Strife

15. Lift

October 8, 1971

I’m so weak, I can hardly write this. I’ve told Mom and Dad that I have a bug so they won’t bother me, but that’s a lie. I’ve been in bed for over twenty-four hours. I can hardly sit up. And I can’t stop crying.

I had to do it. Sam is still in the hospital, and I’ the one who put him there. Who would be next? My mother? My father? Me?

So last night I pulled the Harris Stonghton book from the shelf. It took only a moment to find the spell I was looking for—the same one I’d discovered accidentally the other day. The spell to strip one’s self of magick.

I crept to my room and prepared everything, the black candle, the cauldron. At first I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to pronounce the chants correctly—they were written in a language I didn’t know. But as I started speaking, I found that the words felw off my tongue. For a moment I thought that the ceremony wouldn’t be so bad.

I was wrong.

After the few minutes I began to feel like there was a weight on my tongue. Something slimy. As I continued the chants, the weight slipped down my throat, into the pit of my stomach, as if I’d swallowed a snake. It stayed there and started to grow. I kept chanting, but the weight grew and grew, choking me. It spread farther, down my arms, down my legs, until I felt like my entire body was filled with a giant, black serpent. I was gagging on it, gasping for air. The weight pressed me against the floor, crushing me. I thought my spine would crack, but it didn’t, and soon the weight turned into a searing pain. Then, thankfully, the whole room went black.

I woke up on the floor of my room, feeling like a tree that’s been hit by a lightning. Alive on the outside but dead on the inside… rotting away. I’ll never use my magick again. I hardly even know what I am.

And I still have the book. I’ve hidden it under my mattress until I can decide what to do with it. I can’t bring myself to destroy it, and I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.

I can’t think about this now. All I want to do is sleep. Forever.

— Sarah Curtis

I was just about to crawl into bed when I heard the call. Morgan. The instant the word sounded in my mind, I knew that it was Hunter. He was sending me a witch message. I reached for the lapis lazuli by my bed. Lying back, I focused my energies and placed the smooth stone on my forehead. At the next heartbeat I felt Hunter, as if he were within me.

We have Ciaran.

For a moment they were words without meaning. I had spent the last several hours worrying about Alisa, terrified that I’d somehow hurt her, so it took me a moment to remember that there were other terrors in my life. Then images came into my mind, images of my birth father being bound by the braigh, of him crying out in pain, and I knew that Hunter was telling me that Ciaran had been apprehended by the council.

A thousand emotions rained down on me—relief, first, but then anger, and pity, and fear. And other feelings that I couldn’t even identify. Ciaran’s dark magick frightened and revolted me, but he was my father—the closest blood relative I had ever known. And when I remembered what I knew of witches who had had their power stripped—David Redstone, who had suffered horribly, or even how awful I’d felt when my power was only reined—I felt a horrible dread in the pit of my stomach. My father, my evil father. Captured. And utterly changed.

He will be stripped of his magick soon, Hunter’s voice said in my mind. First, he must stand trial. But Morgan, apparently he had a few things in his possession that led the council to conclude that he definitely was targeting you for attacks.

I frowned. What things?

Hunter was slow to respond. The council won’t release all of the information, but they said that he had a strand of your hair in a small box in his breast pocket.

I sucked in my breath, wondering how Ciaran could have gotten a strand of my hair. But of course, it would have been easy. We spent plenty of time together. He could easily have found one of my hairs on his own jacket, for example.

They’ve also pulled in Lenore Ammett, Hunter went on. According to her own Book of Shadows, she doesn’t need proximity for telekinesis.

My chest felt hollow. That was it, then. It was true. My own father had practically tried to kill me. Why? I wondered. What could he possibly gain by hurting me? Morgan, Hunter went on, now that Ciaran is in custody, I think we should lift the deflection spell.There’s no telling what might happen to him if he is stripped while still under the spell—and there’s no need for it anymore, anyway. Erin is here, and she agrees with me.

In a few moments I saw Erin’s familiar face and twinkling eyes. She was sitting in a room surrounded by candles. Her face was lit with a golden glow. I felt the delicate bones of her hands in mine, and I knew that she and Hunter were holding hands. They were ready to begin the circle.

