Changeling
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I felt that if I were in Starlocket, I'd be in Tennessee by now.
"They're determined to fight evil in all its forms," Eoife added. "But I did tell them that we're still working to infiltrate Amyranth, and they were much cheered by this news."
I looked at her blankly, then gulped when I realized that their only hope was me. If something happened to Alyce and Starlocket because I wasn't strong enough, good enough, how would I ever live with myself? Assuming I'd survive.
"Anyway," said Hunter briskly, "we need to teach you some sigils of concealment and more wards of protection."
"Yes," Eoife began, but then we were distracted by Sky's angry voice coming from the kitchen.
"Dammit, that's not what I meant and you know it!" she was practically shouting.
"Who's here?" I asked. I hadn't picked up on anyone else's presence.
Hunter shook his head. "No one. She must be on the phone."
"Anyway, Morgan," Eoife went on, "one of the first things I want to teach you is a simple concealment spell. It doesn't literally make you invisible, of course, but most people, animals, and even witches won't notice you're there."
I nodded. "Like a you-see-me-not spell."
Eoife looked startled. "You do this already?"
"Um, only occasionally," I answered, wondering if I had just stepped on more Wiccan toes. "You know, if I don't… uh want to be seen."
Eoife shot Hunter a glance, and he sort of threw up his hands, as if I were an unhousebroken dog he'd tried his best with.
"Raven, I'm talking about last night!" Sky interrupted us loudly.
We all felt embarrassed to be hearing this conversation. Then Eoife focused again.
"This spell should get you into and out of most situations," she said. "If Ciaran knows you quite well, if he's familiar with your vibrations and your aura, he may be able to pick up on it, but not right away."
"He knows some of that, if not all," I said thinking back to New York. He'd tried to steal my magick, so yeah, he probably knew my aura.
"We'll have to do the best we can," Eoife said. "Ciaran is quite adept at knowing one intimately, only to use that knowledge to destroy. He enjoys destruction in and of itself, not just the dividends. He is the opposite of a creator."
I hated hearing this about Ciaran but knew immediately it was true. What had happened in his life to make him that way? How much of his legacy had he passed on to me, to Killian, to his other children? Knowing he was evil the way I did, how could I still remember our odd connection with longing? What did that say about me?
Eoife moved to sit cross-legged in front if the fire crackling in Hunter's fireplace. Gesturing to me to sit across from her, she said, "We'll bolster this with other spells of protection and attack. With your inherent strength, I feel it will work. If you learn it perfectly."
Sitting across from Eoife on the floor, I tried to clear my mind and relax my breathing. I could still hear Sky in the kitchen, her voice rising and falling in anger. I tried to block it out. Hunter stayed where he was, in his chair, but I felt his eyes on me unwaveringly.
“We’ll start with the words,” said Eoife, starting to murmur them.
Leaning closer, I let my mind expand to envelop the softly spoken words. I loved spellcraft. There were so many different kinds: ones using crystals, oils, incenses, herbs. Ones using only words, ones combining words and gestures, ones made only within a circle and some you could make anywhere. This one has three parts: words, runes written in the air, and the casting of a glamour.
Ten minutes later I had the words and runes down pat and felt confident I would remember them. The casting of a glamour I would have to work on. It was odd, but unlike school learning, which could sometimes go in me like a stone sinking in water, never to be seen again—magick seemed quite different. I had never forgotten a spell. Once learned it, it seemed part of the fabric of my being, another colored thread that made up the complete Morgan.
I almost jumped when Sky raised her voice again.
"No," she shouted, "That's not what I'm saying. You're twisting my words."
I really didn't want to hear anymore and had stood up to ask if we could go work in the circle room, when Sky stalked out of the kitchen, her black eyes shooting sparks of anger. She saw us sitting there, and her gaze lasered in on me.
"He is your brother," she said acidly. "You brought him here. He's a total bastard, and Raven's thick enough not to see it. But she should know better—after all, he's Woodbane." This last was spit at me, and I felt the blood drain from my face as she grabbed her black leather jacket and slammed out of the house. Outside I heard the roar of Sky's car as she peeled out, braked squealing.
It was true: I had brought Killian here, and Raven was making a fool of herself over him, with his enthusiastic help. But I had brought him here at the council's wishes and for the greater good. I sat there feeling mortified, not knowing what to say. Hunter looked tight-lipped and withdrawn, but Eoife was calm as she arranged the tea things on their tray.
"This is all part of life, my dear," she said in her soft Scottish accent. "Even pain and embarrassment are part of it."
With a heavy sigh Hunter reached over and patted my knee.
"Sky's just really angry. Not every Woodbane is evil," he said. "Your mother wasn't. Belwicket wasn't. I'm half Woodbane. There are many, many good Woodbane out there."
"But not Killian, right?" I asked somberly. "And not Ciaran."
Neither Hunter nor Eoife spoke, and silently I reached for my coat and let myself out of that house. Once again my heritage was catching up with me.