Cate Tiernan - Blood Witch

I looked at Dagda to see if he was nervous or upset, if his senses had picked up on the vibrations of danger and magick.

He was asleep: tiny mouth slightly open, blue eyes shut, ribby little side rising and falling with sleep-slowed breaths. So much for the power of animals. I scowled, then looked out the window again. The shadowy figures were no longer visible but still present. Feeling terribly alone, I sat on my floor and waited. It was all I could do.

Three times Hunter and Sky moved around the house. I heard nothing and saw nothing, but I sensed them. They were there.

Almost half an hour later they left. I felt them leave, felt them close a circle behind them… felt them send one last line of magick out toward the house and toward me. Soon after that I heard the quiet purr of an engine as it faded down the street. The outside lights all flickered back on. But there was no way I was going outside to see what they had done. No. I was going to stay put.

With my baseball bat at my side, I went back downstairs and watched television until the tow truck driver showed up with Das Boot. Mom and Dad came home a few minutes later. I hurried upstairs to my room before they walked through the front door. I was too wrung out to act normal around them.

Cal never came.

"Hi, honey," Mom said when I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning. "Sleep well?"

"Uh-huh," I said, moving purposefully toward the refrigerator for a Diet Coke. But I was lying. The truth was, I hadn't slept well at all. I'd dozed fitfully, my fleeting dreams filled with images from the fire and the silhouettes of Sky and whoever else had been on our lawn. Finally I'd given up on sleep altogether. I glanced at the kitchen clock. Only eight-thirty. I wanted to call Cal, but it was too early, especially for a Saturday morning.

"Does anyone have plans for today?" Dad asked, folding back the newspaper.

"Jaycee and I are going to Northgate Mall," said Mary K. She fiddled with a box of Pop-Tarts, still in her pajamas. "The pre-Thanksgiving sales are starting."

"I'm going to be getting ready for tomorrow," said Mom. She flashed a meaningful smile at me. "Morgan, do you want an ice-cream cake this year?"

Suddenly I remembered that the next day was my birthday. Wow. Until this year I'd always eagerly looked forward to my birthday, anticipating it for months and months. Of course, until this year I'd had no idea that I was an adopted blood witch from the Woodbane clan. Nor, in previous years, was I being stalked by other witches. Things had changed a little.

I nodded and sipped my Diet Coke. "Chocolate cake on the bottom, mint-chip ice cream on top," I instructed, summoning up a smile.

"And what do you want for dinner tomorrow night?" Mom asked, starting to make a list.

"Lamb chops, mint jelly, roasted potatoes, fresh peas, salad," I rattled off. The same birthday dinner I always wanted. It was comforting somehow. This was my house, my family, and we were going to celebrate my birthday— same as always.

"Are you going to be busy tonight?" Mom asked, averting her eyes. She knew we usually had circles on Saturday nights.

"I'm seeing Cal," I said.

She nodded and thankfully left it at that.

As soon as I was dressed, I went outside and walked around the house. As far as I could tell, I couldn't feel the effects of a spell's magick. Which could very well be part of the spell, of course. Slowly I circled our entire house. I saw no sign of anything. No hexes spray painted on the house, no dead animals hanging from trees. Then again, I knew the signs would be infinitely more subtle than that.

Weirdly enough, even the snow-covered ground betrayed no footprints, though it hadn't snowed since before my visitors had arrived. I searched and searched but saw no trace of anyone's having been in our yard at all—except me, just now. Frowning, I shook my head. Had it all been an illusion? Had it been part of my scrying? How much could I trust my own perceptions? But I remembered the images I had seen—so clearly, too—the sights, sounds, and smells that had accompanied my fire scrying.

Most of all I remembered Maeve, standing by her house, smiling and pointing.

Maeve had lived in Meshomah Falls, two hours away. I glanced at my watch, then went inside to call Cal.

"What happened to your car?" Robbie asked half an hour later. We were in the front seat of Das Boot; I had just picked him up. Thankfully the car still worked, although the right headlight had been shattered and there was a massive dent in the front bumper. When I had called Cal, he hadn't been home—Selene had said he was out shopping, and she wasn't sure when he'd be back. Somehow, speaking to Selene calmed me down. I thought of asking her if he'd gotten my witch message, but my mom was in the room and I didn't want to bring it up in front of her. I'd ask Cal later.

Fortunately Robbie had been home, and he was a happy second choice for the road trip I had planned.

"I went into a ditch last night," I said with a grimace. "Slid on the ice." I didn't mention the lights I'd seen. That was something I'd only talk to Cal about. Whatever was going on, I didn't want to drag Robbie into it.

"Man," said Robbie. "Were you hurt?"

"No. But I have to get my headlight fixed. Big pain."

Robbie opened a map across the dashboard as I pulled away from his house. The day was rapidly clearing: I had a hope of actual sunshine before too long. It was still cold, but the snow and ice were melting slowly, and the streets were wet, the gutters running with water.

"You're looking for a town called Meshomah Falls. It should be north, right up the Hudson," I told him, turning onto the road that would lead to the highway. "About two, two and a half hours away."

"Oh, okay," he said, tracing his finger over the map. "I see it. Yeah, take Route 9 north until we get to Hookbridge Falls."

After a quick stop for gas and a supply of junk food, we were on our way. Bree and I used to go on road trips all the time: just day trips to malls or cool places to hike or little artists' colonies. We had felt so free, so unstoppable. But I tried not to dredge up those memories. Now they just filled me with pain.

"Want a chip?" Robbie offered, and I dug a hand into the bag.

"Have you talked to Bree yet?" I asked, unable to tear my mind from her. "About how you feel?"

He shook his head. "I've sort of tried, but it hasn't actually come up. I guess I'm a coward."

"No, you're not," I said. "But she can be hard to approach."

He shrugged. "You know, Bree asks about you, too," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you always ask about her. Well, she asks about you, too. I mean, she never says anything nice about you, you both say mean things about the other one, but even a total idiot could tell that you two miss each other."

My face felt stiff as I stared out the window.

"Just thought you should know," he added.

We didn't say another word for the next sixty miles— not until we saw a sign for the Hookbridge Falls exit. By then the sky had cleared, and it was open and blue in a way it hadn't been for what seemed like weeks. The sun's warmth on my face lifted my spirits. I felt like we were on a real adventure.

Robbie consulted the map. "We get off here and head east on Pedersen, which leads right into Meshomah Falls," he said.

"Okay."

A few minutes after we'd turned off the highway, I saw the sign announcing Meshomah Falls, New York.

A shiver ran down my spine. This was where I had been born.

I drove down Main Street slowly, staring at the buildings. Meshomah Falls was a lot like Widow's Vale, except not quite as old and not quite as Victorian. It was a cute town, though, and I could see why Maeve and Angus had decided to settle here. I picked a side street at random and turned onto it, slowing even more as I looked carefully at each house. Next to me, Robbie chewed gum and drummed his fingers along to the radio.