Silence.
Inside me, a wall came crashing down, and I saw what lay
behind it: a whole world I had never dreamed of, a world in
which I was adopted, not biologically related to my ramify. My
throat closed and my stomach clenched, and I was afraid I was
going to throw up. But I had to know.
I pushed past Mary K. into the hallway, then thundered
down the steps two at a time. I tore around the corner, hearing
my parents on the steps behind me. In the family office I
yanked open my dad's files, where he keeps things like
insurance papers, our passports, their marriage license … birth
certificates.
Breathing hard, I flipped through files on car insurance,
the house's AC system, our new water heater. My file read
Morgan. I pulled it out just as my parents came into the office.
"Morgan! Stop it!" said Dad.
Ignoring him, I rifled through immunization records,
school reports, my social security card.
There it was. My birth certificate. I picked it up and
scanned it Birthday, November 23. Correct Weight, eight
pounds, ten ounces.
My mom reached around me and snatched the birth
certificate out of my hand. As if in a slapstick movie, I snatched
it back. She held tight with both hands, and the paper ripped.
Dropping to my knees, I hunched over my half on the
floor, protecting it till I could read it. Age of mother: 23. No.
That was wrong because Mom had been thirty before the had
me. Then the edges of the paper grew cloudy as my eyes
locked onto four words: Mother's name: Maeve Riordan.
I blinked, reading it again and again at the speed of light
Maeve Riordan. Mother's name:Maeve Riordan.
Mechanically I read down to the bottom of my torn page,
expecting to see my mom's real name, Mary Grace Rowlands,
somewhere. Anywhere.
Shocked, I looked up at my mother. She seemed to have
aged ten years in the last half hour. My dad, behind her, was
tight-lipped and silent.
I held up the paper, my brain misfiring. "What does this
mean?" I asked stupidly.
My parents didn't answer, and I stared at them. My fears
came crashing down on me in hard waves. Suddenly I couldn't
bear to be with them. I had to get away. Scrambling to my feet
I rushed from the room, colliding with Mary k., almost knocking
her down. The torn scrap of paper fluttered from my fingers as
I pushed through the kitchen door and grabbed the keys to my
car. I raced outside as if the devil were chasing me.
3. Find Me
May 14, 1977
Going to school is more a bother these days than anything
else. It's spring, everything's blooming. I'm out gathering
luibh—plants--for my spells, and then I have to get to school
and learn English. What for? I live in Ireland. Anyway, I'm
fifteen now, old enough to quit. Tonight's a full moon, so I'll do
a scrying spell to see the future. I hope it will tell me whether I
should stay in school or no. Scrying is hard to control, though.
There's something else I want to scry for: Angus. Is he
my muirn beatha dan? On Beltane he pulled me behind the
straw man and kissed me and said he loves me. I thought I
liked David O'Hearn. But he's not one of us—not a blood witch—
and Angus is. For each of us there's only one other they should
be with: their muirn beatha dan. For Ma, it was Da. Who is
mine? Angus says it's him. If it's him, I have no choice, do I?
To scry: I don't use water overmuch—water is the easiest
but also the least reliable. You know, a shallow bowl of clear
water, gaze at it under the open sky or near a window. You'll
see things easily enough, but it's wrong so ofter, I think it's
just asking for trouble.
The best way to scry is with an enchanted leug, like
bloodstone or hematite, or a crystal, buy these are hard to lay
your hands on. They give the most truth, but these are hard to
lay your hands on. They give the most truth, but brace yourself
for things you might not want to see or know. Stone scrying is
good for seeing things you might not want to see or know.
Stone scrying is good for seeing things as they are happening
battle.
I scry with fire, usually. Fire is unpredictable. But I'm
made of fire, we are one, and so she speaks to me. With fire
scrying. If I see something in can be past, present, or future. Of
course the future stuff is only one possible future. But what I
see in fire is true, as true as can be.
I love the fire.
--Bradhadair
I ran across the frost-stiffened grass, which crunched
lightly under my slippers. The front door opened behind me,
but I was already sliding onto the freezing vinyl front seat of
my white 71 Valiant, Das Boot, and cranking the engine.
"Morgan!" my dad yelled as I squealed out of our
driveway, the car lurching like a boat on rough waters. Then I
roared forward, watching my parents on our front lawn in my
rearview mirror. Mom was sinking to the ground; Dad was
trying to hold her up. I burst into tears as I wheeled too fast
onto Riverdale.
Sobbing, I dashed my tears away with one hand, then
wiped my nose on my sleeve. I turned on Das Boots heater, but
of course it took forever for the engine to warm up.
I was turning onto Bree's street before I remembered
that we were no longer friends. If she hadn't left those books
on my porch, I wouldn't know I was adopted. If Cal hadn't
come between us, she would never have left the books on my
porch.
