3. Moira

"Tell us all," Tess commanded the instant Moira walked up. Vita was eating a bag of crisps, but she nodded eagerly.

Moira grinned. Finally she had a lad of her own for them to ask about! After the last six months it was so great to have this huge, fun thing to be happy about. "Well," she said dramatically as the three of them started to walk down High Street. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Vita said. "What was said. What was done. Who kissed who."

Feeling her face flush, Moira laughed self-consciously. Tess had called that morning to arrange to meet early, before spellcraft class, so Moira could give them a rundown of her time with Ian. Today was unusually sunny and warm, with only fat, puffy clouds in the sky. It was hard to believe it would be Samhain in a few weeks.

"Well, we were there until almost six-thirty," Moira said. "I got home brutally late and Mum had forty fits."

"Enough about Mum," said Tess. "More about Ian. Six-thirty? All at Margath's Faire?" They turned down Merchant Street, staying on the sunny side.

"Yeah," said Moira. "We just sat there and talked and talked. I looked up and almost two hours had gone by."

"Holding hands?" Vita pressed.

"After a while," Moira said, feeling pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "He took my hand and told me I was amazing."

Tess and Vita gave each other wide-eyed looks.

"Amazing," Tess said approvingly. "Very good word. One point for Ian. What else?"

Wrinkling her nose, Moira thought back. She remembered a lot of staring into each other's eyes. "Urn, we talked about music-he's learning the bodhran. Initiation classes-he was initiated last year but is still studying herbology. Books. Movies-he said maybe we could go see a film next week."

"Yes!" said Vita. "Well done."

They turned into a narrow side street called Printer's Alley. Only a bare strip of sunlight lit the very center of the slanted cobbled road. Buildings on either side rose three stories in the air, their gray stucco chipped in places and exposing stones and bricks. A few tiny shops, barely more than closets with open doors, dotted the street like colorful flowers growing out of concrete.

"It was just really brilliant," Moira said. "He's so great- so funny. We looked around the cafe and made up life stories about everyone who sat there. I thought I was going to fall out of my chair." She didn't mention the magick they had done. It seemed private, a secret between her and Ian.

Vita laughed. "Sounds like a good time was had by all. Do you think he could be your-" She paused, exchanging a glance with Tess. "Your muirn beatha dan?"

Moira's cheeks flushed. The truth was, she'd been wondering the same thing for a while now and especially after yesterday. Ever since she'd first learned what a muirn beatha dan was, she'd been dreaming of what it would feel like to meet hers. A true soul mate-it was just incredible. And what if Ian really was her MBD? It would be so amazing if she'd already found him. "I don't know," she admitted. "But… maybe."

"So did you talk about your covens at all?" Tess asked. "What's his take on Belwicket?"

"We only talked about it a little bit," said Moira. "Like about being initiated. And how he was a high priestess's son, and what that meant, and how my mum would probably be high priestess someday. It's something we have in common, trying to live up to powerful parents."

"I don't know, Moira," said Vita. "Your powers are wicked. The ladybug thing…"

Moira laughed, enjoying the remembered triumph. "Anyway," she said, "enough about me. Are you going to circle tonight, then?"

"Sure," said Vita. They were almost at the home of their spellcraft teacher, and unconsciously the three girls slowed down, reluctant to spend a rare sunny day inside studying.

Tess heaved a long-suffering breath. "Yeah, kicking and screaming," she said. "It's bad enough I have to spend part of my Saturday day at initiation class when I don't care about being initiated, but to give up Saturday night, too… It's just brutal."

"You still don't want to get initiated?" Vita asked her, brushing her feathery blond hair out of her face. "Ten years from now you'll be the only adult who still can't work the harder spells."

"I don't care." Tess scuffed her black suede boots against the uneven cobbles of the street. "It just isn't for me. It's so old-fashioned. The other day I had a splitting headache, and Mum was like, let me brew some herbs. I just wanted to go to the chemist's and get some proper drugs." She frowned and played with the magenta tips of her dark hair.

Moira gave her a sympathetic look, then realized they were at their teacher's stoop, a single concrete block in front of a red-painted door.

