Blood Witch

CHAPTER 16 Hidden

January 12, 1999

I've been ill, apparently.

Aunt Shelagh says I have been out for six days. Raving, she told me, with a high fever. I feel like death itself. I don't even remember what happened to me. And no one will say a word. I don't understand any of it.

Where is Linden? I want to see my brother. When I awoke this morning, eight witches from Vinneag were around my bed, working healing rites. I heard Athar and Alwyn in the hall, sobbing. But when I asked if they could come in to see me, the Vinneag witches just gave each other grave glances, then shook their heads. Why? Am I that ill? Or is it something else? What is happening? I must know, but no one will tell me a thing, and I am as weak as a hollow bone.

— Giomanach

The house was on the right side of the road, and as I glanced through Robbie's window, it was as if a cool breeze suddenly washed across my face. I pulled up alongside it.

The walls were no longer white but painted a pale coffee color with dark red accents. The neat garden in front was gone, as was the large herb and vegetable patch to one side. Instead some clumpy rhododendrons hid the front windows on the first floor.

I sat there in silence, drinking in the sight of the place. This was it. This was Maeve's house, and my home for the first seven months of my life. Robbie watched me, not saying anything. There were no cars in the driveway, no sign that anyone was home. I didn't know what to do. But after several minutes I turned to Robbie and took a deep breath.

"I have something to tell you," I began.

He nodded, a somber expression on his face. "I'm a blood witch, like Cal said a couple of weeks ago. But my parents aren't. I was adopted."

Robbie's eyes widened, but he said nothing

"I was adopted when I was about eight months old. My birth mother was a blood witch from Ireland. Her name was Maeve Riordan, and she lived in that house." I gestured out the window. "Her coven was wiped out in Ireland, and she and my biological father escaped to America and settled here. When they did, they swore never to use magick again."

I took another deep, shaky breath. This whole story sounded like a movie of the week, A bad one. But Robbie nodded encouragingly.

"Anyway," I went on, "they had me, and then something happened—I don't know what—and my mother gave me up for adoption. Right after that, she and my father were locked in a barn and burned to death."

Robbie blinked. His face turned slightly pale. "Jesus," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "And who was your dad?"

"His name was Angus Bramson. He was a witch, too, from the same coven in Ireland. I don't think they were married." I sighed. "So that's why I'm so strong in Wicca, why that spell I did for you worked, why I channel so much energy at circles. It's because I come from a line of witches that's hundreds or thousands of years old."

For what seemed like a long time Robbie just stared at me. "This is mind-blowing," he mumbled finally.

"Tell me about it."

He offered a sympathetic smile. "I'll bet things have been crazy at your house lately."

I laughed. "Yeah, you could say that. We were all freaked out about it. I mean, my parents never told me, not in sixteen years, that I was adopted. And all my relatives knew and all their friends. I was… really angry."

"I'll bet," Robbie murmured.

"And they knew how my birth parents died and that witchcraft was involved, so they're really upset that I'm doing Wicca because the whole thing scares them. They don't want anything to happen to me."

Robbie chewed his lip, looking concerned. "No one knows why your birth parents were killed? They were murdered, right? I mean, it wasn't suicide or some ritual gone wrong."

"No. Apparently the barn door was locked from the outside. But they must have been scared about something because they gave me up for adoption right before they died. I can't find out why it happened, though, or who could have done it. I have Maeve's Book of Shadows, and she says that after they came to America, they didn't practice magick at all—"

"How did you get your birth mother's Book of Shadows?" he interrupted.

I sighed again. "It's a long story, but Selene Belltower had it, and I found it. It was all a bunch of weird coincidences."

Robbie raised his eyebrows. "I thought there weren't any coincidences."

I looked at him, startled. You're absolutely right, I thought.

"So why are we here?" he asked.

I hesitated. "Last night I had a dream… I mean, I had a vision. Actually, I scryed in the fire last night."

"You scryed?" Robbie shifted in his seat. Creases lined his forehead. "You mean you tried to divine information, like magickal information?"

"Yes," I admitted, staring down at my lap for a moment. "I know, you think I'm doing stuff I shouldn't be doing yet. But I think it's allowed. It's not a real spell or anything."

Robbie remained silent.

I shook my head and glanced out the window again. "Anyway, I was watching the fire last night and I saw all sorts of weird images and scenes and stuff. But the most realistic scene, the clearest one, was about this house. I saw Maeve standing outside it and pointing underneath it. Pointing and smiling. Like she wanted to show me something underneath this house—"

"Wait a second," Robbie cut in. "Let me get this straight. You had a vision, so now we're here, and you want to crawl under that house?"

I almost laughed. It didn't sound bizarre; it sounded utterly insane. "Well, when you put it that way …"

He shook his head, but he was smiling, too. "Are you sure this is the house?" I nodded.

He didn't say anything.

"So do you think I'm crazy, coming here?" I asked. "Do you think we should turn around and go home?"

He hesitated. "No," he said finally. "If you had that vision while you were actually scrying, then I think it makes sense to check it out I mean, if you actually want to crawl under there." He glanced at me. "Or… do you want me to crawl under there?"

