“They’re out running errands,” Mary K. said, “and visiting hours are only until three.”

“Can we go tomorrow?”

Mary K. nodded. “Sure. That would be great.” She started to head out of the room, then turned back. “Thanks, Morgan,” she said.

I nodded. “No problem.”

Mary K. smiled at me, and for a moment she looked just like the sister I knew—the one who loved me, no matter what.

That night I moped around the house for a couple of hours. The house was deserted—Mom and Dad were over at the Berkows’ for dinner, and Mary K. had gone over to her friend Susan’s house. My parents had given me permission to watch television, but there was nothing decent on any of the channels. My chest ached. I still felt awful from the previous night’s spell, but more than that, I was sad about tonight’s circle. It would be the last one with Sky, and I was missing it.

What I needed was magick, and if I couldn’t go to Sharon’s house along with the rest of Kithic, I could at least try to scry by myself. Maybe some of my power had returned.

Up in my room, the match hissed and flared as I lit my pillar candle. I breathed deeply and stared into the flame. I could feel the rays of warmth radiating off the candle. The heat sank into me, driving away the cold draft in my room. As my breathing grew more regular, I felt calm. . and after a while, happy. I looked into the depths of the small blaze. The graduated colors, the blue, orange, and yellow, of the fire seemed to swirl together and grow. They flared and changed color, first to red, then purple, then violet, then green. The green fire twirled slowly, like an eddy in the ocean, and I realized that the fire was showing me something and bent closer.

In the depths of the green flame I saw a figure—Hunter. He was waving at me, but it wasn’t a wave that beckoned me closer. It was more like a farewell. My heart quickened, but the image faded. I was left only with the swirling green flame, the color of Hunter’s eyes. Slowly it faded to violet, then purple, then red. . and in a moment it was an ordinary candle flame again.

What did it mean? Was it a portent—an image of the future? Or was it a picture of something that might come to pass but might not? I didn’t know. I was afraid to know.

Although I tried to comfort myself with the certain knowledge that my power was back, I couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that squeezed my lungs in its grip, making it difficult to breathe. Hunter and I had been through so much together, and I’d been so happy that he was near me, safe.

I had a horrible feeling that everything was about to change.

I took a long hot shower and put on a clean nightgown. Dagda hobbled into my room and sniffed at a pile of books in the corner. I patted my bed, and he leaped up onto it, purring as I stroked him. It was late—almost midnight—and I was about to click off the lamp by the side of my bed when my eye fell on a flash of midnight blue on my nightstand. It was the piece of lapis lazuli. I picked it up and rubbed it.

I could call Hunter, I realized. If my magick was back, then his must be, too.

I lay back on my bed and placed the lapis on my forehead, closing my eyes and forming a mental image of Hunter. I am here, I thought. Hunter, I am here.

Morgan.

It was both a voice and not a voice—almost like my own thought, yet somehow separate—and I knew that it was Hunter.

I miss you, I thought.

Yes, he replied. I feel the same.

I couldn’t exactly see anything—just the same sort of grainy darkness that I always saw when I closed my eyes. But after a few moments the darkness seemed to grow lighter. It continued to pale until it was almost the same purple-gray as twilight—or as the sky before the sun rises.

Kithic? I thought. How was the circle?

Melancholy. Hunter’s word reverberated through my mind. Sky is sad to be leaving tomorrow, although she doesn’t say so. And of course, Alisa has left us. Everyone was gloomy. You should be glad that you weren’t there.

I wish I had been there. As it is, I won’t get to say good-bye.

Hunter’s thoughts were gentle. Sky understands.

The darkness before my eyes grew even lighter—pinkish, like the inside of a conch shell. With the next breath I took, I had the sense that Hunter was in my room. His distinct odor of soap and clean laundry filled my nostrils. Still, I knew that he was in another house, halfway across town.

I feel like you’re here with me. The words were Hunter’s. I wondered if he was experiencing the same thing I was.

The spell, I asked, did it work?

According to the council, Ciaran hasn’t moved for twenty-four hours, Hunter replied. A Seeker will move in on him tomorrow. And then there’s the matter of our magick. Mine completely disappeared Thursday night….This is the first glimmer I’ve of it all day.

It feels wonderful. The words drifted through my mind, sending chills through my body. I wasn’t sure whether they were mine or Hunter’s. But it didn’t matter.

At the center of the pinkish void, a small ball of silvery flame flared and began to pulse. It flared brilliantly until the entire space was lit with dazzling whiteness. It warmed me, as if I were standing with my face to the sun.

You are so brave. The words, the words, mine or his? I love you.

I didn’t send any more thoughts. It seemed unnecessary. Hunter’s presence was all I had wanted. . and now I felt like I was surrounded by it, almost engulfed by it.

I knew what this light was. It wasn’t Hunter’s energy or mine. It was something beyond the two of us—something greater than the sum of two halves. This light was the energy between us, the power of mùirn beatha dàns, soul mates.

14. Heal

October 5, 1971

I tried to talk to Sam about what’s been happening, but I never got the chance. The minute I mentioned the Harris Stonghton’s book, ha became furious. He demanded to know whether I had destroyed it, and when I said I hadn’t, he started shouting.

I was already on the edge, and having him yell at me set me off. I told him that he should have burned the book himself. He was the one who stole it, he was the one who brought it home, he was the one who tried one of the spells even after I told him the book was evil. I was sick of trying to help him! As we stood there screaming at each other, I was suddenly struck with a splitting headache, a piercing, stabbing pain.

Sam threw up his hands and stormed out of my room. I followed him, still yelling—and so I saw what happened. As he reached the top of the stairs, the mahogany table in the hall gave a violent lurch. It slid as if the entire hose has tipped on its foundation and slammed into him.

“Sam!” I screamed.

Sam clawed at the banister, but he couldn’t stop himself from falling. He tumbled down the entire stair, head over heels. When he reached the bottom, he lay perfectly still for a moment, his leg twisted behind him. He looked up at me for a moment, then turned his head to the side and vomited.

“Sam!” I screamed again, then ran to call an ambulance. I knelt beside him while we waited for it to arrive, but he didn’t open his eyes again. I felt numb as I rode in back with him to the local hospital. Luckily the doctors say that he’s only got a broken leg and a mild concussion. He’ll be all right. With a fall like this, they said, things could have been much worse.

Much worse—if things had been much worse, he’d be dead.

This can’t go on. I know what happened with the table—I did it. I did it, and I can never do anything like that again.