Strife

8. Loss

September 30, 1971

It’s been almost a week since it happened. I prepared the ritual, lit the fire in the cauldron, called upon the Goddess and the God for strength, and prepared to destroy Harris Stonghton’s vile book. But I couldn’t do it.

It’s hard to describe exactly what I was feeling. Fear, yes. And revulsion for the book and its author. But I also felt a strange sense of longing. I suppose it’s my Rowanwand blood-the love of and hunger for knowledge that we are known for. At any rate, I simply couldn’t destroy the book and take this knowledge-even though it’s dark knowledge-out of the world forever. I had to find a safe place for it.

My first thought was to bury it behind the house. Earth can be very powerful-it can purify objects that have been spelled. But I didn’t want to run the risk that someone, or even some animal, might dig up the book and find it. Besides, the book itself hasn’t been spelled. It’s a book of dark spells, and there is no mountain of earth in the world that can purify it.

But I realized that there is a place in my very own house that is ringed with spells of obscurity… a secret place no one but initiated blood witches can find: my parent’s library. I decided to put it there for now and to warn the about the book as soon as possible. I hadn’t wanted to tell them about it for fear of getting Sam into trouble. Then again, I thought that things had gone far enough.

My parents keep their dark magick titles, of which they have quite a few, on the highest shelf in the library. I had to get a stool to reach it. I stood there for a moment, reading the title before me. Some of them were fairly chilling, and as I placed the Stonghton book among them, I had a deep sense of foreboding.

At the very moment that I slid the book in among the others, the reading lamp on the table in the corner began to rattle and shake. Then it started to move. Slowly at first, then gaining speed, it slid across the table and crashed to the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut tight. It’s an earthquake, I though, and I wanted to believe it-although whoever heard of an earthquake in Gloucester? Besides, I would have felt the whole room shaking.

Finally I managed to calm breathing and opened my eyes. Everything was still, including the books on the top shelf. I left the library as quickly as possible and redrew the sigils in a hurry.

I was so scared that for a moment I considered doing a circle in my room to calm my nerves. But instead I went up to the widow’s walk and let the rhythmic crashing of the waves hypnotize me.

I have to be honest with myself. Lately magick has seemed terrifying instead of wonderful. For now, I think I’ll let nature be my religion.

— Sarah Curtis

“We have to go right now,” Erin said, checking her watch. “Hunter should be home, and Sky is due back from the record store in twenty minutes. She may even be there by the time we arrive.”

I nodded, mute. The incredible unspeaking Morgan. Part of me just couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, and another part of me grasped that it was vitally important and had to take place right away. I found myself pulled along by the strength of Erin’s will—following her like a stick caught in the current of the river.

Time seemed to slow down and everything around me felt surreal as Erin and I walked to my car. As I slid into my seat and turned the key in the ignition, I noticed that Erin’s feet weren’t touching the floor of the car. She looked ridiculously small on Das Boot’s enormous bench seat, like a doll in an easy chair. Pulling into traffic, I felt hyperaware of the cars around me. Somehow a fly had found its way into my car, and it buzzed loudly against the windshield.

Erin’s voice cut into my thoughts. “I won’t lie to you, Morgan,” she was saying. “The ceremony isn’t going to be easy.”

I interrupted her. “I’ve seen someone stripped of their powers,” I said with a shudder, remembering David Redstone.

“It isn’t like that,” Erin said quickly. “It’s unpleasant, but not at all like that. Reining puts limits on your powers, but it doesn’t take them away. You’ll still be able to do some small things, even some bigger things with the help of another, more powerful witch. And you can be unbound once you’ve gotten further in your training. Think of the reining as like a muzzle on a dog. Once the dog is taught not to bite, the muzzle can come off.”

I gripped the steering wheel. “It sounds horrible,” I said.

Erin turned and looked out the window. “It is,” she said softly. “But Hunter and Sky and I will be there to make it as comfortable for you as we can.”

Hunter. A small spark of hope flared in my chest and brought me back to reality. Hunter knew me—he knew I couldn’t possibly be responsible for this. He would convince Erin that my magick didn’t need to be reined. He would convince me.

He had to.

Sky was just striding up the front walk as we pulled into the driveway. She turned and gave us a little wave, as if she were happy to see us. Then we stepped out of the car and she saw our faces. Her smile vanished. Hunter appeared at the door. I guessed that he’d sensed us pull up.

“What is it?” Sky whispered to me as we walked up the front steps.

I didn’t respond. No one said anything as we took off our coats and hats. Hunter went into the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea, and Erin, Sky, and I followed him. As I sat down at their table, I willed myself to relax.

“There’s been another incident,” Erin announced. “Morgan and I were in the library when books began to fly off the shelves, and the entire bookcase nearly crashed down on her head.”

