Blood Witch (20 page)

“What have you done?” I asked, putting my hand to my throat, where his silver pentacle still nestled warm against my skin. It was the first thing he’d ever given me, and I treasured it for that.

He grinned and stood, carrying the presents back to the bed and spreading them before me on the mattress. I took another sip of my cider, then placed it on the nightstand again.

First was a rectangular box. I started pulling off the paper.

“This is kind of redundant now,” he said.

My face melted in a smile. Inside the box was the silver athame we had seen at Practical Magick, the one carved with roses and a skull. I turned to him.

“It’s lovely,” I said, running my fingers across it.

“It can be your backup,” he said cheerfully. “Or a cake knife. Or a letter opener.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I wanted you to have it,” Cal said. “Next.”

He held out a small box, and I held my breath as I opened it, revealing a gorgeous pair of silver earrings set with golden tigereyes. The gems looked so much like Cal’s eyes that I had to glance up at him just for the sake of comparison.

“These are so beautiful.” I shook my head.

“Put them on,” he encouraged, “and it will be like I’m always with you.” He brushed back my hair to expose my earlobe.

I held the earrings, not knowing what to say.

“Your ears aren’t pierced,” Cal said in surprise.

“I know,” I mumbled apologetically. “My mom took me and Bree to have it done when we were twelve, but I chick-ened out.”

“Oh, Morgan, I’m sorry,” he said, laughing. “It’s my fault. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before now. I should have gotten you something else. Here—I’ll take them back and exchange them.”

“No!” I said, pulling the box close. “I love them—they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I’ve been wanting to get my ears pierced, anyway. This will be my inspiration.”

Cal looked at me assessingly but appeared to take my word. “Hmmm. Well, okay.” He nodded at another present.

Next was a beautifully bound and illustrated book about spell weaving. It included a short history of spell making and had a whole section of sample spells and how to use them as well as how to individualize them for your particular situation.

“Oh, this is fabulous,” I said with enthusiasm, leafing through it. “This is perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, grinning. “We can go over some of them if you want, practice them.”

I nodded eagerly, like a child, and he laughed again.

“And last,” he said, handing me a medium-size box.

“More?” I couldn’t quite believe this. I was beginning to feel spoiled. Inside this box was a batik blouse in muted shades of lavender and purple and plum. It looked like a storm-shot sunset. I stared at it, touching the cloth with my fingers, drinking in the colors, practically hearing the rumble of thunder and rain.

“I love it,” I said, leaning over to hug him. “I love all of it. Thank you so much for this.” My throat tightened with a rush of emotion. Once again I felt a sense of belonging, of pure contentment. “These are the best birthday gifts anyone has ever given me.”

Cal gave me a sweet smile, and then I was in his arms and we were lying on the bed. I held his head tightly, my fingers laced through his dark hair as we kissed.

“Do you love me?” he whispered against my mouth. I nodded, overwhelmed, holding him hard against me, wanting to be closer.

The cider, the candles all around us, the slight scent of incense, the feel of his smooth skin under my hands—it was as if he were weaving a spell of love around me, making me drowsy and full of a physical longing and ache. And yet . . . and yet. I still held the end of a line between us. Despite my love for him, despite the dark wave of yearning he had awoken in me, I felt myself holding back.

Dimly, as we kissed, I came to the surprising realization that I wasn’t quite ready to give myself to him completely. Even though we were probably
mùirn beatha dàns,
still, I wasn’t ready to make love with him, to go all the way in joining ourselves together physically and mentally. I didn’t know the reason, but I had to trust my feelings.

“Morgan,” Cal said softly. He raised up on one elbow and looked at me. He was incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful male I had ever seen. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth a dark rose color from kissing. There was no way he and Hunter could be brothers, I thought distantly—and I wondered why Hunter had even popped into my thoughts. Hunter was mean and dangerous, a liar.

“Come on,” Cal said, his voice husky, his hand stroking my waist through my black jumper.

“Um . . .”

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

I let out my breath, not knowing what to say. He draped one leg over me and pulled me closer, curling his hand around my back and snuggling. He nuzzled my neck, and his hand drifted up my waist to just below my breast. It felt incredible, and I willed myself to give in to it, to let the wash of sensation carry me to a new place. I would be seventeen tomorrow: it was time. But somehow I just couldn’t. . . .

“Morgan?” His voice sounded questioning, and my eyes flew to his. His hand stroked my hair away from my face. “I want to make love to you.”

I stared at Cal, loving him but feeling utterly lost.

“I thought you wanted me, too,” he said quietly.

I nodded. That was true—partially, anyway. But what my brain wanted and my body wanted were two different things.

“If you’re worried about birth control, I can take care of it,” he said. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”

“I know.” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I willed them to stop. I felt like a complete failure, and I didn’t know why.

Cal rolled away from me, his arm resting across his forehead as he looked at me. “So what is it?” he said.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I mean, I want to, but I just can’t. I don’t feel ready.”

He reached out his other hand and held mine, absently stroking his thumb across my palm. Finally he shifted and sat up cross-legged in front of me. I scrambled into a sitting position opposite him.

“Are you angry?” I asked.

He smiled wryly. “I’ll live. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I . . .” He left the sentence unfinished.

“I’m sorry,” I said miserably. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He leaned over and pushed my hair off my neck to kiss my nape gently. I shuddered at the warmth of his lips. “Nothing is wrong with you,” he whispered. “We have our whole future together. There’s no hurry. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

I swallowed, worrying that if I opened my mouth again, I would definitely start crying.

