Changeling
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Great, I thought, already feeling the pain that seeing him would bring. Somehow I didn't think that Eoife would care that we were broken up.
"Second, we'll be teaching you the spells you need to help you through this. It goes without saying that learning them is imperative."
No kidding, I thought. Crap. What had I gotten myself into? Her face softened, and I wondered again if she was in tune with my thoughts. "This could be worse than what happened in New York, but I wouldn't ask you to do it if I thought the mission was hopeless. I—and the rest of the council—truly feel that you can do this."
I digested this. "Okay. So now I call Killian?"
"Do you have is phone number?" She looked surprised.
"No," I said confused. "I thought you meant, you know, a witch message."
Her face was carefully blank. "You can send messages? With your mind?"
Why didn't I just get "Zoo Exhibit" tattooed on my forehead? "Uh-huh."
Eoife swallowed. "I thought Hunter was exaggerating," she said quietly. "An uninitiated witch—kindling fire. Sending witch messages. Calling on the ancient lines of power. Even putting a holding spell on Hunter. I couldn't believe it was true, though Hunter was never inaccurate before. I came here expecting to leave in disappointment. Expecting to go back to the council and tell them we had no hope."
"Then why did you even go through with this?" I asked. "Telling me you'd teach me the spells, that you'd help me. That I was your only hope. Why do it if you really thought I wouldn't be able to help you?"
"I was doing as I was instructed," she replied with dignity. "Believe me, I far prefer this reality to what I was afraid I would find. Now I think it's time to call Killian."
"Okay," I said. Killian, I thought, sending it toward him. Killian. Come to Widow's Vale. For long minutes we sat silently. I wondered how far away Killian was and if that made any difference. But then I felt his response.
I took a minute to breath and orient myself. When I stood, I felt creaky, like I'd been there for hours. "Okay," I told Eoife. "I think he's going to come."
"Very good," said Eoife. "Morgan, I'm going to teach you the watch sigil in case things start to move quickly and you have the opportunity to mark Ciaran before we meet again."
I nodded and watched Eoife carefully as she drew the sigil in the air.
"The symbol itself isn't complicated," she continued. "What will be difficult is getting close enough to Ciaran to place it on him without his detection. Practice the sigil so that you'll be ready when the opportunity presents itself."
Slowly I began to mirror Eoife's motions in the air. "All right," I said finally. "I think I've got it. I'll keep practicing when you leave."
Eoife nodded. "Excellent." She reached for her briefcase and stood, glancing around to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. "I'm glad to have met you, Morgan Riordan," she said formally, holding out her hand to shake.
"Rowlands," I said frowning. "That's my last name."
Her eyebrows drew together. "Oh, of course. I'm going to report back to the council about the nature of our plan and that you've sent Killian a message. I'll check in with you soon to set up a time for you to start learning spells."
"Okay." I walked her to the front door, feeling a deep sense of foreboding. After what happened in New York, I had hoped to lie low for a while, to have everything to be calm and quiet. Now I was signed up to enter the lion's den. And I might not make it out alive.
"You know you're more then welcome to come stay," said Aunt Eileen an hour later.
I had called her to check in, though my parents hadn't even gone a whole day yet. I had needed some normalcy after the surreal visit with Eoife MacNabb. "Oh, no, I'll be fine," I said. "I'm just going to school, do homework, eat and sleep." Oh, and try to trap one of the world's most dangerous Woodbanes. That, too.
"Okay," she said. "But promise you'll call us anytime, day or night, if you need anything or want to talk or feel worries. All right?"
"Okeydokey," I said, trying to sound cheerful.
As soon as I hung up, I felt my senses starting to tingle. I opened the front door and saw Hunter at the end of our dark walkway, heading for the house. He looked up, saw me, and didn't smile.
Just seeing him made me want to cry. This was the one person who could comfort me, who would understand, who would be on my side. Yet I couldn't be with him, couldn't turn to him for support or love. I knew that it was better to hurt him now than crush him later—what if I turned in him down the road? After seeing what Ciaran had been willing to do to me, I could only imagine the pain I could cause Hunter if and when my evil Woodbane nature showed itself. As painful as this separation was, surely it was better than the pain of knowing I had attacked him from the darkness.
Typically, he didn't say hello. He just leaned against the house while I rubbed my shoulders to keep warm. It was another bitter night. He waited until I met his eyes, then launched in.
“I can’t believe you’ve decided to go along with this ridiculous plan, far-fetched plan!” he began, his English accent more pronounced then usual. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it’s going to be? Do you have any idea what you’re up against? This isn’t one of our circles! This is life or death!”
“I know,” I said quietly. “I was there in New York, remember?”
“Exactly! So how can you even consider going along with this? It’s not your responsibility.”
I just looked at him. In the dim yellow glare of the front porch light he looked gorgeous, as usual, and angry, which also seemed fairly common these days. But I had also seen him laughing, his head thrown back; I had seen his face flushed with desire; I had seen the look in his eyes before he kissed me. My chest felt fluttery as I thought about it, and I rubbed my arms again, grateful for the distraction of the cold.
“Have you heard anything more about your parents?” I asked. In New York, Hunter had made the decision to begin looking for them. I knew that the loss of his mother and father was a huge event in his life, and it hurt me to see him unable to find them.
Hunter’s angry expression softened lightly. He looked away. “No,” he said. “Nothing. You’re changing the subject. I don’t want to talk about it.” He looked me in the eye briefly. “These last few days haven’t been a lark for me, either, Morgan.”