Blood Witch (12 page)

My head was spinning. The first thing I did was run into the bathroom and examine my face in the mirror. It was me, still the same old me, despite the haunted look in my brown eyes and my shock-whitened face. Was Hunter right? Was I Woodbane?

I threw myself onto my bed and pulled Maeve’s Book of Shadows out from under my mattress, then started flipping pages. I’d thumbed through the entries before, reading bits here and there, but mostly I’d been plodding through slowly, savoring every word, letting each spell sink in, deepening my knowledge and my only link to the woman who had given birth to me.

Strangely enough, though, it didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. It was from when Maeve was still writing as Bradhadair. She wrote matter-of-factly: “Despite the Woodbane blood in our veins, the Belwicket clan has resolved to do no evil.”

With the force of a wave crashing on a beach, Selene’s words came back to me: “I know what it contains, and I wasn’t sure you were ready to read it.”

Selene knew Maeve had been Woodbane. Suddenly my eyes were drawn to a small volume on my desk—the book about Woodbanes that Alyce at Practical Magick had wanted me to read. So . . . Alyce knew, too? Hunter knew? How did everyone know except
me
? Did Cal know? It didn’t seem possible.

Hunter was a liar, though. I could feel the fury gathering within me all over again, like storm clouds. Hunter had also said he was Cal’s brother. I thought back. I knew that Cal’s father had remarried and that Cal had half siblings in England. But Hunter couldn’t be one of them—he and Cal seemed practically the same age.

Lies. All lies.

But why was Hunter here? Had he just decided to come to America and mess with my mind? Maybe he
was
Cal’s half brother and he was out to get Cal for some reason. And he was attacking me in order to hurt Cal. He was doing a damn good job of it if that was the case.

The whole thing was giving me a horrible headache. I shut the book and pulled Dagda into my arms, listening to his small, sleepy purr. I stayed there until Mary K. called me to tell me dinner was ready.

 

The meal was practically inedible: a vegetarian casserole that Mary K. had concocted. I wasn’t even hungry, anyway. I needed some answers.

Sidestepping a whispered question from Mary K. about Hunter, I told her I’d help her with the dishes later, then asked my parents if I could go to Cal’s. Luckily they said yes.

It started to snow again as I pulled away from the house in Das Boot. Of course I was still upset about everything Hunter had said, but I tried not to let it affect my driving. The wipers pushed snow off the windshield in big arcs, and my brights illuminated thousands of flakes swirling down out of the sky. It was beautiful and silent and lonely.

Woodbane. When I got home tonight, I would read the book Alyce had given me. But first I needed to see Cal.

In the long, U-shaped driveway in front of Cal’s house, I saw his gold Explorer and another car—a small, green vehicle I didn’t recognize. I plodded through the surface of the snowfall, feeling the ice crunch beneath my clogs. The wide stone steps had been shoveled and salted. I hurried up and rang the doorbell.

What would I say if Selene answered the door? The last time I had seen her, I was in her private library, basically stealing a book from her. On the other hand, the book was rightly mine. And she
had
allowed me to keep it.

Several seconds passed. There was no stirring inside, at least none that I could hear. I started to feel cold. Maybe I should have called first, I thought. I rang the doorbell again, then reached out with my senses to see who was home. But the house was a fortress. I received no answer. And then a thought occurred to me: It was spelled, deliberately shut off from magick.

Snowflakes gathered on my long hair, as if I wore a lace mantle that was slowly melting against my cheeks and eyelids. I rang again, beginning to feel unsure. Maybe they were busy. Maybe they were meeting with someone. Maybe they were having a circle or working magick or throwing a party . . . but at last the tall, heavy wooden door opened.

“Morgan!” Cal said. “I didn’t even feel you come up. You look frozen. Come on in.” He ushered me into the foyer and brushed his hand down my cold, damp hair. Light footsteps behind him made me pull back, and I looked up to see Sky Eventide.

I blinked, looking at her. Her face was closed, and I wondered what I had interrupted. Had Cal invited her here to ask her about her coven and my hair? I glanced at him for signs of irritation or wariness, but he seemed easy and comfortable.