I had to blink back tears. Although I had feared that Ciaran might have been behind the strange accidents all along, somehow finding out for certain didn’t fill me with relief; it filled me with sadness. I’d known he could be incredibly cruel, but a small part of me simply didn’t want to believe that he was capable of hurting me. He was my birth father, after all. My only living parent. To know that he had actually tried to harm me, even knowing I was his daughter, was almost incomprehensible. And I couldn’t understand why.

Can we have the circle without Sky and Alyce? I asked.

Sky has already left, Hunter replied, and Alyce is busy with the store. But it doesn’t require as much magick to release the spell as to put it in place.The three of us can do it.

All right, I said. But first I have to tell you something. I took a deep breath. Alisa is very sick. She’s in the hospital. Mary K. and I went to see her this afternoon, and she had some kind of crash. I’m worried. I didn’t tell him that I might have been responsible for what had happened. I simply couldn’t allow myself to think those thoughts.

That’s terrible, Hunter replied. I could feel his concern, then confusion as he added, Do you think we should send some healing spells her way?

No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Even though I felt certain that I hadn’t actually performed any magick that afternoon, that Alisa’s crash was just a coincidence, the idea of doing a spell for her was terrifying. What if we ended up hurting her? I couldn’t take the chance. Alisa quit the coven, I explained. I don’t know if she would want a spell done for her. And I wouldn’t want to do anything against her wishes.

All right, Hunter conceded, even though I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. Let me know how she’s doing, won’t you, Morgan?

Of course, I promised. I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for the task to come. Let’s begin, I said with Hunter’s voice.

Erin began a low hum at the back of her throat, then, in a voice that was almost a whisper, she began to chant.

The words went on, and the magick that welled up in me was like cool, clear water, fluid and bracing. I waited for Erin to pull out Harris Stoughton’s book, and I was surprised to realize that she wasn’t going to. She didn’t even seem to have the book with her. Instead, she reached for a large white dish and a white teapot. With a steady hand she filled the dish with steaming liquid. My nostrils were filled with the scent of mint and rosemary, and I nearly laughed to realize that my connection with Hunter was so strong that I could actually smell what he smelled. Reaching into a green velvet pouch beside her, Erin pulled out a handful of something and crumbled it into the water. The water shimmered for a moment, like the ocean in the setting sun. There was a light hissing sound and the scent of lavender, then Erin looked up and smiled.

“We have released the witch from his own restraints.” Erin sounded as happy and relieved as I felt. “He will no longer be his own victim.”

I inhaled deeply, still taking pleasure in the beautiful smells that lingered around me. Undoing the deflection spell had been as beautiful and easy as putting it on had been ugly and horrible. I felt wonderful now, even though the magick hadn’t been directed at me. I was safe now—Ciaran couldn’t threaten me any longer, and my magick was intact.

Morgan, thank you, Hunter’s voice echoed in my mind.

For what?

There was a moment before he replied. For everything, he said finally. For everything, he repeated, soft as the sound of water flowing over smooth stones. In the next moment he was gone.

The lapis lazuli made a slight click as I placed it back on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. I love you, Hunter Niall, I thought as I pulled the comforter up to my chin. I looked out my window, into the depths of the starry sky.

“I did it.” Bree leaned against a bank of lockers, clutching her books to her chest. There were dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well.

“You talked to Robbie?”

Bree gave a faint nod.

“How did it go?” I asked. It was five minutes to the first bell.

“Badly,” Bree said. “But better than I thought it would.”

“So are you. .” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“We’re still together,” Bree replied, tucking her silky hair behind one ear. “He was hurt, though. Really hurt about the stuff with Matt.” She looked at me, her eyes rimmed with red. “That was the worst part. I’ve never—”

“I know,” I said. “It’s okay.”

“He said that he loved me.” Bree’s voice was small and fragile, like a little girl’s teacup. “I’m glad I told him, even though it wasn’t easy.”

We stood there a moment, not saying anything.

“I guess I’m afraid,” Bree said finally.

I thought about Bree—about all the nights she ate dinner alone because her father was out of town on business. I thought about the brother she hadn’t spoken to in over a month, the mother she hadn’t seen in years. Bree knew about difficult love. No wonder she was afraid. “Robbie is special,” I told her. “And you’re strong.”

Bree nodded, as if what I’d said was something she knew already—something she’d forgotten. She squeezed my hand, then let it go. “You’re strong, too.”

The bell rang, and we were swept down the hall toward homeroom in a churning sea of students. Neither one of us said anything more. Neither one of us had to.