized that I really did feel better—a little better, anyway. For once my mom and I hadn’t argued about grades, or beliefs, or Catholic school. It had seemed, for a moment, almost like we were back to normal.

Almost.