Sweep: Eclipse Part 10

"It needs to hurt, Morgan," she said gently, rubbing my back."If you had done this without it hurting, you would be a monster."

Like Ciaran, I thought. Hunter came back, alone. Alyce kissed my cheek and left, going back through the woods the way she had come. With only Hunter as my witness, I let go and began to cry. He sat down next to me and put his arms around me, hard and familiar. I leaned against him and sobbed until I thought I would make myself sick. And still there was pain inside.

"Morgan, Morgan," Hunter barely murmured."I love you. I love you. It will be all right."

I had no idea how he could say that.

12.

Alisa.

*"It's a thin line between light and dark, between pain and pleasure, between heat and cold, between love and hate, between life and death, between this world and the next."

-Folk saying*

By five o'clock in the morning, I was totally ready to freak. Where the h.e.l.l had Hunter and his father gone? Why weren't they back? It was going to be dawn soon, and I was supposed to be home! Any minute now, Hilary would be getting up for her.

I was stalking around their house, too worried and upset to be tired, though my body felt like I'd been up for days. Should I call a taxi? Wait-this was Widow's Vale. There was no taxi service at five in the morning. I would have to wake someone up to someone up to come get me.This sucked!

I was trying to decide if I should just start walking when I heard heavy footsteps on the front porch. I almost flew to the door, just in time to see Hunter and Mr. Niall came in. They looked like someone had taken all the blood out of them while they were out.

"Are you okay?" I blurted. "What's wrong? Where were you?"

Hunter nodded, then patted his father on the back as Mr. Niall pa.s.sed us, then headed slowly upstairs, his tread lifeless. "I'm sorry, Alisa," Hunter said. "I had no idea it would take so long. Do you need to get home?"

"Yes-but what's happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm all right. Morgan's waiting outside-she'll give you a ride."

"Morgan?"

He nodded, rubbing his hands over his face, pressing gently on his eyes. "Yes. Tonight Morgan met Ciaran MacEwan-we told you about him-out at the power sink. You know, that old Methodist cemetery at the edge of town. Things got strange, and then Morgan ended up putting a binding spell on him. She called me and my da, and we went out there, and we got some other witches, and we stripped Ciaran of his powers."

I stared at him. "You just stripped Ciaran of his powers? Just now?"

"Yes. It was very hard-Ciaran was incredibly powerful, and he resisted strongly. It was especially hard on Morgan."

I could hardly take it all in. "What does this mean about the dark wave?"

Hunter gave a wry smile, and I could tell all he wanted to do was drop onto his bed and sleep for a year. "I would guess there won't be a dark wave now," he said. "Looks like you're off the hook-you won't have to torture yourself with this spell anymore."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. "I can't believe it's all over," I said, getting into my coat. I had been working so hard-we all had. And it had been for nothing. I mean, I was glad there wouldn't be a dark wave coming, but at the same time, in a way I had been almost looking forward to seeing how well I did. Call me self-centered.

My adrenaline started to ebb, and suddenly I could hardly lift my feet enough to walk to the door. I looked back at Hunter, drawn and pale in the harsh overhead light of the living room."Was it very bad?"

He nodded and looked down at the scarred wooden floor."It was very bad."

"I'll talk to you soon," I said softly. "Take care of yourself." I gently closed the door behind me and walked across the front porch and out to the street, where Morgan was waiting in her big old car. Hunter and his father had looked awful. I wished there was something I could do for them. Maybe later today I would try to bring them something. What would be good in this situation? Chicken soup?

The door was unlocked and the engine still running when I got in. I looked over at Morgan. "Hi," I said quietly. "It sounds like you guys had a really hard time."

She inclined her head a tiny bit, then put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. I sneaked another glance at her. Morgan usually looked pretty natural, not too spiffed up, but tonight she looked terrible. Like she had literally been through h.e.l.l.

"I'm sorry, Morgan," I said. "I'm sorry tonight was so hard, and I'm sorry for how I've acted toward you the past couple of months. I wish . . . I wish I could help you somehow."

She looked over at me, a pale slash from a streetlight bisecting her face. The edges of her mouth curved in a tiny acknowledgment, and then we turned the corner onto my street. She stopped a few houses away and looked at me expectantly, like she was waiting for me to get out. "Um, should I get out here?" I asked, grabbing my purse.

