I saw and felt it all, as if it was a Chinese puzzle knot, made up of countless ribbons twisted and knotted together in an incomprehensible way. I let myself sink deeper. The battle with Selene, and the resulting physical and emotional toll it had taken on me, had left me not at full power. But I thought I had enough to do something.

I felt like a universal solvent, able to go anywhere, see everything, unravel anything. One by one I teased out ribbons and followed them. I traced them back to his bone marrow. I traced ribbons back to each of his drugs. There was a ribbon for pain, a ribbon for anger, a ribbon for his original leukemia.

I have no idea how long I sat there. I was dimly aware of my hands growing warm, but Joshua didn't seem to notice or care. I thought at one point Hunter came back to check on me, but I didn't look up, and he didn't say anything. A tiny bit at a time I unraveled the puzzle knot. I eased his new marrow into working harmoniously with his body. I eased his body into a joyful balance within itself. I soothed blood vessels, irritated tissue, muscles taut with pain. I brought Joshua more into balance with the Goddess, with nature, with life. As things became more normal, more recognizable, I felt a general lightening, as if Joshua and I were free, soaring in the air, nothing weighing us down, no cares. As usual it was beautiful, mesmerizing, and everything in me wanted to stay in that magickal place forever.

But of course I couldn't.

When at last I raised my head and blinked, I saw that Joshua was deeply asleep in front of me. I shook my head as if trying to wake up and looked around to see Hunter and Patrice both sitting on chairs, watching me with solemn eyes. I looked back at Joshua. He looked different. His skin tone seemed more natural to me, his eyes less sunken. His sleep was restful and calm, his face unlined and free of pain. I quickly cast my senses and picked up on a balance, for lack of a better word. He felt more balanced.

I, however, felt like I was made out of Silly Putty. I didn't know if I could stand.

"Uh," I said, looking at Hunter. He immediately came over to help me stand up. My legs felt wobbly, rubbery. I felt hungry and tired. Patrice was watching me with a mix of emotions on her face. I straightened up with difficulty, then forced back my shoulders and took a deep breath. I gave Patrice what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

She looked from me to Joshua, then stepped past me to her son. She took one of his hands and held it against her cheek. He moved a little in his sleep, but to me it seemed like his puffy face was looking more normal, his limbs less stiff, his movements freer. I smiled at him.

Hunter put his arm around my waist, and I looked up to see a world of love and trust and awe in his green eyes.

Patrice turned back to me, looking grateful and scared and amazed all at the same time. She could tell he was better-anyone could. I didn't know how much I had done, but I knew I had helped somehow, to some degree.

"Who are you?" she breathed.

I thought of who I was, of everything that had gone into making me what I was, the long line of witches and women who had lent me their strength-it was mine to use, in this lifetime.

I smiled at her. "I'm Morgan," I said. "Daughter of Maeve of Belwicket."

"Morgan, you look incredibly beautiful," Hunter said for the fifth time.

I looked up at him, flushed with pleasure. This was pretty much the most effort I had ever made with my appearance, and by all accounts it was paying off. I was wearing a clingy top of a soft sage green. It had a deeply scooped square neck and three-quarter sleeves. I wore a silver chain with a piece of amber on it around my neck.

The skirt I had ordered from a costume shop. It was made of layers of tulle, different shades of green, a layer of maroon, a layer of pink-seven layers in all, all sewn to a tight-fitting waistband. The bad thing about being built like a boy was that I usually looked like a boy. The good thing, if there was one, was that my waist actually looked small and kind of girlie if I wore a big, poufy skirt like this.

On my feet I had dark green ballet slippers, real ballet slippers, which were like wearing nothing. I had bought white ones and dyed them three times.

I had given Mary K. free rein with my makeup, and I had to admit that she had a promising future as a makeup artist. My eyes had never looked so big or luminous, my mouth looked lush and feminine, and my skin looked dewy and fresh. Not only that, but I had actually submitted to having my long hair turned into soft, fat ringlets that hung past my shoulders. I had been afraid of looking like Little Orphan Annie, but instead my hair just looked kind of wild and natural and sexy.

This was one of the very few times in my life when I felt actually feminine and strong and beautiful. And the effect it had on Hunter had cheered me up to no end. His eyes had been on me ever since he picked me up. Now he was looking deeply into my eyes over the top of his sparkling cider, and I was feeling incredibly attractive and womanly, as if I had bewitched him. It was a great feeling.

"Morgan! Fabulous!" said Bethany, sweeping past. I called hi after her, but she was already whirling away.

"How many people are here?" I asked, edging closer to a table.

Hunter glanced around. "Close to eighty, I would guess. I think all of us ended up asking everybody we knew."

It was twilight on Beltane Eve, and we were in the same woods close to the spot where Hunter and I had had our picnics with Bree and Robbie. Tonight it looked enchanted — tiny glass lanterns with votive lights were everywhere, and there were tables covered with all sorts of food and drink. Sky and Raven, the organizing committee, had outdone themselves. Garlands of fresh flowers swooped from tree to tree. A tall, beautiful maypole stood in the center of the clearing, and it was hung with long, silken ribbons in rainbow colors. Sky had recruited musicians from various covens, and the haunting, lilting strains of magickal Irish music were weaving their own spell over everyone.

"Where did Sky get the maypole?" I asked.

Hunter grinned, moving closer to put his arm around my waist. "It's a mast, from a boat shop. She and Raven picked it up and had to transport it here, sticking out of Raven's back window."

I laughed, picturing it. My eyes automatically sought out Sky, and, sure enough, she and Raven were together by a food table, their heads bent together, talking earnestly. Hunter and I glanced at each other. They did care about each other, I knew. I hoped their relationship would work itself out.

"They did a great job," I said. I picked up some slices of fruit, admiring the platters of oatcakes, bowls of honey, herbed tea with flowers floating in it, cakes decorated with edible flowers-pansies, Johnny-jump-ups, marigolds, nasturtiums.

"Sister! Hello!" I smiled and groaned at the same time, turning to see Killian coming toward me, a glass of wine in his hand. As usual he looked cheerful and irreverent, his longish hair streaked with shades of auburn and caramel. "Hi, Killian," I said, and Hunter greeted him, too, as civilly as he could manage.

"Niall," Killian said, then turned back to me. "Super party! Great eats, music-you went all out. What hand did you play in this?"

"I showed up."

"Sky and Raven organized everything," Hunter said evenly, and I made an effort not to grin.

"Ah." Killian gave a quick glance around, and of course, there were Sky and Raven, about twenty feet away, shooting looks at him that, if they didn't kill him, might certainly maim him. But it took more than that to upset my half brother. He smiled at them hugely, raised his wineglass in a toast, and then prudently headed in another direction.

"Ciao!" he called back to me, and I waved.