The Calling

3. Witch Dance

September 6, 1977

My son was born ten days ago, and I know I should be the proud, happy da. The boy is big and healthy—but Goddess, he’s a loud, needy little bugger and Grania’s still so fat. When will she get back to normal? And when will someone pay some bloody attention to me for a change?

Tonight, after little Kyle screamed his lungs out for three solid hours (“Poor wee thing has colic,” Grania said, as if that made it bearable), I couldn’t take it anymore. I went out to the pub and had myself a few pints and a good sulk. On the way home a bony old cat dashed straight in front of me and I toppled onto someone’s rubbish left out for the trash man. I didn’t even think about it. I muttered a spell and blasted the damn cat. I couldn’t see it die, just heard its scream in the darkness. Now I feel a fool. I know better than to vent my spleen in such a childish way.

— Neimhidh

I found my way to the Lexington Avenue subway line, bought a MetroCard, checked my route with the map posted in the station, and was soon speeding south beneath the city streets. I’d ridden the subway a couple of times before with my family. My sister, Mary K., hated it, but I loved the speed, the relentless rhythm. It felt like I was surging through the city’s veins, being propelled by the beat of its heart.

I emerged from the subway at the City Hall stop. With a bit of asking around I found the Bureau of Records and the fifth-floor office where records of the city’s rental properties were kept.

The air smelled of old paper, the floors of ammonia. A wooden bench lined the wall by the door. Half a dozen people sat on it, a few reading, the rest staring into space with glazed eyes and blank expressions.

I walked up to the counter at the front of the room. Behind it were stacks of shelves filled with ledgers bound in black. A clerk stood behind a computer on the counter.

“Excuse me,” I began.

She pointed at a sign that said Please Take a Number. So I took a number from a dispenser and sat down on the bench next to a man with a thick mustache. “Have you been waiting long?” I asked.

“I’ve spent less time waiting in line at the DMV,” he told me.

I took that as a yes, but since there were only seven people ahead of me, I figured the wait couldn’t be too long. I was wrong. The clerk not only moved in excruciatingly slow motion whenever she was actually helping anyone, but she seemed to need lengthy breaks between finishing with one person and calling the next.

The minutes ticked on. I tapped my fingers on my leg, trying not to let dark images creep into my mind—images of Cal being struck by the bolt of dark magick, of his body lying there on the floor of Selene’s study. Since that horrible day, those pictures often came to haunt me in moments when I wasn’t actively thinking about something else.

I distracted myself by reciting—under my breath—the properties of all the healing plants I knew. After that I went through rocks and minerals. Then I began counting the tiles in the floor, the cracks in the ceiling, the scuff marks on the plastic chairs. If only I’d thought to bring a book.

It was almost two hours later when my number was called. “I’m trying to find the address of an apartment that was rented by Maeve Riordan and Angus Bramson in 1982,” I explained.

The clerk looked at me like I’d just asked her to sprout wings. “That’s not possible,” she said. “This system doesn’t find apartments by the tenants’ names. You give me the address, then I can tell you who lived there.”

“All I know is it was somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen,” I said.

She tapped fuchsia nails against the counter. “Then you’re out of luck,” she told me. “There are hundreds of apartments in Hell’s Kitchen. I can’t be searching every building listing for the Bransons.”

“It’s Bramson and Riordan,” I corrected her, trying not to lose the few shreds of patience I had left. “Isn’t there some kind of quick computer search you can do?”

She glanced at her computer. “Program’s not set up that way.”

I glanced at the rows of ledgers behind her. There were dates on the spines. “Do you think I could look through the 1982 books?” I asked.

“Not without a note from my supervisor, and she’s on vacation for the next two weeks.” The woman gave me a malicious smile. “Why don’t you come back in February?” she suggested.

“I won’t be here in February,” I protested.

She started typing on the keyboard. I’d been dismissed.

I turned toward the door. Then I turned back again. If this woman wanted to play a power game, I decided angrily, I’d be happy to play, too. And I’d win. I hesitated only a moment, though I knew I was about to do something I wasn’t supposed to do. Well, city employees weren’t supposed to be totally unhelpful, either, I reasoned.

I licked my lips and glanced around. The only person still waiting on the bench was a worn-looking elderly man who dozed as he sat. He wouldn’t notice anything.

I used a very simple spell, one of the first that Cal had taught me, one I had used to retrieve Maeve’s tools. “I’m invisible,” I whispered. “You see me not. I am but a shadow.”

