She looked over at me, slowly regaining her composure. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was suddenly profoundly aware that I could pass on telekinesis to my daughter, if I ever had one. Looking at Evelyn's tearstained face, I swore to myself that I would always be honest with my children. And open.
"I'll have to tell them the truth," she said, sitting up straight again. "There is no Oona."
"No," I said. "You were right. She was real, and she cast the spell that is affecting us."
"I suppose," she replied. "All these years, I thought it was something entirely outside myself, something I could eventually control. But it was coming through me. It was always me."
I could tell it was more than she could bear.
"The Seeker," she said, "he's working with a chaos specialist in London to find a remedy?"
"A chaos speicalist?"
"That's what someone who specializes in uncontrollable magick is called." She smiled wryly.
"Yes," I answered, slightly chilled by the term chaos specialist. That had a really bad sound to it. Hunter had obviously been trying to be delicate. "He is."
"Well, then," she said. "I suppose we'll have to see what he comes up with." She pulled herself off the floor, moving stiffly.
"I'm not going to tell anyone up here about this," I said as I watched her. "I'm only going to tell some people in my coven and that man Ardán. This can just be between us. We'll tell them that we found something to bring Oona partially under control."
Evelyn's eyes looked pale and red rimmed in the sunlight from the window. She turned to me. For the first time I felt something coming from her, something warm.
"Thank you," she said simply.
"I should go," I said, gathering up my things. "I mean… I should rest before the circle."
Evelyn nodded and put her hand on my shoulder as she walked me to the front door. "Have a good rest, Alisa. And thank you." She looked me in the eye. "I am very lucky you chose to visit."
"You're welcome," I whispered, and walked slowly down the front steps and along the road to Sam's house. I wasn't very tired. I just thought Evelyn needed some time alone. She's just learned some serious things about my mother and her leaving, and I knew it would take her a long time to come to terms with them.
If she ever did.
17. Mermaid
November 14, 1971
Sorcha has been gone for one month. Hugh and I have decided that we will not scry for her anymore. She is gone.
Somhairle raged when we told him of our decision. He screamed. He threatened to leave as well, to go and find her himself. Then he stormed out of the house to walk off some of his anger. Soon, I think, his emotions will regulate themselves and he will understand. Sorcha has willingly given up her power. She has refused the blessing of the Goddess and turned her back on her heritage. When a witch is stripped, it is understood: No longer shall that witch be one of us. Sorcha made it easier for everyone by taking herself away.
While I know what I must do, and while I know I am right, my heart is broken. I feel hollow, as if a hole has been drilled in me and all feeling has gone forever. Hugh looks gray, and I worry about his health. This has taken a great toll on him.
After Somhairle left, we heard noise upstairs in Sorcha's room. We found her quilt in shreds, her books on the ground, and her bedroom window broken. Hugh and I stood there, looking at each other, unable to express the blackness that has taken over our lives.
— Aoibheann
We met at Evelyn's at eight o'clock. Kate and Charlie's dad were in the hallway talking, waiting for the bathroom so that they could change into their robes.
Evelyn swished down the hall from the direction of the kitchen, elegant in a long purple robe with wide, sweeping sleeves. She had a beautiful silver pentacle around her neck. She came right for me, her face serene, and kissed my forehead. I noticed that stopped the conversation Kate and Sam had started. I don't think Charlie's dad noticed anything.
"Come with me for a minute, Alisa," Evelyn said, drawing me into the study and shutting the doors behind us.
On her desk there was a large, dusty old box. She walked around to it and opened the limp flaps at the top.
"It's time these saw the light of day again," she said, looking down into the contents. She seemed lost in whatever it was she was looking at; then she waved me over and pushed the box toward me.
"These are for you," she said.
Inside, there was a bundle of purple cloth. I had scried this! A box, something purple! Eagerly I opened the bundle. As I dipped my hands into the folds I got a sharp spark of electricity and drew my hand back. Evelyn nodded for me to continue, so I reached in again. My hand hit something smooth and flat. I pulled it out. It was a ceramic plate, handmade—very seventies, crafty looking, with a pentagram thickly drawn into the surface. I reached in again and produced a chalice, silver, with a stem made of figures of the moon and stars. A chunk of quartz wrapped in yellow silk. A bolline—the white-handled work knife used to prepare herbs and other magickal elements. Many of these items sat in the small cauldron, which I had to pull out with both hands.
These were my mother's things. They warmed my hands as I touched them.
I looked up at Evelyn, unable to speak.
"There's something else," she said, nodding for me to reach in once again. At the bottom of the bundle there was a pale green linen robe, finely embroidered with runes.
"She made this by hand," said Evelyn, running her fingers over the embroidery. "Every stitch is sacred."
I picked it up, but it was surprisingly heavy. Something was wrapped inside. As I unfolded it, I saw a glint of metal. I drew in my breath in surprise.
"Does it look familiar?" Evelyn said, watching me with glistening eyes.
It was an athame with a bright silver handle. It was cast in the shape of a mermaid—a steel gray mermaid.
I ran my hand over the sculpted handle, tears welling up behind my eyes. The mermaid—this was what had been calling me here, and now I had it. The athame was beautiful, and it was my mother's. I imagined her holding it in her hand, wearing the light green robe as she worked some beautiful magick. Before the storm. Before everything changed for her. I looked back at Evelyn as a few tears began to slip down my face. "I can't believe it," I whispered.
"The Goddess often speaks to us in our dreams," she said.
Evelyn instructed me to remove all of my clothing, even my underwear, before putting on the robe. I thought this would make me very cold, especially with those seaside breezes blowing all over the place, but I was comfortable in the fine linen. The fit was perfect—my mother and I must have been the exact same height. Standing there in my robe and holding the athame, my bare feet on the cool nighttime grass, I felt so witchy… and so natural.
The house had a large backyard, which I hadn't seen before. It was surrounded on all sides by trees, so we were in a safe little grotto for the circle. White lights had been strung around, making the scene romantic. The large cauldron contained a sweet smelling fire, laced with herbs and fragrant wood. I took my place in the opening of the group, besides Sam, who looked quite dashing in his crimson silk robe. Charlie stood just opposite me, looking amazing in a pale yellow robe. He nodded slightly but approvingly in my direction.
Evelyn stepped forward and presented the four elements—the candle, the incense, the bowl of water, and the dish of sea salt.