We sat in the darkness like that for another hour until we heard Killian crashing through the woods, and then he emerged through the cedars and pines.

“Hey, sis,” he said cheerfully, and it was clear he’d been drinking. Great—he’d driven here from Poughkeepsie. He ignored Hunter, which wasn’t unusual.

“Killian,” I whispered. I had no idea what to say—words didn’t cover this situation. I motioned over to where Ciaran lay on the ground.

If I had seen my real father, Sean Rowlands, lying on the ground in the woods in the middle of the night, I would have run over immediately. But Killian wasn’t me, and Ciaran wasn’t anything like my real father, so instead Killian just gaped at him.

“What’s happened, then?” he asked.

“Amyranth has been casting dark wave spells,” I said tonelessly. “Ciaran wanted me to join him and Amyranth. I said no. So he decided to bring the dark wave on Kithic. I met him here tonight, and then a group of five witches stripped him of his powers.”

Killian’s eyes widened almost comically. He couldn’t even think of what to ask or say, just kept looking from me to Hunter to Ciaran in astonishment.

“No,” he finally said, all traces of alcohol gone from his voice. “He has no powers? Are you sure?”

“We’re sure,” Hunter said, not sounding proud about it.

“You stripped Da of his powers. Ciaran MacEwan.”

I understood why he was having a hard time with it. Ciaran seemed invincible—unless you knew his true name.

“Can you please take him to a safe place until he’s better?” I asked.

Killian still seemed unsure whether or not this was reality. “Aye,” he said hesitantly. “Aye. I know a place.”

“I’ll help you get him to your car,” said Hunter. “Watch him closely. He’ll be very weak for a while, but when he’s able to move, he might... hurt himself.”

“Aye,” said Killian, slowly absorbing the meaning of Hunter’s words. He gave me a quick backward glance, then walked over to the father he had feared and respected. Alyce edged back to give him room. Killian put a hand on Ciaran’s shoulder and flinched when he saw Ciaran’s face. I looked away. Then Hunter and Killian walked away through the woods, supporting Ciaran between them.

Alyce got up slowly and came to sit by me. “It was a hard thing, my dear,” she said.

“It hurts,” I said inadequately.

“It needs to hurt, Morgan,” she said gently, rubbing my back. “If you had done this without it hurting, you would be a monster.”

Like Ciaran, I thought. Hunter came back, alone. Alyce kissed my cheek and left, going back through the woods the way she had come. With only Hunter as my witness, I let go and began to cry. He sat down next to me and put his arms around me, hard and familiar. I leaned against him and sobbed until I thought I would make myself sick. And still there was pain inside.

“Morgan, Morgan,” Hunter barely murmured. “I love you. I love you. It will be all right.”

I had no idea how he could say that.

12. Alisa

By five o’clock in the morning, I was totally ready to freak. Where the hell had Hunter and his father gone? Why weren’t they back? It was going to be dawn soon, and I was supposed to be home! Any minute now, Hilary would be getting up for her.

I was stalking around their house, too worried and upset to be tired, though my body felt like I’d been up for days. Should I call a taxi? Wait—this was Widow’s Vale. There was no taxi service at five in the morning. I would have to wake someone up to come get me. This sucked!

I was trying to decide if I should just start walking when I heard heavy footsteps on the front porch. I almost flew to the door, just in time to see Hunter and Mr. Niall came in. They looked like someone had taken all the blood out of them while they were out.

“Are you okay?” I blurted. “What’s wrong? Where were you?”

Hunter nodded, then patted his father on the back as Mr. Niall passed us, then headed slowly upstairs, his tread lifeless. “I’m sorry, Alisa,” Hunter said. “I had no idea it would take so long. Do you need to get home?”

“Yes—but what’s happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m all right. Morgan’s waiting outside—she’ll give you a ride.”

“Morgan?”

He nodded, rubbing his hands over his face, pressing gently on his eyes. “Yes. Tonight Morgan met Ciaran MacEwan—we told you about him—out at the power sink. You know, that old Methodist cemetery at the edge of town. Things got strange, and then Morgan ended up putting a binding spell on him. She called me and my da, and we went out there, and we got some other witches, and we stripped Ciaran of his powers.”

I stared at him. “You just stripped Ciaran of his powers? Just now?”

“Yes. It was very hard—Ciaran was incredibly powerful, and he resisted strongly. It was especially hard on Morgan.”

I could hardly take it all in. “What does this mean about the dark wave?”

Hunter gave a wry smile, and I could tell all he wanted to do was drop onto his bed and sleep for a year. “I would guess there won’t be a dark wave now,” he said. “Looks like you’re off the hook—you won’t have to torture yourself with this spell anymore.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. “I can’t believe it’s all over,” I said, getting into my coat. I had been working so hard—we all had. And it had been for nothing. I mean, I was glad there wouldn’t be a dark wave coming, but at the same time, in a way I had been almost looking forward to seeing how well I did. Call me self-centered.

My adrenaline started to ebb, and suddenly I could hardly lift my feet enough to walk to the door. I looked back at Hunter, drawn and pale in the harsh overhead light of the living room. “Was it very bad?”

He nodded and looked down at the scarred wooden floor. “It was very bad.”

“I’ll talk to you soon,” I said softly. “Take care of yourself.” I gently closed the door behind me and walked across the front porch and out to the street, where Morgan was waiting in her big old car. Hunter and his father had looked awful. I wished there was something I could do for them. Maybe later today I would try to bring them something. What would be good in this situation? Chicken soup?

The door was unlocked and the engine still running when I got in. I looked over at Morgan. “Hi,” I said quietly. “It sounds like you guys had a really hard time.”

She inclined her head a tiny bit, then put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. I sneaked another glance at her. Morgan usually looked pretty natural, not too spiffed up, but tonight she looked terrible. Like she had literally been through hell.

“I’m sorry, Morgan,” I said. “I’m sorry tonight was so hard, and I’m sorry for how I’ve acted toward you the past couple of months. I wish... I wish I could help you somehow.”

She looked over at me, a pale slash from a streetlight bisecting her face. The edges of her mouth curved in a tiny acknowledgment, and then we turned the corner onto my street. She stopped a few houses away and looked at me expectantly, like she was waiting for me to get out. “Um, should I get out here?” I asked, grabbing my purse.

Morgan nodded. “So your dad doesn’t hear the car.”

“Ohhh.” Very wise, I thought. “You’re good at this,” I said in admiration, and she let out a little laugh that sounded like broken glass.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and stepped out onto the silent street. When I turned back to whisper thanks, I saw that Morgan’s face was shiny with tear tracks. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. It was all I could think to say. She gave a small nod and put the car back into drive.Very slowly, she turned around and headed back toward her house.