The spell didn’t really make me invisible. It simply made me unnoticeable, trivial. When I used it, people would focus on other things instead of me. I jumped up and down a few times to see if it had worked. The clerk didn’t react, so I summoned my nerve and walked behind the counter. I hesitated when I reached for the first 1982 volume. Even if the spell made me unnoticeable, I wasn’t sure it would do the same for the book.

I focused on the clerk’s computer. Electricity was a form of energy and, as Hunter had taught me, energy was fairly easy to manipulate. I sent out my own energy, focusing until I picked up the emanations from the motherboard. Then I sent my energy into it, forcing the electric current into a series of irregular spikes.

“Damn, what is wrong with this machine?” the woman muttered.

Quickly I flipped open the 1982 book to the addresses in the West Forties and began scanning the cramped columns. On the seventh page I found it: Bramson. 788 W. 49th Street, Apt. 3.

I glanced at the clerk’s computer screen. Lines were flickering madly across it. Quietly I replaced the book and started out of the office.

The clerk looked up as she heard me open the door. “You,” she said, sounding surprised. “I thought you’d left.”

I smiled at her. “You were a real help,” I said. “Thanks.”

I hurried out, enjoying her look of blank confusion.

As I waited for the subway that would take me back to the apartment, I wondered if the clerk’s computer had recovered. Even if it was permanently fried, I had no regrets. Okay, I’d used my magick on an unsuspecting person, something I wasn’t supposed to do—but she’d deserved it. Besides, I hadn’t hurt her.

I knew, of course, that if Hunter ever found out what I’d done, he’d be angry. But this situation had been special. Using magick to get my birth mother’s address seemed justified. No real damage had been done, and I’d gotten the necessary results.

I felt good. My magick was growing stronger and more sure, and I loved it.

That evening we ate dinner at a bustling diner on lower Second Avenue. All six of us were squeezed into a booth with red vinyl seats. Hunter was on one side of me, Robbie on the other.

“So, what does everyone want to do tonight?” Bree asked.

“I’ve always wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge,” said Robbie. “It must be gorgeous at night when you can see all the lights of Manhattan.”

Bree waved a dismissive hand. “Excellent way to get mugged. Besides, it’s freezing.”

“Actually, I’ve got a lead I need to pursue,” Hunter said. “There’s a club not too far from here, a bit of a hangout for witches, and I’m told one of the DJs might know something about Amyranth. How would you all feel about going to a dance club?”

Raven grinned at Sky. “I could live with that.”

Sky nodded, Bree said, “Sounds good,” and Robbie said, “Cool.”

I was the only one who seemed to have mixed feelings about going. On the one hand, I was dying to go to a cool New York club, especially one where other witches hung out. But on the other, I was terrified I’d be rejected at the door, or if I actually got in, everyone would know I was from the boonies. Besides, I’ve always been too self-conscious to enjoy dancing.

“I have one condition, though,” Hunter went on. “If we go to this club and someone asks where you’re from, just say upstate. Also, no one says anything about Selene and Cal. I don’t want any of you associated with what happened to them.”

Raven made a face. “Do you have to get all cloak-and-dagger on us?”

I saw Sky stiffen. Hunter, though, merely said, “We don’t take risks with each other’s safety.” His voice was quiet but firm.

Raven looked away. “Forget I said anything.”

“Fine,” Hunter agreed, and let the subject drop.

The club was in the East Village, just beyond Avenue C. On the way over, Hunter hooked his arm through mine, and I felt absurdly happy. When we reached Avenue C, he nodded toward a large industrial building with big, opaque glass windows. “That’s it,” he said.

A husky guy in black jeans and a black leather jacket stood in front of a rope at the door. I was suddenly nervous again. “What if they don’t let us in?” I asked.

“They’ll let us in,” Hunter said with the assurance of the effortlessly beautiful.

It occurred to me that I was the only one in our group who might have trouble. Bree was gorgeous, and Robbie was, too. Raven definitely made a fashion statement. As for Hunter and Sky, in addition to their luminous blond hair, fine, even features, and cheekbones to die for, they had a certain indefinable cool. I’m not ugly or anything, but I don’t stand out, either. My hair, which I actually like, was in a single, messy braid. Plus I’d dressed for the cold, not a trendy club.

But the time for worrying was over. We were suddenly at the door and the bouncer was opening the rope for us, with a nod to Hunter.

