Awakening (5 page)

I made one quick detour on the way home, pulling into Bree’s driveway. I climbed out and glanced around to see if anyone was watching me. Even though it was noon on Monday in a residential neighborhood and not many people were around, I whispered, “You see me not: I am but a shadow,” as I hurried around to the side of Bree’s house.

I knelt next to a big, winter-bare lilac that grew outside the dining room window and reached deep into the crawl space hidden by the cluster of woody stems. Tucked behind a piling was a rusted metal box. I’d hidden it there less than twenty-four hours earlier, on my way to see Cal.

I pulled the box out carefully. It contained my most precious possessions—the tools that Cal, Selene, and the people with them had almost killed me for. Tucking the box and its contents under my coat, I hurried back to my car.

When I got home, I glanced at the kitchen clock. I had a few hours before anyone got home. It was time to get rid of Cal’s gifts.

I read over the spell Alyce had recommended. As she’d advised, I purified the cauldron first with boiling, salted water, then with plain salt rubbed over the interior and exterior. In my room I opened the metal box and looked through Maeve’s tools. I took out the athame
.
Since I was planning to perform the ritual in our yard, I decided against using Maeve’s green silk robe. You never know when a meter reader will show up or a neighbor will traipse into the yard, chasing after a dog. It wasn’t a good idea to risk being seen in full witch regalia.

I was about to close the box when my fingertips brushed against my mother’s wand. It was made of black wood, inlaid with thin lines of silver and gold. Four small rubies studded its tip. I’d never used it before, but now I closed one hand around it and instinctively knew it would focus my energy, concentrate and store my power.

The ground was covered with a thick, crunchy sheet of snow. The temperature must have been close to the promised ten degrees; it was bitterly cold. The wind was battering sky, trees, and ground as if determined to whip the warmth from the earth.

Carrying the cauldron and the rest of my supplies, I crossed the yard to a big oak in the back. In a book of Celtic lore, I’d read that the oak was considered a guardian. I stared up into its bare branches, realizing that I actually did feel safer beneath it. I knew that the tree would lend its energy and protection to my ritual.

I set down the cauldron and began to collect fallen branches, shaking off the snow. Giving thanks to the oak for its kindling, I broke the branches and arranged them in the cauldron. Then, using Maeve’s athame
,
I traced a circle in the snow. I sprinkled salt over the line traced by the athame
,
and I started to feel the earth’s power moving through me. I drew the symbols for the four directions and for fire, water, earth, and sky, invoking the Goddess with each one.

I brushed the snow off a boulder and sat down, trying to ignore the cold wind. Closing my eyes, I began to follow my breath, aware of the rise and fall of my chest, the rhythm of my heartbeat, the blood coursing through my veins. Gradually my awareness deepened. I felt the roots of the oak tree stretching through the frozen ground beneath the circle, reaching toward me. I felt the earth itself echoing with all the years that our family had lived in this house. It was as if all the love in my adoptive family had penetrated the earth, become part of it, and was now surging up to steady me.

I was ready. Opening my eyes, I put the herbs that Alyce had given me into the cauldron. Most of them I recognized: a lump of myrrh, its scent unmistakable, dried patchouli leaves, and wood betony. Two of them I didn’t recognize, but as I added them, their names came to me: olibanum tears and small pieces of a root called ague. Finally I added a few drops of pine and rue oil and mixed the ingredients until I felt their essences swirl together.

I concentrated on the cauldron. Fire, I thought. A moment later a spark flickered, and I heard the sound of flames crackling. A thin line of smoke rose from the cauldron.

“Goddess, I ask your help,” I began. I glanced at the spell book. “These gifts were given to bind me. Take them into your fire, cleanse them of their dark magick, and render them harmless.”

Then, swallowing hard, I took Cal’s gifts and one by one dropped them into the cauldron. The beautiful batik blouse whose colors reminded me of a storm at sunset, the book of herbal magick, the earrings, the pentacle, even the bloodstone he’d given me at our last circle. The flames crackled, licked at the rim of the cauldron. I watched the pages of the book curl into glowing whorls of ash. The burning ink gave off a faint, acrid smell. Wisps of glowing thread drifted upward as the batik blouse was consumed by the fire.

It burned hotter, hotter, until it gave off an incandescence that was almost too much for my eyes. The flames leaped to meet the wind high above the cauldron. I gasped, my heart aching with sadness. There, in the center of the white-hot flames, I saw Cal exactly as he had been when he gave me my gifts, a look of pure tenderness on his face. I felt myself falling deeper then, my heart opening to him the way a flower opens to the sun. Tears blurred my vision.

“No,” I said, suddenly furious that here, in
my circle,
Cal’s magick was still rising up to control me. I reached for Maeve’s wand and aimed it at the cauldron. I felt my power pour into it and intensify. Beyond that I felt the power of Maeve and her mother, Mackenna, high priestesses both. I began to move deasil, chanting the words from the book aloud:

On the last words of the spell the flames crackled, as if in answer to me, then died out completely. A white, nearly transparent smoke rose. The wand in my hand felt weightless. I gently laid it on the ground.