Tess sighed in resignation, and then the door opened and Keady Dove smiled out at them. "Hello, ladies," she said. "Come in. What a beautiful day, nae? I won't keep you too long."

Inside the small house the three girls went automatically to the back room that overlooked the garden. The sun overhead shone on the neat rows of herbs and flowers; there was a tiny patch for vegetables in the southern corner. Everything was tidy, the roses deadheaded, the cosmos tied up, the parsley trimmed. Moira thought it looked soothing and restful, like a good witch's garden should. She saw Tess looking at it also, an expression of disinterest on her face. Moira was torn-she admired Tess's outspokenness and could sympathize with her not wanting automatically to continue on a path she herself hadn't chosen. Still, to Moira, Wicca seemed as natural and omnipresent as the sea.

"Right," said Keady, rolling up her sleeves. She sat down at the tall table, and the three girls sat on the tall stools across from her. "Let me see what you've done since Monday. You were supposed to craft one spell using a phase of the moon and one that would affect some kind of insect."

Moira handed hers over. She'd gone ahead and written up the ladybug spell, planning to emphasize its excellent spell- craft and skim over the fact that it was frivolous and purposeless. She waited silently while Keady looked at it, keeping her face expressionless when her teacher frowned slightly and looked at her. Keady closed Moira's book and slid it back across the table.

"I remember how proud your dad was when you took first place in junior spellcraft," Keady said, her casual mention of Colm making Moira press her lips together. "Your dad didn't make spells often, but when he did, they were lovely, clean, well-crafted. As yours are. However, his had more use and were less self-centered. Have you looked at his old Books of Shadows?"

Moira nodded, embarrassed. "A bit. He didn't do many spells."

"No," Keady agreed. "How about your mother, then? She's been crafting rites and spells along with your gran for years. Have you looked at her books?"

"A few. Some of the recent ones."

"It would also be interesting to look at the ones she started keeping right at the beginning, even before she was initiated." Keady looked at her pupils. "That's how we learn, from the past, from the witches who went before us. The books of our families are always particularly helpful because different forms and patterns of spells often run in families and clans. Sometimes that's due to tradition, sometimes to little quirks in our heritage that make one type of spell more effective for us. My mum always crafted terrific spells with gems, rocks, and crystals." Keady grinned, her smooth tan face creasing with humor. "However, we ran like hell when she tried to get us to sample her herbal concoctions."

Moira and Vita laughed, and even Tess cracked a smile.

The class turned to business as their teacher critiqued their homework in more detail and assigned them work for next Wednesday. Then she led them to her circle room for practice.

Quickly and accurately, Keady drew an open circle on the smooth wooden floor. Its once-dark boards were irrevocably stained white from years of making chalk circles. Keady actually made her own chalk sticks, and they were part of her rituals. There were natural chalk pits not far from Cobh, and for a fee one could go and hack bits out of a wall. Keady did this, then carefully carved the hard white chalk into shapes, wands, figures of people or animals, short staffs topped with runes or sigils. She kept Margath's Faire stocked with special chalks and made some extra money this way.

"Everyone in," she directed. The three girls walked through the opening of the circle and sat down, one at each of the corners of the compass, with Keady to the east. "We're going to practice transferring energy," Keady said. "Each of us will meditate alone for five minutes, drawing energy to us, using the spell I taught you. At the end of five minutes, after you've opened yourself to receive energy from the universe, we'll join hands. Going deasil, we'll pass energy to each other through our hands. If we do it right," she said with a grin,"you should be able to feel something."

What a waste of time.

Moira jerked her head toward Tess, shocked that her friend would actually say this out loud, in front of their teacher. Tess sat cross-legged, her eyes closed, her hands in a loose, upward pinch on her knees. Her face was blank. Quickly Moira looked at Keady, then at Vita, and weirdly, neither of them seemed to have had any reaction. Oh, wow, I picked up on it Cool. Witches of a certain power could send or receive witch messages-Moira, Tess, and Vita had been practicing for the past year, with varying degrees of success. Moira and her mum could definitely send messages to each other. But to pick up on someone's strong thoughts without their meaning to send them was something else. Moira smiled to herself, pleased at this demonstration that her own powers were slowly increasing.