I felt a burst of triumph. I almost blurted, I did it. I got in!

Oh God, I thought, I’m such a nerd.

“I didn’t realize you were the club type,” I said to Hunter.

“I’m not,” he assured me with a smile as we walked into an enormous room. Near the door was a bar that opened onto a vast dance floor where two DJs were spinning house music. At the far end of the room I saw an area with cozy bench seats. Hunter pointed to it. “The café serves cappuccino and pastries. Want something?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

We checked our coats. I gazed at my clothes doubtfully. Faded brown cords, one of my dad’s oversize wool sweaters, heavy, winter hiking boots. Clearly I hadn’t been thinking straight when I’d packed for this trip.

“There’s someone I need to talk with,” Hunter said in my ear. “Do you mind if I leave you on your own for a few minutes?”

“No, of course not,” I said, though I did mind. I was feeling more insecure and provincial by the second.

Hunter blended into the crowd. I tried not to feel irked by the fact that Sky went with him, no questions asked. I stood there, trying to look casual and feeling completely out of my element.

I walked back to the edge of the dance floor. In an effort to stop focusing on my insecurities, I opened up and let my senses explore.

There was a thick, throbbing feel to the air. After a moment I realized it wasn’t just the music—the club was actually pulsing with magick. I’d never felt anything like it before. There must be dozens of blood witches here, I thought. I could pinpoint a few of them even in this crowd, not so much because of what they were doing, but because power streamed out from them in a way that was almost tangible.

Most of the blood witches I knew must keep their power damped down, I realized suddenly. But not these people. Not the tall, thin African American man with the shaved head who stood on a low stage, dancing. The skinny kid in the oversize green suit. The sleek, blond woman in the low-cut, slithery dress and her dance partner, a rangy, loose-limbed guy with a beard. I frowned. Wow. There seemed to be some kind of weird psychic duel going on between the two of them. I could practically see the crackling energy that passed between them. Another woman, with long gray hair and the most extraordinary amber jewelry, danced by herself. She was surrounded by an aura of deep, vibrant green—it was so strong that I wondered if even those who weren’t blood witches could see it.

Cal came to my mind again, unbidden. He would have loved this, I thought sadly, all these beautiful witches using their magick so freely. He would have felt at home here.

Robbie came up to me, looking slightly stunned. “Is it just me, or is there something weird in the air here?” he shouted over the throbbing drums and bass.

Well, that answered my question. “It’s not you,” I told him. “It’s magick. A lot of these people are blood witches.”

“I think I’m a little out of my depth,” he murmured.

“Me too,” I admitted. Seeing the downcast look on his face, I asked, “Where’s Bree?”

Robbie gestured silently toward the café. I spotted Bree talking to a tall, handsome man with copper-colored hair. As we watched, she turned to a younger guy, maybe seventeen or so, and with a hand on his arm she drew him into the conversation, giving him a teasing smile.

Robbie groaned. “Tell me the truth, Morgan. Am I a masochist or simply out of my mind? I mean, why do I even bother?”

“I know it looks bad,” I said, trying not to get angry at Bree, “but I really don’t think it means anything.”

“Well, it feels awful,” Robbie said. “It—” He was cut off when a girl wearing body glitter, a gold sports top, and tiny little gold shorts took his hand. “Dance with me?” she asked.

Robbie gulped, nodded, and let himself be led out onto the dance floor.

My senses were wide open now, trying to process the stunning array of magick. One guy in particular caught my eye. He was probably nineteen or twenty, with a muscular body and glossy, dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He was heading toward Raven, who stood near me, and there was something reckless and confident in his eyes. He wasn’t exactly gorgeous, but he was very sexy. And I could sense his power from yards away. He was strong.

Then, to my shock, he stopped in front of me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asked with a frown.

Was that a pickup line? I wondered, slightly panicked. Or did he really know me? Come to think of it, there was something vaguely familiar about him, too….

“Um—I’ve never been here before,” I said cautiously.

“Hmmm. Well, stop looking so impressed,” he said with a grin. “These New York witches all think they’re so hot. It’s not healthy to encourage them. Besides”—his eyes raked me appraisingly—“I reckon you’re worth the lot of them.”

Before I could figure out how to respond to that, he walked past me to Raven, stopped in front of her, and said, “There you are, love. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Raven glanced at him in surprise. His grin got even wider, and he pulled her onto the dance floor.