“Morgan?” Sky asked, leaning forward. Hunter turned pale.

“It would now seem that the common denominator for these incidents is Morgan,” Erin went on. “I am concerned that if we allow her magick to remain unchecked, we run the risk of someone getting hurt.”

“I don’t think so.” Hunter shook his head. “I’m almost certain that some of these incidents have been messages from my parents. I don’t know how I know it, but I feel it’s true.”

“Did you feel that what happened at the circle on Saturday was a message from your parents?” Erin asked.

I felt my heart beat once. Twice. Three times. “No,” Hunter replied.

“And this latest incident in the library wouldn’t have been, either,” Erin went on. “Hunter,” she said in a gentler tone, “it’s possible that you are receiving messages from your parents. What happened when we scried and what you described at the movie theater, even the figure in the fog— those things do sound like messages. It’s also possible that Morgan is causing these telekinetic incidents and that they’re entirely unrelated to what you’ve experienced. You’ve said yourself that she has very strong powers and that she isn’t a very skilled witch. . yet.”

“I don’t know.” Sky spoke up, surprising me. “Skilled or not, it seems to me that if Morgan was doing this, she’d feel it.”

I felt so grateful to her that I almost leaped up and hugged her.

“Who, then?” Erin demanded.

“Ciaran,” Hunter suggested.

Erin scoffed. “Hunter, you know as well as I do that proximity is important for telekinesis, even for a witch as strong as Ciaran. He has to be near her. He wouldn’t be able to control books in a library in Widow’s Vale when he’s in Spain—it’s impossible.”

“Well, you were at both Saturday’s circle and at the library, Erin,” I snapped. “And those have been the only two telekinetic incidents so far.”

Erin cocked an eyebrow. “Have they?” she demanded. My mind whirled, and I felt sick as I remembered my books leaping from my locker and scattering all over the floor. “Maybe not,” I admitted.

Sky raised her eyebrows, and Erin leaned back in her chair. Hunter dug his hands into the pockets of his black corduroys. I told them briefly about my locker.

I expected Hunter to ask why I hadn’t told him about this before. But he didn’t. He just turned and gazed out the window for a long time.

It was Sky who broke the silence. “So—what should we do?” she asked.

“I think Morgan’s power needs to be reined.” Erin looked from Hunter to Sky. “Now. This evening.”

Sky looked at Hunter.

“That ritual isn’t to be done lightly,” he said to the window.

“Are you willing to risk it?” Erin demanded. “Someone could have been killed today. Morgan could have been killed.”

Hunter turned and looked at me. His eyes were full of pain. Tell her, I wanted to shout. Tell her that it isn’t me! But what he said was, “I’m sorry, Morgan.”

There was a long creak as Sky pushed her chair away from the table. “I’ve got some white clothes upstairs,” she said. “Come, Morgan.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening—that Hunter was letting this happen. I blinked fast, trying to clear my eyes of bitter tears. I wanted to scream, to shout, but what could I say? I tried to imagine how I would feel if I refused to let my powers be reined and then something horrible happened, but it was too awful to think about.

It’s only temporary, I told myself as I followed Sky upstairs to her room. I tried really hard to believe it.

When I came downstairs, wearing Sky’s white tunic and pants, Hunter had already drawn a circle. At its center was a large, heavy-looking stone basin, filled with water. Thick, pungent incense saturated the air. It was a kind I’d never smelled before, and it had a dark, earthy quality that reminded me of caves and dense forests. The sun had sunk quickly, and the only light in the room came from a few flickering candles.

I stepped inside the circle, and Hunter drew it closed. Each of us stood by one of the four corners—Hunter by earth, Sky by air, Erin by water, and I by fire.

In a low voice Erin began to chant. The words were Gaelic, strange and ancient-sounding.

The water in the basin began to shimmer and glow. For a moment it looked like a pool of liquid gold. Then a light flared from the center of it—small yet brilliant, like a lump of coal that burned as bright as the sun. I couldn’t look directly at it. After a moment the coal sent up a column of light bright enough to bathe the entire room in dazzling whiteness. The column was shot through with glowing sparks, specks of silver confetti.

I felt a similar spark rise in my chest—a brilliant light was growing within me. I felt wonderfully, powerfully alive. My heart leaped, and I wanted to shout, “It’s beautiful!” but in the next moment something happened that made my skin turn cold.

Ugly black smoke began to pour from the bottom of the basin. It was thick and heavy and rolled along the floor. It had gone no more than two feet in all directions from the basin when it slowly began to rise. But it didn’t rise the way normal smoke does, floating on the air through the room. Instead it rose like bars, or long wicked fingers, around the light. It rose until it reached the ceiling, then closed around the light like a dark clutching claw.

