Awakening

13. Protection

Litha, 1993

We've in Prague now, but Fiona feels we'll have to leave again soon. A dubious legacy of the dark wave—ever since she saw it in her leug, she can sense it coming.

It's been two years now since we left our lives behind us. Two years of running, hiding, locking our magick away to keep it from betraying us. Two years of longing for news of our children, yet not daring to reach out to them. Two years of Fiona gradually withering, racked by ailment after ailment. We've come to believe it's the effect of the dark wave itself—that it crippled her somehow when she saw it in her leug. So far we've found no cure.

— Maghach

That night I blew off my homework. I went through every magick book I had, looking for something that would help me protect Aunt Eileen and Paula. I could put runes of protection around their house, I reasoned. That would be a I start, at least.

Too bad I couldn't get them to wear talismans for personal safety. Somehow I couldn't picture either of them wearing Wicca paraphernalia, no matter how open-minded they might be.

"Ew," I said as I found the instructions for making an old protection called a Witch's Bottle. The Witch's Bottle was not only supposed to shield you from evil but also to send the evil back to its source. It called for filling a small glass bottle halfway to the top with sharp objects: old nails, pins, razor blades, needles, and so on. Then you filled the bottle the rest of the way with urine and, ideally, some blood, too. Then you sealed the jar and buried it twelve inches deep. The bottle and its protection was supposed to last until the bottle was dug up and smashed.

I put down the book, completely grossed out. Did I have the stomach to be a witch? This was disgusting. But if it would really protect Eileen and Paula. . I read it through again. No, it wouldn't work. The Witch's Bottle was to protect against negative magick. The guys who'd attacked Aunt Eileen and Paula's house were negative, all right, but they weren't using magick.

I finally settled on a protection charm that I could place in their house without their noticing. It called for ingredients that I didn't have, and I decided to make a trip to Practical Magick as soon as I had my car back.

Robbie followed me and Mary K. out to Unser's on Tuesday morning, then drove us to school. My plan was to go to my mom's office after school and spend some time inputting listings, then get a ride home with her. Mary K. was going to Jaycee's house. Jaycee's mom would drop her at our house in time for dinner.

After school I set out alone on the long walk to Mom's office, shivering and hoping someone I knew would drive by and offer me a ride.

Be careful what you wish for. A familiar pale green Ford pulled up at the curb, and the passenger window rolled down. Sky Eventide leaned over from the driver's seat, her white-blond hair luminous. "Hop in," she said.

"Were you out looking for me?" I asked, perplexed. "Or is this just a coincidence?"

Sky raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you yet learned that there are no coincidences?"

I stood on the sidewalk, staring stupidly at her. Was she joking or not? I wasn't sure. Just like Hunter, Sky wasn't easy to read.

Seeing my confusion, she said, "Hunter asked me to come pick you up. I even left work early. You're supposed to come to our house for lessons."

I had heard that Sky worked at a used-record store. She was so ethereal, it was hard to picture her doing mundane things like working a cash register. "But I already told Hunter I couldn't come," I protested. "And my mom's expecting me."

Sky tapped a gloved finger on the steering wheel impatiently. "Call her from our place. This is important, Morgan."

She was right, I realized, though not for the reasons she thought. I couldn't keep putting off talking to Hunter. Biting my lip, I opened the passenger door and climbed in.

My stomach felt fluttery. I still didn't feel ready to talk about seeing Cal, but I knew I had to face it sooner or later. And sooner was probably safer.

Sky pulled out into traffic and accelerated. She drove fast and tended to stomp on the brakes harder than she needed to at red lights. "Sorry," she said as I jerked forward against my seat belt. "I'm not used to all this power-assisted driving."

I glanced at her as she made a right turn. Her profile was pure, almost childlike, with its perfect nose and arched brows, the smooth curve of cheek covered with the finest, faintest golden down. She and Hunter looked very much alike, but while Sky seemed deceptively fragile, Hunter's face had a masculine angularity that projected strength.

"Why is Hunter doing this?" I found myself asking. "Why is he so concerned about making sure that I become a proper witch?"

Sky smiled slightly. "Wicca isn't something you can learn in a correspondence course or figure out on your own. It's experiential. You need someone who's gone through it before you as a guide. Otherwise bad things can happen. Especially with the kind of power that you've inherited."

"That's not what I was asking," I said. "Why Hunter? Doesn't he have more important things to do than worry about me?"

"He's a Seeker," Sky replied. "It's his job to make sure witches don't misuse their magick. And—" She broke off. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added, "And you're Woodbane."

I bristled. "So he's waiting for me to turn bad?"

