He was saying that they had started around the time my mother left home. During an awkward pause that followed, the waitress brought our food. I had to admit that though the menu was a bit much, the chowder was amazing.

“What happened after my mother left?” I asked, taking a big spoonful and nodding for Charlie to continue.

“It was bad at first, I think,” Charlie answered, reaching for the bowl of crackers, “I think there was a small fire and definitely some broken windows. Then the problem quieted down again. I think it only popped up occasionally during the late seventies and eighties. But in the last few months it’s gone off the charts. One of the walls developed a crack. Some banisters tumbled down from the widow’s walk. Two weeks ago the gas line to the oven was punctured when Brigid was alone in the house. It could have been really serious, but fortunately she smelled the gas and got out.”

“We’ve done just about every kind of spell we can think of,” Brigid added. “Now Mom’s even trying to talk Aunt Evelyn into selling the house. But Aunt Evelyn won’t do that. We’ve owned the house for over a hundred years, and she’s way too stubborn to give up trying to solve the problem. She’s sure that with our combined powers, we can do it. Oh, but…” She looked at my with what I thought was slightly exaggerated pity. “You wouldn’t know anything about that. You don’t have any powers.”

It wasn’t a bad assumption since I shouldn’t had had any powers. It just turned out that I did. I could have told her, but somehow, “I just squashed a dark wave” wasn’t going to slide right into the conversation.

“It must be terrible for you,” Brigid went on. “How long have you known that your mom was a witch?”

“Just a couple of weeks,” I said, dragging into my chowder. “I joined a coven, and then I found out later. It was a surprise.”

“Well,” she said, “I think it’s great that you’ve decided to join a coven. I mean, considering that you can’t do what we can do. But even though you’re not a real witch, you can definitely be a part of Wicca. It’s open to everyone.”

Charlie started rocking his spoon on the table and stared at the wall next to us. I don’t think he liked the patronizing tone that Brigid was using but didn’t really want to intervene.

“I’ll show you something, Alisa,” she said. “Want to see me work with the rhythm of the waves?”

“Brig,” Charlie said, his eyebrows shooting up, “Are you, um…”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “This is a new spell I’ve worked out. Sending the energy out to the water. It’s really mild version of a return-to-me spell. I’d just like to show Alisa some magick. She’s probably never seen any.”

Since I’d just been through enough terrifying magickal phenomena to last a life time, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. And considering that my uncle had accidentally killed several people while trying to help with the rain, this seemed like the worst kind of arrogant, foolish magick in the world. A party trick using the ocean? I wasn’t a trained witch, but I had enough sense to know that this was a bad, bad idea.

Charlie blanched. Apparently he didn’t think much of the idea, either.

Hunter had taught me a few basic deflections while I was learning the dark wave spell. I tried to find them in my memory, where they were stuck together. Nal nithrac, tar ais di cair na, clab saoil… which were the right words? It was as if I was grabbing at hundreds of jars of exotic unmarked spices, each tantalizing and overwhelmingly pungent, and trying to figure out how to best combine them.

Suddenly I heard Morgan’s voice somewhere in my mind, just as I had when we’d joined our minds, giving me words to a spell I’d never heard before. They ran through my head, like an old song: Sguir bhur ire, cunnartach sgeò, car fàilidh, agus eirmis tèarante sgot. I had no idea what the words meant, but I understood how they worked. I was to look for a safe place to redirect the energy that Brigid was sending to the waves. I happened to be looking at the salt, so I put it there.

The saltshaker began to bounce. Brigid, who had been focusing on the waves lapping at the seawall outside the window, looked down at the noise. The shaker wobbles down the table and the floor. From there it rolled unsteadily to the wall near the window and stopped, unable to go any further.

When I looked up, Charlie’s amber eyes met mine and didn’t flinch. His expression was unreadable, not unfriendly but definitely serious. I felt a wave of electricity ripple through me, giving me goose pimples. He had power, lots of it, and he was sending some of it my way, casting out his senses like Morgan and Hunter had. I suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Within a second the event had passed. Brigid was flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, that didn’t work right,” she said.

“It was fine,” Charlie said graciously. “The salt was trying to reconnect with the seawater—it was affected because it was lighter and closer to you. Working with the ocean is tricky.”

“It was good,” I nodded in agreement. “It was cool.” Anything to make her stop.

Brigid started moving everything on her place mat around, seeming uncomfortable. Conveniently her cell phone rang. I wondered if she’d manage to spell it, too.

“Damn,” she said, hanging up after a quick conversation. “That was Karen, my boss. She needs me at the shop. Sorry, Alisa. I guess I can’t show you around after all. Can you do it Charlie?”

“Sure,” he smiled at me. “I’m off today.”

“Good,” Brigid said, stuffing her phone back into her purse. “Alisa is coming back for dinner, six o ‘clock.”

“Is this okay with you?” he asked, pulling out his keys.

“Sure,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too eager. “Let’s go.”

10. Charlie

June 23, 1951

I woke up this morning to the sound of a great tearing. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Oona had torn the front of my bridal robe—right from the collar down to within six inches of the bottom hem. My beautiful robe!

I couldn’t help myself. I started weeping uncontrollably. Mother ran upstairs and came right into my room. I felt so hopeless, but she knew just what to do. She sewed up the great jagged rip with lasting stitch. It looked like a Frankenstein robe, with ugly scars. Then she put me in a hot bath filled with rosemary and lavender and instructed me to stay there for one hour, repeating the wedding day blessing. When I emerged and returned to my room, the gown was as good as new. In fact, it looked more beautiful than before. Mother had cast a glamour that concealed the tear. I am ready now, and we will be leaving soon. There is no more time for me to write.

— Aoibheann

I instantly figured out which car was Charlie’s. It was a small green Volkswagen, obviously a few years old. There was a near like of stickers on the back for different Irish and Celtic bands, including the Fianna. The thing that really gave it away though, was the one that read, 2 + 2 = 5…for Extremely Large Values of 2. I just knew that was his. Don’t ask me why.

We drove around the harbor, looking at the fishing boats and the activity on the docks. He told me all about Ròiseal, how they worked a lot with the energy of the sea, and how they often had circles on the beach in the moonlight. He also explained how the coven was set up and how they worked. Because they were all experienced blood witches, they did a lot more complicated things than we did at Kithic circles. I began to wonder if Hunter found it frustrating to work with us. In comparison, running Kithic must be like watching a bunch of kindergartners, trying to make sure they don’t eat the crayons.

“We each have a general background in magick,” Charlie explained, "and we each have an area of expertise to help balance out the coven. We're all lifelong students, of course, because we're Rowanwand. This way we split up the burden of studying. Ruth does a lot of healing work. Brigid is being trained to do the same. Evelyn works divination. Kate and James work with defensive and deflective magick."