Cate Tiernan - Night's Child

Colm had been much steadier-virtually every entry was dated. Moira continued to flip back and forth. Hunter died, Mum got ill, Mum and Dad got married a month later. One month. Pretty fast for someone who had been so in love, for someone not marrying their soul mate. But considering how ill Mum had been, how devastated, maybe she had just really needed someone to take care of her. And from the entries it seemed she really had grown to love Colm.

Then Morgan was expecting a baby, and Moira was born… in December, right before Yule. Hunter had died in March. Mum and Dad had gotten married in April. Moira had been born in December. Mum's Book of Shadows mentioned that she and Colm hadn't slept together before their marriage.

So Moira had been premature by one month. A nine- pound preemie. That didn't sound right. She couldn't have weighed nine pounds.

There were sounds from downstairs. Moira realized her mum was awake and getting breakfast, and now that she was paying attention, she realized there was someone else downstairs, too, a woman. Gran? Not Gran.

Quickly Moira threw on her hated school uniform, brushed her hair and her teeth, and headed downstairs, holding the two Books of Shadows.

She froze when she spotted the back of the strange woman's head-she had the same white-blond hair as the man in her dream. Then the woman turned around. "Good morning," she said evenly. "You must be Moira."

"Yes," Moira said. She clutched the books tightly in her hands, her heart pounding.

Morgan turned from the stove. "Morning, sweetie." She looked tired, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She gestured to the woman with a dishcloth. "Moira, this is Sky Eventide. We've been friends a long time. She was Hunter's cousin."

"You were Hunter's cousin?" Moira asked, a funny feeling in her stomach. The same hair as the man in her dream… "Yes," said Sky, her expression guarded. She was unusual, not like Mum's other friends. Not smiling and remarking on how tall she was and asking about school.

"Oh," Moira said inadequately. She sat down at the table and poured some cereal into a bowl, then some milk, but couldn't bring herself to start eating. Her mind was whirling. Finally, keeping her tone as calm as possible, she asked, "Mum, was I born premature?"

Morgan looked surprised. "No… in fact, you were late. The midwife said that nature decrees that a woman will be pregnant for exactly as long as she can absolutely bear it… and then another two weeks." She rolled her eyes. "Let's just say I was anxious for you to get here."

"And how much did I weigh?" Moira pressed.

"Nine pounds."

Moira's pulse raced. No, no, it couldn't be.

"What's all this about, anyway?" Morgan asked, coming to the table. She moved the teapot closer to Sky, and Sky topped up her mug.

Moira pushed the two Books of Shadows toward her mother. "I was reading these this morning, and there's something-odd. It says that you and Dad got married in April, but I was born in December."

Morgan blinked. "No, that isn't right," she said slowly. She sat back and looked at the ceiling, thinking. "We were married in…"

"April," Moira supplied.

Frowning, Morgan nodded. "And you were born December 15."

"Right."

Her mum looked at her, then shook her head. "No, there has to be some mistake, something wrong with the entries. I know you weren't premature. Goddess, you were a whale." Moira just looked at her mother.

"Why were you up this morning so early, anyway?" Morgan asked.

"I had a strange dream," Moira said. "It woke me, and once I was up, I… I wanted to read these."

"Studying for your initiation, are you?" asked Sky, and Moira nodded.

"What was your dream about?" Mum asked casually. Dreams were often discussed in Wiccan households, whether they were important, funny, meaningful, or frightening.

Don't let this dream mean anything, please, Moira pleaded inwardly.

"Me being born," Moira said carefully. "Peggoty MacAdams and June Hightown were there. And they said, doesn't the dad want to hold her?" She paused, giving her mother a hard look. "But the dad wasn't Dad. They handed me to someone else." She turned her gaze to Sky. "He… well, he looked… like you. His hair was very light, like yours."

Silence. Moira looked at her mom and felt her heart sink. Her mother was pale, stricken, her eyes large. Glancing over at Sky, she saw that the other woman also looked very solemn.

"So I was wondering," Moira went on. The words were so thick and her mouth so dry, it was a battle to speak. "When I was born and when you and Dad got married…" Her voice trailed off. "Whether I was premature," she finished softly.

Still no one said anything. Moira looked at her mother and saw that she and Sky were staring at each other as if the other one would have all the answers in the world. Morgan swallowed. "Moira, I know that you are Colm's daughter, Colm's and mine. There's never been the slightest doubt about that. There was never a question." Her mum sounded absolute.

"Must be the dates are off," Sky suggested quietly.

"Yes," Morgan said firmly, standing up. "This is one thing you don't have to worry about, Moira, I promise you. You're definitely Colm's daughter." Her mother kissed her and smiled into her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know you've had a lot of shocks lately. But believe me, you were Colm's daughter and mine, and you made our lives complete. Your dad loved you more than anything. Okay?"

Moira forced a nod, but she felt as if her internal organs were collapsing in on themselves, as if, in moments, she would be a puddle on the floor. Her mother sounded so sure, so confident-but Moira had a terrible, horrifying feeling that she was wrong.

After Moira left, Morgan sat at the table, her tea getting cold. It was as if someone had taken her life, put it in a kaleidoscope, and given it a quick shake. Everything was skewed, changed, off. There were so many questions piling up inside her that soon enough they would start to spill out. Was Hunter really alive? Was he sending her messages from the dead or was someone else? Hunter would never, ever hurt her-that black smoke couldn't have been from him. But it had happened at the same time as all the other signs, so there had to be a connection, didn't there?

And then there was everything Moira had just said. Goddess, was there any possibility that Moira was Hunter's…

No, she's Colm's daughter, Morgan told herself. Colm's and mine. Moira's dream… it had to mean something else. It had to be connected to all these other strange visions and dreams.

"I know what you're thinking," Sky finally said, breaking the silence that hung between them. "But Morgan, we can't just sit and wait for answers. We have to act. And I think the first thing we need to do is clean up your house. Having all those sigils and hexes around here can't be helping any of us think clearly. They were probably spelled so that you-or members of your coven, specifically-couldn't find them, because when I looked, they were popping out at me without too much trouble."

"That would make sense," Morgan said. She shook her head. "It's what I would do."

"If you were the type of person who went around spelling people to break their necks," Sky agreed. "Let's sort it all out right now."

"Yes," said Morgan, trying to shake off the weighty grayness that made her shoulders and neck ache. She needed to think clearly. "That would be a start."

Morgan fetched the Riordan athame, the ancient knife carved with generations of her family's initials. When she became high priestess, her initials would be added. She and Sky went outside, and one by one Sky showed her the hexes, spells, and sigils that she'd found sprinkled liberally everywhere. Working with Sky, Morgan passed the athame over the sigils and saw the sigils glow faintly silver or red. It was off alone that she saw nothing, but as she and Sky worked, Morgan began to sense the spells more easily.