The Coven (11 page)

“Hi, Morgan,” she said, sounding tentative. Her hair was brushed and held back from her face by two combs. She wore no makeup, but she had on a sweat suit embroidered with leaves. “Where’s Mary K.?”

“I dropped her at Jaycee’s,” I said.

“Oh, all right.” Mom wandered over to the far wall and picked up a clay pot that I’d made in third grade, then set it back down on its shelf. “Hey, how come I haven’t seen Bree around this week?”

I swallowed hard, replaying the scene yesterday in the cafeteria, when Bree and Raven had announced they were starting their own coven. I didn’t think Bree would be spending a whole lot of time with me anymore.

But I didn’t have the strength to get into it with Mom right now. So I just said, “I guess she’s been pretty busy.”

“Mmmm.” To my surprise, Mom let it go at that. She prowled around the room some more, picking things up and putting them down.Then she said abruptly, “Mary K. says you have a boyfriend.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” I said in surprise, realizing she wasn’t up on the whole Cal thing. Of course. How could she have been? Cal and my discovery about my birth happened at almost the same time.

“His name is Cal Blaire,” I explained, feeling awkward. First of all, we’d never talked about boys before. There had never been anything to discuss. Second, why was I obligated to tell her anything? She obviously had no problem keeping secrets from me.

But still, I’d had sixteen years of thinking of her as my mom.That habit was hard to break. “He and his mom moved here in September,” I added.

Mom leaned against the doorjamb. “What does he think of witchcraft?”

I blinked and flicked off the TV. “Um, he likes it,” I said stiffly.

Mom nodded.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that I was adopted?” I said, the words rushing out now that I had my chance.

I saw her swallow as she searched for an answer. “There were some very good reasons at the time,” she said finally. The silence of the house seemed to underscore her words.

“Everyone says you’re supposed to be open about it,” I said. Already I could feel my throat getting tight, and suddenly my nerves felt like thorns.

“I know,” Mom said quietly. “I know you want—need—some answers.”

“I deserve some answers!” I said, raising my voice. “You and Dad lied to me for sixteen years! You lied to Mary K.! And everyone else knew the truth!”

She shook her head, an odd look on her face. “No one knows the whole truth,” she said. “Not even your father and me.”

“What does that mean?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I tried to hold on to my anger so I wouldn’t cry.

“Your dad and I have been talking,” she said. “We know you want to know. And we’re going to tell you. Soon.”

“When?” I snapped.

Mom gave an odd smile, as if at a private joke. She was being so calm and yet looked so fragile that it was hard for me to stay angry. There was nothing here to fight against, and that pissed me off even more.

“It’s been sixteen years,” she said gently. “Give us a few more days. I need time to think.”

I stared at her in disbelief, but with that same odd smile she brushed her hand lightly against my cheek, then left the room.

For some reason, the memory of my sneaking into my parents’ bed at night, when I was little, came into my mind. I used to worm my way in between them and go right to sleep. Nothing had ever felt so secure or so safe. Now it seemed strange. My childhood memories were being revised every day.

The phone rang, and I seized it like a lifeline. I knew it was Cal.

“Hi,” said Cal, before I could speak, and a warm sense of comfort passed over me. “I miss you. Can I come over?”

I went from utter despair to pure joy in one second. “Actually, could I come over there?” I asked.

“You don’t mind?”

“Oh, God, no. I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Great,” he said.

I flew from the house, rushing toward happiness.

 

Cal met me at the front door of his house. It was already almost dark, and the air felt heavy and damp, as if it might snow early this year.

“I can only stay a little while,” I said, my breath puffing slightly.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, leading me inside. “I could have come to your house.”

I shook my head, taking off my coat. “You have more privacy here,” I said. “Is your mom home?”

“No,” said Cal as we started up the stairs to his room. “She’s at the hospital with someone from her coven. I have to go over later and help her.” It occurred to me that the two of us were alone in his house. A little shiver of anticipation went through me.

