The Calling

7. The Watch

August 20, 1981

This morning at dawn I took Maeve for a walk along the cliffs. We were both still floating on the joy of last night. Yet I knew I had to tell her. I expected it to shock, possibly hurt her, but I was certain she’d forgive me in the end. After all, we are mùirn beatha dàns.

Maeve was going on about where we’d live. Much as she loves Ballynigel, she does not want to stay here her entire life; she wants to see the world, and I would love nothing more than to show it to her. But her happy ramblings were like blows to my heart. At last, when I could stand to wait no more, I told her, as gently as I could, that I was not yet free to travel with her, that I had a wife and two children in Scotland.

At first she only looked at me in confusion. I repeated what I’d said, this time taking her hands in mine.

Then her confusion was replaced by disbelief. She begged me, weeping, to tell her it wasn’t true. But I couldn’t. I could not lie to her.

I pulled her close to kiss away her tears. But she would have none of me. She yanked her hands from mine and stepped away. I pleaded with her to give me time. I told her I couldn’t afford to enrage Greer—not if I wanted to take her place. But I swore I’d leave the lot of them as soon as I could.

She cut me off. “You will not leave your wife and children,” she said, the anguish in her eyes turning to fire. “First you betray me with lies. Now you want to destroy a family as well?” Then she told me to leave her, to get away.

I couldn’t believe she was serious. I argued, cajoled, begged. I told her to take time to consider. I said we’d find a gentle way to go forward together, that, of course, I would provide for my family. But no matter what I said, I could not dissuade her. She who had been so soft, so yielding, was suddenly like iron.

My soul is shattered. Tomorrow I return to Scotland.

— Neimhidh

When we got back to Ninth Avenue, Robbie took off on his own. I went back to Bree’s father’s place. We hadn’t made any group plans for the evening, and the apartment was empty. For a while I couldn’t settle down. I was too revved up—from the news about Ciaran being here in the city, from having found Maeve’s old building. Was the watch still there? I wondered. If it was, would I be able to find it? I tried to scry for it, but I was too wired to concentrate. Finally I curled up with the book on scrying that I’d bought in SoHo and read for a while.

The sun had almost set when I sensed Hunter walking down the hall. I couldn’t quite believe my luck. Were we really going to have a chance to be alone together in the apartment? I rushed into the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth and my hair.

But the moment Hunter opened the door, I realized this was not going to be a romantic interlude. He walked in, took off his scarf and jacket, gave me a curt nod, then went to stare morosely out the window.

I went to stand beside him. Despite his mood, I immediately tuned in to our connection. I couldn’t have defined either of them, but this was completely different from my connection with the man in the bookstore. Hunter touched everything in me. It was a delicious tease to stand near him, not physically touching, and let myself feel how his presence stroked my every nerve ending into a state of total anticipation.

He reached out and caught my hand in his. “Don’t,” he said gently. “I can’t be with you that way right now.”

“What happened?” I asked, feeling a twinge of alarm. “What went wrong?”

“My finding Killian. I didn’t. Either he got wind of the fact that a council Seeker is looking for him or Amyranth has already snatched him because I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Did you try—”

Hunter began to pace the length of the living room. “I found his flat, rang his doorbell and his phone. I went to the club, found out the names of some of his friends, and asked them. I’ve sent him witch messages. He doesn’t answer any of them. I even took out my lueg and scryed right on the street. That’s how desperate I was for a lead—any lead. And none of it has done a bit of good,” he finished bitterly.

He dropped onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair. “I simply don’t know where to go next with this. I’m going to have to contact the council again.”

“Want me to try scrying?”

“I’ve scryed my way to Samhain and back again and I haven’t seen a trace of Killian.”

“I know. But I scry with fire,” I reminded him. “I might get a different result.”

He shrugged and reached for a thick, ivory candle on the coffee table—one that Bree must have bought the day before—and pushed it toward me. “Be my guest,” he said, but his voice was skeptical.

I settled myself cross-legged on the floor. I focused on my breathing, but my thoughts didn’t slip away as easily as they usually did. I wondered if I’d be able to transfer what I’d done with the crystal to fire. Whether this time I’d be able to control the vision.

“Morgan?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I got distracted. Let me try again. You want to see where Killian is right now?”

“That’d be a start.”

“Okay.” Again I focused on my breathing. This time I felt my mind quieting and the tension draining from my muscles. I stared at the candle’s wick, thought of fire, and the candle lit. I let my eyes focus on the flame, sinking deeper into my meditative state until the coffee table, the room, Hunter, even the candle itself faded from my consciousness. There was only the flame.

Killian. I let a picture of him as he’d been at the club fill my mind—confident, cocky, laughing, with that heady mix of danger and delight in his own power.