Moira closed her eyes and straightened her spine, resting her hands lightly on her knees as the others were doing. Right Concentrate. Her trousers were itching her, right in back where the tag was. She wondered if she looked like a scarecrow in them. Vita had soft, feminine curves, with actual hips and boobs. When a dip at school had tried to tell her she was fat, Vita had just laughed. "I think I look good," she had said. "And so does your boyfriend." Moira smiled at the memory. Vita was really comfortable with herself, her body. Unlike Moira, who was so tall and thin. Not slender, not petite, not in shape, just thin. Mum kept telling her she would fill out, but-

Moira's all over the place.

Moira's eyes snapped open at Keady's voice, ready to deny it. But again, everyone's eyes were closed, and her teacher gave no indication that she had spoken. Moira felt a jolt of excitement. Wow-this was amazing. She was definitely getting stronger. Now concentrate, concentrate. Focus. Breathe.

For as far back as Moira could remember, her mother had said those words. In the small room tacked onto the living room, where the family worked their magick, Moira had witnessed her parents, and especially her mother, meditating, focusing, breathing. She had allowed Moira to join her when Moira was three. Moira thought sadly on those days, when she had felt so close to her mum. She'd always felt really close to her until just last year, when suddenly Dad had seemed more understanding. It was when she had begun to prepare for her initiation, she realized. The whole thing seemed to make Mum tense, anxious that Moira do well.

Breathe. Focus. Quit thinking. Moira imagined a candle in front of her, a white pillar on the floor, glowing with a single flame. She focused on its flickering, on the ebb and flow of the flame growing and dying, one second at a time. In a few moments she became the flame, inhaling its heat and light and releasing its energy with her breath. I am the flame. I am burning. I am white-hot I am made of fire.

"Right," said Keady's quiet voice, floating gently through the air. "Slowly, slowly, open your eyes, as if they were fine linen being lifted by a breeze."

Moira opened her eyes, and it seemed that the room had changed somehow. Maybe the sun had shifted. Something felt different. Looked different. Moira blinked. Things looked a little hazy. No, wait-it was just around their heads. There was a bright glow around Tess's, Vita's, and Keady's heads.

"Now," Keady said, "let's hold out our hands. When I tell you to, join hands. One person will send, one will receive. Repeat after me: A force of life I draw to me. It fills me with its light I use this light to help me see. And in my spells I use its might."

Moira repeated the words, and they seemed to sink deep within her, as if they were smooth stones dropping gently through water to land silently on a bed of silt. "Tess, receive my energy," said Keady, holding out her hand. Tess reached out and clasped her hand, then gave a small but visible jump. Her eyes opened a bit wider, and she lost her bored demeanor for a second.

"Now, Tess, give your energy to me and to Vita."

Tess clasped hands with both Vita and Keady, and though Vita seemed expectant, her expression didn't change. "I don't feel much of anything," she whispered.

"That's all right," Keady said. "Now, Vita, give your energy to Moira and Tess."

Moira held out her hand and took hold of Vita's smooth, soft palm. Vita's hand was smaller than hers and much less muscular. Moira let her eyes close halfway and focused on what she was receiving from Vita. Was that a faint tingling sensation? Yes, she thought it was. So Vita was actually sending her energy? Cool. She opened her eyes and nodded at Vita, who grinned and looked pleased.

"Good, Vita," Keady said encouragingly. "I can see your extra practicing has paid off. Right, then, now Moira. Give your energy to me and Vita."

Moira closed her eyes. Focus. Breathe. Silently she repeated the words: A force of life I draw to me. It fills me with its light I use this light to help me see. And in my spells I use its might.

She breathed in, and with that breath she seemed to draw the whole room in with her. Holding her breath, she felt energy rise within her-something she'd never felt so strongly before. It was a bit scary, actually, but Keady was here and would keep her safe. Power and energy and magick and joy seemed about to explode inside her. Slowly she held out her hands, unsure if she was doing anything correctly or if she had gotten it all wrong. Energy, I send you out. Moira imagined herself as a glowing flame, pouring energy out through her hands like sunbeams.