“I should have called,” I said, looking from Cal to Sky. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

Tell me what I’m interrupting, I thought as Sky reached for her heavy leather coat. She looked beautiful and exotic. Next to her I felt about as exciting as a brown field mouse. I had a tingle of jealousy. Did Cal find her attractive?

“It’s all right,” Sky said, zipping her coat. “I was just leaving.” Her black eyes searched Cal’s and held them. “Remember what I said,” she told him, ignoring me. The words seemed to have an element of threat, but Cal laughed.

“You worry too much. Relax,” he said cheerfully, and she just looked at him.

I watched as she opened the front door and left, not bothering to say good-bye. There was something strange going on here, and I needed to know what it was.

“What was all that about?” I asked point-blank.

Cal shook his head, still smiling. “I ran into her earlier and told her I wanted to talk to her about what she’s up to with her coven. So she came over—but all she wanted was to be Hunter’s messenger,” he said, tugging on my coat so it came off. He draped it over a high-backed chair and then took my hand, rubbing its coldness away. “Hey, I tried to call you a few minutes ago, but the phone was busy.”

“Someone must be online,” I guessed, frowning. Was he trying to change the subject? “What kind of message did Sky have?”

“She was warning me,” he answered simply. Still holding my hand, he led me through a pair of dark wooden doors that opened into a large, formal parlor. A fire was blazing in an enormous stone hearth, and in front of it a deep blue sofa beckoned. Cal sat and pulled me down to sit next to him.

“Warning you?” I pressed.

He sighed. “Hunter’s out to get me, basically, and Sky was telling me that I should be on my guard. That’s all.”

I frowned into the fire. Usually I felt reassured by the heat and glow of flames—but not now. “Why is Hunter out to get you?”

Cal hesitated. “It’s . . . um, kind of personal,” he said.

“But why was Sky warning you? Isn’t she with him?”

“Sky doesn’t know what she wants,” Cal answered cryptically. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and the shadow of stubble across his face made him look older. Sexier, too. He was quiet for a few moments, and then he edged closer to me, so I felt his warmth from my shoulder to my hip. A memory swept over me: of how it had felt to lie next to him, to kiss him deeply, to have his hands touch me and to touch him back. But I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted.

“Who
is
Hunter?” I asked.

Cal made a face. “I don’t want to talk about him,” he said.

“Well, he came to see me today.”

“What?” Shock flared in Cal’s golden eyes. I saw something else there, too. Concern, maybe. Concern for
me.

“What’s the International Council of Witches?” I pressed on.

Cal drew away from me, then sighed in resignation. He sat back against the couch and nodded. “You’d better just tell me everything,” he said.

“Hunter came to my house and said I was Woodbane,” I said. The words flowed from my mouth as if a dam had been broken. “He said
you
were Woodbane and that he was your brother. He said I was stumbling into danger. He said he was on the International Council of Witches.”

“I can’t believe this.” Cal groaned. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure he leaves you alone from now on.” He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. “Anyway, the International Council of Witches is just what it sounds like. Witches from all over the world getting together. It’s kind of a governing body, though what they govern isn’t really clear. They’re kind of like village elders, but the village consists of all witches everywhere. I think there’s something like sixty-seven countries represented.”

“What do they do?”

“In the old days they often settled disputes about land, clan wars, cases of magick being used against others,” Cal explained. “Now they mostly try to set guidelines about appropriate use of magick, and they try to consolidate magickal knowledge.”

I shook my head, not quite understanding. “And Hunter’s part of it?”

Cal shrugged. “He says he is. I think he’s lying, but who knows? Maybe the council is really hard up for members.” He gave a short laugh. “Mostly he’s just a second-rate witch with delusions of grandeur.”

“Delusions is right,” I murmured, remembering how Hunter had claimed his cold was the result of a spell. That was so obviously ridiculous that maybe I should just forget about everything else he’d said, too. But somehow I couldn’t.

Cal glanced at me. “He told you that you were Woodbane?”

“Yes,” I said stiffly. “And I went inside and found it in Maeve’s BOS. I
am
Woodbane. All of Belwicket was. Did you know?”

