Cate Tiernan - The Calling

July 15, 1981

I write this on the ferry crossing the Irish Sea. I’m part of a delegation from Liathach, bound for western Ireland, to the very village where I was born, Ballynigel. We’re going, as clansmen, to pay a visit to the Belwicket coven. I don’t remember any of them at all. I’m very curious to see a Woodbane coven that forswore evil more than a hundred years ago. Bright magick and dark, the Woodbanes have never feared either. How Belwicket could have given up fully half of our ancient, essential powers, I can’t fathom. But that is what we’re going to observe. And we’ll see whether there is anything in Ballynigel strong enough to resist us. We can’t—won’t—risk opposition. If we find it…there has been talk of the dark wave.

Mother stands near the bow with Greer, probably gossiping about the bairns. The two grannies are both mad for little Iona, and a sweet thing she is, though every bit as much trouble as her brother, Kyle. I take it as a good sign that Greer invited me to be part of this mission. Finally she is admitting me to Liathach’s inner circle of leaders.

Grania, of course, didn’t want me to go. “You can’t leave me with two little ones to care for all on my own,” she kept telling me. But I can and I have. The dream is still with me, and I long to see Ballynigel again.

— Neimhidh

I gazed up at the winter moon. I could feel my own power coursing through me, untainted by questions of whether I’d misused it or whether I was worth the sacrifice of Cal’s life. It was as if my world had silently, subtly slipped into perfect balance. A few yards away from me the dark-haired man stood silent. He hadn’t looked at me once, but I felt a strange connection between us, as sure and strong as if he’d thrown me a rope.

Where are you? Hunter’s witch message almost made me jump. Reluctantly I stood up. The man nodded, as if acknowledging that I was leaving, but didn’t say a word. I returned to the club, feeling I’d just been given a strange but lovely gift.

I found my friends gathered on a semicircular leather couch in the bar area. The showy witch Raven had been dancing with sat next to her on the very end of the couch.

Sky looked up as I approached. “Morgan, this is Killian,” she said, her voice perfectly neutral, which made me wonder what I’d missed.

Killian gave me a grin, held out his hand, and said, “Enchanted.”

Hunter made room for me beside him. Killian’s dark eyes flickered between us, and I wondered if he could tell that just sitting next to Hunter made my whole body feel more alive.

Bree was looking at Killian with a calculating expression. “So you’re another Brit?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re all over New York, a ruddy plague of us,” he admitted cheerfully.

His accent was different from Hunter’s and Sky’s. I was glad when Robbie asked, “Which part of England?”

“Oh, I’ve done the whole miserable U.K. Born in Scotland, went to school in London, spent time in Ireland, summers in Wales and the Shetlands. And in all those places it rains too bleeding much. I’m still damp.” He held out his arm to me. “Can you see the moss?”

I couldn’t help laughing, liking him. He was definitely appealing. His features weren’t perfect, like Cal’s had been, and he didn’t have Hunter’s classic, chiseled bone structure, but he had energy. There was something wild, almost animal, about him. I wondered which clan he belonged to. But I knew I couldn’t ask. Among witches, that question was considered very intrusive.

Killian got to his feet. “I’m going to get a beer. Anyone want one?”

“You’re twenty-one?” I asked, surprised. He didn’t look any older than the rest of us.

“Almost twenty,” he admitted with a grin, “but I age well.” As he spoke, he drew a sign in the air, and the planes of his face became softer and fuller. Lines appeared across his forehead, and a crease deepened between his brows. Anyone would have thought he was pushing thirty. “Now…beer, wine, scotch, anyone?”

“I’ll have a beer, too,” Raven said, looking smitten.

“A Sprite would be great,” Robbie said.

“Sprite it is,” Killian said graciously, but I could sense mockery.

“He’s good,” Bree said as Killian started off for the crowded bar.

“It was just a glamor,” Sky said dismissively. “A trick of the eye.”

Bree looked at me. “What do you think of him?”

I shrugged, unsure of how to answer. On one level, I couldn’t help liking him, his cheerful irreverence and the fact that he seemed to be having such a good time just being Killian. But there was also something about him that alarmed me, something dangerous in his raw, animal spirits. And there was the fact that when he cast that glamor, I felt pure envy. I knew I had the power to pull off magick like that, yet my lack of experience held me back. Alyce didn’t know how to cast glamors, and neither did I.

Hunter gave me an odd look. “What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know.” I shifted in my seat, annoyed with myself for being so competitive. A good Wiccan would be able to simply enjoy Killian’s power for what it was.

“I’m not sure I trust him,” Hunter said thoughtfully. His eyes followed Killian as he scored the two beers and Robbie’s soda.

Raven lit a cigarette and blew smoke through her nostrils at us. “What is your collective problem?” she asked. “So Killian shows off a little with his magick. All it means is he’s different.”

“That’s one word for it,” said Sky, her voice acid-edged.

Killian returned then, his glamor dissolved, and gave Robbie and Raven their drinks. “How long are you going to be in the city?” he asked Raven.

Raven started to answer, only to be silenced by a warning look from Hunter. “Uh, I’m not sure,” she said.

“So, will I see you again?” he persisted.

“Maybe,” she said. She slid a quick glance at Sky, as if to ask, How far will you let me push you? before she added, “Why don’t you give me your number?”

He gave her a wide-eyed look. “Would you believe I’m staying with friends and I can’t remember their number? How about you give me your number?”

It was a transparent lie, and I wondered why he told it, especially since he didn’t make any real effort to be convincing. I could feel Sky reaching a silent boil. Raven must have felt it, too, because she shrugged, downed her beer, and got to her feet. “Same here,” she said. “Can’t remember it. Guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

Killian held out his hand and pulled her to him. Then he gave her a quick kiss, teetering on the edge between friendly and sexual.

I glanced at Sky in alarm. Her face was set, her nostrils flared.

“Raven, we’re leaving now,” Hunter said loudly.

Raven looked at Killian and shrugged. “Gotta go.”

Killian’s dark brows rose. “Must you?”

“Yes, we must,” Hunter said. We retrieved our coats and trailed out of the club into the frigid streets.

We started back to the apartment. Sky and Raven walked ahead, maintaining an icy distance between themselves and us. Robbie slung an arm around Bree’s shoulders, and they walked on like that, quiet and compatible. Whatever ups and downs they’d had during the evening, they seemed to have ended it on an upward trend.

Hunter was quiet, too, and walking slowly enough that we fell behind Robbie and Bree after a block or two. “Thinking about your job?” I guessed.

He nodded in a distracted way.

How could he focus so intensely on something so nebulous, so unformed? I couldn’t—especially not when I was around him. I felt the familiar rush of insecurity. Did he even love me? He’d never said he did.