I smiled at him and patted his arm. "Thanks. That's really sweet. But no. I guess I'd better do it. Even though I have no idea what I'm looking for."

Robbie turned to the house again. "Got a flashlight?"

"Of course not." I smirked. "That would make me too well prepared, wouldn't it?"

He laughed as I slid out of the car and zipped up my coat I hesitated only a moment before I unlatched the chain-link gate, then headed up the walk. Under my breath I whispered: "I am invisible, I am invisible, I am invisible," just in case anyone was watching from one of the neighboring houses. It was a trick Cal had told me about but I'd never tried it before. I hoped it worked.

On the left side of the house, past the shaggy rhododendrons, I found the place where Maeve had been standing in my vision. There was an opening between the low brick foundation and the floor supports. The opening was barely twenty inches high. I glanced back at the car. Robbie was leaning against it in case he suddenly needed to come to my aid. I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. He smiled back reassuringly. I was lucky. He was a good friend.

Crouching down, I peered underneath the house and saw only a dense, inky blackness. My heart was pounding loudly, but my senses picked up no people above or around me. For all I knew, I would find dead bodies and crumbling bones in there. Or rats. I would freak if I came face to face with a rat. I pictured myself screaming and scrambling to get out from under the house as fast as I could. But there was no sense in waiting. My magesight would guide me. I crept forward on my hands and knees. As soon as I had edged under the house, I paused to give my eyes time to adjust.

I saw a lot of junk, glowing faintly with time: old insulation foam, an ancient, dirt-encrusted sink, old pipes and chunks of sheet metal. I maneuvered my way carefully through this maze, looking around, trying to get some idea of what I could be looking for. I could feel the cold dampness seep through my jeans. I sneezed. It was dank under here. Dank and musty.

Again the questions festered in my mind. Why was I here? Why had Maeve wanted me to come here? Think, think! Could there be something about the house itself? I glanced upward to see if runes or sigils were traced on the bottom of the floor supports. The wood was old and dirty and blackened, and I saw nothing. I swept my gaze from side to side, starting to feel incredibly stupid—

Wait. There was something… I blinked, rapidly. About fifteen feet in front of me, next to a brick piling, there was something. Something magickal. Whatever it was, I could sense it more than I could see it. I crawled forward, ducking low under water pipes and phone wires. At one point I had to shimmy on my belly beneath a sewer line. I was going to look like hell when I got out of here—I could feel my hair dragging in the dirt and cursed myself for not tying it up.

Finally I slithered out and could crawl normally again. I sneezed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. There! Tucked between two supports, practically hidden behind the piling, was a box. In order to get to it, I had to stretch my arms around the piling; the supports blocked my path.

Tentatively I reached for it. The air around the box felt thick, like clear Jell-O. My fingertips pushed through it and reached icy cold metal. Gritting my teeth, I tried to pry it out of the dirt. But it wouldn't budge. And in my awkward position I couldn't get any leverage to give it a good wrench. Again yanked at it, scratching my fingers on its rusted, pitted surface. there was no use, though. It was stuck.

I felt like screaming. Here I was, on my hands and knees in the mud, under a strage house, drawn here—and I was helpless. I leaned forward and squinted at the box, concentrating hard. There, carved into the lid and barely visible under years of dust, were the initials M. R. Maeve Riordan. To me they were as clear as if I were seeing them in sunlight.

My breath came fast. This was it. This was why my mother had sent me here. I was meant to have it—this box that had remained hidden for almost seventeen years.

A memory suddenly flashed through my mind: that day not so long ago, right when we had all first discovered Wicca, when a leaf had fallen on Raven's head and I'd willed it to hover there with my thoughts. It had been nothing more than a flight of whimsy and a gesture of defiance against her for being cruel to me. But now it took on a deeper significance. If I could move a leaf, could I move something heavier?

I closed my eyes, focusing my concentration. Again I stretched forward and touched the dusty box with my fingertips. My mind emptied, all my thoughts vanishing like water down a drain. Only one thought remained: What had once belonged to my birth mother now belonged to me. The box was mine. I would have it.

It jumped into my hands.

My eyes flew open. A smile crossed my face. I'd done it! By the Goddess, I'd done it! Clutching the box under one arm, I scrambled out of there as fast as I could. Outside, the sunlight seemed overly bright, the air too cold. I blinked and stood, my muscles cramped, then stamped my feet and brushed off my coat as best I could. Then I hurried forward.

A middle-aged man was walking up the sidewalk toward the house. He dragged a fat dachshund behind him by a leash. As he caught sight of me coming around from the back of the house, he slowed and then stopped. His eyes were sharp with suspicion.

I froze for an instant, my heart thumping. I am invisible, I am invisible, I am invisible. I hurled the thought at him with as much force as I could.

A moment later his gaze seemed to lose its focus. His eyes slid aside, and he began walking again.

Wow. I felt a spurt of elation. My powers were growing so strong!

From his vantage point beside Das Boot, Robbie had seen it all. He opened the back door without a word, and I gently placed the box in the backseat. Then he slid smoothly behind the wheel, I got in, and we drove off. Over my shoulder I watched the little house grow smaller until finally we went around a bend and it disappeared from sight.