Cate Tiernan - Strife

Mary K. came over for a while, which made me feel a bit better, but now I’m feeling worse again—feverish and nauseated. Nothing seems to help.

I’m scared. I wish I could call someone in Kithic. I miss it so much that I’m starting to think I made a mistake by leaving the coven. But I guess it’s too late to go back now.

— Alisa

By the time I stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen on Saturday morning, Mary K. was already dressed and stacking the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher.

“Is Alisa there?” Mary K. asked, and I realized she was talking into the cordless as she straightened up and closed the dishwasher. “She is?” There was a long pause. “What’s wrong?” An even longer pause. “Oh. Okay.” Mary K. reached out and gripped the countertop. “Can she have visitors? ” she asked. “Well, thanks, Mr. Soto,” she said finally. “Tell her. . tell her I hope she gets better soon.” Mary K.’s eyebrows drew together in a worried frown as she clicked off the phone and placed it on the counter.

I was tempted to sneak away—this was none of my business—but Mary K.’s expression disturbed me. I cleared my throat to let her know I was there, and asked, “Everything okay?”

Mary K. turned to face me. Her eyebrows lifted, and for a moment I thought she was going to yell at me for eavesdropping, but she seemed to change her mind. “Alisa’s really sick,” she said finally. “She’s in the hospital.”

“Oh,” I said. A feeling of dread squeezed my lungs. “What’s wrong?”

Mary K.’s voice shook a little. “Nobody knows. All they know is that it’s serious. She’s. . she’s not even conscious. Her dad is really freaked out.”

“Oh my God, Mary K.” I went over to her and hugged her. “That’s horrible.”

Mary K. started to cry. I didn’t say anything. . I just rubbed her back the way I used to do when we were children. After a few moments she took a couple of shaky breaths. “It’s just scary,” she whispered into my shoulder.

“I know,” I replied. “But she’s in the hospital now. The doctors are there—they’ll figure out what’s wrong with her.” I rubbed her back again. “It’s going to be okay.” I hoped it was true.

Mary K. pulled away from me. “Morgan,” she said, and stopped.

“What?” I asked.

“Morgan, I’m sorry I told Mom and Dad about your friend.”

It took a minute for me to figure out who she was talking about. “You mean Erin?” I asked.

“I was just so s-s-scared.” Another tear squeezed out of the corner of Mary K.’s eye and trickled down the side of her cheek. I brushed it away.

“I know,” I said. “It’s okay.”

We looked at each other a moment. “I don’t want anything to happen,” Mary K. said.

“It won’t,” I assured her.

“How do you know?” she demanded. “I mean—why are you risking it?”

I sighed. “Mary K., magick isn’t just horrible, dangerous, dark things. It can also be beautiful and wonderful. It’s part of who I am. And I’m”—How could I put it? — “I’m strong. You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” The words were more forceful than I really believed, but saying them actually made me feel better.

They seemed to have the same effect on Mary K. She straightened up and passed her hands over her face, then she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Morgan—would you take me to see Alisa?”

“Of course,” I said quickly. I was about to ask whether she wanted to go right now, but then I remembered. “Oh, crap, I’m grounded. We’ll have to ask Mom and Dad if it’s okay.”

“They’re out running errands,” Mary K. said, “and visiting hours are only until three.”

“Can we go tomorrow?”

Mary K. nodded. “Sure. That would be great.” She started to head out of the room, then turned back. “Thanks, Morgan,” she said.

I nodded. “No problem.”

Mary K. smiled at me, and for a moment she looked just like the sister I knew—the one who loved me, no matter what.

That night I moped around the house for a couple of hours. The house was deserted—Mom and Dad were over at the Berkows’ for dinner, and Mary K. had gone over to her friend Susan’s house. My parents had given me permission to watch television, but there was nothing decent on any of the channels. My chest ached. I still felt awful from the previous night’s spell, but more than that, I was sad about tonight’s circle. It would be the last one with Sky, and I was missing it.

What I needed was magick, and if I couldn’t go to Sharon’s house along with the rest of Kithic, I could at least try to scry by myself. Maybe some of my power had returned.

Up in my room, the match hissed and flared as I lit my pillar candle. I breathed deeply and stared into the flame. I could feel the rays of warmth radiating off the candle. The heat sank into me, driving away the cold draft in my room. As my breathing grew more regular, I felt calm. . and after a while, happy. I looked into the depths of the small blaze. The graduated colors, the blue, orange, and yellow, of the fire seemed to swirl together and grow. They flared and changed color, first to red, then purple, then violet, then green. The green fire twirled slowly, like an eddy in the ocean, and I realized that the fire was showing me something and bent closer.

In the depths of the green flame I saw a figure—Hunter. He was waving at me, but it wasn’t a wave that beckoned me closer. It was more like a farewell. My heart quickened, but the image faded. I was left only with the swirling green flame, the color of Hunter’s eyes. Slowly it faded to violet, then purple, then red. . and in a moment it was an ordinary candle flame again.

What did it mean? Was it a portent—an image of the future? Or was it a picture of something that might come to pass but might not? I didn’t know. I was afraid to know.

Although I tried to comfort myself with the certain knowledge that my power was back, I couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that squeezed my lungs in its grip, making it difficult to breathe. Hunter and I had been through so much together, and I’d been so happy that he was near me, safe.

I had a horrible feeling that everything was about to change.

I took a long hot shower and put on a clean nightgown. Dagda hobbled into my room and sniffed at a pile of books in the corner. I patted my bed, and he leaped up onto it, purring as I stroked him. It was late—almost midnight—and I was about to click off the lamp by the side of my bed when my eye fell on a flash of midnight blue on my nightstand. It was the piece of lapis lazuli. I picked it up and rubbed it.

I could call Hunter, I realized. If my magick was back, then his must be, too.

I lay back on my bed and placed the lapis on my forehead, closing my eyes and forming a mental image of Hunter. I am here, I thought. Hunter, I am here.

Morgan.

It was both a voice and not a voice—almost like my own thought, yet somehow separate—and I knew that it was Hunter.

I miss you, I thought.

Yes, he replied. I feel the same.

I couldn’t exactly see anything—just the same sort of grainy darkness that I always saw when I closed my eyes. But after a few moments the darkness seemed to grow lighter. It continued to pale until it was almost the same purple-gray as twilight—or as the sky before the sun rises.

Kithic? I thought . How was the circle?

Melancholy. Hunter’s word reverberated through my mind . Sky is sad to be leaving tomorrow, although she doesn’t say so. And of course, Alisa has left us. Everyone was gloomy. You should be glad that you weren’t there.