Then suddenly the flood of feelings stopped. Hunter sank down listlessly in his seat. It was over.
I flopped back against my chair, exhausted, and listened to the sound of Hunter’s breathing—or was it my own? We were both inhaling in ragged gasps.
“What happened?” I whispered.
Hunter was pale, and his chest was still heaving. “It was my father,” he said softly.
Cold fingers of dread crept up my spine. “Are you sure?” I asked in a hushed voice. Hunter’s father and mother had disappeared when Hunter was a child. In an effort to save themselves and their family, they’d placed their children with relatives and gone into hiding, running from the dark wave. Hunter hadn’t heard from them in years. . until recently, when he’d received a scrying message that he felt certain was from his father. The meaning of the message was still unclear, but Hunter had sent a spelled seedpod down the Hudson River in the hope that he might make contact. But until now there had been no word, and I knew that Hunter feared the worst.
“I’m positive,” he replied.
“But—what does it mean?” I asked.
Hunter sat forward, leaning his elbows against his knees. He stayed there a moment, hunched over in that position, as though completely drained. Finally he faced me. “I don’t know what it means,” he said, “but I’m going to find out.”
I exhaled a long breath, trying to release the last of the fear and tension. I looked up at the movie screen. Its flickering images suddenly seemed like nonsense. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered.
Hunter was already out of his seat by the time I finished my sentence.
I spent the drive back thinking about Hunter’s message, wondering what it could mean. A glance over at Hunter showed me that his jaw was clenched and he was concentrating on the road. I watched the dark, hulking forms of trees flicker past the car windows, and I thought about what it must be like to know that your parents are out there somewhere. To know that they may need your help. And to be unable to give it.
Soon Hunter’s battered Honda was gliding to a stop in front of his house. He shifted into neutral and stared straight ahead for a moment. Then wordlessly he swung open his car door and stepped out into the frigid night. I did the same, following him toward Das Boot. I would drive home from here.
Hunter was staring out into the darkness. I didn’t feel ready to say good night. “Hunter,” I began, but my voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say. I leaned in close and wrapped my arms around him, wishing I could just hold him and make it better.
“I’m going to find them,” Hunter said simply. For a moment the words seemed to hang there, coiling around us in the quiet night air. Then he pulled away and turned to me, his green eyes glinting in the dimness with a strange, almost predatory look.
“How?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Hunter said. “The council was supposed to pursue a few leads, but they haven’t had any new information in a long time. They told me not to act, but I think I’ve waited long enough. The time has come to step in myself.”
“But you have no idea where they are!” I protested.
Hunter shrugged. “Not yet,” he said. Then his gaze seemed to soften, and he looked into my eyes. He leaned over, and his lips met mine. His kiss was gentle but insistent, and I felt my heart race at his touch. His fingers felt beneath my jacket and traced along my back. I shivered and pulled away from him.
“Hunter,” I said, “I know I sound like a goofy movie girlfriend, but will you please just promise that you’ll be careful?”
He hesitated before finally shaking his head. “I’ll be as careful as I can.”
I thought about the dark wave, about what it might take to rescue Hunter’s parents. He was right— careful wasn’t a word that would go very far in helping them. “All right,” I said finally, fighting the wave of fear that I felt. It would have to be good enough. “I’ll be thinking about you tonight.” I gave him one final kiss, then swung open my car door and slid onto the seat.
“Good night, Morgan.” Hunter turned, and his form retreated up the walk to his front door. I watched him until he went inside. Then I drove home, alone with my thoughts. I wished I understood what had happened. Memories of the violent emotions I’d felt swirled through my mind until I reached my house.
The hallway was silent when I went inside. I shrugged off my coat and hung it on a peg, then pulled off my boots so that I wouldn’t track mud all over the house.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, walking into the brightly lit kitchen. She was hunched over a pile of paperwork at the kitchen table. I pulled a glass out of the cabinet.
“Getting in a little late, aren’t you?” my mom remarked.
I stopped, confused. We’d left the movie early. “Didn’t you get my message?” I asked. “I was at the Pavilion with Hunter.”
“I got your message,” my mom replied. “But Morgan, you know it’s a school night. Have you finished your homework?”
I hesitated but couldn’t lie. “No,” I admitted.
My mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “Well, I don’t think I need to explain what my problem with that is,” she said. Her frown etched deep lines around her mouth, making her look older and tired. “Or do I? I don’t know, Morgan, lately I feel like your priorities have shifted.”
“That’s not true,” I protested.
“Isn’t it?” my mother asked. She looked even more weary, and there was a catch in her voice as she added, “You never join us at church anymore. I feel like we hardly see you—like you’re just disappearing from this family.”
I suddenly realized why my mother had been so eager to get to know Hunter. It wasn’t just because she wanted to make sure that he was a decent person—it was because she felt like I was slipping away, and she wanted to bring me back. “Mom, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a wave of guilt. “I guess I shouldn’t have stayed out late on a school night. I just thought that you and Dad liked Hunter so much, you wouldn’t mind. And I don’t have a lot of homework tonight. I can still finish.”
“Morgan, I don’t want to force you to do things you don’t want to do.” My mom pushed away her paperwork and looked at me. “And I do like Hunter. But I miss you. We all do. I’d like to find a way to make sure that we can spend some time together.”
I thought for a moment. “Maybe we could have a regular night to get together,” I suggested. “A family night or something.”
My mom pursed her lips a moment and folded her arms across her chest, her thinking pose. “Well, maybe we could do something like that once a week.”
I nodded, thinking that maybe, if we spent more time together, my parents might realize that it was possible for me to have both them and Wicca in my life.
“Okay,” my mom said finally. “I’ll check with Dad and Mary K., and we’ll set up a regular night.” She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll think of something fun we can do together.”
I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. “Sounds good. I’m going upstairs to do my problem set. Sorry I was so late,” I said. Eyeing her paperwork, I added, “And don’t work too hard.”
“Mmm.” My mom bent over her papers again.
Biting into the apple, I went upstairs and crawled onto my bed with my calculus book. But the minute I got settled on my down comforter, the wave of exhaustion I’d been holding back all day washed over me with full force. I closed my eyes, intending to rest them for just a minute. I didn’t wake up until morning.
3. Attack
Okay, time for another entry in my “Book of Shadows”. I feel kind of silly calling this wire-bound notebook by such an imposing-sounding name. “Book of Shadows” is supposed to be for spells and chants and stuff like that-an I don’t really know any. Still, both Hunter and Sky think we should keep one, and everyone else in Kithic seems to do it. So I got one. Which means that I have a special place to share my “wonderful” news.