My lungs felt tight. I struggled for air. The brilliant light within me was dimming, held in the clutches of the horrible blackness. I fell to my knees.

Hunter, Sky, and Erin began chanting. After a moment the pain in my chest receded and I could breathe, although I felt very sick. The black fingers pulled the brilliant column of light down, slowly, into the bowl, until it was nothing but a swirling pool of gray streaked with flashes of light, like a tiny dark sky full of lightning. The chanting stopped, and I knew that Hunter, Sky, and Erin had done their best to help me. Still, my head was throbbing, and I had to choke down the bile that rose in my throat.

For a moment the room was completely still.

“Morgan.” Hunter strode over to me and tried to help me to my feet.

I shook him off. “I’m fine.”

A hurt look crossed his face, but I didn’t apologize. I stood up, my knees nearly buckling.

“Morgan, you should eat something,” Erin suggested.

The thought of food repulsed me. Besides, I was dying to get out of there. Right now I couldn’t look at any of them— not even Hunter. “I’ll eat at home,” I said weakly. I checked my watch and nearly gasped. Seven-thirty! Oh my God— family night was supposed to start at six! I remembered how excited my mother had been earlier that day, and a new wave of nausea rolled through me. I couldn’t believe I’d just let my mom down in order to participate in this horrible ceremony. “I have to go,” I said, and took a staggering step toward the stairs. Sky swooped toward me, but I held up my hand. “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Let me do this.”

I gritted my teeth and somehow managed to make it upstairs and change into my normal clothes. By the time I came back downstairs, I was feeling a bit clearer, although the headache was exquisitely painful.

“I’ll drive you,” Hunter offered, but I shook my head.

“I’ve got Das Boot,” I snapped. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it home fine.”

I turned to leave, but Hunter said, “Morgan.” The pain in his voice made me turn around, and I forced myself to face him. Hunter looked pale and worried, and I realized suddenly that he really hadn’t wanted to do this any more than I had.

“Call me later” was all he said. He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Okay,” I said, but our gazes remained locked for a moment longer. His green eyes communicated a world of thoughts and feelings. He loved me. He was afraid for me. He didn’t want anything to happen to me.

I held that look in my heart the entire drive home. It was the only thing that made me feel even a little bit better.

“Where have you been?” my mother demanded the minute I walked in the door. No “Hello,” no “Are you all right?” She was sitting on the couch with her arms folded across her chest. The headache threatened to split my skull in two.

I put my fingers to my left temple and rubbed it. “I’m sorry—” I began.

“Not good enough,” my mom snapped. “What is going on, Morgan?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. I just stood there, a lump in the living room.

My mom threw her hands up. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “What? You knew that family night was important to me—yet not only did you blow it off, you didn’t even phone to tell me you weren’t coming.” She pushed herself off the couch and faced me. “Tell me how to get through to you, Morgan,” she said. “What’s left?”

I didn’t know what to tell her. There was no way I could make her understand what had happened tonight, and I didn’t really even want her to know. The accident at the library, the reining of my powers—it was too scary for me to deal with, never mind my mom. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“Well, that makes two of us.” My mom sighed, then said, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t take much more of this. I’ve tried reaching out to you; now I’m going to try punishing you. You’re grounded.”

I opened my mouth to protest but thought better of it. She was right.

“Okay,” I said.

“I mean it, Morgan,” she went on. “No phone, no television, no going out—nothing but schoolwork for the next two weeks.”

I closed my eyes. I still felt thoroughly awful. “Okay.”

“Look at me,” my mom said, so I opened my eyes. “I love you,” she said. Her voice wasn’t sentimental—she was just stating a fact. “And I don’t understand what’s going on. But whatever it is, I’m not going to let it take my daughter away from me, is that clear?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. There was a beat of silence.

“I’m finished,” my mom said finally. “For now.”

I turned to go upstairs but stopped suddenly. “Mom?”

“Yes?” She sounded tired.

“I really am sorry,” I said. The words hung there a moment, but she didn’t reply. I trudged toward the stairs. Every muscle in my body—every fiber—ached. My head was pounding, and my heart was heavy. I pictured Hunter in my mind, tried to visualize the look he had given me just before I left. Only this time, instead of making me feel better, it made me feel worse. I wanted to call him. I needed to hear his voice. But now it was impossible—I was grounded.

I lay on my bed, and the pain in my head dulled a little. I wondered about the limits of my magick now that I was reined. Erin had said that I would still be able to do some small spells. Could I send him a witch message? I wondered. I decided to give it a try. Hunter, I thought, Hunter. I need you.

I felt echoing emptiness inside me and knew it wasn’t working. But I tried again, anyway. And again. And again. Even though there was no reply, I didn’t give up. I couldn’t.

I didn’t know what else to do.