Cate Tiernan - The Calling

Aching for him, I put my arms around his waist. For the most part Hunter kept his grief for his family hidden well below the surface, but every so often it would well up and I’d see how it always was with him. How part of him would never rest until he knew for certain what had happened to his parents.

I felt a gentle glow of white light in the center of my chest. One of Alyce’s healing spells was opening to me. “Will you let me try something?” I asked.

Hunter nodded. I unzipped his jacket halfway. I took off my glove, undid one button of his shirt, and slid my already cold hand against his smooth, warm skin. He flinched, then I felt him opening himself to the white light that was flowing through me.

I began a whispered chant. “‘The heart that loves must one day grieve. Love and grief are the Goddess’s twined gifts. Let the pain in, let it open your heart to compassion. Let me help you bear your grief….’”

I couldn’t continue. Suddenly I knew exactly what it would feel like to have my parents and Mary K. ripped from me. It was beyond excruciating. It was more than could be borne. I cried out in grief though I managed to keep my hand on Hunter’s chest, managed to keep the healing light flowing.

“Shhh,” Hunter said. “You don’t have to do any more.”

“No,” I whispered. “I have to finish the spell. ‘Then may your heart ease and open to greater love. May the love that flows eternally through the universe embrace and comfort you.’”

Gradually I felt the white light diffusing and, with it, Hunter’s pain. My eyes met his. There was something different in them, a new clarity. I felt something that had bound him dissolving. “Thank you,” he said.

“Courtesy of Alyce,” I told him shakily. “I didn’t realize quite how much it hurt. I’m sorry.”

He kissed my forehead and pulled me against him. When I’d stopped trembling, he said, “Would you like to know why we’re sitting here freezing our bums off instead of eating lunch?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that,” he said. “First, I’m sorry for not answering your messages. It took us a while to find our contact, and then when we finally tracked him down, he was absolutely terrified. He led us through a maze of elaborate safety precautions. If I’d answered you and he’d noticed, he might have thought I was betraying him.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I was just worried about you. Did this guy have any information?”

“Yes,” Hunter said, “he did.”

He paused. The sun, which hadn’t been strong that morning, disappeared behind a band of thick, white clouds.

“So?” I prompted after a moment.

Hunter’s green eyes looked troubled. “I found out who the leader of the New York Amyranth cell is. Apparently the members of the coven wear masks that represent their animal counterparts when they need to draw on the power of that animal. Their leader wears the wolf’s mask. My contact didn’t know them all, but he confirmed that there are also coven members who wear the masks of an owl, a viper, a cougar, a jaguar, and a weasel.”

“So my dream—”

“Was of the New York cell of Amyranth,” Hunter finished. “Yes.”

I shuddered. “Hunter, I had the dream again,” I told him. “It was just about an hour ago, while I was in an occult bookstore down in SoHo.”

“Goddess!” Hunter looked alarmed. “Why didn’t you contact me?” Before I could answer, he let out an exclamation of annoyance. “Stupid question. I wasn’t answering your messages. Morgan, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I mean, it was scary, but this time I knew what it was. I’m not sure why I had it again, though.”

“Perhaps because we’re in New York,” he said. “Or perhaps…” He trailed off, looking still more troubled. Then he reached out and took my hand. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you. Something I learned today. It will bring up painful thoughts for you.”

Icy fingers of dread walked up my spine as I sensed the weight of whatever news Hunter was carrying. I gave him a weak smile. “Go for it.”

“The name of this wolf-masked leader is Ciaran,” he said.

“Ciaran?” I felt sick. “It—it can’t be the same Ciaran. I mean, surely there’s more than one Ciaran in the world.”

“I’m sure there is,” Hunter agreed. “But this Ciaran is a powerful Woodbane witch in his early forties who comes from northern Scotland. I’m sorry, Morgan, but there really isn’t any doubt. He’s the one who killed Maeve and Angus.”

I realized I’d never had any idea of what happened to Ciaran after he set the fire that killed my parents. “I guess I assumed he was back in Scotland,” I said lamely. “But he’s here in New York City?”

Hunter nodded, his eyes on my face. I sat there, trying to process this new information. Ciaran—alive. Here. Within my reach.

Within my reach? What the hell did that mean? I asked myself bitterly. What would I do if I ever came face-to-face with him? Turn and run the other way, if I had any brains at all. He’d been more powerful than Maeve and Angus together. He could crush me like an ant.

“We also found out that Ciaran has three children,” Hunter went on. “Two of them, Kyle and Iona, still live in Scotland. But the youngest is here in New York. You’re not going to believe this.” He paused. “It’s Killian.”

“Killian?” My jaw dropped. “The witch we met last night?”

Hunter nodded grimly. “He was all but sitting in my lap, and I didn’t realize he was the one.”

I downed the last gulp of my now cold coffee. “That’s too much of a coincidence.”

“There are no coincidences,” Hunter reminded me, stating one of those Wiccan axioms that I found so annoying and cryptic.

I thought of the terrified wolf cub in my dream. “That means Killian is Amyranth’s intended victim?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Hunter said.

“Oh God. First Ciaran kills my mother and father; now he’s gunning for his own son.”

“Ciaran gave himself to the darkness a long time ago,” Hunter said. “It’s all of a piece. A man capable of killing the love of his life is capable of killing his own son, too.”

“What else did you find out? Do you know where he lives? What he looks like?”

“None of that. I’ve just told you everything.” Hunter crumpled his empty coffee cup and launched it at a trash container a good fifteen feet away. The cup went in.

He hopped down off the wall and helped me off. “I’ve got to try to find Killian and see if I can suss out why Amyranth wants to drain his power. Maybe he has some sort of special ability they need. In any case, he may have valuable information about the coven, and if I play my cards right, he could become a valuable ally for the council.”

“I’m going with you,” I said impulsively.

Hunter was suddenly holding my upper arms and scowling at me. “Morgan, are you crazy? You can’t come with me—especially now that we know Ciaran is the leader of Amyranth. The last thing I want is for him to become aware of your existence. I wish to God you’d stayed in Widow’s Vale. In fact, I should take you to Port Authority right now. You can catch the next bus back upstate. I can bring your car and your things back in a day or so.”

In a flash we had reverted to our old antagonistic relationship. “Let go of me,” I said, furious. “I don’t take orders from you. When I go back to Widow’s Vale, I’ll be driving my own car, thank you, and I’ll go when I’m ready.”

For a long moment we just glared at each other. I saw Hunter struggling to keep his temper in check.

“If you stay,” he said between his teeth, “you’ve got to give me your word that you’ll keep a low profile. No flashy magick on the street. In fact, while we’re in the city, I want you to avoid any magick that isn’t absolutely necessary. I don’t want you drawing any attention to yourself.”