May I work strong, pure magick here, I said silently, spells of healing and wholeness.

And may they keep me safe, I couldn't help adding.

Litha, 1991

Goddess, help us. How can we go on from here? We've lost everything—our home, our coven, our children. Our children.

It all came so suddenly. We'd both been feeling ill and out of sorts for weeks, but I didn't think much of it. Then, late yesterday evening, I was working in my study when I heard Fiona scream. I raced to her workroom and found her lying on the floor, her leug clutched in her hand. She had been scrying to find the source of her illness and had seen something hideous in the stone. She described it as a wave of darkness, like a swarm of black insects or a pall of smoke, sweeping over the land. “It was evil,” she whispered. “It wants us. It's. . searching for us. We've got to warn the others, and then we've got to go. Now. Tonight.”

“Tonight? But—the children. Giomanach's got an herbology lesson tomorrow.” I objected stupidly.

The look she gave me broke my heart. “We can't take them,” she said. “It wouldn't be safe. Not for them of for us. We've got to leave them.”

I argued, but in the end she convinced me that she was right. The only hope for any of us was for Fiona and me to disappear, to try somehow to draw the evil away from our children.

Fiona left a frantic message for her brother Beck, who lives in Somerset. Then we laid the strongest protections we could on our house. I kissed my children as they slept, smoothing Alwyn's tangled red curls, pulling the covers back up over Linden. Last of all I stood by Giomanach, watching the rise and fall of his chest. I tucked my leug under his pillow, where he'd find it in the morning.

And then, once again, I abandoned my children.

— Maghach

I left a note for my mom saying that I'd be back for dinner, then drove over to Hunter's house. As much as being around him upset me, I realized Hunter needed to know about the dark presence I'd sensed at Unser's and the dark magick I had felt on Monday night. He might be able to tell me what it was, where it had come from, how I could protect myself from it effectively.

I started up the narrow path. Even in daylight it was hard to be sure that there was a house tucked away behind all the trees. The porch was even ricketier than it had seemed at night. A post was missing from the railing, and the stairs had a split tread.

I reached the door and hesitated. Should I knock? I suddenly felt reluctant to bring my troubles to this particular door.

I chickened out. I'd turned and started off the porch when I heard the door open behind me. "Morgan," Hunter's voice said.

Caught. I turned to face him and felt myself blush. "I should have called first. Maybe this isn't a good time."

"It's fine," he said. "Come in."

Inside there was no sign of Sky. I settled myself in one of the living-room armchairs. The house was as cold as it had been last night, the fire in the little fireplace giving off hardly any warmth at all. I was shivering, growing more uncomfortable by the second. This had been a bad idea.

"So," Hunter said as he sat across from me. "Why are you here?”

To my surprise, I blurted, "I didn't feel anything at our circle last night. I'm the one who always gets swept away, but. . Everyone else was transported, but I didn't get anything. I don't know if Cirrus is right for me anymore."

"Wicca isn't about getting things," Hunter said.

"I know that," I said defensively. "It's just—it's just that it doesn't usually happen to me." I studied his face, wondering how much to confide in him. "It scared me," I admitted. "Like my powers would be gone forever." A thought occurred to me. "Did you do something to damp down my power during the circle in any way?"

He raised his eyebrows. "If I were trying to control your power, you'd have known it. And it's not something I would do unless it were an extreme emergency."

"Oh." I sank back into the chair.

He crossed a booted foot over his knee. He tapped it a few times. "Perhaps. . my style doesn't bring out your potential."

He sounded disappointed. In me, I wondered, or in himself? "Everyone else, it worked for them," I said grudgingly. "They really liked how you did things."

His face brightened, making him look more like an ordinary teenager. Extraordinarily handsome, maybe, but less intense. "They did? I'm glad. I haven't been that nervous since. . well, never mind." He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to make sure he didn't say anything else. He looked almost startled—as if he hadn't meant to say those words aloud.

"You were nervous?" I couldn't help enjoying that. "The mighty Hunter?"

Hunter leaned forward, gazing into the hearth. "Don't you think I know how highly you all thought of Cal? Especially you. I knew no one really wanted me taking over. And a part of me thought: Well, maybe they're right. Maybe I can't lead a circle as well as he did. God knows he's more at ease with people than I'll ever be."

I stared at him, stunned to hear him admit to so much vulnerability. I thought back to times when I'd watched Cal move from one clique at school to another, fitting in wherever he went. It was part of what had made him so good at manipulating people—he could present them with what they wanted to see. And what made it so powerful was that at some level, It was real. Hunter, on the other hand, could only be himself.

He and I had that in common.

A sadness clouded his clear green eyes. "I always thought my father would be there when I took over as a coven leader. It feels strange to take the step without him."

I nodded, aware of another connection we had. "Like my trying to learn about my birthright without my birth parents. I feel like something is missing."

"Yes," Hunter agreed. "Without Dad, being coven leader is all that more daunting."

"What made you decide to do it, then?" I asked.

He gave me a sudden, lopsided grin, gazing up at me from under a shock of pale hair. "The thought that you might try to lead them. I couldn't risk that."

If that was a joke, I didn't find it particularly funny. "Hey, I didn't come here to be insulted."

"Oh, stop." He laughed. "I didn't mean it as an insult. I only meant that you're a bit of a loose cannon because you've got all this power and no training. It's not an incurable condition."

"Glad to know it's not terminal," I muttered.

He looked at me more seriously now. "Morgan, listen to me. You have so much potential—it's very exciting, I know. But you've got to learn how to rein in and focus your power. For your own good as much as anything else. All that power makes you like a beacon. You're a walking target."

Abruptly I remembered the real reason I'd come here. I sat forward in my chair.

"There's something I need to tell you about," I said. I described the dark force I'd felt after my dream and then again at the garage. "I tried to get it to reveal itself by drawing Peorth, but it just sort of evaporated," I said. "Do you have any idea what it was?"

He was frowning. "This is not good. It could have been another witch, cloaking him or herself. It sounds more like some sort of a taibhs, a dark spirit, though."

“The first time, when I sensed it in the middle of the night, I had the impression that whatever it was, it wasn't aimed at me," I said. "But after what happened at the garage, I'm not so sure. Do you think it's been following me?"

"You would have sensed that, I think." Hunter got to his feet, went to the window, and peered out into the trees that surrounded the house. "But we've got to assume that it wasn't coincidence, either. It was looking for you. And it found you."