"What happened?" I asked, looking up with interest.

"Just as I came to the end, silence. Everyone just stared at me. I mean, stared. And then they all started to laugh. The I realized that the room had gotten really cold."

"Did you do some kind of weather spell?" I asked.

"A nochd," he said with a grin, "is also a spell for nakedness, a complete revealing of self."

I gasped with sudden laughter and put my hand over my mouth.

"Well," Charlie went on, "because I was yound and dumb, I didn't realize right away that I was standing in front of my friends completely naked. I was so busy looking around to see what I had revealed that it took me a second to look down at myself to see what people were staring at."

"But aren't Wiccans okay with that?" I asked, still laughing. "I mean, being naked?"

"Sure," he said. "It won't get you in trouble. But we were still just a bunch of thirteen-year-olds. And being thirteen and naked in front of all your friends, both male and female—that's the same for everyone."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"I froze," he said. "I had no idea what to do. One of the teachers quickly undid the spell, but I was standing there long enough for everyone to get a nice long look at me. There I was: brilliant, naked Charlie."

He didn't seem to mind that I was rolling with laughter over the stories of his childhood trauma's. He even took a little bow.

"So messing up is one thing. The real trouble comes when you're just trying to impress people with magick you don't know how to control. Like what Brigid was trying to do back at the restaurant," he said, looking directly into my eyes, "before you stopped her."

I almost fell of my chair. Even though it happened again and again, sometimes I just couldn't get used to the fact that other witches always seemed to know what you where doing and thinking.

"I–I didn't…" I stammered. "I mean, I did, but I wasn't trying to embarrass her…"

"No," he said, waving his hand. "It's all right. It was a good thing that you did. It could have been dangerous."

"How did you know?" I said.

"I felt your energy coming out. I could sense it redirecting hers."

Funny. He and I could both sense energy, but Brigid didn't appear to be able to. I wondered if something was wrong with her powers. Maybe they were weak. Maybe that was why she was trying to prove herself so much.

"How did you do it, exactly?" Charlie asked. "What spell was that?"

"I don't know," I replied, shaking my head. "It just kind of came to me. I did this thing about a week ago… a tàth meànma…something… I kind of locked minds with someone, a very powerful witch."

"A tàth meànma brach?" he said, his eyes wide.

"That was it. I didn't realize it at the time, but I just kind of… learned things, I guess. When I saw what Brigid was doing, I was afraid, and I wanted to stop her. Suddenly it was if I heard my friend's voice somewhere deep in my mind. I just knew what to do."

Charlie was staring at me ad if I had just sprouted wings and a beak.

"What?" I asked anxiously, looking myself over. "What did I do?"

"You did a brach?" he repeated.

"Is that weird?" I asked, feeling myself hunch down in my chair.

"No…," he said, pulling absently at a handful of his loopy curls, "Well, not in a bad way. It's rare. And difficult. And dangerous. Why did you do a brach?"

"Oh. It wasn't my idea—it was my coven leader's, and he's crazy careful. He's a Seeker."

"Your coven leader is a Seeker?"

"Yeah," I nodded vigorously. "He's the youngest Seeker. He's nineteen."

Charlie stopped speaking. His mouth just hung open slightly. He waited for me to go on.

"There was an emergency," I said. "Something really bad had happened, and they needed me too help with a spell. The only way I could do it was by getting information from my friend. So we did a tàth meànma brach."

Charlie sat silently contemplating this for a moment. I glanced up at the clock. It was six-ten.

"We're late," I said, alarmed. "It's after six."

He nodded, still deep in thought, and we grabbed our things and ran out towards his car. The rain was coming down hard, and the streets were full of foggy mist. After we slithered, soaking, disgusting wet into the car, I turned to him. His hair was very dark, and one or two curls clung to his face very attractively. I wanted to ask something, but the sight of him made my tongue go all numb.

"What's up?" he said, immediately sensing my question. He brushed some of the water from his face and rummaged around in the glove compartment. He produces a handful of tissues, which we used to dry off.

"Are you coming tonight, or are you just dropping me off?" I asked quickly. He looked up with interest.

"I could come," he said. "Why? Can't get enough of my amazing company?"

"Sort of," I laughed. "It's just that Evelyn… my grandmother… she doesn't seem to like me. She seems angry that I'm there. It would be nice to have a friendly face."

This didn't seem to shock Charlie.

"Sure," he said, "I'd be happy to come. I'll help you get through it."

Though I must have looked like hell, I felt about a million times better as we headed back toward the house.

11. Shatter

Juli 30, 1951

Father died of a heart attack five days ago. It came on suddenly, and no one was at home. Nothing could be done.

Hugh and I have stopped looking for a house. We will live here. Mother will need support and help with Tioma. To make matters worse, this has stirred up Oona. She shredded the curtains in the living room and broke the panes of glass in our front door. Mother and I watched as it happened. She wept endlessly. I need to be strong.

Goddess, I know you give, and you must take. I revere you, though my heart is broken.

— Aoibheann

"I came along," Charlie said, peeling off his sopping jacket as we stepped into the foyer. "I hope that's all right."

"Of course," Ruth said with a smile. "Always. I'll set another place."

"I'll get it," he said, slipping back toward the kitchen. "Don't worry about it, Ruth."

Ruth nodded, looking at me kindly. "Alisa, the bathroom is right by the front door. You can wash your hands and dry off a bit there."

"Thanks," I said. Ruth returned to the kitchen, and I found the powder room, which was just big enough to fit a toilet and a very small sink. I looked like a drowned rat. My hair was completely soaked, and it clung to my head. My clothes were getting really swampy. There were beeswax soap and a jar of salt crystals for washing hands. I used both, rubbing the crystals into my skin anxiously, as if I could impress my grandmother by having the cleanest hands of anyone she'd ever met. By the time I came out, I'd turned my hands red from the effort, and everyone was gathered in the dining room, waiting for me.

The room was filled with a long oval-shaped table and a massive sideboard, both of which looked like they were probably well over a century old. The table was heavy with food, served up on delicate pieces of blue and white china. There was an incredible-smelling roast, with big bowls of fluffy potatoes, asparagus, and roasted carrots. The gravy was so thick and aromatic that it had to be completely homemade, and the soft biscuits were already dripping with butter. From what I'd seen so far, the Curtises were very good cooks.

We all sat down. I had been put next to Sam. Charlie set his place next to Brigid. Evelyn and Ruth gad the opposite ends. With a snap of her fingers Evelyn lit the two tall taper candles in silver candlestick. I had a feeling that little trick was for my benefit.