"Morning!" Mary K. said brightly, coming into the kitchen. She looked fabulous, as always, with her clear skin, shining, bouncy hair, and bright brown eyes framed by long lashes.

"Morning sweetie," Mom answered, and Dad gave Mary K. a fond smile.

My sister pulled a lemon yogurt out of the fridge and sat down at the table. She glanced across at me, taking in my appearance. "Are you sick? What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," I mumbled, sucking down more caffeine. Several brain cells sprang into action, and it occurred to me that I needed to get dressed for school. Picking up my soda, I headed upstairs to face this new challenge.

I already had Das Boot's motor running when Mary K. climbed in, russet hair swinging forward into her face, Mark Chamber's letter jacket slung around her shoulders. She'd been dating him for a couple of weeks.

"I assume the jacket means things with the beloved Mark are chugging right along?" I asked as I pulled out of our driveway. Mary K.'s face dimpled in a happy smile.

"He's so, so nice," she said, dropping her book bag onto the floor.

"Good. Because if he's a jerk, I'm going to gouge his eyes out." Mary K. giggled, but her face was shadowed slightly by the meaning and the memory behind my words. "I don't think you'll have to."

What Alisa had said to me on Saturday night suddenly came back to me. "So, have you thought about what to wear to Alisa's dad's wedding?" this had all the subtlety and finesse of a sledgehammer, since I'm notoriously fashion-challenged.

Mary K. looked at me. She wasn't a fool, and I could see she was trying to figure out my angle. "I'm not sure if I'm going to go," she said cautiously.

"Why not? Weddings are fun. And you get cake," I pointed out.

"I don't know," Mary K. said, looking out the car window. "I don't know if Alisa and I have that much in common anymore."

"Because she's half witch," I said, stating the obvious. My sister shrugged.

"Well, I know how you feel about Wicca and the whole blood witch thing," I said. "I know you would feel better if I didn't have anything to do with it and if Alisa didn't have anything to do with it."

Mary K. didn't look at me.

"The thing is," I went on, "no one chooses to be what they are. They just are. It's like the color of your eyes or hair or how tall you are. I was born with blood witch genes because my biological parents were blood witches. Alias is half and half, and there's nothing she can do about it."

My sister sighed.

"In fact," I said, "Alisa herself was really freaked out when she realized she was half witch. I mean, the girl ran away just a few weeks ago because being half witch wasn't something she wanted to sign up for."

Mary K. bit her lip and looked out the window some more. I had only a few blocks till school. "Do you think Alisa's bitchy?" I asked.

Mary K. turned startled eyes to me. "No."

"Does she lie? Cheat? Steal? Has she moved in on Mark Chambers? Does she say bad stuff about you behind your back?"

"No, of course not," said Mary K. "She's really cool-"

"Exactly. You guys like the same books, movies, clothes. You have similar and incredibly lame senses of humor. You both inexplicably have a crush on Terrance Hagen, the most insipid boy actor ever."

Mary K. was giggling by now. Then her face sobered. I fired my last shot.

"Mary K., you can be friends with whoever you want. If I didn't think that you really cared about Alisa, I would shut up. But you do care about her. And right now Alisa's dad is getting married. She's about to get a new half sibling. She has no real mom. I just think she could use some friends. And between you and me, I think she wouldn't mind it if those friends didn't have anything to do with Wicca."

I parked my car in the school lot, the wheels crunching on the small white shells that covered the ground.

"You're right," Mary K. said softly, hauling up her book bag. "I do care about Alisa. I do want to be friends with her."

"Good," I said cheerfully. "And just think, if you're really, really, really persistent, you might be able to win her over to Catholicism. Ouch." I rubbed my thigh where Mary K. had just punched me.

"Later, 'gator," she said, just like she used to do when we were little. I smiled at her.

"In a while, crocodile," was my original response.

I spent most of Tuesday at Practical Magick, helping Alyce sort the books properly. The bookcases in the new room of the store were almost finished. Alyce and I had gone through most of the stock, keeping long, detailed lists of each category. Within each category there were many subcategories, and of course most books had to be cross-referenced. It was engrossing and renewed my interest in reading or rereading some important Wiccan texts, but as with the herb imbuing it wasn't exactly fulfilling.

I was up on a ladder, calling down titles to Alyce when I sensed someone coming. The bell over the door jangled in the next moment-Morgan. I glanced at my watch. It was four o'clock already.

"Teatime," I said, starting to climb down the ladder. My hands were filthy with dust, and I wiped them on my jeans. "Hello, my love," I said, meeting Morgan halfway. I held her shoulders lightly and kissed her. "Couldn't stay away from me, I see. I missed you, too."

Her mouth quirked in a nervous smile, then she looked past me to Alyce. "Actually," she said softly, "I need to talk to both of you. Can you spare a couple of minutes?"

"Certainly, dear," said Alyce. She walked to the back of the store and called out to her other employee. "Finn, could you mind the shop for me for a bit?" He nodded and walked to the cash register.

Alyce gestured to the tattered orange curtain that led to the employees' lounge/storage room/lunchroom. Already I was picking up on Morgan's tension, overlain with fatigue, and I wondered what was going on-she hadn't mentioned anything. I rubbed her back as we walked in and sat down. She gave me a strained smile and put her hand on my knee. I tried to read her eyes, but they seemed shuttered, and I went on alert. If something was bothering Morgan, how had I not sensed it before? Or was she hiding something from me?

Within minutes Alyce put three mugs of tea on the table, projecting, as usual, and air of calm, maternal empathy. "What's going on, Morgan? You look very upset."

Morgan nodded and swallowed. I let my arm rest across the back of her chair so she would feel my support. "I've been having…dreams," she said. "Nightmares, actually. Scary ones."

I began rubbing her back again with one hand. "These must be somewhat out of the ordinary for you to want to talk to us both about them," I said.

Morgan gave a short, dry laugh. "They're out of the ordinary," she agreed. "They've been going on for three nights now." I put my head to one side, curious, and she turned to me to explain. "I just thought they were ordinary dreams. Everyone has nightmares sometimes. And nothing that explicitly bad ever happens in them-I'm not seeing murders or anything. They're just really strong, disturbing images. I thought maybe it was stress-finals coming up, that kind of thing. But last night…"

She paused to sip her tea, and beneath my hand I felt a fine tremble shake her. " What happened last night?" I asked.

"I had another dream," she said. "I can't even remember most of it. I feel like I keep seeing hawks, dark hawks, in the dreams, but I'm not sure."

I remembered Morgan's response to the hawk we had seen the day of the picnic, and I felt irritated with myself that I hadn't picked up on it. I must be getting thick.

"Last night's dream felt like the worst, but I can't say why," Morgan went on. "All I remember is-I think was in a car, my car. I wasn't driving, and I had to get out. But it wouldn't stop. I think I jumped out. And when I did, I realized I had bird's wings, but they were made of fire."