The Coven

CHAPTER 14 Lessons

May 7, 1982

We're leaving this soulless place. I've been working as a cashier in a diner, and Angus has been down in the meat district, unloading huge American cows and putting their carcasses on hooks. I feel my soul dying, and so does Angus. We're saving every penny so we can leave, go anywhere else.

Not much news from home. None of Belwicket is left to tell us what happened, and what little bits and pieces we get aren't enough to figure out anything. I don't even know why I write in this book anymore, except as a diary. It is no longer a Book of Shadows. I hasn't been since my birthday, when my world was destroyed. I haven't done any magick since being here, nor has Angus. No more will I. It has done nothing but wreak destruction.

I am only twenty, and yet I feel ready for death's embrace.

— M.R.

The next morning during church I suddenly had an idea. I glanced over at the dark confessionals. After the service was over, I told my parents that I wanted to make confession. They looked a little surprised, but what could they say?

"I don't want to go to the diner today," I added. "I'll just see you at home later."

Mom and Dad looked at each other, then Dad nodded.

Mom put her hand on my shoulder. "Morgan—" she began, then shook her head. "Nothing. I'll see you later, at home."

Mary K. looked at me but didn't say anything. Her face was troubled as she left with my parents.

I waited impatiently in line as parishioners went in to confess their sins. I realized I could probably tune into what they were talking about, but I didn't want to try. It would be wrong. Father Hotchkiss heard some pretty steamy stuff sometimes, I'd guess. And probably some really boring, petty things, too.

Finally it was my turn. I knelt inside the cubicle and waited for the small grated window to slide open. When it did, i crossed myself and said, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been, um…" I thought back quickly. "Four months since my last confession."

"Go ahead, my child," said Father Hotchkiss, as he had all my life, every time I had confessed.

"Um…" I hadn't thought ahead this far and didn't have a list of sins ready. I really didn't want to go into some of the things I'd been doing, and I didn't consider them sins, anyway. "Well, lately I've been feeling very angry at my parents," I stated baldly. "I mean, I love my parents, and I try to honor them, but I recently… found out I was adopted." There. I had said it, and on the other side of the screen I saw father Hotchkiss's head come up a bit as he took in my words. "I'm upset and angry that they didn't tell me before and that they won't talk to me about it now," I went on. "I want to know more about my birth parents. I want to know where I came from."

There was a long pause as Father Hotchkiss digested what I had said. "Your parents have done as they thought best," he said at last. He didn't deny that I was adopted, and I still felt humiliated that practically everyone had known but me.

"My birth mother is dead," I said, pushing on. I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable, even nervous talking about this. "I want to know more about her."

"My child," Father Hotchkiss said gently. "I understand your wishes. I can't say that I would not feel the same, were I in your place. But I tell you, and I speak with years of experience, that sometimes it really is best to leave the past alone."

Tears stung my eyes, but I hadn't realty expected anything else. "I see," I whispered, trying not to cry.

"My dear, the Lord works in mysterious ways," said the priest, and I couldn't believe he was saying something so clichéd. He went on. "For some reason, God brought you to your parents, and I know they couldn't love you more. He chose them for you, and He chose you for them. It would be wise to respect His decision."

I sat and pondered this, wondering how true it was. Then I became aware that other people were waiting after me and it was time to go. "Thank you. Father," I said.

"Pray for guidance, my dear. And I will pray for you."

"Okay." I slipped out of the confessional, put on my coat, and headed out the huge double doors into bright November sunshine. I had to think.

After so many gray days it was nice to be walking in sun-light, kicking through the damp, brown leaves underfoot Every now and then a golden leaf floated down around me, and each one that fell was like another second ticking off on the clock that turned autumn to winter.

I passed through downtown Widows Vale, glancing in the shop windows. Our town is old, with the town hall dating back to 1692. Every once in a while I notice again how charming it is, how picturesque. A cool breeze lifted my hair, and i caught a scent of the Hudson River, bordering the town.

By the time I got home, I'd thought about what Father Hotchkiss had said, I could see some wisdom in his words, but that didn't mean I could accept not knowing the whole truth. I didn't know what to do. Maybe I would ask for guidance at the next circle.

Walking two miles had warmed me up nicely, and I tossed my jacket over a chair in the kitchen. I glanced at the clock. If I assumed my family followed their usual routine at the diner, they wouldn't be home for another hour or so. It would be nice to have the house to myself for a while.

A thump overhead made me freeze. Weirdly, the first thought I had was that Bree was in my house, possibly with Raven, and they were casting a spell on my bedroom or something. I don't know why I didn't think of burglars or a stray squirrel that had somehow gotten in—I just immediately thought of Bree.

I heard scuffling sounds and the loud scraping noise of a piece of furniture being jolted out of place. I quietly opened the mudroom door and picked up my baseball bat Then I kicked off my shoes and headed upstairs in my stocking feet.

By the time I reached the top of the landing, I could tell the sounds were coming from Mary K.'s room. Then I heard her voice, saying, "Ow! Stop it! Damn it, Bakker!"

I stopped, unsure of what to do.

"Get off me," Mary K. said angrily.

"Oh, come on, Mary K.," was Bakker's response. "You said you loved me! I thought that meant—"

"I told you I didn't want to do that!" Mary K. cried. I flung open the door to find Bakker Blackburn entangled with my sister on her single bed. Her legs were kicking.