I focused on the fire, asked it to give me the vision that I sought, to show me Killian as he was right now. I asked it to let me in, and I sent my energy toward it. I couldn’t touch it the way I’d touched the crystal. The fire would burn me. But I let my power flicker beside it, calling to its heat and energy.

Something inside the flame shifted. It danced higher, blazed brighter. Its blue center became a mirror, and in it I saw Killian in profile. He was alone in a dark, dilapidated room. There was a window across from him, casting reddish light across his face. Through the window I could see some sort of gray stone tower, partly cloaked by a screen of bare tree branches. Killian seemed frightened, his face pale and drawn.

I sent more of my power to the flame, willing more of the vision to appear, something that would give a clue to his location. The flame crackled, and Killian turned and looked straight into my eyes. Abruptly, the connection was severed. I pushed back a surge of annoyance and focused on the flame again. Again I asked for the vision of Killian as he was now and sent my energy to dance with the flame.

This time there was no vision. Instead, the flame winked out, almost as if someone had snuffed it. I blinked hard. The rest of the room came back into focus.

Hunter was watching me, his eyes inscrutable. “I saw him,” he said in an odd tone. “And I wasn’t joining my power to yours. I’ve never been able to do that before, see the vision of the one who’s scrying.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked uncertainly.

“No,” he said. “It’s because your scrying is so powerful.” He pulled me up on the couch beside him and wrapped his arms around me. “You are a seer.” He kissed each of my eyelids. “And I’m awed. Even humbled—almost.”

“Almost?” I couldn’t help being thrilled that I’d managed to pull off a feat of magick that had stymied Hunter.

“Well, you know, humble isn’t exactly my style,” he confessed with a grin.

“I’ve noticed.”

“Nor is it Killian’s,” he said, his tone serious again. He blew out a breath and leaned back against the couch. “At least we know he’s alive. He didn’t seem hurt, either. He looked scared, though. That room he was in, do you have any sense of where it is?”

I shook my head. “None.”

“I wonder,” Hunter said, “why the vision was snuffed out so quickly and why it didn’t come back. It’s almost as if someone didn’t want you to see.”

“Maybe Killian himself,” I said. “He looked at me, remember? Maybe he felt me scrying for him. Do you think he’s got enough power to cut off a vision?”

“I’d guess that he’s not lacking in power,” Hunter said with a sigh.

“There’s got to be a way to find him,” I said.

“Hang on a minute,” Hunter said. “The window across from him. Did you notice the church steeple you could see through it?”

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “That’s what it was.”

“Yes. And there was reddish light on his face, so I’m pretty sure the window must have been a westerly one. Also, wherever he is must be far enough west that the sunset isn’t blocked by lots of tall buildings.”

“Wow.” I was impressed by his deductions.

He looked intent, eager. “I’m thinking maybe I could find a building that satisfies those conditions—far west, with a westerly window, opposite a gray stone church.”

“That sounds like a lot of legwork.”

“Maybe tomorrow I can come up with a way to narrow the search. Listen, there’s one more contact I want to try to track down tonight. I’m not sure when I’ll get back.”

I glanced at my watch. It was six. “Are you telling me not to wait up?”

Hunter looked genuinely regretful. “I’m afraid so.” He put on his jacket and scarf and kissed me. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Robbie was the first to show up at the apartment. After we’d split up, he’d gone down to the Village, where he’d dropped in on one of the chess shops near Washington Square Park. “Got beat by a seventy-year-old grand master,” he reported with a satisfied grin. “It was an education.”

Bree, Raven, and Sky showed up a few minutes after Robbie—Raven must have hooked up with the other two at some point during the afternoon. Bree was irritable and out of sorts, but Raven and Sky seemed to be getting along again. We ordered Chinese food, and then Raven and Sky went out to look up some goth friends of Raven’s while Robbie, Bree, and I watched a Hong Kong action movie on pay-per-view. An exciting Friday night in the big city.

Whenever it was that Hunter returned to the apartment, I was asleep.

On Saturday morning I woke up before Bree. Raven wasn’t in the room; extending my senses, I realized that she was in the study with Sky. Quietly I pulled on jeans and a sweater. I found Hunter in the kitchen, washing up a plate and cup. “Morning,” he said. “Want me to make you a cup of tea before I go?”

“You know better,” I said, and reached into the fridge for a Diet Coke.

“Ugh,” he said. “Well, I’m off on a long day of looking for gray stone churches and westerly windows.”

“It sounds like it could take you a week,” I said. “There must be hundreds of churches like that in the city.”

He shrugged, looking resigned. “What else can I do? Whether Killian is hiding his own tracks or someone else is doing it for him, I’m not getting anywhere trying to find him by magick.” He picked up his jacket. “What are you going to do today?” he asked.

