"Iona's waited sixteen years to do this," Sky went on patiently. "She knows we're going to the island. She gave us just enough information to possibly find it. Lilith was a plant of hers. Don't you see? All of this is her plan."
Morgan looked away, then looked back and nodded.
"If Iona has been consuming souls and increasing her power through dark methods, we're going to need to be in better shape to fight her," Sky said. "Everything in me is telling me to jump into the ocean right now and swim out there to get Hunter. But I know that if we are going to try to save him, if we're going to go up against Iona on her terms, on her ground, we need to be able to pull out all the stops. Do you follow me?"
Morgan sighed. "A few hours," Sky said, sounding weary and beaten. "That's all I'm asking for."
Morgan nodded again. "You're right," she said quietly. "I hate it, but you're right."
Moira sat up, brushed the hair out of her eyes, and wiped away the tears that had slipped out. She looked down at her hands, which were still shaking. Be still, she thought, focusing her energy and shutting out all of her fear and confusion. As she watched, the trembling began to stop. Moira felt a small jolt of triumph.
"Right. Good," said Sky. She started the car again and drove off. Two minutes later she said,"Look, there's a bed-and- breakfast. Tomorrow morning we'll rent a boat. All right?"
"Yes," Morgan said, sounding exhausted.
Moira gathered her coat and put it on. Dread welled up in her, and she swallowed back her nausea. She could do this. She could be strong, too. Her mum needed her. And he-Hunter-needed her, too.
The sky was barely streaked with pink and orange when Moira, her mother, and Sky got up the next morning.
Moira had slept like the dead, closing her eyes as soon as her head hit the pillow. She'd had many dreams, but the only one she remembered was of Hunter. In it he had said, "Don't find me, I am lost forever," and Moira had responded, "I must find you. I'm your daughter." Tears on her cheeks, she'd sat bolt upright in her narrow bed. She'd lost one father six months ago. Today would show whether she would gain another one or lose him as well. But how could she see a stranger, Hunter, as her father?
Down at the harbor Sky was negotiating to rent a twenty-foot fishing boat for the day. It was big and clunky, with an outboard engine and a canvas tarp on aluminum poles as the only cover. To Moira it looked ancient and only vaguely seaworthy. Its name was Carrachan: "Rockfish."
Moira's mum turned to look at her. "You're staying here," she said in a no-nonsense tone. Moira's mouth dropped open in shock. After all this-after facing Iona without flinching and seeing her mum become another person, she was being asked to stop now? Her mother went on: "You're fifteen, you're not initiated, and you're my only child. I cannot lose you. You're going to stay in the bed-and-breakfast until we get back. Don't wander around. Stay in the room and don't open the door."
"What?" Moira cried, staring at her mother. "You can't be serious! After all this?" She waved her arms in a completely inadequate description of the last three days. "You need me!"
"No discussion," her mum said firmly. "You're staying here. Sky and I will do what we have to out there, but I won't be able to think if you're not safe."
"I am not staying here," Moira said, setting her jaw and looking down at her mother. "I want to be with you. I want to be there if-when you find Hunter."
Her mother's face softened. "Moira-I've lost so many people I've loved. If I lost you, too, I couldn't go on. Do you understand? I couldn't go on." Her brown eyes looked searchingly into Moira's. For a moment Moira felt a twinge of guilt. Her mum had lost a lost of people: Cal, then Hunter, then Dad. Her birth parents.
But none of that changed the fact that Moira had to do this. "I'm going," she said firmly.
In the small boat Sky had pulled on an ill-fitting life vest. Her pale hair was already being tossed by the wind. Wordlessly Morgan pointed back to the bed-and-breakfast.
Moira felt a spark of anger. "I'm part of this!" she cried. "He's my bloody real father!" It didn't sound right, coming out of her mouth-Colm was her father. But she knew it was still the truth, and stranger or not, if Hunter needed help, she wasn't going to sit by and do nothing.
Morgan shook her head, her eyes full of pain. "No." Then she turned from Moira and climbed down to where the boat was tied. She stepped into the boat and pulled on a life vest. At Sky's word she pulled up on the rope tying the boat to the pier, and Sky pulled back on the throttle. The small engine roared to life. Without a backward look Sky sat back and took the old-fashioned tiller under her arm. There was no steering wheel, no console-only battered vinyl seats, ripped and smelling offish.
Moira stared unbelievingly. Were they really going to leave her here, on an island a thousand kilometers from home, with strangers? Were they really going to make her sit out this final stage when they were looking for her birth father?
She didn't think so.
The boat was slowly pulling away from the pier, its engine already sounding asthmatic. Without allowing herself time to think about whether it was a good idea or not-she knew it wasn't, but she was way past caring-she sprinted forward and threw herself off the pier as hard as she could.
Whoosh! She hit the surface of the water hard, going under before swimming back up. The plan had actually been to land in the boat, even if it was headfirst. Morgan and Sky both turned at the splash, and in an instant Morgan was grabbing her arm and hauling her upward.
"What were you thinking, Moira!" Morgan shouted. Air, breathe, air. "You're not leaving me!" Moira shouted back when she'd finally gotten her wind.
Sky had slowed the engine and was looking at Morgan inquisitively. Moira looked at Sky, then at her mum. Total exasperation crossed Morgan's face, but finally she shook her head. They wouldn't turn back-they'd wasted too much time as it was.
Her mother took off her life vest and handed it to Moira.
"What will you wear?" Moira asked.
"There are only two," her mother said shortly.
Moira looked around. They'd left the harbor behind and were passing slower-moving fishing boats. It had been sunny, with just a few puffy, cotton-ball clouds in the sky when they'd set off. The sea had looked a rich blue-green, full of life.
Now, only minutes later, Moira could scarcely see any blue in the sky at all. An endless, heavy-looking mass of gray clouds was sweeping across the sky as if pushed there by a huge, invisible hand. Moira moved forward to sit on one of the vinyl side benches up front. The sea was the color of lead. Instead of perky little white-capped waves, it was churning, uncomfortable, roiling with some deep disturbance. There were no birds overhead, Moira noticed. Seagulls had been thick by the harbor, bright white and gray, raucous cries filling the air. Now it was as if they had been erased from the picture.
She looked up to see her mum looking solemnly at Sky.
"Come into my parlor," Sky said dryly.
Said the spider to the fly. Iona had sent this weather. There would be more, Moira knew. They were going forward, even if this was a trap.
Moira sat shivering. Her shirt, jacket, jeans, socks, and sneakers were soaked, and she was freezing. The temperature had dropped about fifteen degrees and the wind had gotten brisker. Salty spray occasionally flew up into her face, feeling like needles hitting her skin.
Sky turned the boat slightly, aiming for a gap between two big islands. The ride became much rougher as the boat cut across the current. Moira sneaked a glance at her mum, who was staring straight ahead, white-faced and determined. Morgan looked over at her, and her eyes were so sad and solemn that Moira felt a touch of panic.