"You might," Sky said bluntly. "He can't ignore the possibility."

I folded my arms and pressed my back against the cushioned seat. So Hunter was acting as my watchdog, making sure I stayed on the path of righteousness. I was his assignment, just as I had been Cal's assignment.

I remembered how much I had hated both Sky and Hunter when I'd first met them. With Sky it was mostly from jealousy—her beauty and poise were intimidating to me. But, I realized now, it was also that I'd sensed their suspicion. I could feel that Sky still didn't truly trust me; even though we'd served together, she continued to scrutinize me. Apparently Hunter was doing the same thing. The thought sent a sharp pain through me.

Hunter looked up when I walked in with Sky. "Thanks," he said to her.

"Ta," Sky said. She tossed her leather jacket on the sofa, then pointed to the phone. "Feel free," she said, then disappeared up the stairs.

"How long can you stay?" Hunter asked me. "We've got a lot to talk about."

"I'm not staying," I said. "Sorry Sky went to all that trouble, but I have work to do." I crossed to his phone. "If you won't drive me, I'll call a taxi."

Hunter rubbed a hand across his chin. "What is the matter with you?" he asked mildly.

"I don't appreciate you sending your cousin to practically kidnap me off the street." I snapped. "I told you I didn't have a ride, so I couldn't make it."

"I'm sorry." To my astonishment, he actually sounded abashed. "I—well, I thought I was doing you a favor."

"No, you didn't," I retorted. "You just wanted me to stick to your plan. What gives you the right to just waltz in out of nowhere and take charge? You think just because the International Council of Witches told you to keep an eye on me that gives you the right to run my life?"

"They—" Hunter began, but I cut him off.

"You know what? I'm really sick of being somebody's assignment." Tears filled my eyes. I blinked furiously, trying to keep them from falling. "No one seems to care about who I really am, or what I want! What about me in all of this?"

"Morgan—" Hunter began, but I cut him off again.

"No!" I cried. "Don't! It's my turn." My fingers curled into fists, and I felt pressure build in my chest. "You're so self-righteous about your mission and the council and all that crap, but really you want exactly the same thing as Cal and Selene did—to control me. To use me for your own purposes." To my humiliation, my voice broke. I turned my back on Hunter and stood there, biting down hard on my lower lip as I struggled to hold myself together.

He didn't say anything at first, and silence stretched between us. At last he spoke in a curiously subdued voice.

"You're not my assignment. The council didn't tell me to keep an eye on you, actually," he said.

I fought to regain my normal pattern of breathing so that I would be able to understand what he was telling me. I wanted so much to understand, to be wrong.

I heard Hunter take a deep breath, too. "I'm here of my own choice, Morgan. I did contact them about you, that's true. I told them you were a witch of exceptional power and that I wanted to see if I could help guide you. They said I could do that as long as it didn't interfere with my primary work as a Seeker—which is to track down Cal and Selene and others like them."

He paused, and I heard him take a step toward me. Then I felt a feather light touch on my shoulder. "I don't want to control you, Morgan," he said. "That's the last thing I want."

His hand left my shoulder, his fingers lightly stroking my long hair. He was just inches behind me; I could feel the warmth of his body, and I held my breath.

"What I'm trying to do," he went on softly, "in my own clumsy way, is to give you the tools you need to understand the forces that you will inevitably come up against."

I turned to face him, searching his eyes, wondering what It was that he wanted, what I wanted. His eyes are so green, I found myself thinking, so gentle. I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm everywhere except on the wet trail of tears.

"I just want. .," he whispered, and trailed off.

We stood there, our gazes locked, and it seemed to me that once again the universe suspended its motion around us and the only warm, living things in it were the two of us.

Then Sky's voice called down from upstairs, "Hunter, did you remember to get cheese and biscuits?" and suddenly everything started moving again, and I stepped backward until the backs of my knees hit the worn ottoman and I sat down. I was trembling, and I found I couldn't look at Hunter.

"Um—yes, I got them," Hunter replied, his voice raspy and a little breathless.

"Right, then. I'm going to make a cheese-and-tomato omelet. I'm starved." I heard Sky's boots clattering down f the stairs. "Want some?"

"Sounds great," Hunter said. "Morgan, how about you?"

"Um—no thanks, my family will be expecting me for dinner at six-thirty," I said shakily. "In fact, I'd better give my mom a call right now and let her know where I am."

"Tell her I'll run you home by six," he said. Then he added, "If that's all right with you, I mean. If you want to stay."

"It's all right," I told him. I didn't feel ready to leave.