“I forgot to ask Robbie today,” Cal said, opening the attic door to his room. “Is he getting new glasses?”

“I don’t know. They’re going to do more tests.” I rubbed my arms as we walked into Cal’s room, even though it was toasty warm. I felt comfortable here, with Cal. The rest of my life might be in turmoil, but here I knew I had power.And

I knew Cal understood. It gave me a wonderful feeling of relief.

Looking around Cal’s room, I remembered the night we had done a circle here and I had seen everyone’s auras. It had been so seductive, being touched by magick. How could anyone not want to pursue it?

Behind me Cal touched my arm, and I turned to him. He smiled at me. “I like having you here,” he said. “And I’m glad you came. I wanted to give you something.”

I looked up at him questioningly.

“Here.” Reaching up, he untied the knot in the leather string around his neck. Its silver pentacle dangled, catching the lamplight and shining.This necklace had been one of the first things I’d noticed about him, and I remembered thinking how much I’d liked it. I stepped closer, and Cal fastened it around my neck. It fell to a point above my breastbone, and he traced around it on my shirt.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful.” Reaching up my hand, I curled it around his neck and pulled him to me. He met my kiss halfway.

“How are things at home?” Cal asked a moment later, still holding me.

I felt like I could tell him anything. “Strange,” I said. I pulled myself out of his arms and walked around his room.

“I’ve hardly seen my parents. Today Mom was home, and I asked her about being adopted, and she said she needed more time.” I shook my head, looking at Cal’s tall bookcase, its rows of books on witchcraft, spell making, herbs, runes.... I wanted to sit down and start reading and not get up for a long time.

“Every time I think about how they lied to me, I feel furious,” I told Cal, my hands clenching into fists. I let out a breath. “But today my mom looked—I don’t know. Older. Fragile, somehow.”

I stopped next to Cal’s bed. He walked over to me and rubbed my back. I took his hand and brought it to my cheek.

“Part of me feels like they’re not my real family,” I said. “And another part of me thinks, of course they’re my real family.They feel like my real family.”

He nodded, his hand stroking up and down my arm. “It’s strange when people you think you know really well feel suddenly different somehow.”

He sounded like he was speaking from experience, and I looked up at him.

“Like my father,” he said. “He was the high priest of my mom’s coven when they were married. And he met another woman, another witch, in the coven. Mom and I used to make mean jokes about how she had put a love spell on him, but really, in the end, I think maybe he just . . . loved her more.”

I heard the hurt in his voice and rested my head against his chest, my arms going around his waist.

“They live in northern England now,” Cal went on. His chest vibrated against my ear as he spoke. “She had a son, my age, from her first marriage, and they’ve had, I think, two more kids together.”

“That’s awful,” I said.

He breathed in and out slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just used to it now. But I just think that’s how it goes. Nothing is static; things always change. The best you can do is change along with them and work with what you have.”

I was silent, thinking about my own situation.

“I think the important thing is to get through the anger and negative feelings because they get in the way of magick,” Cal said. “It’s hard, but sometimes you just have to decide to let those feelings go.”

His voice trailed off, and we stood there comfortably for a while. Finally, reluctantly, I glanced at my watch.

“Speaking of going, I have to go,” I said.

“Already?” Cal said, leaning down to kiss me. He murmured something against my lips.

Smiling, I wriggled out of his grasp. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“What?” I asked again, concerned now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “It’s just . . . suddenly I thought of
mùirn beatha dàn
.You know.”

I looked at him. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said again, sounding almost shy. “
Mùirn beatha dàn
.You’ve read about it, right?”

I shook my head. “What is it?”

“Um, soul mate,” said Cal. “Life partner. Predestined mate.”

My heart almost stopped beating, and my breath froze in my throat. I couldn’t speak.

