The two friends were staring at Flat Nose and then back at me as they tried to figure out what happened. Flat Nose was gagging and retching on the cold sidewalk. He glared up at me and tried to climb to his feet. I pushed the air and he sank, crumpled, to the cement. I used my power to pin him like a bug without even touching him. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I felt unbelievably powerful.

"Shit," said the second guy. He and the third guy stared fearfully at each other. Then they turned and pounded down the street, looking back over their shoulders.

I leaned over the worm who lay writhing and frightened on the sidewalk. He was getting just what he deserved, I gloated with satisfaction. I felt filled with power, and I liked it.

I took a deep breath and stepped back, smelling the acrid scent of his fear. "Go," I whispered, and released him with my mind.

Clumsily he scrambled to his feet and backed away from me. Then he spun around and ran off. It was over, and I had won.

I felt dizzy, a little nauseous, the way I sometimes felt in circles when power rushed through me. I took a few moments to ground myself, then I looked up at the house.

The bay window was smashed, as well as another one on the first floor. Where were Eileen and Paula? I wondered. Were they hurt? Or had they seen what I'd done?

Wondering how I would explain it, I walked up to the door and rang the bell. Winter-bare rosebushes in front of die house were sparkling with shards of glass.

No one answered. I cast my senses and felt both Eileen's and Paula's familiar energy inside the house. They were okay. They were just afraid to answer the door, and I felt angry all over again. Prisoners in their own house. It was disgusting!

"Aunt Eileen, it's me, Morgan!" I called through the broken window.

"Morgan?" A minute later the door opened, and my aunt swept me into her arms. "Are you okay? There were these idiot boys outside—"

She hadn't seen me. Relief.

"I saw them," I told her.

Paula gave me a hug, too. "Welcome to the neighborhood," she said shakily.

We all stepped in, and Aunt Eileen shut the front door, locking the dead bolt. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her own shoulders as if for comfort. "I'm glad they left before you got here," she said. "But I'm sorry they didn't stick around long enough for the police to show up. I just called them."

"We probably shouldn't clean up the glass until the police have seen it." Paula ran a hand through her sandy blond hair. "I guess we're an official crime scene now."

I felt so sorry for them—and so furious at those small-minded idiots.

"It's just glass," Aunt Eileen said, putting an arm around her. "We can have new glass put in." She looked at me. "I'm sorry, Morgan. This isn't a good welcome for you. Come in, take off your coat, and we'll give you the grand tour of broken glass and packed boxes."

We walked through the empty rooms, and Paula and Aunt Eileen explained their plans for decorating and renovating to me. They were both doing their best to sound excited, but I could sense their tension. The thugs had shaken them badly.

When the doorbell rang, we all jumped. My senses told me it was safe, though, and when Aunt Eileen opened the door, we saw two cops. Officer Jordan was a tall man and black. His partner was a younger woman with short, curly blond hair, whose badge said Officer Klein. I stood by as Aunt Eileen and Paula gave their report and showed them the damage.

"Did you get a good look at these boys?" Officer Jordan asked.

"We know there were three of them," Aunt Eileen told him. "But we stayed in the house."

"I saw them as I came up," I said. "They were about my age, juniors or seniors in high school. One of them was wearing camouflage. Another was bald with a flat, broken nose and blue eyes."

Paula looked at me in surprise. "How did you get such a good look at them?"

"They, um, they ran right past me," I explained. "Another guy was little, maybe five-five, with a brown crew cut. The third guy had blond hair, slicked back, and thick lips."

Officer Jordan took notes on all of that, then looked at my aunt. "It looks like you people just moved in. Any idea of why these kids went after you?"

"Because we're gay," Aunt Eileen said matter-of-factly. "They called us dykes."

I noticed Officer Klein's lips tighten. "Some people are just ignorant," she muttered.

"I hope you catch them," Paula said. "Before they actually hurt someone."

The police left, and I helped Aunt Eileen and Paula clean up the shattered glass and seal off the broken windows with cardboard and tape.

"God, that's ugly," Paula said, looking at our handiwork.

"It's temporary," Aunt Eileen assured her. "I'll call a glass company tomorrow."

I glanced at my watch. "Oh, wow, I'd better get home, it's after six."

Aunt Eileen and Paula both hugged me and told me to come back anytime.

As I walked down the front steps, I turned back to wave and saw the two of them hugging each other tightly. Paula's face was buried in Aunt Eileen's shoulder. I could feel their tension from where I stood. And I knew what they were worried about. I'd had the same thought

This wasn't over. Those kids would talk themselves out of their fear at what I'd done. And then they'd be back.

13. Protection

Litha, 1993

We've in Prague now, but Fiona feels we'll have to leave again soon. A dubious legacy of the dark wave—ever since she saw it in her leug, she can sense it coming.

It's been two years now since we left our lives behind us. Two years of running, hiding, locking our magick away to keep it from betraying us. Two years of longing for news of our children, yet not daring to reach out to them. Two years of Fiona gradually withering, racked by ailment after ailment. We've come to believe it's the effect of the dark wave itself—that it crippled her somehow when she saw it in her leug. So far we've found no cure.

— Maghach

That night I blew off my homework. I went through every magick book I had, looking for something that would help me protect Aunt Eileen and Paula. I could put runes of protection around their house, I reasoned. That would be a I start, at least.

Too bad I couldn't get them to wear talismans for personal safety. Somehow I couldn't picture either of them wearing Wicca paraphernalia, no matter how open-minded they might be.

"Ew," I said as I found the instructions for making an old protection called a Witch's Bottle. The Witch's Bottle was not only supposed to shield you from evil but also to send the evil back to its source. It called for filling a small glass bottle halfway to the top with sharp objects: old nails, pins, razor blades, needles, and so on. Then you filled the bottle the rest of the way with urine and, ideally, some blood, too. Then you sealed the jar and buried it twelve inches deep. The bottle and its protection was supposed to last until the bottle was dug up and smashed.

I put down the book, completely grossed out. Did I have the stomach to be a witch? This was disgusting. But if it would really protect Eileen and Paula. . I read it through again. No, it wouldn't work. The Witch's Bottle was to protect against negative magick. The guys who'd attacked Aunt Eileen and Paula's house were negative, all right, but they weren't using magick.

I finally settled on a protection charm that I could place in their house without their noticing. It called for ingredients that I didn't have, and I decided to make a trip to Practical Magick as soon as I had my car back.

Robbie followed me and Mary K. out to Unser's on Tuesday morning, then drove us to school. My plan was to go to my mom's office after school and spend some time inputting listings, then get a ride home with her. Mary K. was going to Jaycee's house. Jaycee's mom would drop her at our house in time for dinner.