Keady took her hand first, and Moira felt an electrifying contact, like pure heat was pouring through her hand. Suddenly Moira knew a kind of exhilaration she'd never imagined existed. In the next second Vita took her other hand, and Moira felt it all again, but only for a second. Vita gasped and dropped her hand quickly, and Moira's eyes snapped open.

Vita looked startled and a little afraid. She stared first at Moira and then at her own hand. Moira quickly glanced at Keady and saw that the older woman was gripping her hand firmly, easily taking the sent energy and measuring it. As soon as Moira's concentration broke, everything shut down, and within a minute she felt almost totally normal. Almost.

Self-conscious, and a mite dizzy, Moira drew her hands back and folded them in her lap.

"What did you do?" asked Vita.

"What happened?" Tess asked, having seen nothing except Vita dropping Moira's hand.

"Very good, Moira," said Keady quietly, looking at Moira's face. "Have you been practicing?"

"A little. Not a whole lot," Moira admitted. "But I remembered seeing my mum call energy. She talked about how it can increase the power of spells and so on." Moira shrugged and began to trace a random pattern on her knee.

"I see," said Keady. She got to her feet and opened the circle, murmuring words to dispel magick and restore calm to the room's own energy. "I think that's enough for today. You have your assignments for next Wednesday. Go home and work on your spells and your Books of Shadows, and I'll see you at the circle tonight." Moira started to pull on her jacket, but Keady put out a hand to detain her. Tess and Vita left without her, looking back with raised brows. Moira shrugged a silent "I don't know" and pantomimed calling them later.

Keady put the kettle on for tea, glancing thoughtfully at Moira.

"That was both unexpected and expected," she said, putting out their cups. "It was unexpected because I haven't seen that level of power from you before, and we've been working together for eight months now. It was also expected because you're Morgan Byrne's daughter. I couldn't help wondering if you had inherited her power."

Moira looked into Keady's clear eyes, the color of fog. "I feel like my powers are growing, getting stronger," she said. "But I don't know if it's like my mum's power-I don't even know what her power's like. I mean, I know she's a strong healer. People call her from all over the world for help. The spells she works look effortless, smooth and perfect. And I know everyone speaks of her power and her magick. But I don't think I've seen her work too much really big magick."

For a minute her teacher was quiet. She swirled the loose tea leaves in the steamy water. The sweet smell of tea filled Moira's nose, and she inhaled.

"If you have the power of a huge, rushing river, sometimes it's most effective to harness it and dole it out, as with a dam," her teacher said finally. "Sometimes if you let the river run free, it can destroy more than it can build."

Moira looked at her. It seemed a quality of witches to never answer questions directly. "It's just strange-I know she's powerful, she's Morgan of Belwicket. But that kind of big 'rushing river' stuff doesn't come up in the day-to-day." She laughed a little, and Keady smiled. "How much do you know about your mum's life before she came here and helped revive Belwicket?"

Moira frowned. "Well, she's American. She was adopted. She found out she was a blood witch when she was sixteen. After high school she went to Scotland for a summer to study with the Gray Witches. When Gran found out Maeve Riordan's daughter was alive, she tracked Mum down and asked her to move here and help re-form the original Belwicket. Then Mum married Dad, and I was born. Now she's become an important healer, and she travels a lot." Moira let out a breath, releasing the tension she felt about how much her mum worked. "Now Mum's getting ready to become high priestess of Belwicket."

"It isn't my place to tell you any more about your own mother," said Keady. "But I can tell you that the fact that you've not witnessed anything that would strike fear into your soul is a good thing." She smiled dryly when Moira frowned. "The true strength of a witch can be measured by how much she or he does not resort to big magick, how much they can give themselves over to study, reflection, peace. The fact that someone can work big magick is an accomplishment. The fact that someone can work big magick but chooses not to unless strictly necessary is a greater accomplishment. Do you see?"

