I’d brought no shovel with me, but Das Boot had a jack and a crowbar, and it was the crowbar I used, chucking it into the cold ground and twisting it. It didn’t take long. I felt layer upon layer of my amateurish spells of protection, the best I had had been able to do at the time. Then, feeling close, I used my fingers to claw at the freezing earth. Another two inches and my fingers scrabbled at wet cloth. I cleared the dirt away around it and soon lifted up a silken bundle. I didn’t untie the knot that held the scarf’s contents in place. I didn’t need to. Instead, I kicked the dirt back in place and lightly scattered some leaves and pine needles and twigs over the area until it again looked untouched. Picking up my crowbar, holding my cold, damp bundle, I headed back to my car.

“Where did you go?” Hunter asked when I returned. “Where have you been? I was worried sick! Don’t go anywhere like that without telling me, all right?”

“I’m sorry.” I was still chilled, my fingernails dirt-packed and broken. It seemed too hard to explain when my errand had taken so much effort. Instead, I walked into Hunter’s circle room, where Mr. Niall was kneeling on the floor, his eyes closed, surrounded by papers and books and candles. He felt me come in and looked up.

I knelt beside him, the knees of my jeans soaked. “Here,” I said, pulling the silk-wrapped package from my coat pocket. My fingers were cold and stiff as I picked at the knot, but I finally pulled it loose and the cloth fell open. I reached in to pick up the only thing of Ciaran’s I had: a beautiful gold pocket watch, engraved with his initials and my mother’s. Not only that—it had my mother’s, Maeve’s, image spelled into it. To be able to see my mother’s face was a gift. To me, it was a concrete reminder of the relationship my blood parents had once had—the only thing that was part of both of them. My mother was dead—the spell against Ciaran couldn’t rebound on her. But Ciaran’s vibrations ran all through it.

When Mr. Niall reached for it, I surprised myself by pulling my hand back. Embarrassed, I pushed the watch forward again. He could use it more than I. Maybe it was better not to have any reminders of a love that had ended so tragically—even though that same love had had resulted in my birth. It suddenly struck me that my parents’ relationship was the epitome of magick itself: darkness and light. A great, great love and a great, great hatred. Passion, both good and bad. A powerful joining followed by an irrevocable tearing apart. The rose and the thorn.

“This was Ciaran’s,” I explained, offering it to Mr. Niall. I forced my hand to stay open while he took it.

“When did you get it back?” Hunter asked, surprised.

“The last time Ciaran was here,” I explained, feeling very tired.

“And you kept it?” Hunter knew as well as I how dangerous it could be to have something of someone who wants to control you.

“Yes. It was my mother’s.” I was aware I sounded defensive—I had kept this a secret, even from Hunter. “I buried it outside of town. I was going to leave it there until it had been purified, all its dark energy gone. Years.”

Mr. Niall was examining the watch, turning it over in his hands. “I can use this,” he said, as if talking to himself. He looked up. “But are you sure? It will be completely destroyed, you know.”

I nodded, looking at the watch. “I know. It’s okay. I don’t need it anymore.” Still, even as I said the words, something in me knew I’d feel its loss. I shivered from leftover chill.

When I looked up, Mr. Niall was watching me. “This will help,” he said. “Thank you.” His eyes looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. I got the impression I had just moved up several notches in his estimation.

“Okay, well, I’ll get out of your way,” I said, standing up. In the kitchen I washed my hands, soaping them over and over, holding them under the warm water as if I were washing off more than dirt. Then I went into the living room and sank down on the floor in front of the fireplace. Hunter sat down next to me, and soon I was warm enough to take off my coat. We scooted back until we could lean against the couch, and I rested my head against his shoulder. Gently Hunter lifted me up onto his lap so I was sitting sideways across his legs. With his arms around me, I felt incredibly safe and warm. I was so happy to be there that I didn’t even care if Mr. Niall came out and found us like this.

“Thank you for making that sacrifice,” Hunter murmured close to my ear. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

I shrugged, not really knowing myself. “I knew I wasn’t going to use it, not for a long time.”

He nodded and kissed my ear. “I know what it must mean to you.”

“Not as much as my life, your life, my family. My friends,” I said, closing my eyes and snuggling closer.

“Morgan,” he said, his voice low. I felt his fingers under my chin, raising my face so he could kiss me. It felt so good, so right, and it made everything else fade away: all my worries, the way I felt physically, the sadness of losing my watch. Ever since Hunter had gotten back from Canada, we hadn’t had much time alone together. I’d been concerned about what I had seen—Hunter and the Canadian witch—and sometimes it made me feel insecure and out of sync with him. But right now those feelings were melting away, and once again I felt that quickening, that rush of desire that made me tremble.

We clung together, kissing, and I now knew him well enough for there to be comforting familiarity mixed in with the rush. I remembered the last night we’d been together, before he’d left for Canada. I had planned for us to make love for the first time: I’d actually started taking the Pill because I didn’t know how witch birth control worked, I’d psyched myself up, shaved my legs, everything. And we had almost done it. We’d come so, so close. Then Hunter had talked me into waiting until after he got back from Canada so we wouldn’t have to say good-bye afterward. Of course, we didn’t know that he’d be bringing his dad back with him and that almost immediately we’d be threatened by a dark wave.

I gripped Hunter’s collar in one hand and pulled him closer, kissing his mouth hard, feeling his fingers tighten around my waist. Hunter, I thought. I want to be joined with you. Are we ever going to get there? Or are we going to die before we get the chance?

“Alisa, are you okay?”

My head snapped up to see Mary K.’s big brown eyes gazing at me with concern. We were sprawled in Mary K.’s room after school on Monday, listening to music and sort of doing homework.

“I’m okay.” I shook my head. “It’s just, like, everything’s coming down on me at once. It’s giving me a headache.”

Mary K. nodded sympathetically. “Everyone has a headache lately. It must be the weather.” I was so glad that we were friends. My best friend had moved away at the end of last summer, and though I still missed her, being friends with Mary K. had helped a lot.

“Like the wedding and Ms. Herbert’s science fair project?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Oh, and the fact that I was half witch. That, too. I hadn’t told Mary K. about my realization—I knew that she still had a problem with Morgan’s involvement with Wicca, and I wasn’t ready to test her reaction.

“Any ideas for the science project?”

I thought. “Maybe a life-size modeling-clay version of a digestive system?”

Mary K. giggled. “Fun. I’m thinking about something with plants.”