I helped myself to one of the Pop-Tarts that Bree had thoughtfully stocked up on and tried to look nonchalant. “Robbie and I thought we’d wander around the city for a while.” It wasn’t a lie—I knew better than that with Hunter. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

Hunter gave me a searching look but didn’t question me further. “I’ll see you this evening for our circle,” he said.

“We’ll be the perfect young couple,” Robbie said as we walked down Forty-ninth Street. “I mean, you’ve got a ring and everything.” He glanced at the fake diamond ring we’d just bought at a tacky gift shop and shook his head. “Whoa. It’s a little freaky to see that thing on you.”

“Yeah, well, imagine how I feel wearing it,” I said.

Robbie laughed. “Just think what a promising future we’re in for, starting out in a tenement apartment in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“That’s all Maeve and Angus started with in this country,” I said. I felt suddenly very sad. “The entries from her Book of Shadows at that time were all about how she couldn’t bear living in the city. She thought it was full of unhappy people, racing around pointlessly.”

“Well, it is, sort of.” Robbie gave me a sympathetic glance. “And didn’t they come here straight after Ballynigel was destroyed? Of course she was depressed. She’d just lost her home, her family, nearly everyone she loved.”

“And she’d given up her magick,” I added. “She said it was like living in a world suddenly stripped of all its colors. It makes me sad for her.”

We reached the building. It seemed even more dilapidated today. Robbie grinned at me. “Well, Ms. Rowlands. Are you ready for your first real estate experience?”

“Hey, my mom is a Realtor,” I reminded him. “I probably know more about leases than the rental agent.”

Still, I could feel my heart race as I rang the super’s bell. I was about to see my birth parents’ apartment! What would it be like? Would I be able to find the watch?

“Who is it?” asked a woman’s voice over a crackly intercom.

“It’s Morgan and Robbie Rowlands,” I called back. “I spoke to the management company yesterday about the apartment for rent. They said you would show it to me today at noon.”

Robbie tapped his watch. We were on time.

“All right,” she said after a hesitation. “I’ll be right there.”

We waited another five minutes before the steel gate was opened to reveal a short, heavyset woman in her late sixties. I could see the pink of her scalp through gray pin curls.

She looked at me and Robbie, and I saw the suspicion in her eyes.

“The apartment’s this way,” she grumbled.

We followed her up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway. The paint was peeling, and the place reeked of urine. I hoped it hadn’t been this bad when Maeve and Angus lived here. I couldn’t bear the thought of my mother, who’d had such a profound love of the earth, walking into this ugliness every day.

The woman took a ring of keys from the pocket of her housedress and opened a door with the number two on it. “The rent’s six-seventy-five a month,” she told us. “You don’t find prices like that in Manhattan anymore. Better grab it fast.”

“Actually, we came to see apartment three,” I said. “The management company said it was available.”

She gave me a look that reminded me of the look I’d gotten from the clerk in the records office. “They were wrong. I got someone living in apartment three,” she said. “It’s not for rent. This one is. Do you want to see it or not?”

Robbie and I exchanged glances. I was fighting intense disappointment. All this for nothing. We weren’t going to get into Maeve’s apartment. I wasn’t going to find the watch after all.

“We’ll look at it,” Robbie said. As the woman lumbered toward the stairs, he nudged me and whispered, “I didn’t want this woman realizing we were poseurs and calling the police or something.”

She let us into a dark, railroad-flat apartment, not much wider than the narrow hallway. “This is your living room,” she said as we entered a small front room. She tapped the steel bars that covered the window. “Security,” she told us proudly.

The kitchen had a claw-foot bathtub, a small refrigerator desperately in need of cleaning, and a family of large, healthy cockroaches living in the sink. “Just put down some boric acid,” the woman said casually.

Then she took us into the last room, a tiny decrepit bedroom with a window the size of a phone directory.

“You two got jobs?”

“I work in…with computers,” Robbie said.

“I waitress,” I said. That had been Maeve’s first job in America.

“Well, you’ll have to put all that in the application,” the woman said. “Come down to my apartment and you can fill one out.”

I was wondering how we were going to get out of the application process when I felt something in the tiny bedroom calling me. I studied the stained ceiling.

“There used to be a leak,” the woman admitted, her gaze following mine. “But we fixed it.”

But that wasn’t what had caught my attention. I had felt a magickal pull from the corner of the ceiling. Looking more closely, I saw that one of the panels of the dropped ceiling was slightly askew. Whatever I was sensing was behind that panel. The watch? Could it possibly be, after all these years? I had to find out.

“I told you, we fixed the leak,” the woman said loudly.

I bit back an irritated reply. I needed a moment of privacy. How was I going to get rid of this woman?

Frustrated, I raised my eyebrows at Robbie and nodded toward the living room. Robbie shot me a “Who, me?” look.

I nodded again, more emphatically.

“Um—could I ask you a question about the living room?” Robbie said hesitantly. “It’s about the woodwork.”