I recognized a familiar presence behind me. Sky. There was nothing sloppy about Sky’s being or her power. Everything about her was clear, precise, and honed, like an elegant arrow.

“So, what do you think of this place?” Sky asked.

“It’s…intense.”

She looked at me and laughed. “That’s a good word for it. There are more blood witches here than you may ever see in one place again. Some of them highly eccentric.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Sky knew so much about the world I’d only recently come to be part of.

She nodded toward a woman spinning in place to the beat, one arm stretched high overhead. “That one, for instance. She’ll only cast spells that involve using nightshade. And he,” she said, gesturing toward a small, dark-haired man at the bar, “spent years living in a cave on the coast of Scotland.”

“Why?”

“Teaching himself to work with the sea. He’s remarkable at scrying with water. And he has a strong affinity for the ocean and its creatures.”

“Sky, ma chère.” A tall, elegant woman in a silver gown came up, kissed Sky on both cheeks, and began a rapid exchange in French.

I watched, slightly awed.

“That’s Mathilde,” Sky said as the Frenchwoman moved on. “Sorry I didn’t introduce you, but she was in a hurry. She’s got an amazing greenhouse on her roof. Every herb a witch could want.”

“How do you know all these people?” I asked.

“Some I know from Europe. Others I met coming here with Hunter,” she explained. “This is a good place for him to make connections.”

I glanced around but didn’t see Hunter’s blond hair anywhere.

Sky answered my unasked question. “He’s upstairs, talking to some people. Trying to get leads.”

A shout drew our attention back to the dance floor, where a space had opened around Raven and her partner. They were doing some kind of dance that involved a lot of athletic gyrating and shimmying.

I glanced at Sky. Her face was blank, neutral, but her eyes never left Raven and her partner. As if conscious of her gaze, the wild guy looked straight at her and laughed.

I felt sudden sympathy for Sky. “Don’t let them upset you.” As the words left my mouth, I was shocked at my own presumptuousness. Me, consoling Sky?

But she simply gave me a rueful half smile. “I’ll get over it. Raven has to be who she is.”

She nodded toward Robbie and the gorgeous girl dancing with him. Robbie looked mystified by the attention.

“He still doesn’t understand how attractive he is,” Sky said. “I wonder if Bree does.”

Bree was still standing in the café, three men around her, but her gaze was focused across the floor on Robbie.

“Maybe she’s starting to,” I said.

Hunter came up behind me then, and I felt a thrill along my nerve endings as he rested his hands lightly on my hips. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” I answered, turning to face him.

He gave me an apologetic smile. “I should have prepared you.”

“No, it’s okay. Sky’s orienting me. It’s…fascinating. I just didn’t expect it.”

“Yes, well, meet your people,” he said wryly.

“Did you talk to the DJ?” Sky wanted to know.

Hunter nodded. “If he knows anything, he’s not telling. But I did find someone who used to date a member of Amyranth. He’ll talk to me, but not here. I’ve arranged to meet him tomorrow at a ridiculous hour of the morning, at the most inconvenient, out-of-the-way place he could think of.” He gave Sky a grin. “Sorry. I know you’re not a morning person. But I really need you with me. This one sounds like he might give me some trouble.”

Sky nodded. “Fine. Just promise you’ll buy me a coffee.”

My rational, mathematical self told me I was being silly—Hunter was keeping me out for my own safety—but I couldn’t help feeling irked at the way they both just took it for granted that Sky was the one who helped Hunter, that the two of them were a team, while I was just a bumbling novice who had to be kept out of harm’s way. It wasn’t fair—especially not now. It wasmy dream that had started this, after all.

A black light flared above us, turning Hunter’s white shirt neon purple, his hair a bright silky lavender. He kissed me lightly on the mouth. “I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back. Dance, why don’t you?”

“Oh, thank you very much,” I muttered. “You know how much I love dancing. Especially alone.”

But he was already moving past me to have a quick whispered conference with Sky, which did nothing to improve my mood. Then he headed off toward the stage. The tall African American man pointed at Hunter with a knowing grin, then made his way down from the stage to talk to him. I had to admit, it was impressive seeing how at ease Hunter was with so many people. I knew I could never extract information from strangers like that.

Sky drifted back toward me, and I had the feeling that Hunter had told her to look out for me. My irritation deepened. Luckily I was relieved of the need to make awkward conversation by Robbie, who came up to us looking sweaty and exhausted. “Man, that girl can move,” he said, waving at his partner. He blinked in surprise as a waitress approached him with a glass of wine balanced on a round tray.