This was a picture of her mother that Moira was having trouble imagining. "Are you saying that Mum could strike fear into someone's soul?" she asked.

"I'm saying that yes, your mother is a witch of unusual, and even fearsome, powers," Keady said solemnly. The words gave Moira a slight chill. "There have been very few witches within recorded history who could equal Morgan," her teacher went on. "A power that great is a beautiful and also a frightening thing. And Moira? There are very few happy uses for a power such as that, do you understand? It isn't your mother's place to bring springtime or end war, or make everyone fall in love, or keep a whole village healthy. And your mother would never use her magick for dark purposes, we know. Can you think of a purpose that is left, that is both true and on the side of right, yet would allow the expression of an almost inconceivably great power?"

Moira frowned at Keady, realizing what she was getting at.

"It would be for defense," Keady said, her voice very quiet and deliberate. "To fight evil. It would be used in a battle of good against evil on a scale that's difficult for you to comprehend. And it's difficult for you to comprehend because… your mother, and your father, too, worked very hard their whole lives to make sure that you, their daughter, lived in a world where the most appropriate expression of power… is to heal people."

Moira felt as if she had stepped out of her normal Saturday spellcraft lesson and into a comic book about superheroes.

"To be fifteen years old, the daughter of Morgan Byrne, and to have no idea of such matters-it's a blessing, a gift. One that you will be thankful for, again and again, in the future." Keady looked at Moira steadily, then seemed to think she had said enough.

In silence Moira finished her tea, mumbled good-bye, took her things, and left.

"Keady says it would be helpful to read your and Dad's Books of Shadows," Moira said that afternoon.

"I think I gave them to you," her mother said, stirring the pot on the stove. She sniffed its scent and then looked at her watch. "You gave me most of them, but I think it would be good to read your very first ones, even before you were initiated, when you were first learning about spells," said Moira. An odd expression crossed her mum's face for just a moment and then passed.

"Gosh, that was so long ago," her mother murmured. "I'm not sure where they are."

"Didn't Dad say once that all of both of your old stuff was in those crates down in the cellar?" Moira persisted.

Her mother looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure."

"Well, I could really use them," Moira said. "It would help me for my initiation. Can I try to find them?"

Her mum looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Moira wasn't going to back down, not after the things Keady had said.

"I guess," was her mum's unenthusiastic reply. "But I'll get them for you when I have a minute."

"Brilliant," said Moira, standing up and putting her dishes in the sink. As she was heading upstairs, her mom said, "Don't forget-circle in an hour."

"Right," Moira called back.

"I miss having circles outside, like in summer," Moira said. She and her mum were walking briskly down the road toward Katrina's. The sun had set, and with no streetlights the night was a solid velvety black. With magesight, kind of like a witch's night vision, Moira stepped surely on the rutted, uneven road.

"Yes," said her mother. "Being outside is always good. But it's nice to have a place to be warm and dry as well."

Soon they had almost caught up to Brett and Lacey Hawkstone and their daughter, Lizzie, who was fourteen and would start her initiation classes at Yule. Ahead of them Michelle Moore walked with her partner, Fillipa Gregg.

"Today at class I sent some energy to Keady," Moira said.

"Really?" Her mother smiled at her and seemed glad but neither surprised nor ecstatic. "Good for you. I'm sure Keady was pleased. Oh, look, Fillipa needs help carrying that bag. Let's hurry."

As the group approached the store, Moira's gran appeared in the doorway of her cottage. "Hello! Come in," said Gran, smiling. She closed the front door to her house and met them by the store's entrance. Her house was a small, thick-walled cottage, and the old store was attached directly to it. It had been a tiny country store, just one large room. Five years ago the coven had joined together and whitewashed the inside, sanded the floor, and painted good luck charms and symbols all around the room's perimeter. There were four small windows, high up on the thick walls, and a double-wide front door. The only other door led into Gran's back pantry in her house.

"Hi, Gran," said Moira, kissing her. She sniffed, then wiggled her eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes, those are gingersnaps you smell," Katrina told her with a laugh. "I felt like baking this afternoon. We'll have them after circle."