I cried harder, shaking with sobs, and spun into a sloppy
U-turn right before I reached her driveway. Then I hit the gas
and drove, my only destination to be away, away,
The next time my vision cleared, I had managed to fish a
battered box of tissues from beneath the front seat. Damp,
crumpled ones littered the passenger side and covered the
floor. I had ended up heading north, out of town. The road
followed a low valley, and early fog clung heavily to the asphalt
Das Boot plowed through it like a brick thrown through clouds.
In the distance I saw a large, dark shadow of to the side of the
road. It was the willow oak that we had parked under just last
night, for Samhain. Where I had parked the first time I did a
circle with Cal, weeks before. When magick had come into my
life. Without thinking, I swung my car off the road and
bumped across the field, rolling to a stop beneath the oak's
low-hanging branches. Here I was hidden by fog; by the tree. I
turned off my engine, leaned against the steering wheel, and
tried to stop crying.
Adopted. Every instance, every example of my being
different from my family reared up In my face and mocked me.
Yesterday they had been only family jokes-how the three of
them are larks and I'm a night owl, how they're unnaturally
cheerful and I'm grumpy. How Mom and Mary K. are curvy and
; cute and I'm thin and Intense. Today those jokes caused waves
of pain as I remembered them one by one.
"Damn it! Damn It! Damn it!" I shouted, banging my fists
against the hard metal steering wheel. "Damn It! I whacked
the wheel until my hands were numb, until I had gone through
every curse I knew, until my throat was raw.
Then I wept again, lying down in the front seat I don't
know how long I was there, cocooned in my car in the mist.
From time to time I turned on the heater to stay warm. The
windows fogged and steamed with my tears.
Gradually my sobs degenerated into shaky hiccups and
the occasional shudder. Oh, Cal, I thought. I need Cat As soon
as I thought that, a rhyme came into my head: In my mind I
see you here. In my pain I need you near, find me, tract me,
where I be. Come here, come here, now to me.
I didn't know where it came from, but by now I was
getting used to the arrival of strange thoughts. I felt calmer
hearing it, so I said It over and over again. I draped my arm
over my eyes, praying desperately I would wake up In bed at
home to find it had all been a nightmare.
Minutes later I jumped when someone tapped on the
passenger-side window. My eyes snapped open, and I sat up,
then cleared a space on the glass to see Cal, looking sleepy and
"You called?" he said, and my heart filled with sunlight
"Let me in—it's freezing out here."
It worked. I thought in awe. I called him with my
thoughts. Magick.
I opened the door and moved over. He slid onto the front
seat next to me. and it was amazingly natural to reach out, to
feel his arms come around me.
"What's the matter?" he said, his voice muffled against
my hair. “What's going on?”He held me away from him and
searched my tear-blotched face with his eyes.
“I'm adopted!" I blurted out "This morning I told my mom
that I'm a blood witch, so she must be. and my dad. and my
sister. They said no, It wasn't true. So I ran downstairs to see
my birth certificate, and it had another women's name--not my
mother's."
I started crying spin, even though I was embarrassed to
have him see me like this. Ha pulled me closer and held my
head to his shoulder. It was so comforting that I stopped
crying again almost Immediately.
“Thats a hard way to find out.” He kissed my temple, and
a tiny shiver of pleasure raced up my spine. It's a miracle I
thought: He still loves me, even today. It wasn't a dream.
He pulled back, and we looked at each other In the hazy
light I couldn't get over how beautiful ha was. His skin was
smooth and tan. even in November. His hair was thick beneath
my fingers, dark and streaked with warm shades the color of
walnuts. His eyes ware surrounded by blunt, black lashes, with
irises of a gold so fiery, they almost seamed to radiate heat.
I felt self-conscious as I realized ha was examining me
the same way I examined him. A tiny smile quirked the corner
of his lips. "Left in a hurry, did your?”
That was when I realized I was still in my oversize
football jersey and an ancient pair of my dad's long johns,
complete with flap in front. A large pair of brown, furry bear-
feet slippers were on my feet. Cal reached down and tickled
their claws. I thought about the silky matching outfits that
Bree wears to sleep in, and with a pang and an indrawn breath
I remembered she'd told me that she and Cat had gone to bed.
I searched his eyes, wondering if it was true, wondering if I
could bear knowing for sure.
But he was here now. With me.
"You're the best thing I've seen all morning”Cal said
softly, stroking my arm. "I'm glad you called me. I missed you
last night, after I went home."
I looked down, thinking of him lying in his big, romantic
bed, with curtains fluttering and candles flickering all around.
He had been thinking of me as he lay there.
"Listen—how did you know how to call me? Did you read
about it in a book?"
