"About me. About my problem. I was going to get help…"

"Help with what?"

"My…" Ugh. I was in no condition to explain. I didn't have the energy to say the word telekinesis. It had too many syllables.

"Why don't you go sit down by the fireplace?" she said, taking me by the shoulder and leading me towards the door. "This is nothing. I'll get it."

I nodded and stumbled into the empty room where the circle had just been. Everybody else was gone. Suddenly feeling exhausted, I slumped down in a corner of the room between the sofa and the wall and closed my eyes. Everything in me hurt. It all passed through my mind, everything I'd written on the slip of paper, everything that had been eating at me. Hilary. My father, My mother. My insane powers. The dark wave. And now all the water flooding Hunter's house. The images just kept on coming, smacking into my mind like it was a punching bag.

Someone was approaching me. Without opening my eyes, I knew it was Hunter—it wasn't witch power. He was just the only of two people left, and I heard Morgan moving in the kitchen. I felt him slide down and sit on the floor next to me. Whatever he had to say to me, I clearly deserved it. I was a freak. I was flooding his house. I was a danger to myself and others. I braced myself for the lecture I was sure he was about to give. He was going to kick me out of Kithic, I thought, just when I had realized that was the only place I found any peace. I pulled my knees into my chest to steady myself.

Instead of giving me the berating I was expecting. I felt Hunter put his long arm over my shoulders.

"Alise?" he asked, trying to get me to open my eyes and look at him. I couldn't. He put his other hand on the back of my head, guiding it down so that it rested on his shoulder. I felt the whole wave of emotion coming to the surface. It was so powerful, it almost made me shake.

"Let it out," he said, his voice soft.

Much to my embarrassment, his words opened up another floodgate—this time in me. I started to sob. And just as with the plumbing, I couldn't control the flow.

In the distance, over my sobs, I heard the sound of the kitchen drain releasing and the water gurgling as it was sucked down into the pipes.

September 3, 1946

Goddess, merciful goddess. What is happening in this house?

The event that had started it all seems so trivial now, it nauseates me. Tioma had taken my favorite sweater, my pink angora one, from my room without asking, only to get ink on the sleeve. I found it in a ball at the back of the drawer, furious, I went off to find her. She was in the living room, shrinking behind a book, as if she knew what was coming.

Of course, I tried to control myself, but I was enraged. She stoop up and tried to deny what she had done, which only made me angrier—so angry that I couldn't speak. Just as I turned to stalk back to my room, the heavy, glass-doored bookcase tipped over and slowly fell—right onto Tioma. I heard the glass shatter as it fell against her, knocking her to the ground and landing on her back. She made no sound. For a minute I thought she was dead— then I saw her fingers move. Mother and Father weren't on the house, so it was up to me to help her. A spell came from the back of my mind, something I'd read in an old Book of Shadows— a spell for making things lightweight. Without another moments thought I quickly preformed it, and I was able to lift the bookcase off my sisters back. She looked broken. There was blood coming from all parts of her body where the glass had punctured her, but she was alive. I called out to all members of the coven, asking them to run and help. Then I started reciting every healing spell I have ever learned to stop the bleeding. Within minutes my parents and various members of Ròiseal were running through the door. They rushed her off to the hospital.

Tioma is still there and is still insensible, but the doctors say she will recover. Mother and Father praised me endlessly, telling me that my quick thinking and composure saved her life. But all I can think of is my rage—my stupid rage over a sweater—and the sight of the massive cabinet coming down on my sister.

Why do these ghosts want to harm us?

— Aoibheann

I don't know exactly how long we sat there like that, but it had to be a while. It seemed like every drop of water in my entire body was being sucked out through my eyes. Hunter just sat through it all, rocking me back and forth, like you do with crying children. I was a mess.

Finally my breakdown slowed, and he let go so that I could sit up and wipe off my face with my hands. I saw that I had completely soaked through the shoulder of his gray T-shirt. Very fitting. I was dousing everything else—why not Hunter too?"

"I'm sorry," I sputtered, my breath still jagged. "I'm so sorry. I did this. All this damage…"

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," I sniffled.

"Could you feel anything physically?" he said. "Could you sense anything happening?"

"You mean aside from the sound of exploding pipes and the stampede of people out the door?" I said, much more sharply then I intended.

"Maybe some tea," he said, backing off the subject. He looked up at Morgan, who I suddenly realized was standing right by us. She handed me some Kleenex, which I desperately needed. "Morgan, would you mind?"

"I'm on it," she said, standing upright and headed for the kitchen.

"Use the blue canister," he said. "It's in the back."

I just sat for a few minutes after that, saying nothing, staring at the floor and wiping my eyes whenever they teared up again. He set his arm back over my shoulders and let me lean against him. I finally worked up the will to say something.

"I didn't mean to…" I waved my hand around, trying to indicate the flooding, my crying… basically everything that had happened that night.

"Do you think I haven't seen tears before?" he said softly. "And after the dark wave, do you think some water on the floor is really going to bother me?"

That did put it in perspective a bit.

"What's wrong with me, Hunter?" I said, unable to keep my voice from breaking.

Morgan returned with a tray full of steaming earthenware mugs and a small chocolate chip cake that must've been intended as an after-circle snack before I made everyone scatter. Hunter released me, and I pulled myself into on of the chairs in front of the fireplace. Morgan handed me a mug of tea and sat down on the floor next to us. It was scalding hot to the touch, and I must have winced. She reached over and circled her hand above it, and immediately it cooled to the perfect temperature. I looked down at her in amazement.

"How did you…?" Duh, I thought. This is Morgan. Cooling some tea wasn't exactly a big deal for her. "Never mind," I added. "Dumb question."

Hunter sat down across from me and leaned forward. He took a mug and then reached for my hand.

"It's a simple spell," he said. "A little transferal of energy. Just focus your energy. Tell yourself that the tea will cool. Know it."

I did my best to focus. He rotated my hand once over the cup, and I felt a little warmth, like I'd grabbed a hot potato and let it go. He took a sip of tea.

"Very nice," he said with a smile. "Well done." Hunter doesn't smile too often, but when he does, he could melt a stone. He really could have been a model.

"Drink that," Morgan said, pointing at my cup. "Believe me, it works."

"Better than Diet Coke?" I croaked, rubbing the last of the moisture from my eyes.

"Almost," she said. Hunter rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

I tried a sip of the tea. It was sweet and tasted like a whole garden of herbs, nothing like the nasty concoctions Hilary bought at the health food store. This was powerful stuff, and I could feel it all through my body, spreading calm.