They all shook hands, and I was pleased and a little surprised that they recognized his name and looked impressed: the man who wrote the spell to conquer the dark wave.

"Last night my father and I visited Patrice's house," I began, and went on to tell them of what we'd found, the couple of poisonous plants mixed in with the herbs and vegetables. Both women looked concerned.

"Many plants are ornamental," Celia said, obviously looking for a loophole.

"You're right," I agreed, "and I certainly made allowances for that, what bothered me was the placement of the plants. They were in vegetable and herb beds, right next to edible plants that looked similar. Few of them were truly ornamental. In other words, I wasn't concerned about the row of rhododendrons lining her drive. You see the difference?"

Robin nodded reluctantly, and Celia clasped her hands around her glass and frowned.

"There's been no evidence of her trying to poison anyone," she said. "None."

I took a sip of tea. "I know-I'm not suggesting that she's poisoning anyone. It just struck me as interesting."

"Well, you're on the wrong track here," Celia said shortly.

I held up my hands in a placating gesture. "Look, I don't have any definitive answers at this point. It's important that I don't rule out any possibilities-even ones that are hard or ugly or not what you want to hear. I'm either looking for the truth or I'm not. Right?"

Celia set her jaw and deliberately uncoiled her fists. "I'm saying that I feel it's highly unlikely that Patrice could ever poison anyone."

"Right. And it is highly unlikely. But the only thing we can do is look at the whole picture, not just parts of it. Do you agree?"

"Yes. But the scenario you're describing is simply incompatible with Patrice as a person."

"Good," I said. "I would love to be able to tell you that your trust is completely well placed. I hope I can, once I've done more research."

"Well, what do we do now?" asked Celia. "We have circle in two days."

"I need to investigate some more," I told them. "We can't do anything until we know for certain what's going on. It's possible that I'm completely misinterpreting the situation. It's possible that someone or something else is causing the strange fatigue after your circles. However, if Patrice is responsible, if she really is practicing dark magick… well, in most cases the witches are turned in to the council and stripped of their power."

"We can't have that," Celia said, and Robin shook her head. "Absolutely not," she agreed.

"There must be other options," Celia said. "Perhaps counseling, or an intervention, or simply removing her from her source of power."

"There are always options," I said mildly. "But it may be that Patrice's own actions will cause her options to be narrowed."

Celia and Robin were silent.

I glanced at Da, who had been quiet and watchful during this whole exchange. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod, and I felt incongruously pleased.

"We need to think about this," said Celia.

"Please, don't do anything until we contact you again," Robin added. She grabbed her purse and stood, and Celia got up as well.

"We're not trying to be difficult or obstructive," Celia assured me. "It's just a complicated situation, and it seems to be getting more complicated. But we'll talk things over and give you some definite direction as soon as we can. Okay?"

I nodded. "I understand."

"Fair winds," Celia murmured as she and Robin brushed past me to the exit.

"And to you," I made the traditional reply.

My tea was now cold. I sighed and heated it up again with a quick circle of my hand.

"If she's working dark magick, our options just went down to one," Da said finally.

"Perhaps," I said. "But perhaps Celia and Robin are right: we can come up with something else. Somehow I don't want to turn her in to the council, not now. We're smart, Da. You're a brilliant spellcrafter. I have strongly honed skills and instincts. Surely between the two of us we can find a different solution."

"Well, we don't have to decide now," my father said, sipping his tea. "If they want you to continue, we'll just concentrate on gathering as much information as we need."

"Right."

9. Morgan

"Night, honey," Mom said. "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't," I said. She smiled and closed the door behind her. I was sitting up in bed, reading the Great Depression chapter in my history textbook-a little light reading to keep my mind off things. Well, I needed to study. And the truth was, I didn't want to go to sleep tonight. Bethany's potion had worked last night, as far as I knew. But I had still felt uncomfortable this morning, like something was off. All of my instincts were telling me that sleep was a bad idea tonight.

It had been so good to see Hunter this afternoon after school. He, Mary K., and I had all gone to the diner out on the highway and had milk shakes. It had seemed so normal, so reassuring. But now I was alone, it was bedtime, and my family was going to sleep around me.

As soon as I heard the door to my parents' room close and heard Mary K. get into her own bed, I put down my book and pulled out a slim magazine: Green Gage, a quarterly journal of modern Wicca. I loved their articles-in this issue there were recipes for light summery drinks and how to imbue them with magickal properties. There were features on summer gardening and on various crafts, like sewing, basket weaving, and spinning your own yarn.

When I cast out my senses, I found that everyone was asleep, probably having normal dreams about forgetting to study for a test, or that one that Mom had told me about, where she dreamed she sold the perfect house for a ton of money and when she proudly threw open the door for the new owners, it was a total wreck inside. Those were the kinds of dreams I could handle.

It was eleven-fifteen. My eyelids felt a little heavy, but I wasn't about to give myself over to sleep. I padded downstairs barefoot and got a glass of juice from the fridge. I took it into the family room, where the family computer was set up. Dad had recently gotten a cable modem and now we were always online and fast, fast, fast. I loved it.

I did a search for dream magick/Wicca, and that turned up some useful sites. Forty minutes later my eyes felt gritty and the glare of the computer screen in the dark room was giving me a headache. I still didn't want to dream, but if I took Bethany's potion now, it would surely knock me out safely. I clicked on one more Wiccan site and found a mention of a disclosure-type spell, one to reveal who was expending energy on you: people who were thinking a lot about you, working for you or against you, people who had strong emotions about you. I shrugged. It was worth a try. It wasn't like I'd found anything else.

I printed out the page and went up to my room. After a short internal struggle-was I ready to risk another dream? — I surrendered to exhaustion and gulped down the second half of Bethany's potion. It would take almost an hour to kick in. I would probably be a mess at school the next day, but oh, well. Inside my room I did a quick delay spell on the door, then got my magick-making supplies from my closet. I set out my four element cups and drew three circles of protection before casting the final circle. Then I sat cross-legged inside the circle and lit a single candle, invoking the Goddess and the God. I also gave thanks for everything in my life that was going well. I was learning that expressing gratitude for everything I possibly could helped dispel some of the negativity I picked up without even trying.

The page with the spell was on the ground next to me, and I read the words carefully. Some of them were in Gaelic, written out phonetically so that they were easy to pronounce. At the appropriate times I drew the runes Ansur, Eolh, Daeg, and Sigel in the air above the candle. Then, facing the candle, I pressed two fingers from each hand over my eyes and tried to see with my "inner eye," the one that sees reality with no interpretation.