"No," I said, thinking back. "I don't think so. I was just
sitting here, miserable, and I thought if you were here, I'd feel
better, and then this little rhyme came into my head, so I said
it"
"Huh," Cal said thoughtfully "Was I not supposed to”I
asked, confused "Sometimes things just come into my head like
that" "No, its okay," said Cal. "It just means you're strong You
have ancestral memories of spells. Not every witch dose.”He
nodded, thinking.
"So tell me more," he said. “Your parents never told you
about this before, your being adopted?” He kept his arm on the
back of the seat, smoothing my heir and rubbing my neck.
"No." I shook my head. "Never. And you'd think they
would have—I'm so different from them.”
Cal cocked his head, looking at me. "I've never met your
folks" he said. "But you don't look much like your sister, that's
true. Mary K. looks sweet" He smiled. "She's pretty."
A hot jealousy started to burn in my chest.
"You don't look sweet," Cal went on. "You look serious.
Deep. Like you're thinking. And you're more striking than
pretty. You're the kind of girl that you don't notice is beautiful
until you get real close" His voice trailed off, and he brought his
head closer to mine. "And then all of a sudden it hits you" he
whispered "And you think. Goddess, make her mine ."
His lips touched mine again, and my thoughts whirled I
wrapped my arms around Cat's shoulders and kissed him as
deeply as I knew how, pulling him closer. All I wanted was to
be with him, to never be apart.
Minutes passed in which I heard only our breathing our
lips coming together and parting, the crinkle of the vinyl seat
as we moved to be closer. Soon Cal was tying on top of me, his
weight pressing me into the seat. His hand was stroking up and
down my side, along my ribs and curving around my hip. Then
It was under the hem of my jersey, warm against my breast
and shock waves went through me. "Stop!" I said, almost
afraid "Wait" My voice seemed to echo In the quiet car.
Instantly Cal pulled his hand away. He held himself up, looking
Into my eyes, then leaned back against the drivers door. He
was breathing fast.
I was mortified. You idiot, I thought He's almost eighteen!
He's definitely had sex. Maybe even with Bree, a tiny voice
added.
I shook my head. "Sorry," I said, trying to sound casual.
"It was just a surprise."
"No, no, I'm sorry," he said. He reached out and took my
hand, and I was mesmerized by its warmth, its strength. "You
call me here, and I jump on you. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry.''
He raised my fingers to his mouth and kissed them. "The thing
is, I've been wanting to kiss you ever since I met you." He
smiled slightly.
I calmed down. "I've wanted to kiss you, too," I admitted.
He smiled. "My witch,
" he said, running a finger down my
cheek, leaving a thin trail of heat "Now, how did you tell your
mother that you're a blood witch?"
I sighed. 'This morning she found a pile of my Wicca
books, magick books, on the front porch. She stormed into my
room, yelling at me, saying they were blasphemous." I sounded
more together than I felt remembering that awful scene. "I
thought she was being so hypocritical—I mean, if I'm a blood
witch, then she and my dad would have to be, too. Right?"
"Pretty much," said Cal. "Definitely, with someone who
has powers as strong as yours, both your parents would have
to be."
I frowned. ''What about only one parent?"
"An ordinary man and a female witch can't conceive a
baby," Cal explained "A male witch can get an ordinary woman
pregnant, but it's a conscious thing. And their baby would have
very weak powers at best, or possibly none at all. Not like you."
I felt like I had accomplished something: I was a powerful
witch."Okay,”Cal said "Now, why were your books on the front
porch? Were you hiding them?”
"Yes," I said bitterly. "At Bree's house. This morning she
left them on my porch. Because you and I kissed last night."
"What?" Cal asked, a dark expression crossing his face.
I shrugged. "Bree really . . . wanted you. Wants you. And
when you kissed me last night, I know she felt that I had
betrayed her." I swallowed and looked out the window."l did
betray her," I said quietly." I knew how she felt about you."
Cal s eyes dropped. He picked up a long strand of my hair
and twined it around his hand, ewer and over. "How do you feel
about me?”he asked after a moment.
Last night he had told me he loved me. I looked at him,
seeing past him to the thin November sunlight that was
burning away the fog. I breathed deeply, trying to slow the
sudden, rapid patter of my pulse. "I love you,”I said. My voice
came out a husky whisper.
Cal glanced up and caught my gaze. His eyes were very
bright. “I love you, too. I'm sorry that Bree's hurt. but just
because she has feelings for me doesn't mean we're going to
be together."
Did that stop you from sleeping with her? I almost asked
him, but I couldn't quite bring myself to. I wasn't sure I realty
wanted to know.
"And I'm sorry Bree is taking it out on you," he said. Ha
paused. "So your mom found the books and yelled. You thought