“In the form of Wicca that I practice,” Cal explained, “we believe that for every witch, there’s one true soul mate who’s also a full-blooded witch; male or female, it doesn’t matter. They’re connected to that person, and belong together, and basically will only be truly happy with that person.” He shrugged. “It sort of . . . came into my head just now, when we were kissing.”

“I never heard of it,” I whispered. “How do you know if it happens?”

Cal laughed wryly. “That’s the tricky part. Sometimes it isn’t that easy. And of course, people have strong wills: They can choose to be with people, insist on believing that this person is their
mùirn beatha dàn
when they’re wrong and just won’t admit it.”

I wondered if he was talking about his mother and father.

“Is there any surefire way to tell?” I asked.

“I’ve heard of spells you can do: complicated ones. But mostly witches just rely on their feelings, their dreams, and their instincts.They just feel this person is the one, and they go with it.”

I felt exhilarated, like I was about to take off and fly. “And do you think . . . maybe we’re connected that way?” I asked breathlessly.

He touched my cheek. “I think we might be, yes,” he said, his voice husky.

My eyes felt huge. “So what now?” I blurted out, and he laughed.

“We wait; we stay together. Finish growing up together.”

This was such an amazing, wonderful, seductive idea that I wanted to shout, I love you! And we will always be together! I’m the one for you, and you’re the one for me!

“How do you say it again?” I asked.

“
Mùirn beatha dàn
,” he said slowly, the words sounding ancient and lovely and mysterious.

I repeated them softly. “Yes,” I said, and we met again in a kiss.

Long minutes later I pulled away from him. “Oh, no, I’ve really got to go! I’m going to be late!”

“Okay,” he said, and we headed out of his room. It felt so hard to leave this place where everything felt so right. Especially when I knew I had to go home.

Again I thought about the first time I’d been in Cal’s room, when the coven had met there. “Are you upset that Beth and Raven and Bree have quit?” I asked as we headed down the stairs.

He thought for a moment. “Yes and no,” he said. “No because I don’t think you should try to keep someone in a coven against their will or even if they’re not very sure. It just makes negative energy. And yes because they were all kind of challenging personalities, and they added something to the mix. Which was good for the coven.” He shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

I put on my coat, wishing I didn’t have to go out into the cold. Outside the trees were almost bare, and the leftover leaves were a faded brown everywhere I looked.

“Ugh,” I said, glancing out at Das Boot.

“Fall is trying to turn into winter,” said Cal, breathing steam in the chilly air.

I watched his chest rise and fall, and a bolt of desire ripped through me. I wanted so badly to touch him, to run my hands through his hair, down his back, to kiss his throat and chest. I wanted to be close to him. To be his
mùirn beatha dàn
.

Instead I tore myself away, fumbling in my coat pocket for my keys, leaving Cal standing in the light from his door. My heart was full and aching, and I felt heavy with magick.

Imbolc, 1982

Oh, Goddess, Goddess, please help me. Please help me. Mathair, her hand rising up black from the smoking ashes. My little Dagda. My own da.

Oh, Goddess, I’m going to be ill; my soul is breaking. I cannot bear this pain.

—Bradhadair

 

That night my parents tried to act normal at dinner, but I kept looking at them with questions in my eyes, and by dessert we were all staring at our plates. Mary K. was obviously upset by the silence, and as soon as dinner was over she went up to her room and started playing loud music. Ceiling-shaking thumps told us she was dancing out some of her stress.

I couldn’t stand being there. If only Cal wasn’t helping his mom. Impulsively I called Janice and joined her, Ben Reggio, and Tamara at the dollar movies up in Red Kill.We saw some stupid action movie that involved a lot of motorcycle chases. The whole time I sat there in the dark theater, I kept thinking,
mùirn beatha dàn
, over and over.

 

On Saturday morning Dad went outside to rake leaves and cut back the shrubs and trees so they wouldn’t be broken in a winter ice storm. Mom took off after breakfast to go to her church women’s club.