“We’ll see.” My mom pushed my history notes across the table at me and stood up. “Family night is tomorrow,” she said wearily. “At six.”
“I’ll be there.” My voice sounded hollow.
She trudged out of the room. I watched her go, then looked down at my books.
I had a lot of work to do.
“I just don’t think I can study with Erin right now,” I said to Hunter. I was using the phone in the kitchen, summarizing the conversation I’d had with my mom earlier that evening. My parents and Mary K. had gone to bed, but I—the night owl—would be up for another few hours. “I just can’t, can’t get sent to Catholic school.”
“That would be awful,” Hunter agreed quietly.
“But my grades are really in the gutter.”
Hunter sighed. “Isn’t there any way that you can learn from Erin and still improve your grades?” he asked. “We can try to make sure you have time to finish your schoolwork, too. It’s very important that you study with Erin right now. Especially with all the mysterious things that have been happening.”
Pushing aside some of my mom’s paperwork detritus, I made room for the cup of tea I’d just brewed. I took a sip, debating whether or not to tell Hunter what had happened with Erin earlier that day. “Actually, Erin doesn’t even want to teach me magick,” I admitted finally. “She just wants me to study witch history and plants.”
“Those things are important, too,” Hunter replied.
I stared at the receiver a minute, unable to believe he was taking her side. How typical. “Oh, yeah, they’ll come in real handy if I’m ever attacked by the dark forces,” I said sarcastically.
“I’m here to protect you in case that happens,” Hunter reminded me. “And basic knowledge is necessary to learn more advanced magick. Witch history, herbs, runes—all of these things are part of the initiation rites. Erin is right to make sure you know them. Once you’re a full apprentice, then you can start learning more magick and more spells. You know more than most initiates already.”
I sighed. “It’s just hard to see the value in that. I mean, you know the dangers of the dark forces even better than I do. I need to learn about them.”
“I know.” Hunter’s voice was gentle. “But you have to look at the big picture. The sooner you can be initiated as a blood witch, the better. Once you’re in total control of your powers, Morgan, you’ll be a great asset.”
I rolled my eyes. Sometimes Hunter had a real gift for making things sound unromantic. “All right,” I said. “I’ll figure out a way to do both.” We said our good-byes, and I stood up to place the phone in its cradle. When I turned around, I nearly jumped a foot in the air. “God, Mary K.,” I said, placing my palm on my chest. “You scared me.”
She stood in the doorway in a white nightgown. Beneath the fluorescent kitchen lights, she looked pale and strange.
“What’s wrong?” I asked quickly.
“Alisa was right,” she said in a low voice.
I swallowed hard, mentally running through the conversation I’d just had with Hunter. How much of it had she overheard? “What are you talking about?” I stalled.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Mary K.’s whisper had the intensity of a scream. “My God, Morgan—don’t try to cover this up with lies.”
I jammed my hands into the soft pockets of my flannel robe. “Look, Mary K., I don’t know what you heard—”
“I want you to leave the coven.” The words hung there, ugly and irrefutable, as Mary K. folded her arms across her chest.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Morgan, don’t you get it?” Mary K. interrupted. “This isn’t just about you. What about Mom and Dad? They don’t have any idea what’s really going on! How do you think they’ll feel if anything happens to you?” Her voice wavered, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How do you think I’ll feel if something happens. . and I never even warned them?”
I stood there wordlessly for a long time. I understood what she was saying. . but what could I do about it? I couldn’t leave the coven now. I had chosen Wicca, and it had chosen me. And even though I wanted to comfort Mary K., I knew I couldn’t lie to her. In the end, I just said, “I’m sorry.”
Mary K. was still standing in the kitchen when I went up to my room. I lay in my bed, listening for her footsteps, on the stairs for a long, long time. She still hadn’t come upstairs by the time I finally fell asleep.
7. Danger
Today was Andrew Lewis’s funeral. Mother and Father didn’t want us to go, but Sam insisted and in the end our parents had to give in. I don’t often have a chance to go to a Catholic church for any reason, and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the service. Sunlight streamed in the stained-glass windows, and the whole ceremony seemed very ancient and peaceful, even though it was a bit too solemn. I couldn’t help comparing it with the circle we’d held the night before at Patience Stamp’s house. She’s a potter, and her house is very simple but filled with beautiful handmade things. We’d held hands and had felt the magick flow between us, easing the pain we felt at losing our friends to the sea. I felt the same kind of magick in the church-a healing magick that exists between people. In the middle of the service I noticed that tears were streaming down Sam’s cheeks, and I handed him a tissue. But later I discovered he was feeling more than simple sorrow.
After the service Sam walked into my room and sat at the edge of the bed. When I saw that he was holding the Book-the Harris Stonghton book-I was afraid.
Then Sam told me that he’d tried a small spell-a weather spell-because it hadn’t rained for so long. He’d just wanted to see if he could call up a little rain, so about ten days ago, when the moon was waxing, he’d tried it. He hadn’t known what would happen, he said, so it couldn’t really be his fault, could it?
It took about half a minute for this to sink in. When I realized what he was telling me, I could hardly breathe. How could he? How? The storm that killed the crew of the Lady Marie was his fault. I grabbed him by the collar and started to shake him. “What have you done?” I was almost screaming, and Sam started bawling. The Book fell from is lap, and I dove for it. It felt warm in my hand, like something alive, and I wanted to throw it down, but I didn’t dare.
I must burn the vile thing before it destroys us all.
— Sarah Curtis
“Morgan!” I knew the voice was Bree’s, but I couldn’t reply or even turn my head because I was gripping a paper cup of tea in my teeth as my cold fingers fumbled to lock the door of my car. Plumes of steam rose from the hot liquid and combined with my breath, dissipating quickly.
“Here,” Bree said as she reached for the paper cup.
I released it gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Got a minute?” Bree asked.
“Sure,” I said, taking the tea back from her. “What’s up?”
“Robbie and I broke up.”
I choked on the sip of tea I’d just taken. “What?” I looked at Bree more closely. Her face was ashen, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She wasn’t kidding.
Bree glanced at my car. “Can we—?”
“Of course.” I put my tea on the roof of the car and unlocked the door. A quick glance at my watch told me that we had ten minutes until the first bell. “What do you mean, you broke up? What happened?” I asked when we were seated inside the car.
“Just what I said. Robbie and I talked last night.” Bree gave a small half shrug, lifting only one shoulder. “He said he needed space.”
I waited a moment. “And—?” I prompted.
“That’s it.” Bree gazed straight ahead. The parking lot was filling up as teachers and students hurried to class.