“The lady over there”—she indicated a tall woman with long, ebony hair who was dressed entirely in leather—“sends it to you with her compliments.”

“Uh, tell her thanks, would you?” Robbie sounded flustered. “But I don’t drink.”

“I’ll tell her,” the waitress said reluctantly. “But if you don’t want to offend her—and I’d advise you not to—you won’t send the wine back.”

Robbie smiled weakly at the woman in leather and took the glass of wine.

I gave a low whistle. “You’re getting a lot of attention tonight.” I peeked covertly at Bree and was glad to see that she hadn’t missed the exchange with Leather Woman, either. She’d stopped even pretending to flirt with the guys around her and was just standing there, looking sulky.

Robbie, however, didn’t look pleased. “It’s a little freaky. Two witches have asked me out tonight.”

“You have something against us?” I teased him.

“Not you,” he said seriously. “But apart from the fact that I’m in love with Bree, I want a relationship of equals, not someone who can put spells on me without my even knowing.”

I winced. When I was just getting acquainted with Wicca, I’d given Robbie a spelled potion to help heal his acne, which had been really out of control. It had done the job—in fact, it had more than done the job; it had gone so far as to correct his terrible eyesight—but Robbie had been upset with me for doing magick on him without telling him.

“What is his problem?” Sky said suddenly. Her eyes were on Raven and the long-haired guy. “Is he a complete exhibitionist?”

I looked, too. The guy had taken off his shirt. His body was thin but looked hard and well muscled.

Raven sent an amused glance toward Sky, as if to say, Do you believe this? Her dancing partner put his hands on her butt and pulled her close, and then pinwheels of colored light were raining down around them, and Raven was laughing, trying to catch one in her hand. The guy traced a sign in the air, and three of them rested on her palm.

I couldn’t suppress a gasp. I was half appalled at his recklessness, half delighted by his clever, beautiful magick.

“Oh, man,” Robbie muttered. “What is that?”

“It’s showy and irresponsible, that’s what it is,” Sky said, sounding angry. “That cocky little bugger. Anyone could be watching him.”

Raven and the guy were dancing close now, grinding pelvises. “That’s enough,” Sky said, and strode toward them. I saw her take Raven’s arm and say something in her ear.

“Maybe I’d better go find Bree,” Robbie said with a sigh. “If she hasn’t already left with someone else.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” I told him.

“You don’t think so?” Robbie’s smile was sad as he moved away. It made me want to shake Bree. She really liked Robbie. Why couldn’t she just let things happen with him?

I headed for the café and got a Diet Coke. Then I looked around for Hunter. Nowhere in sight. I sighed, too, and tried not to feel too much like a wallflower.

A woman in a short black dress sauntered up to me. “Don’t be so self-conscious, chica,” she said. She was beautiful, with coffee-colored skin and black hair that framed her face in waves. “All this energy spent thinking you are not beautiful enough, not good enough. It’s a waste. You must take all this healing energy you have and make a salve for your own heart, no? Life is too short to be so hard on yourself.”

I stood there, blinking stupidly. She was gazing into my eyes, into my soul, and I felt stripped, vulnerable.

“Um…excuse me,” I said. “I have to go.”

I shut down my senses and bolted for a door marked Exit. I didn’t plan to go far. I just needed to be out of there, away from all that magick for a few minutes.

I thought the door would lead to the street. Instead I found myself in a small courtyard planted with skinny oak saplings. I wasn’t alone. A man with short-cropped, silver-flecked dark hair stood in the yard, staring up at a big square of the night sky. Even with my senses shut down I felt a surge of energy—deep, vital energy, not the fractured, hectic kind that ruled inside. Whether it was from the man or the giant orange moon, I couldn’t be sure.

I sat down on a bench at the edge of the courtyard and gazed up at the moon, wondering what he was seeing. As I looked, I felt my frazzled nerve endings begin to relax. The moon was so eternal, so familiar in this place where everything else was so strange. I breathed deeply, and peace began to creep back into my body.

“The moon is our anchor,” the man said without looking at me.

Ordinarily I would have been startled by these bizarre words coming from a total stranger. But at that moment my only thought was, Yes. I didn’t feel the need to respond aloud, and he didn’t seem to expect me to.

I stared at the moon, letting it anchor me.