Morgan nodded."So your dad doesn't hear the car." "Ohhh." Very wise, I thought. "You're good at this," I said in admiration, and she let out a little laugh that sounded like broken gla.s.s.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and stepped out onto the silent street. When I turned back to whisper thanks, I saw that Morgan's face was s.h.i.+ny with tear tracks. "I'm sorry," I whispered. It was all I could think to say. She gave a small nod and put the car back into drive.Very slowly, she turned around and headed back toward her house.

The morning air was still and heavy as I walked over to my house. It was that last moment of quiet before the early risers get up; I felt like I could breathe in the peaceful sleep of my family and my neighbors and the whole town. After silently making my way to my room, I kicked off my shoes and looked for just a minute out the window.The rim of the horizon was just barely highlighted with pink: the dawn of a new day.

woke up later that same morning, not even caring how late I was for school.When I went downstairs Hilary looked up in surprise from the yoga mat she had spread on the living room floor. She glanced at the mantel clock, then looked thoughtful.

"It's Friday, isn't it?" she said. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"Yeah," I said wearily, collapsing on the couch.

"Are you sick again, or did you and your friend stay up too late talking on the phone?"

"I'm sick again."

She uncoiled herself and came to look at me. She wasn't wearing makeup, and somehow she looked both younger and older than twenty-five. I wondered what it was that made my dad so crazy about her. Reaching out, she pressed her hand against my forehead.

"Hm.Well, I guess I should call the school."

"Thanks," I said, not having expected her cooperation. It had never occurred to me that my twenty-five-year-old stepmother-to-be would actually have the authority to do stuff like this.

"Why don't you go back upstairs and get into bed? Do you need anything?" "No thanks." I hauled myself up and headed to my room as I heard her dialing the school's number.

When I woke up again later, I heard light footsteps in the hall. Hilary tapped on my door and opened it. "Are you awake?"

"Uh-huh." The open eyes are always a good clue.

"It's past lunch.Are you hungry?" I thought."Uh-huh."

"Come on downstairs and I'll fix you some nice sardines on crackers," she said, and I stared at her in horror before I noticed she had an evil grin on her face.

I couldn't help smiling back."Good one."

In the kitchen I fixed myself a PB&J, poured some juice, and sat down.

Hilary sat down across from me. I sighed but tried to hide it behind the sandwich. As much as I didn't want to admit it, she was going to be part of my life. And so was my half sibling. So I should probably make an effort to get along better. I should also ask my doctor for a prescription for Prozac.That could help.

"How's school going?" she asked, destroying all my good intentions.

I looked at her matter-of-factly. "It's high school. It sucks." I waited for her to tell me about how it had been the most wonderful four years of her life, how she was captain of the pep squad- "Yeah. Mine sucked, too," she said, and my mouth dropped open. "I hated it. I thought it was so stupid and pointless. I mean, I liked a couple of cla.s.ses, when I had good teachers. And I liked seeing my friends. But you couldn't pay me to go back. It didn't seem to have anything to do with real life."

She was warming to her topic. I stared at this new Hilary in fascination, chewing my sandwich.

"You know what real life is?" she went on. "Knowing how to make change from a dollar. Knowing that virtually everything is alphabetized.That's real life."

"What about mortgages, life insurance, lawn care?" I asked.

"You pick that stuff up as you go along. They don't teach that in school, anyway. Now, college was different, I have to say. College was cool. You could control what you wanted to study and when. You could decide to go to cla.s.s or not, and no one would ha.s.sle you. I looooved college. I took tons of lit and art courses, and fun stuff like women's studies and comparative religion."

"What did you graduate with?"

"A basic liberal arts degree, a bachelor's. Nothing useful for a job or anything." She laughed. "It would have been better if I had studied to be an accountant." She put her arms over her head and stretched. "Which is why I'm doing medical transcription from home. It requires knowing knowing how to listen, read, and type. And I can set my own hours, and the money isn't bad, and I'll be able to do it after the baby's born."