"Morgan," said Hartwell Moss, coming over to hug Moira's mum. "How are you? Rough week?"

"Not too bad," said Moira's mum, but something in her voice made Moira look at her more closely. Were those lines of tension around her eyes? Was her mouth tight? Moira tried casting her senses and picked up on a lot of anxiety. Was it just because Moira had been late last night, or was something else going on? "Hello!" Gran called, opening her arms wide. "Hello, everyone, and good evening to you. Welcome. Is everyone here, then?" Though she was heavyset and walked slowly because of arthritis, Moira thought her grandmother still made a wonderful high priestess for their coven. Her gray hair was pulled back with silver combs and her long, dove-gray linen robe was imprinted in black with simple images of the sea.

"Hello, good evening," people answered in various forms. Moira counted: twenty-one people here tonight, a good number. In the winter it often drifted down to eight or nine, when the weather made some of the higher roads risky; in spring the number could swell to over twenty. Even their coven obeyed the law of wax and wane, the turn of the wheel.

Standing at the head of the room, Katrina clasped her hands and smiled. "The sun has gone down, and we are embraced by the harvest moon, nae? There's a crispness in the air that tells us leaves will soon fell, days will grow shorter, and we'll be staying more by our firesides. What a joyful time is autumn! We gather in our harvest, collecting Mother Earth's bounty, her gifts to us. We till the soil, and the soil feeds us. Or, for some of us, we think fondly of our soil but buy our veggies from the market!"

People laughed. Moira felt proud of her grandmother.

"Lammas is behind us: we look ahead to Mabon," Katrina went on. "We're planning a special Mabon feast, of course, so please talk to Susan if you'd like to contribute food, drink, candles, decorations, or just your time. Thank you very much. Now, I've already drawn our circle here, you can see, but if you'll forgive me, I'd like to ask Morgan to lead us tonight. Maybe I've overdone things a little lately."

Moira glanced at her mother, who was looking at Katrina with affection. Morgan nodded slightly, and, looking relieved, Katrina moved to the side.

"Can you all please come into the circle?" asked Morgan, and the coven members filed in through the opening that Gran had left. Quickly Morgan went around the circle and sketched the rune Eolh at the east, Tyr at the north, Thorn at the west, and Ur at the south. Moira silently recited their meanings: protection, victory in battle, overcoming adversity, and strength. Powerful runes, runes of protection. As if the coven were under siege. Moira remembered what Keady had said about Morgan's power being used for defense and wondered what was this was about.

Next Morgan lit a stick of incense and placed it behind the rune Tyr. She set a silver cup of water next to Thorn and a silver cup of smooth pebbles at Ur. Next to Eolh she lit a tall orange candle. Finally Morgan took her place in the circle, between Katrina and Lacey Hawkstone. Everyone clasped hands and raised them overhead. Moira had moved till she was between Vita and Tess, who had also edged away from their parents. Tess squeezed her hand-Moira knew she'd rather be home watching television. Across the room Keady Dove smiled at her.

"I welcome the Goddess and the God to tonight's circle, and I hope they find favor with our gathering," Morgan began. "I dedicate this circle to our coming harvest, to our safe passage into winter, and to our spirit of community. We're a chain, all of us connected and entwined. We help each other, we support each other. Our links form a strong fence, and within it we can protect our own."

Moira saw that a few people were glancing at each other. They were probably wondering what was going on, with the runes of protection and Morgan talking about being a fence. Moira hoped she wouldn't start talking about Ealltuinn. Maybe Ealltuinn wasn't as particular about following the Wiccan Rede as Belwicket was. There were lots of covens that weren't. But that didn't make them evil.

"Since we're in the middle of our harvest season," Morgan said, "let's give thanks now for things that we have drawn to us, for our times of fruitfulness, for the gifts of the land. Life has given us each incomparable riches."

"I'm thankful for my new pony," said Lizzie Hawkstone. "He's beautiful and smart."

"I'm thankful my mum recovered from her illness," said Michelle.

"I bless the Goddess for my garden's bounty," said Christa Ryan, who was Moira's herbology teacher.