Cal didn’t answer right away. Instead he seemed to weigh my words. He looked at the fire. “How do you feel about that?” he finally asked.

“Bad,” I said honestly. “I would have been really proud to be Rowanwand or even anything else. But to be Woodbane ... it’s like finding out my ancestors are a long line of jail-birds and lowlifes. Worse, really. Much worse.”

Cal laughed again. He turned to me. “No, it’s not, my love. It’s not that bad.”

“How can you say that?”

“It’s easy,” he said with a grin. “Nowadays it isn’t a big deal. Like I said, people have sort of a prejudiced view of Woodbanes, but they’re ignoring all their good qualities, like strength, and loyalty, and power, and pursuit of knowledge.”

I stared at him. “You didn’t know I was a Woodbane? I’m sure your mom does.”

Cal shook his head. “No, I didn’t know. I haven’t read Maeve’s book, and Mom didn’t discuss it with me. Listen, knowing you’re Woodbane isn’t a bad thing. It’s better than not knowing your clan at all. Better than being a mongrel. I’ve always thought the Woodbanes have gotten a bad rap—you know, revisionist history.”

I turned back to the fire. “He said you were Woodbane, too,” I whispered.

“We don’t know what we are,” Cal said quietly. “Mom has done a lot of research, but it isn’t clear. But if we were, would it matter to you? Would you not love me?”

“Of course it wouldn’t matter,” I said. The flames crackled with life before us, and I rested my head on Cal’s shoulder. As upset as I had been, I was starting to feel better. I kicked off my shoes and stretched my feet out to the fire. My socks hung loose. The heat felt delicious on my toes, and I sighed. I still had more questions to ask.

“Why did Hunter say he was your brother?”

Cal’s eyes darkened. “Because my dad’s a high priest and very powerful. Hunter wants to be that way, too. And he
is
the son of the woman my father married after he left my mom. So we’re at least stepbrothers.”

I swallowed, wincing. “Ouch,” I murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. I wish I’d never met him.”

“How did you meet?” I asked cautiously.

“At a convention, two years ago,” Cal answered.

I was startled into laughter. “A witch convention?”

“Uh-huh,” said Cal, smiling a little. “I met Hunter, and he informed me we were only six months apart and brothers. Which would mean that my father had deliberately gotten another woman pregnant while my mom was pregnant with
me.
I hated Hunter for that. I still don’t want to believe it. So no matter what Hunter says, I say that his father is someone else, not my dad. I can’t accept that my father, total jerk that he is, would have done that.” He put his arm around me, and I rested my chin on his chest, hearing the steady thumping of his heart, sleepily watching the fire.

“Is that why Hunter is acting this way?”

“Yeah, I think so. Somehow he’s all . . . I don’t know, bent and twisted. It must have something to do with his childhood. I know I shouldn’t hate him—it’s not his fault my dad’s life is so messy. But he just—got off on telling me that my dad fathered him. Like he enjoyed hurting me.”

I gently stroked Cal’s wavy hair. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

Cal gave a rueful chuckle, and I wanted to comfort him, the way he had comforted me so many times. Gently, I kissed him, trying to give him love he could be sure of. He almost purred with contentment and held me closer.

“Why was Hunter here, in your mother’s house, that night when she had the circle?” I asked softly when I stopped for breath.

“He likes to keep in touch with us,” Cal said sarcastically. “I don’t know why. Sometimes I think he likes Mom and me to just remember he’s alive, that he exists. Rubbing our faces in it, I guess.”

I shuddered. “Ugh. He’s horrible. I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him. I just can’t stand him—and I hate what he’s doing to you. If he keeps on, he’d better watch out.”

Cal grinned. “Mmmm, I like it when you talk tough.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “I’ll zap him with witch fire so hard, he won’t know what hit him.” I flexed my fingers, surprised at the violence of my own feelings.

Cal’s smile broadened, but he said, “Look, let’s just change the subject.” He kissed me, then pulled away. “I have a question for you. What are you thinking about in terms of college?”

I furrowed my brow, surprised and bemused. “I’m not sure,” I said. “For a while I thought I’d apply to MIT or maybe Cal Tech. You know, something for math.”

“Brain,” Cal teased affectionately.