“Look, let’s do a circle,” he said, rubbing the tension out of my neck. “Not a
circle
circle, but just like a joined meditation. It’s another way for us to be close. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay,” I choked out.

I reached for him, and we held hands loosely, with our knees touching. Together we closed our eyes and began to systematically shut everything down: emotions, sensations, awareness of the outside world. I felt embarrassed about not wanting to sleep with him, but I deliberately released those feelings. It was almost as if I could see them falling away from me. My eyes stopped stinging; my throat relaxed.

Gradually our breathing, in sync, slowed and quieted. I had been meditating almost every day, and it was easy for me to slip into a light trance. I lost the sensation of touching Cal: we felt joined, breathing as one, drifting as one into a place of deep peace and restfulness. It was a relief.

I became aware of the strength of Cal’s mind, aligning with mine, and it was very exciting and intimate. It was amazing that we could share this, and I thought of all the nonwitches in the world who would probably never be able to achieve such closeness with their lovers. I breathed a long sigh of contentment.

In our meditation I felt Cal’s thoughts; I read the intensity of his passion, felt his desire for me, and my flesh broke out in goose bumps. I felt his admiration of my strength in the craft, as well as eagerness for me to progress—to get stronger and stronger, as strong as he was. I tried to share my own thoughts with him, unsure if he was reading me as well. I expressed my desires and hopes for our future together; I tried to let waves of pure emotion convey my feelings in a way that words never could.

Eventually we drifted apart, like two leaves separating as they fell toward earth. I slipped back into my self, and we remained there for a while afterward, gazing at each other. It was the most intensely connected I had ever felt to another person. I knew it. But knowing this also made me feel vulnerable and nervous.

“Was it good for you?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment.

He smiled. “It was great for me.”

I looked into his face for a while longer, allowing myself to get lost in his eyes, enjoying the silence and the glow of the candles. Dimly I became aware of the ticking of a clock nearby. I glanced at it.

“Oh my God, is it one o’clock?” I gasped.

Cal looked, too, and grinned. “Hmmm. Do you have a curfew?”

I was already climbing off the bed. “Not officially,” I said, searching for my shoes. “But I’m supposed to call if I’m later than midnight. Of course, if I call now, I’ll wake them up.” Quickly I gathered my presents into a pile. I found Maeve’s athame and put it back inside my coat. We trotted downstairs. A pang of longing welled up inside me; I wanted to stay
here,
in the warmth and coziness of Cal’s room, with him.

Cold wind blasted my face when we stepped through the front door.

“Ugh,” I moaned, gripping the neck of my coat tighter.

Heads down, we hurried out to Cal’s Explorer. “Maybe we should call your folks and tell them you’re having a sleep-over,” he suggested with a grin.

I laughed, thinking of how well that would go over with Mom and Dad, then carefully placed my beautiful birthday presents on the backseat. But as I was about to climb into the front, the sound of a car arriving made me pause. I glanced at Cal. His eyes had narrowed. He looked alert and tense, his hand on the car door next to me.

“Is it your mom?” I asked.

Cal shook his head. “That’s not her car.”

Using magesight, I squinted into the approaching headlights, staring right past them. My heart lurched. It was a gray car. Hunter’s car.

He pulled to a stop in front of us.

“Oh God, what’s he doing here?” I groaned. “It’s one in the morning!”

“Who knows?” Cal said tersely. “But I need to talk to him, anyway.”

Hunter left his car running as he stepped out and faced us. The headlights put him in silhouette, but I could see that his green eyes were solemn. His cold seemed to have gotten better. His breath was like white smoke.

“Hello,” he said precisely. Just hearing him speak made me clench up. “Fancy meeting the both of you here. How inconvenient.”

“Why?” Cal asked, his voice low. “Were you going to put sigils on my house, like you did Morgan’s?”

A glimmer of surprise crossed Hunter’s face.

“Know about that, do you?” he said, shifting his gaze to me.

I nodded coldly.

“What else do you know?” Hunter asked. “Like, do you know what Cal wants from you? What you are to him? Do you know the truth about
anything
?”

I glared at him, trying to think of a scathing reply. But again the only thought I had was: Why is he tormenting us like this?

Beside me Cal clenched his fists. “She knows the truth. I love her.”

“No,” Hunter corrected him. “The truth is, you
need
her. You need her because she has incredible, untapped powers. You need her so you can use her power to take over the High Council, and then you can start to eliminate the other clans, one by one. Because you’re a Woodbane, too, and frankly, the other clans just aren’t good enough.”

My eyes flashed to Cal. “What is he talking about? You’re not a Woodbane, are you?”

“He’s raving,” Cal muttered, staring at Hunter with pure contempt. “Saying anything he can think of to hurt me.” Cal put his arm around me. “You can forget breaking us up,” he said. “She loves me, and I love her.”

Hunter laughed. The sound of it was like glass shattering. “What a crock,” he spat. “She’s your lightning rod—the last surviving member of Belwicket, the destined high priestess of one of the most powerful of the Woodbane clans. Don’t you get it? Belwicket renounced the dark arts! There’s no way Morgan would agree to what you want!”

“How would
you
know what I would do?” I shouted, infuriated by how he was speaking as if I weren’t there.

Cal just shook his head. “There’s no point to this,” he said. “We’re together, and there’s nothing you can do. So you can go back to where you came from and leave us alone.”