Cate Tiernan - Eclipse

— X, an Amyranth leader, London, 2002

It seemed that every time I looked out a window, it was darker outside, more ominous. Mr. Niall had turned on the radio in the kitchen, and every once in a while we heard faint weather reports about a bad early-spring storm coming, how unusual it was. They joked about how it was March, still roaring in like a lion, ha-ha. It had all seemed so unreal. How could the world be going on as usual when I knew that mine might end at any minute?

Concentrate, I told myself. Concentrate. Okay, third form: spell specifics.

This was difficult—not as hard as the second part, but harder than the first or fourth. Facing east, I began to step in the carefully designed pattern that would help define and clarify this spell. Next to me, as if we were in pairs skating, Mr. Niall started the same motions.

“Words,” Hunter muttered. He and Morgan were sitting on the floor, their backs against the wall. It had been almost six hours ago that Hunter had called me and told me the dark wave was still coming. Since then I had been struggling to understand: What? Coming? Now? It was hard to get my head around the dark wave again, and there almost wasn’t time, with all the practice we were doing. It was like a strange, nightmare day, like I would wake up any minute safe in my bed. But deep in my witch bones I knew that wouldn’t happen.

Morgan had her head on her knees, as if she were too miserable to move. Hunter looked like he’d been run over by a truck. Mr. Niall had a washcloth, and he kept patting his forehead with it. He looked gray and clammy and had to sit down every few minutes.

“Oh, right,” I said. I rubbed my aching temples with my hands and wished I had something to drink. “ Nogac haill, bets carrein, hest farrill, mai nal nithrac, boc maigeer .” I said the ancient words, whose meanings I knew only very sketchily, as I stepped again in the pattern I’d been taught. My hands drew patterns of sigils and runes in the air as I described exactly what we needed this spell to do, how and when and why. The third part usually took about seventeen minutes if I did it properly.

“No—arms up,” Mr. Niall croaked.

His interruption broke my concentration; my foot faltered, and all at once I fell out of sync, with no idea of where I was supposed to be in the spell. I stared at my arms, which were not up, and then a wave of tiredness and nausea swept over me.

“You’re doing great, Alisa,” said Hunter as I stood there dejectedly, rubbing my forehead. His voice sounded stiff and leaden, as if even talking made him feel worse. “It’s just an incredibly difficult spell. It would take me a solid month to learn it.”

“Yeah, but you would understand what the hell you were doing and saying and why. I’m just memorizing it like a parrot.”

“A talented parrot,” Morgan said, trying to smile.

Mr. Niall slowly lowered himself to the wooden floor and curled up there with a moan. He looked like someone had taken all his stuffing out and returned the pelt. Of the four of us, he seemed the worst off. I glanced at Hunter and met his eyes: We both knew there was no way Daniel could even pretend to cast this spell himself. I’d been here three hours, and in that short time I’d watched as the three full blood witches visibly deteriorated. Even I was starting to feel pretty bad—my headache made it hard to concentrate, and my knees felt shaky.

“I’ll go make tea,” said Morgan, and she carefully uncurled herself and went into the kitchen.

Hunter got up to stand next to me. “It’s going to be up to you,” he said, so his father couldn’t hear, and I nodded, wishing I were in Florida and this were all their problem.

“I know,” I whispered back. “But I’m not ready, Hunter—you know it. What if when the time comes, I can’t do it? I mean, I’m trying hard, but—” My voice wobbled and broke, and I wiped a hand across my stinging eyes. I refused to cry and look like a baby in front of him.

Morgan came back with a tray of mugs. She knelt on the floor by Mr. Niall, sloshing the tea a bit. “Here,” she told him. “Drink this.”

He pushed himself up with effort and stretched a bony hand toward the mug. “Ta, lass.”

Hunter and I sat on the floor. I was incredibly thirsty and sucked down some of the hot, sweet tea. Morgan had put extra sugar and lemon in it, and it tasted great.

“The wave is coming,” Hunter said baldly, and I saw Morgan flinch. “Alisa has done an amazing job of learning the spell as much as she can, but she’s not quite ready. No one could be.”

“I’ll do it,” said Mr. Niall.

“There’s no way you could do it, Da,” Hunter said. “You know it and I know it. The wave has already made you so weak, I’ll have to practically carry you to the car, anyway.”

“You couldn’t carry—” Mr. Niall began, showing a spark of life.

“Please.” Morgan held up her hand. “Could we not waste time? What are we going to do?”

“I think I might have an idea,” Hunter said slowly.

“This is going to feel terrible,” Hunter warned me. My hair was whipping around in the wind, as was Morgan’s. She quickly stuffed hers down the back of her coat, and I did the same. Here in the old Methodist cemetery the air felt weird, like it had an actual weight that was pressing down on us—humid but cold. We were standing before the power sink, listening as Hunter explained his big idea. Mr. Niall’s head was was bowed, and he was bent over on himself.

“What do you call it again?” I asked.

Hunter smiled wanly.“A tàth meànma .”

I frowned, still confused. “And why can’t I just connect—or whatever—with Mr. Niall?”

Hunter cast a glance at his father, who appeared to be in too much pain to be paying much attention. “Because my da isn’t strong enough,” he said quietly. “He doesn’t have enough power right now to connect with you and still stay a safe distance from the dark wave. Morgan has enough power for both of them, essentially, and she’ll be able to hold you two together.” He looked at me. “Make sense?”

I nodded. “And, um... why will it hurt?” Not that it mattered.

Morgan smiled weakly. “Before you do a tàth meànma like this, it’s best to do purification rituals, fast, drink herbal tea, and so on,” she explained. “For a little tàth meànma , it doesn’t matter so much. For one like this, it would have been better. It’s going to feel bad for me, too.” She made a pained expression.

“Great.” I smiled wanly.“And where will you be?”

“The field across the road, on the other side of the woods. I’ll be close enough to keep contact, but I hope not close enough to get hit.”

A sudden sob rose in my throat and I pressed my lips together hard. Sure, we were going to try Hunter’s big idea, but in the end it was up to me, and I’m not hero material by any stretch of the imagination. I had worked as hard as I as I knew how, I would try my best, but my best just might not be good enough. The truth was, if I didn’t come through, we had all gathered out here to die. I wouldn’t have to be a flower girl for Hilary after all.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound somewhat less terrified than I was.

“And Daniel will be farther away than that, on the other side of Morgan,” Hunter explained. “He can keep in touch with Morgan, and Morgan will keep in touch with you, and we’ll do this thing. Right?”

“Right,” I said, not meaning it. This was Hunter’s idea: I would still perform the spell, but my mind would be linked with Morgan’s. Her mind would be linked with Mr. Niall’s, and he would feed her lines if necessary that she could pass on to me. Hunter was going to stay here at the power sink with me, watching my movements and coaching me. He knew what to look for, even if he couldn’t do it himself.