"Hey!" I said loudly, making them both jump. Their heads turned to stare at me, and I saw relief in Mary K.'s eyes. "You heard her," I said loudly. "Get off!"

"We're just talking," said Bakker. Mary K.'s hands pushed against his chest, and he resisted it. Fury roiled inside me, and I raised the bat.

Whap! I gave Bakker a smart rap on his shoulder to get his attention. I hadn't been this furious since Bree and I'd had our last fight.

"Ow!" Bakker yelled. "What are you doing? Are you nuts?"

"Bakker, get off!" Mary K. said again, pushing at him.

I thrust my face close to Bakker's, and with my teeth clenched, I spoke as menacingly as I could. "Get the hell off her!"

Bakker's face went stiff, and he quickly moved away from the bed. He looked embarrassed and angry, his eyes dark. Then he snapped out his hand and knocked the bat out of my grip. My jaw dropped in surprise as the wood went flying across the room.

"Stay out of this, Morgan," he said. "You don't know what's going on. Mary K. and I are just talking."

"Ha!" said Mary K., jumping up from the bed and yanking down her shirt. "You're being an ass! Now get out!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Bakker said. "You said come over!" He was almost yelling, his voice filling the room. "You said come up here! What was I supposed to think? We've been going out almost two months!"

Mary K. was crying now. "I didn't mean that," she said, holding her pillow to her stomach. "I just wanted to be alone with you."

"What did you think being alone with me was all about?" he asked, his arms wide. He took a step closer to her.

"Watch it, Bakker," I warned, but he ignored me.

"I didn't mean that," Mary K. repeated, crying.

"Jesus!" he said, leaning over her. My teeth clenched, and I started edging over toward the bat. "You don't know what you want."

"Shut up, Bakker," I snapped. "For God's sake, she's fourteen."

Mary K. cried into her pillow.

"She's my girlfriend!" Bakker shouted. "I love her, and she loves me, so stay out of this! It's none of your business!"

"None of my business?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "That's my little sister you're talking about!"

Without planning it, I snapped out my arm, finger pointed at Bakker. Before my eyes a small ball of spitting, crackly blue light shot out of my finger and streaked toward him, hitting him in the side. It was like the light I had given to Jenna last night, but different Bakker yelped and stumbled, clutching his side and clawing at the bedspread. I stared at him, horrified, and he stared back at me as if I had suddenly sprouted wings and claws.

"What the hell—," he gasped, clasping his side. I was praying blood wouldn't start running out through his fingers. When he took his hand away, there were no marks on hit shirt no blood. I breathed out in relief.

"I'm out of here," he said in a strangled voice, lurching to his feet He turned back to look at Mary K. one last time. She had her face buried in her pillow, and she didn't look up. With a last glare at me Bakker stormed through the bedroom door and pounded down the steps. The front door slammed moments later, and I peeked out down the stairwell to make sure he was gone. Through the front door sidelight I saw him striding fast down the street rubbing his side. His lips were moving as if he was swearing to himself.

Back in Mary K.'s room, she was holding a tissue to her eyes and sniffling.

"Jesus, Mary K.," I said, sitting next to her on the bed. "What was that about? Why aren't you at the diner?"

She started crying again and leaned forward into me. I put my arms around her and held her, so thankful she hadn't been hurt, that I had come home when I had for the first time in a week it felt like the two of us again, the way we used to be. Close. Comfortable. Trusting each other. I had missed that so much.

"Don't tell Mom and Dad," she said, tears wetting her cheeks. "I just wanted to see Bakker alone, so I told them I needed to study, and I had them drop me off here while they went to lunch. Its just—we're always with other people. I didn't know he would think—"

"Oh, Mary K.," I said, trying to soothe her. "It was a huge misunderstanding, but it wasn't your fault. Just because you said you wanted to see him alone doesn't mean that you're obligated to go to bed with him. You meant one thing; he understood another. What's awful is what an ass he was being. I should have called the cops."

Mary K. sniffled and drew back. "I don't really think he was going to… hurt me," she said. "I think it kind of looked worse than it was."

"I can't believe you're defending him!"

"I'm not," said my sister. "I'm not defending him, and I'm definitely breaking up with him."

"Good," I said strongly.

"But I have to say, it really wasn't like him," Mary K. went on. "He's never pushed me too far, always listened when I said no. I'm sure he'll be really sorry tomorrow."

My eyes narrowed as I looked at her. "Mary Kathleen Rowlands, that's not good enough. Don't you dare make excuses for him. When I walked in here, he was pinning you down!"

Her brows creased. "Yeah," she said.

"And he knocked the bat out of my hands," I said. "And he was yelling at us."

"I know," said Mary K., looking angry. "I can't believe him."

"That's more like it," I said, standing up. "Tell me you're breaking up with him."

"I'm breaking up with him," my sister repeated.

"Okay. Now I'm going to go change. You better wash your face and straighten your room before Mom and Dad come home."

"Okay," said Mary K., standing up. She gave me a watery smile. "Thanks for rescuing me." She reached out to hug me.

"You're welcome," I said, and turned to go.

"How did you stop him, anyway? He said. 'Ow! and then fell against the bed. What did you do?"

I thought fast. "I kicked his knee and made it buckle," I said. "Made him lose his balance."

Mary K. laughed. "I bet he was surprised."

"I think we both were," I said honestly. Then, feeling a little shaky, I went downstairs. I had shot a bolt of light at someone. Surely that was strange, even for a witch.