Cate Tiernan - Book of Shadows

"What do you mean, they died?" Robbie asked.

Cal came and sat next to me on the bed. Bree turned around and saw us sitting there together, and her eyes flickered.

"Well, there were Seven Great Clans," Cal reiterated. "The Woodbanes, who were considered evil, and the Rowanwands, who were considered good, and five other clans in between, who were various shades of good and evil."

"Is this a true story?" Jenna asked, throwing her gum into the trash.

Cal nodded. "As far as we know. Anyway, the Woodbanes and the Rowanwands basically warred with each other for thousands of years, and the other five clans were sometimes allied with one, sometimes with another, during that time."

"Who were the other five clans?" Robbie asked.

"Wait, hold on. I just saw it," Bree said, trailing her finger down a page.

"The Woodbanes, the Rowanwands, the Vikroths, the Brightendales, the Burnhides, the Wyndenkells, and the Leapvaughns," I recited from memory. Everyone looked at me in surprise, except Cal, who smiled slightly.

"I just read that book," I said.

Bree nodded slowly. "Yeah, Morgan's right. It says here the Vikroths were warrior types. The Brightendales worked mostly with plants and were sort of doctors. The Burnhides specialized in gem, crystal, and metal magick, and the Wyndenkells were expert spell writers. The Leapvaughns were mischievous and humorous and sometimes pretty awful."

"The Vikroths were related to the Vikings," Cal said. "And the word leprechaun is related to Leapvaughn."

"Cool," Matt said. Jenna came and sat on the floor in front of him so she could lean back against his legs. His fingers absently played with her hair.

"So how did they die?" Robbie asked.

"They battled each other for thousands of years," Cal repeated. A strand of his hair shadowed one cheek. "Slowly their numbers dwindled. The Woodbanes and their allies simply killed their enemies, either by open warfare or through black spells. The Rowanwands also hurt their enemies, not so much with black magic but by hoarding knowledge, letting the other clans' lines of knowledge die out, refusing to share their wealth. Like, if members of the Vikroths became ill and the Rowanwands could cure them with a spell, they didn't. And so their enemies died."

"Those bastards," Robbie said, and Bree giggled. A tiny spark of irritation made me frown.

Cal shot Robbie a sardonic look.

"Go on, Cal," Bree said. "Don't mind him."

Outside, it had been dark for a while, and a cold, steady rain began to patter against the windowpanes. I hated the thought of having to go home to Mary K.'s hamburgers and french fries.

"Well, about three hundred years ago," Cal continued, "until the time of the Salem witch trials in this country, there was a huge cataclysm among the tribes. No one knows exactly why it happened just at that time, but all over the world, and the clans had spread a bit, witches were suddenly decimated. Over the course of a hundred years historians estimate that ninety to ninety-five percent of all witches were killed—either by each other or by human authorities that had gotten involved in the conflict."

"Are you saying that the Salem witch trials were organized by other witches to destroy their rivals?" Bree asked incredulously.

"I'm saying that it isn't clear," Cal said. "It's a possibility."

On the outside my flesh felt warm, my senses soothed by Cal's presence and his voice. On the inside I felt cold to the bone. I hated hearing about witches dying, being persecuted.

"After that," Cal went on, "for over two hundred years witches everywhere fell into a Dark Age. The clans lost their cohesiveness; witches from different clans either intermarried and had children who belonged nowhere, or they married humans and couldn't have children."

I remembered reading that people thought the Seven Clans had kept to themselves for so long that they were different from other humans and couldn't reproduce with ordinary people.

"You know so much about all this stuff," said Jenna.

"I've been learning it for a long time," Cal explained.

Bree reached over and touched Cal's knee. "What happened then? I haven't gotten to that part yet."

"The old ways and the old resentments were forgotten," Cal said. "And human knowledge of magick was almost lost forever. Then, about a hundred years ago, a small group of witches, representing all seven clans or what remained of them, managed to emerge from the Dark Age and start a Renaissance of Wiccan culture." He shifted in place, and Bree's hand dropped. Matt was making a small braid in Jenna's hair, and Robbie was stretched on the carpet, one hand propping up his head.

"The book said they realized that the major clannishness of the tribes had helped cause the cataclysm," I put in. "So they decided to make just one big clan and not have distinctions anymore."

"Unity in diversity," Cal acknowledged. "They suggested interclan marriages and better witch-human relations. That small group of enlightened witches called themselves the High Council, and it's still around today. Nearly all of the modern-day covens exist because of them and their teachings. Nowadays Wicca is growing fast, but the old clans are only memories. Most people don't take them seriously anymore."

I remembered the clerk at the Practical Magick asking I me what my clan was, and I remembered something else he had said. "What's a blood witch?" I asked. "As opposed to a witch witch?"

Cal looked into my eyes, and I felt a wave rise and swell within me. "People say someone's a blood witch if they can reliably trace their heritage back to one of the seven clans," he explained. "A regular witch is someone who practices Wicca and lives by its tenets. They take their magickal energy from the life forces found everywhere. A blood witch tends to be a much greater conduit for this energy and to have greater powers."

"I guess we're all going to be witch witches," Jenna said with a smile. She pulled up her knees and crossed her arms in front of them, looking catlike and feminine.

Robbie nodded at her. "And we have almost a whole year to go," he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. His face looked raw and inflamed, as if it hurt.

"Except me," Cal said easily. "I'm a blood witch."

"You're a blood witch?" Bree asked, her eyes wide.

"Sure." Cal shrugged. "My mom is; my dad was; so I am. There are more of us around than you think. My mom knows a bunch."

"Whoa," Matt said, his hands still as he stared at Cal. "So what clan are you?"

Cal grinned. "Don't know. The family records got lost when my parents' families emigrated to America. My mom's family was from Ireland, and my dad's family was from Scotland, so they could have been from a bunch of different clans. Maybe Woodbane," he said, and laughed.

"That is so awesome," Jenna said. "It makes it seem so much more real."

"I'm not as powerful as a lot of witches are," Cal said matter-of-factly.

In my mind I traced the edge of his profile—smooth brow, straight nose, carved lips—and the rest of the room faded from view. I thought dimly, It's six o'clock , and then I heard the muffled notes of the clock downstairs striking the hour.

"I have to get home," I heard myself say, as if from a great distance. I tucked my herb book under my sweater. Then I pulled my gaze away from Cal's face and walked out of the room, feeling like I was sinking knee-deep into a sponge with every step.

On the way downstairs I gripped the handrail tightly. Outside, the rain swept across my face. I blinked and hurried toward Das Boot. My car was freezing inside, with icy vinyl seats and a cold steering wheel. My wet, cold hands turned the key in the starter.

The words kept throbbing in my head. Blood witch. Blood witch. Blood witch.