After a moment I gathered my courage and peered into the cauldron. The blouse was gone entirely, as was the book. There were a few darkened lumps of metal, which I took to be the earrings and the pentagram. The tigereyes seemed to be gone. I could still see the shape of the bloodstone, though, covered in a fine ash. I touched the edge of the cauldron. It was already cool, despite the white-hot flames that had blazed there just moments earlier.

I reached in for the bloodstone. White ash fell from it; it was cool to the touch. I gingerly extended my senses, examining it for any trace of Cal’s magick. I couldn’t find any.

My fist tightened around it, and something deep inside me snapped. It was a crackling, heartrending release, as if the ritual had broken not only Cal’s magickal bonds on me, but my own bonds on my reined-in pain and anger. I flung the bloodstone away as hard as I could. “You bastard, Cal!” I screamed into the bitter wind. “You bastard!”

Then I dropped to my knees, sobbing. How could he have done this to me? How could he have taken something as precious as love and corrupted it so horribly? I crouched, praying to the Goddess to heal my heart.

It was a long time before I straightened up again. When I did, I felt that magick had left the circle. Things were back to normal—whatever normal was.

I opened the circle, grabbed my tools, and took them back into the house. I returned the tools to their old hiding place in the HVAC vent in the upstairs hallway. I made a mental note to find a new hiding place soon. I repurified the cauldron with salt water before stuffing it in the back of my closet. Then I took a hot shower and finally did what I’d wanted to do since that morning.

I got Dagda, crawled into bed, and went back to sleep.

4

Celebration

“Morgan.” My sister was sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking my shoulder. “Mom asked me to wake you up.”

I opened my eyes and realized it was dark outside. I felt like I’d been asleep for days. “What time is it?” I asked groggily.

“Five-thirty.” Mary K. turned on the light on my night table, and I saw the concern in her warm brown eyes. “Aunt Eileen and Paula are on their way over for dinner. They should be here any minute. Hey, Mom told me about you and Cal. And I saw Das Boot. Are you okay?”

I drew in a shaky breath, then nodded. Something had shifted during the purification ceremony. Though I still felt deeply wounded, I didn’t have quite the same sense of hope lessness I’d had this morning. “I’ve been better, but I’ll live.”

“Cal wasn’t in school today,” Mary K. said. She hesitated. “There’s a rumor going around that he and his mom left town over the weekend. That there was some kind of suspicious fire on their property and now they’ve disappeared.”

“They did leave, it’s true,” I said. I sighed. “Look, I can’t talk about this right now. I’ll tell you the whole story soon. But you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”

“Okay.” She looked solemnly at me, then went through the connecting door to her room.

I pulled on a pair of sweats and a red thermal top and brushed my long hair into a ponytail. Then I went downstairs. In the front hall I heard the doorbell, then a babble of excited voices. “What’s going on?” I asked as I went out to greet them. They all sounded cheerful and happy.

“We made an offer on a house today, and it was accepted!” Aunt Eileen told me. When my aunt Eileen and her girlfriend, Paula Steen, decided to move in together, my mom had made it her personal mission to find them the house of their dreams.

Moments later we were all gathered around the dining room table. Mary K. set out silverware and plates, my dad set out wineglasses, and Mom, Aunt Eileen, and Paula opened container after container of takeout food.

I sniffed the air, not recognizing the smells of either Chinese or Indian food, the two usual choices. “Wow. Smells great. What’d you bring?”

“We splurged at Fortunato’s,” Paula told me. Fortunato’s was a trendy gourmet place that had opened a couple of years ago in Widow’s Vale. Our family didn’t shop there much, due to their insane prices.

“What’s your pleasure?” Aunt Eileen asked. “We’ve got filet mignon with wild mushrooms, herb potatoes, cold salmon, asparagus vinaigrette, spinach salad, clam fritters, and chicken dijonnaise.”

“And save room for chocolate-hazelnut cake,” Paula added.

“Oh my God, I’m never going to be able to move again,” Mary K. moaned.

Paula popped the cork on a champagne bottle and poured it into glasses as we all took our seats. She even gave Mary K. and me about a swallow each, though I noticed my mom raise her eyebrows as Aunt Eileen handed the glasses to us. “A toast!” Paula said, and lifted her own glass high. “To our new, absolutely perfect home and the absolutely brilliant real estate agent who found it for us!”

My mom laughed. “May you always be happy there!”

We began passing around the food. It felt good to see everyone so cheerful, even Mary K., who had been looking pretty down since she and her boyfriend, Bakker, had broken up. I was glad to be able to focus on someone’s good news. I felt myself start to relax, felt my anxiety recede a bit.