By the time I hung up, I felt more normal. Hunter led me to the back of the house, where the wood-burning stove filled the long room with warmth. The windows were fogged with condensation, but I rubbed one with my sweater and looked outside. Another rickety porch lined the back of the house, and beyond it I could see trees growing from the sides of the ravine: oak, maple, birch, hemlock, and pine. The woods around Widow's Vale tended to have a well-trod, gentle feel to them. But the land behind Hunter and Sky's house felt raw, wild, as though floodwaters had just swept through and carved out something new and highly charged.

"It feels different here," I said.

"It is. It's a place of power." Hunter lit the candle and incense stick on the altar. He gestured to the floor where we'd held the circle. A worn oriental carpet now covered the center of the floor. "Have a seat."

I settled myself on the carpet.

He didn't sit. "There's something we need to discuss," he said.

"What?" I asked, feeling wary again.

"I did some checking on David's story, yesterday and today. That's why I couldn't come pick you up myself." Hunter paced toward the woodstove, then swung around to face me. "First of all, he lied about how he hurt his hand. I asked Alyce, and she told me he'd come in with it bandaged up two days before the party. He didn't do it trimming boughs for the party."

My heart lurched. David had lied to me?

Wait. I thought back. Not so fast. He never said he cut his hand trimming boughs for the party. He could have been trimming some other boughs. Couldn't he?

"Second, Stuart Afton didn't make any money on stocks last week," Hunter said.

I frowned. "I'm not following you."

Hunter made an impatient gesture with his hand. "David said Afton forgave his debt because he'd made a killing on the stock market last week," he reminded me. "But I checked, and it never happened."

"You checked? How?"

"If you must know," Hunter said, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious, "I chatted up his secretary. No man has secrets from his secretary. She knew nothing about any sudden windfall."

"And why is this your business?"

"Because I'm a Seeker," Hunter said. "It's my job to investigate misuses of magick."

"This doesn't have anything to do with magick," I said, standing up. "Maybe there was a stock split and Alton's secretary was at lunch when the call came in. Maybe he got the news by e-mail. Maybe there was no stock split but Afton forgave the debt anyway, out of the simple goodness of his heart. This isn't council business, Hunter."

"Open your eyes," Hunter said flatly. "There's magick involved here. Dark magick. We both know that."

I realized I had no choice. I had to tell him about seeing Cal.

I took a deep breath. "There's something I have to tell you."

I explained how I'd scryed for the truth two nights ago and how instead of seeing David, Cal had appeared. I didn't speak about the feelings seeing Cal's face had induced, nor did Hunter ask. But two white creases appeared on the out-sides of his nostrils.

"The way I see it, this is the strongest proof we've had yet that Cal is behind the dark magick we've detected," I said. "It isn't David at all."

I could see Hunter weighing this new information. "You say you asked to see the truth?" he asked after a moment "Were those the words you used? Did you mention David's name?"

"No," I answered, puzzled. "Why?"

"You weren't very specific. And fire can be a capricious scrying tool," Hunter replied.

"Are you trying to tell me the fire lied to me?" I asked. I was starting to get angry again.

"No," Hunter said. "Fire doesn't lie. But it reveals the truths it wants to reveal, especially if you're not specific with your questions."

I put my head in my hands, feeling suddenly weary. "I don't get it, Hunter," I said. "I keep giving you clues that point clearly to Cal and Selene, the witches you came here to investigate—the witches you're still trying to track down. I don't want it to be them—I don't want to even think about them. But it makes total sense that they're the ones whose presence I felt. Why do you keep trying to make this about David and Practical Magick?"

Hunter was silent for a moment. At last he said, "It's a feeling I have. I've got an instinct for darkness. It's what makes me so good at my job." The words weren't a boast. His voice was quiet. For the first time I began to really wonder. Was it possible that he was right?

"Enough of this," he said with a sigh. "We're not getting anywhere, and it's nearly six. I'd better run you home."

We walked out to his car without talking. I noticed with a shock that it was the same gray rental sedan he'd had the week before. Selene had hidden it in an abandoned barn when she thought Cal and I had killed Hunter.

"I tracked it down," Hunter remarked, eerily echoing what was on my mind. We climbed into the car, and he drove me home in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. He pulled into my driveway. Then, as I reached for the door handle, he put his hand on mine. "Morgan."

A jolt of sensation ran up my arm, and I turned to face him.

"Please think about what we discussed, about David. I'm almost certain Stuart Afton didn't forgive that debt out of kindness."

"I just don't believe David would mess with dark magick," I said. As he began to reply, I cut him off. "I know, I know, you have a special sense for evil. But you're wrong this time. You have to be."

I climbed out and hurried up the walk to my house, hoping I was right.