“What woodwork?” the woman demanded, but she followed him, anyway.

As soon as they had left the room, I shut the door and quickly turned the lock. I had to reach that ceiling panel. There was only one way. I climbed up on the narrow window ledge and balanced precariously.

Thank the Goddess for low ceilings! I thought as I found I could just reach the panel. With my fingertips I pushed up against it. The panel moved a fraction of an inch. I stretched and pressed harder. The magickal pull was getting stronger. I felt a faint warm current against my hand. I stretched, groaned softly, and gave another hard push.

The panel lifted up and I fell off the ledge onto the floor with a thud.

“Ow,” I mumbled. Quickly I climbed back up onto the ledge. I heard the superintendent’s footsteps hurrying across the apartment. Then she was twisting the doorknob, trying to open the door.

“Hey, what’s going on in there?” she yelled, pounding on the door. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Robbie said quickly.

“Then come out of there!” the woman shouted, pounding harder.

Just ignore her, I told myself, heart racing. I stuck my fingers through the open panel. Empty space and a wooden beam. Then my fingers closed on smooth fabric encasing something hard and round.

“You come out right now or I’m calling the police!” the woman shouted.

I didn’t hesitate. This was absolutely necessary magick. If he ever found out, Hunter would understand.

“You will forget,” I whispered. “You never saw us. This did not happen. You will forget.”

It was as simple as that. One moment the woman was screaming and threatening, the next I heard her ask Robbie, “So you want to see the apartment? You know, you’re the first one I’ve shown it to.”

I put the panel back in place, then jumped down from the ledge, clutching the watch. Apartment three must be directly upstairs, I realized. Maeve must have hidden the watch beneath her floorboards. I unfolded the green silk and felt a protective spell whispering from the material. The watch case was gold, engraved with a Celtic knot pattern. A white face, gold hands. A tiny cabochon ruby on the end of the winding stem. I stared at it, and tears rose in my eyes. It represented so many things to me, things both wonderful and horrible.

But there was no time to think about that now. I tucked the watch into my pocket and unlocked the door. Then I went out to get Robbie.

“You’re not going to believe what I found in there!” I said when we were about a block away from the apartment. “You’ve got to see this watch.” I started to take it from my pocket.

Robbie was walking fast, his eyes on the sidewalk. “Just put it away,” he said.

“What?” I was startled at his angry tone.

“I don’t want to see it,” he snapped.

I stared at him. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is this about Bree?”

Robbie turned on me, his eyes blazing. “No, Morgan. This is about you. What the hell happened back there? One minute that old lady was calling for you to get out of the bedroom. The next minute she couldn’t remember ever having seen us before.”

“I did a little spell,” I said. “I made her forget.”

“You did what?”

“Robbie, it’s okay,” I said. “It was temporary. It’s already worn off.”

“How do you know that?” he demanded. “How do you know that spell didn’t rewire her brain? How do you know she won’t think she’s going senile when she suddenly remembers the two people she blanked on? Elderly people find that kind of thing a little upsetting.”

“I know because I made the spell,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “What are you so freaked about, anyway?”

Robbie looked enraged. “You don’t get it, do you? You messed with someone’s mind! You’ve lucked into these amazing powers, and you’re abusing them. How do I know you won’t do something like that to me?”

I felt like he’d knocked the wind out of me. When I found my voice, it sounded high and tinny. “Because I gave you my word that I wouldn’t. Come on, Robbie, we’ve been friends since second grade. You know I’m not like that. This was a special circumstance.”

He looked at me like I was a stranger, a stranger who frightened him. “The Morgan I know wouldn’t screw around with some poor old lady. You played her like she was a puppet. And I feel like a jerk for having been part of that whole charade. I feel dirty.”

I tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. This was serious. “Robbie, I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no right to make you part of that. But this watch belonged to Maeve. I had to get it. Did you really think I could leave it there? It was my mother’s. That makes it my birthright.”

“Like your power?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Yes. Exactly like my power.” Every so often words come out of your mouth with a cool, resonant certainty and you know you’ve hit a bone-deep truth. There’s no taking it back or denying it. That’s how it felt then, and Robbie and I both stood there, suspended for a moment in the awful implications of what I’d just said.

Maeve had given up her magick, but there was nothing on this earth that would make me give up mine.

“So this birthright of yours.” I could see him fighting for control, trying to keep his voice steady. “It gives you the right to manipulate some woman you don’t even know?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“No, it’s just what you did. You were flexing your power. Well, I’m starting to think maybe your power isn’t such a great thing.”

“Robbie, that’s not true! I—”

“Forget it,” he said. “I’m going to see if I can get in on another chess game. If I’m going to be totally overwhelmed, at least it’s going to be by something I understand.”

He stalked off down Ninth Avenue, leaving me with Maeve’s watch and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.