"I'm thankful for the wonderful gift of my daughter-in-law and for my beautiful granddaughter," said Katrina. She smiled at Moira, and Moira smiled back.

"I'm grateful for family and friends," Moira said, falling back on an old standard.

"Thanks to the Goddess for the rains and the wind, for they've kept me cozy inside," said Fillipa. "Thanks also to the library in town-they just got in a shipment of new books."

"I thank the Goddess for my daughter," Morgan said quietly. "I thank time for passing, however slowly. I thank the wheel for turning and for helping grief to ease someday."

That was about Moira's dad, and she felt people glancing at her in sympathy. She nodded, looking at her feet, acknowledging her mother's words.

The circle went around, each person contributing some- thing or not as they wished. Then Morgan lifted her left foot and leaned to the left, and the group began a sort of half-walking, half-skipping circle, where it felt like dancing. Moira felt her heart lifting, her blood circulating, and knew that her mum had chosen this to increase the positive, lighthearted energy.

Morgan started singing, one of the ancient songs with words that had lost their definitions but not their meanings. Her rich alto wove a melody around the circle, and Katrina took it up, singing different words but layering her melody above and beneath Morgan's. Soon Will Fereston joined in, and Keady, and then most of the coven members were singing. Some were singing songs they'd learned as children or been taught recently. Some were simply making sounds that blended with the others. Moira was trying to copy Morgan, singing the same notes at the same time. She'd never learned this song formally but had heard her mother sing it often-she called it one of her «power-draw» chants.

People were smiling, the circle was moving more quickly, and Moira could feel a joy, a lightness, enter the room. Even Katrina's arthritis didn't seem to be bothering her. People who had looked tired or stressed when they came in soon lost those expressions. Instead, faces were alight with the pleasure of sharing, with the gift of dancing. Moira laughed, holding tightly to Vita and Tess, hoping she wouldn't trip.

Then slowly Moira started to see a haze in the room-like everyone around her had grown fuzzy. This wasn't like the energy she'd seen with Keady, Tess, and Vita. She squinted, confused, as the haze grew heavier, darker, blurring her vision.

Just then Will, Micheile, and Susan started coughing. Then Moira coughed, not quite gagging, and an oily, bitter scent filled the air. Now a thick black smoke was creeping beneath the doors and around the shut windows, slipping in like tendrils of poison. One tendril began to coil around Katrina's foot.

Katrina flinched and started barking out ward-evil spells. Her sister, Susan, tried to help her but was coughing too much. The circle was broken; several people were on their knees, on the floor. Lizzie was trying not to cry, and old Hamish Murphy looked confused and frightened. Moira felt the panic grow.

"Mum!" Moira cried, dropping Tess's and Vita's hands. Morgan was standing stiffly, turning slowly to see every single thing that was happening in the room. Her face was white, her eyes wide. She looked both frightened and appalled, staring almost in disbelief at the smoke. Moira saw her lips start moving but couldn't hear her words.

"Mum!" Moira said again, reaching Morgan and taking her arm. Her mother gently shook her off, freeing herself without speaking.

While Moira watched, coughing, Morgan closed her eyes and held out her arms. Slowly she raised them in the air, and now Moira could hear her mother's words, low and intense and frightening. They were harsh words in a language that Moira didn't recognize, and they sounded dark, spiky- words without forgiveness or explanation.

Michelle had reached the door, but it wouldn't open, and people began to panic as they realized they were trapped. Vita was huddled with her parents and younger brother, and Tess was standing by her folks. Keady and Christa were trying to help others, but they were coughing and red faced across the room. Aunt Susan looked as if she were about to faint. Moira stood alone, next to her mother. Once, Morgan opened her eyes and stared straight through Moira, and Moira almost cried out-her mother's normally brown eyes were glowing red, as if reflecting fire, and her face was changed, stronger. Moira could hardly recognize her, and that was perhaps even scarier than the smoke.

Closing her eyes again, Morgan began to draw runes and sigils in the air around her. Moira recognized more runes of protection but soon lost the shapes of the other, more complicated sigils. It was as if her mother were writing a story in the air, line after line. And still she muttered whatever chant had come to her.