"Is that what you're doing on the computer all the time?" I had thought she was writing a romance novel or having an Internet relations.h.i.+p or something.

"Yeah. Which reminds me. I need to get back to it. Right after Life and Love.Want to watch?"

"Okay." I felt compelled to follow this new, body-s.n.a.t.c.hed Hilary. I wondered what they had done with the real Hilary and decided it didn't matter. We sat on the couch in the family room together and she filled me in on her favorite soap.

I watched it mindlessly, enjoying having an hour from my life gone, an hour in which I didn't have to think about magick and witches and breaking things and dark waves. I looked around the house, at Hilary, thought about my dad coming home. His face always lit up when he saw Hilary and me. That was cool. Thank G.o.d they weren't going to get wiped out by magick anytime soon.

13.

Morgan.

*"The thing about magick is: sometimes it looks like one thing, but it turns out to be something quite different."

-Saffy Reese, New York, 2001*

I slept all day but awoke at five in the afternoon, feeling just as c.r.a.ppy as when I'd gone to sleep. I heard Mary K. coming through the bathroom door and sat up to see her.

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking concerned. "Have you been in bed all day?"

I nodded."I think I'll get up and take a shower now."

"Is this the flu or what? Alisa was out sick today, too."

"I guess it's just some bug that's going around," I said lamely. I didn't know what Alisa had told my sister, if anything, and didn't want to blow it for her.

"Well, come downstairs if you want dinner. It's little steaks and baked potatoes.And Aunt Eileen and Paula are coming."

I nodded, then pushed my way into the bathroom and shut both doors. I felt heavy and unrested, the knowledge of what I had done the night before weighing me down. My family was having one of my favorite meals, and I always loved seeing my aunt and her girlfriend. But right now the thought of food made my stomach roil, and I didn't feel up to talking to anyone. Maybe I would just go back to bed after my shower.

made the water as hot as I could stand it and let it rain down on my neck and shoulders. Quietly I started to cry, leaning against the shower wall, my eyes closed against the splas.h.i.+ng water. Oh, G.o.ddess, I thought. G.o.ddess. Get me through this.What did I do?

I saved my family, my friends, my coven.

At the expense of my father.

I had seen Ciaran after the rite. He looked dead. And I knew him well enough to know that living without magick would surely drive him insane. I had heard that a witch living without magick was like a person living a half existence, in a world where colors were grayed, scents were dulled, taste was almost nonexistent. Where your hands felt covered by plastic gloves, so when you touched things, you couldn't feel their texture, their vibrations.

That was what I had done to my father last night.

He killed your mother. He's killed hundreds of people, witches and humans.Woman, man, and child. Just like Hunter said.

I doubted that Ciaran would be alive for long. As far as I knew, there was no rite to give him his magick back- it had been ripped from him forever. And without magick, I doubted Ciaran would feel that life was worth living.

Now he was virtually harmless, and the dark wave wasn't going to come. Not this time. I hoped I would start feeling better soon, either physically or emotionally. I would take either one. My mind was bleeding with pain and guilt and relief, and my body felt like I had fallen on rocks, again and again and again.

After my shower, I got back into bed.

It wasn't long before Mom came upstairs. She sat carefully on the side of my bed and felt my forehead. "You don't feel hot, but you certainly look sick."

"Thanks."

"Does your stomach hurt?"

"No." Just my psyche.

"Okay. How about I fix you a little tray and bring it up?"

nodded, trying not to cry. Mom was still in her work clothes, and she looked tired. I was almost an adult, seventeen years old, yet all I wanted right now was for my mom to take care of me, to keep me safe. I never wanted to get out of of this bed or leave this house again.

After Mom left, Aunt Eileen and Paula came in. Paula had completely recovered from her nasty ice-skating accident and was back at work.

"Big test today?" Aunt Eileen inquired with a smile.

"O ye of little faith."

Paula came over and felt my nose."You're fine."

"Ha-ha." She's a vet.

"You look like death warmed over, honey," said my favorite aunt."You need anything? Can we bring you something?"

I shook my head, and then Mom was back with my tray. I looked at the food. It was all cut up into little pieces, and I started to cry.

"Morgan, can you talk on the phone?" Mary K. asked an hour later."It's Hunter."