Cate Tiernan - Night's Child

They were maybe thirty feet away from the ancient stones when Morgan became more aware of Iona's presence. In a gaping window hole, where she had looked only a moment before, stood Iona.

Iona looked nothing like Morgan remembered. At Ciaran's funeral Iona had been plump, doughy, with a heavily made-up face. This Iona was thin to the point of being skeletal, with burning, overlarge eyes. Her skin was chalk white, as if she spent too much time indoors, and her hair was stringy, wispy, and prematurely gray. This was her half sister, but as unlike her as if they shared not one chromosome, not even the ones that made them inherently human.

With no warning Iona's hand snapped forward and a crackling, spitting blue ball of witchfire shot toward Morgan. Instinctively she raised her own hand to deflect it, but the fire grazed her skin, causing a stinging burn.

Iona laughed, showing a gaping mouth, the skin of her jaw stretching grotesquely. "That was a welcome, sister," she said. "I've been expecting you, of course. Ever since that idiot Lilith told me you'd be coming. Pity about Lilith-she was a blubbering mess after you finished with her. She hasn't held up quite as well as I'd hoped. But she played her part well: you are here. I can only imagine what you had to do to get her to admit where I was." Morgan kept her face expressionless. "I started crushing her capillaries, from the outside in. They're very, very small and very delicate. If you damage enough of them, you bleed to death."

Morgan's senses prickled as everyone's tension level ratcheted up a notch.

For an instant a wary, speculative look crossed Iona's face but disappeared at once. "Sounds nasty," she said dismissively.

Morgan narrowed her eyes, wondering if Iona had ever believed the rumors about Morgan's power all these years. Whatever it took, Morgan had to convince Iona that she was no match for her. If she could frighten Iona, Morgan might not be forced to do things that would diminish her own soul.

"It was," Morgan was surprised to hear Moira say.

Iona looked at Moira, and Morgan forced herself not to panic. Moira, stay back, be invisible, she sent.

"It was very ugly," Morgan said evenly. "I was sorry to do it. But it's only a fraction of what I will do to you." This wasn't her true self, who she was inside. It was a warrior Morgan-one who came out only in times of need.

"Ooh, stop, you're scaring me," Iona said in a bored tone, leaning against the crumbling stone window. "By the way, where are my dogs?" Her tone was casual, but Morgan picked up on her true emotion-fear.

"They were in my way," she said, and Iona's eyes darted around, searching. Her jaw, with its tissue-thin skin, tightened.

Slowly Morgan realized that she felt no fear and surprisingly little anger. She was icy and unstoppable. She was Morgan of Belwicket. This pathetic excuse for a witch was just someone in her way. The feeling simultaneously thrilled and terrified her.

"Where is Hunter Niall?" Morgan asked. "Lilith told me everything she knew. I'm sure she would have preferred to be loyal to you, whatever your hold on her is. But in the end she crumbled. She had no choice. But you do. I recommend you choose wisely."

"Why, I heard Hunter Niall drowned in a ferry accident almost sixteen years ago," Iona said lightly.

"Iona," Morgan said, her voice glacial, "tell me where he is." She was becoming more and more tightly wound, a rubber band about to snap. She didn't want to cause harm here. She didn't want to. But she would.

"Tell me!" she shouted, flinging out her hand. An ancient stone burst apart next to Iona's head, shooting ragged shards of rock in a starburst Iona flinched and turned away, but Morgan saw scrapes on Iona's cheek and flakes of stone in her thin hair.

Morgan could feel Iona's fear growing-but she could also sense fear coming from next to her. From Moira. She cast a quick glance at her daughter, sending her as much warmth and reassurance as she could. Moira's face was a mask-she was fighting hard not to show her true emotions, Morgan knew. But she was terrified inside, and Morgan wished with all her heart she wasn't here to witness what Morgan was doing.

"How dare you!" Iona shouted. Morgan whipped back around to face her. Iona brushed at herself-she was covered with dust and rock flakes. She looked at Morgan, her eyes burning. "This place is sacred!"

Wordlessly Morgan snapped out her other hand, her finders stiff and tight. Another rock exploded, on Iona's other side. This time Iona cried out and covered her eyes with her hands. Gingerly she brushed at her face, leaving pale streaks of blood where her fingers had been.

"My eye!" Iona snarled, then looked up in concern as they heard a rumbling, scraping sound. The explosion had weakened part of the wall, and a large boulder was teetering on the edge above her. Quickly Iona jumped down onto the grass in front of Morgan just as the boulder fell and crashed into the window frame, right where she had been standing.

Morgan now had Iona's full attention. Clearly her half sister was angry. Her lips were tight with annoyance, her face streaked with blood, her eye was swelling, and she was glaring at Morgan.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," Iona said in a deadly voice. "You have no idea the things I've done or who or what I've become."

"Really. Just who are you, Iona?" Morgan said, filling her voice with unheard waves of power like tiny seismic shocks, intended to cause discomfort and anxiety. Next to her Moira shifted on her feet. Sky stood quietly, tense and at the ready.

Iona's eyes flared slightly and again she lost her composure for a split second. "I've become my father's daughter," she said in a voice full of rage and triumph.

With a calculated force Morgan thought, Push, and Iona was slammed against the back of the stone wall behind her. Her breath left her lungs with an audible "oof!" and she struggled to hold on to her balance.

"Hunter Niall," Morgan reminded her in a steely voice. "Where is he? Or should I start trying to persuade you?" She latched onto the image of Iona before her, pictured her ear, and whispered some of the words she had learned from her tath meanma-or Wiccan mind meld-with Ciaran all those years ago. Iona shrieked, grabbing her ear, her face screwed up with pain. Morgan imagined it felt as though a railroad spike were being driven into her brain.

Iona writhed against the wall, screaming curses at Morgan that had no weight.

Morgan took a deep breath and released her. "You see, Iona," she said, "I've always been my father's daughter. Now stop wasting my time. Where is Hunter?" The urgency for an answer was so great inside her, she was no longer even forcing this cold, hard anger to terrify Iona-it was real. It was everything she was right now-a great, pulsing need to find Hunter.

Iona, trying not to weep, managed to stand up and lean against the wall. With no warning she stood ramrod straight and shouted a spell. Morgan felt her knees buckle and her muscles become lax. She dropped to the ground, knowing instantly that Iona had managed to put a binding spell on her.

"You twit!" Iona screamed, standing over Morgan. "All these years you've had no idea-no idea about what I did to you-to your precious Hunter!"

Morgan saw Sky move forward, but Iona stopped her with a flex of her hand.

Stay put, Moira, don't move, Morgan sent, knowing her daughter had to be terrified. Her mind was reacting quickly, feeling her way through the invisible bond that Iona had put on her.

"You're nothing," Iona shouted at her. "You're Ciaran's bastard, his mistake, his embarrassment!" At the same moment Sky and Moira began chanting together, softly-they must have exchanged witch messages. They were working a spell to interfere with Iona's.

Morgan concentrated and felt the binding spell weaken, Iona was powerful but not nearly as strong as Morgan. Moira and Sky had weakened Iona's spell, and now Morgan could take care of the rest. With a burst of energy Morgan pushed her way through the spell, not bothering to dismantle it piece by piece but simply breaking it altogether. She broke free just as Iona was turning her focus to Moira and Sky, realizing the meaning of their chant.