Moira felt fear take over her body. The roiling smoke was choking everyone. She'd never seen her mother work magick like this, never seen her so consumed and practically glowing with power. Moira's eyes were stinging, her lungs burning. Coughing, she sank to her knees on the floor and suddenly thought of how she had sent energy to Keady. Could she do it again? Could it help somehow? She closed her eyes and automatically drew the symbol Eolh in the air in front of her. There was no time to draw circles of protection, overlain with different runes.

"An de allaigh," Moira began chanting under her breath, coughing at each word. She knew this power-draw chant well and closed her eyes while she chanted it as best she could. Focus. Focus and concentrate.

I open myself to the Goddess's power, Moira thought, trying to ignore the foul stench, the gagging smoke. She shut out the sounds of the room. I open myself to the power of the universe. She remembered Morgan's orange candle, set in the east. The smoke had snuffed it a minute ago, but Moira recalled its flame and pictured it in her mind.

Fire, fire, burning bright, she thought, everything else fading away. I call power to me. I am power. I'm made of fire. She felt it rise within her, as if a flower were blooming inside her chest. She inhaled through her nose, the acrid smell making her shudder. Holding her arms out at her sides, Moira felt power coming to her as if she were a lightning rod, being struck again and again with tiny, pinlike bolts of lightning.

The room was silent. Moira opened her eyes. People were moving, crying, shouting, trying to break a window. Her mother was standing in front of her, her arms coiled over her chest, her face contorted with effort. Her cheeks were flushed, and her brown hair was sticking to her forehead. Her fists were clenched.

Moira felt as if she were moving through gelatin, slowly and without sound, making ripples of movement all around her. She stood and leaned close to her mother, seeing power radiating from Morgan in a kind of unearthly glow.

I send my power to you. Moira reached out and covered Morgan's fists with her own. I give my power to you. And she truly did feel it leave her, a slipcase of white light sliding from her, through her hands, and draping lightly over the hands of her mother. Slowly, slowly, Morgan's hands opened, and Moira's cupped them, a two-layered flower of flesh, bones, and a pure, glorious, glowing light.

Then Morgan threw her arms up and open, her head snapped back, and a final shout tore from her throat. She sounded wolflike, Moira thought, startled, as strong as a wild animal, and at that instant a window exploded in a shower of glass.

Instantly the black smoke was sucked out of the room, as if the room had depressurized at a high altitude. Shiny shards of broken glass rained down like crystals, like ice. Moira's hands still touched Morgan's arms, below the elbows, and suddenly cool, damp air washed over her, fresh and clean and smelling of night. She could breathe now and heard sounds of choking and gasps of relief. Around her she felt the warm release of the most desperate fear, the worst of the tension.

Moira inhaled deeply, feeling that nothing had ever smelled so wonderful, so life-giving, as the wet-dirt smell of autumn night air. Her mother opened her eyes, and Moira was relieved to see that they were the mixed shades of brown, green, and gold that she knew. Maybe she had just imagined the glowy redness.

Morgan's arms lowered, and she took Moira's hands. She looked solemn but also brightly curious. "You gave me power," she said very softly, her voice hoarse.

Moira nodded, wide-eyed. "Like I did Keady," she whispered back.

"You helped save us," said her mother, and hugged her, and Moira hugged her back.

"Where did it come from?" Moira asked as they walked home along the country road. The moon was shining brightly, lighting their way. After the smoke had left, people had sat for an hour, recovering. Wine and water had washed the taste from their mouths, but no one had been able to eat anything. Finally, when her mum had been sure they were safe, the coven had disbanded.

"I'm not positive, but I think it was from Ealltuinn," answered her mother. She sighed. Moira waited for her to say something about Ian, but she didn't.

"That smoke-I was so scared," Moira said in a rush. "I was glad you had so much power. And at the same time, it was scary-I've never seen you like that."

Her mother licked her lips and brushed her bangs off her forehead. "Magick transforms everyone," she said.

Moira followed her mother home through the darkness, not sure what to say.