Changeling
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I looked at Eoife. "Magickal power?"
"Perhaps, though that isn't what I meant. I meant the power that comes from doing something profoundly good and selfless, the power that comes from putting good out into the world. Remember, what you send out is thrice returned."
"Does Hunter know about this? What you're asking?"
"Yes, he's against it. But the decisions is yours."
"What makes you so sure Ciaran will trust me?" I asked.
"We're not," Eoife admitted. "But you're our only hope."
I paced the room. I noticed it was dark outside—hours had passed since Eoife had come. My parents might be boarding their cruise ship by now.
What if I failed? Not only would Alyce and the rest of Starlocket die, but I would be forever corrupted. If I wasn't strong enough to resist Ciaran, I would become as evil as he was. On the other hand, where was I now? I had lost Hunter, I was afraid to make magick with my coven…What did I have left to lose? How strong was I? Think, think.
Eoife waited patiently, just as her teacher who was trying to kindle fire must have waited patiently for three years, trying to learn it. I wasn't patient. I didn't have their inner calm that most witches had, the inner compass that allowed them to stay on track, stay focused yet completely connected with the world. I didn't know if I would ever have it.
Could I do it?
Oh, Goddess, help me.
I don't know how much time passed. Finally I turned to look at Eoife, so small and still, like a garden statue.
"I'll do it," I said.
4. Danger
Brother Colin, my hand shakes as I write this. I have told all to Father Benedict, and he is praying on the matter now. Tonight after matins I found I could not sleep and determined to walk in the chill air along the cliffs in the hopes that healthy exercise would help me rest.
I set out at a brisk pace, giving thanks for my sturdy wool cloak. After a time I spied the glow of a cheerful fire. Thinking it was a lone shepherd, I hastened to join him and share in the warmth before heading back to the abbey. Coming quite close, I saw this was no lone shepherd, but a group of people. Women from Barra Head, each soul bare to the sky. danced in pagan nudity around the fire, wailing some unearthly song.
Horror overwhelmed me, and after but a few moments I dashed away from the evil place. I immediately found Father Benedict and confessed what I had seen. What do you make of this, Brother Colin? I had assumed that Wodebayne was simply a clan name, but now I wonder if they are some darker, heathen sect. Please send me your earliest council, for I am most distraught.
—Brother Sinestus Tor, March 1768.
To my surprise, Eoife McNabb didn't jump up and down in joy at my announcement. She looked very solemn and then nodded slowly. "I was hoping you would say that."
I released a deep breath and tried to relax. "So what now?"
"Well, you'll need to go to New York at once," she said.
"What? I can't." I shook my head. "My folks are out of town, and I have to house-sit and go to school everyday, or they'll kill me."
Eoife blinked once, and we looked at each other. Realizing the ridiculousness of my situation, I began to laugh nervously. After a moment of surprise, Eoife smiled.
"All right," she said, shrugging. "I know that you're unusually young to have so much power. But remember, we're talking about the destruction of countless innocent witches. There has to be a way for you to help us and still keep your grades up and feed your cat."
As if he'd been called, Dagda prowled into the room and fixed his green eyes on Eoife. He walked toward her, sniffed her delicately, then presented his triangular head for petting.
"You're a beauty," Eoife muttered while he purred. Finally he purred so hard, he fell over in his side, and she tickled his grey tummy.
"You must stay in Widow's Vale," she said, thinking out loud.
"Yeah."
"Right. Let's see. You met your half brother Killian in New York, yes?"
"Yes." I nodded.
"Does he know you're his sister?"
"I don't think so. By the time I found out, he had disappeared. I haven't seen him since then."
"We're speculating that he was supposed to take part in Amyranth's ritual," Eoife explained. "Ciaran would like one, any one, of his children to be a worthy successor. If that was Killian's test but he left town instead, Ciaran would be furious with him."
"He didn't strike me as a coven leader," I said. "He seemed more like just a party guy to me."
"Killian isn't power hungry like Ciaran," Eoife said. "But he does seem to be amoral—he does what he wants but for the pleasure of it, not to gain anything. I'm thinking—maybe the way to get to Ciaran is through Killian. We could get Killian to come here somehow. He'd come out of curiosity, if nothing else. Once Killian is here, explain your relationship to him. Then ask him to have Ciaran come here so you can get to know him better, as his daughter."
A chill went down my spine, despite the cheerful warmth of the fire. It was horrible—the name Ciaran brought so much conflicting images and feelings: the understanding, compelling man at the bookstore and then terrifying, powerful Woodbane witch who had wanted to take my magick by force. He terrified me in a way that nothing else did, and… he was my father. I wanted to know him. And how would I hold out for one second against his power if he really wanted me to join him in Amyranth? I would have no chance.
"You have until Imbolic," she said, interrupting my thoughts. Imbolic was February 2. Less than two weeks. Two weeks from now, what would I be? Alive? Dead? Evil? I felt like throwing up.
"A few more things," Eoife said, sounding business like. She poured herself more hot water from the teapot and once again steeped the tea leaves. Their smooth, complex, smoky fragrance rose through the air. "One, you'll be functioning as a council agent and as such will check in with your council mentor, who is me. We can set up a contact schedule. If I'm not available, Hunter will take your reports."