Shadow Girl

Book One: Who I Am

[Chapter Four: Invitation]

      On Wednesday I saw the first sign of the Apocalypse.

            I was stashing my things in my locker before homeroom. I was back in my normal clothes, which today consisted of low-rise dark blue jeans and a navy blue peasant blouse. Then I heard someone say my name: "Moira."

            At first, I thought it was just my phantom stalker. But then, I realized that the voice wasn't inside my head. I turned around and saw an older kid, probably a junior, standing over me. He had reddish-brown hair and light brown eyes. He smiled. "Hi. I'm Rusty."

            "…Hi?"

            "Hi." Rusty reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to a party this Saturday."

            "…What?"

            "A party," he repeated, unfolding the flyer and handing it to me. I took it, still looking at Rusty like he was headlights to my deer impression. "It's on Saturday, like I said, and it's nothing too big, just a few of my friends…and you. Do you think you can come?"

            "…Okay?"

            Rusty smiled again. "Okay. See you there." And he walked away, with me still staring.

            Someone grabbed my arm just then and whirled me around. "Did you just get invited to a party?" Courtney Hartford asked. She was dressed up in her Widow's Vale Tigers cheerleading uniform.

            "Hi Corky," I said, using her childhood nickname. "How ya doin'? I'm just fine, thanks."

            Courtney shook me. "Moira! Did you get invited to a party?"

            "Apparently, I did," I said, holding up the flyer. Courtney gaped for a second, then she walked around me and towards Rusty.

            "Hey! You!" she yelled after him. He turned and looked at her with one eyebrow raised. Courtney put on one of her fake smiles and said, "So, I heard you're throwing a party."

            "Yeah. I am."

            "Cool," she said in an overly perky voice. "So, is there an invite for me in there?" Courtney gave him a blinding grin that only a few dozen happy pills can create.

            Rusty looked her right in the eyes. "Sorry, but I don't think you'd enjoy the party very much."

            Courtney's eyes bulged. "B-but…were any other girls from the squad invited?"

            "I'm afraid not. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class."

            I walked over and stood next to Courtney, staring after Rusty as he walked down the hallway. "Huh. I guess Wicca beats cheerleading for this round."

            "Ugh," Courtney sputtered, walking away. I leaned against a wall, reading the flyer. Suddenly, I noticed the location. It read: Location: field, 2 miles past Tower's market. I frowned, then ran to catch up with Rusty.

            "Hey Rusty!" I called.

            Rusty turned around. "Uh, I don't want to be rude, but I'm going to be late to class."

            "I'm sorry," I told him. "But it's about the location of the party." Rusty raised an eyebrow. "In case you didn't know it, it's in the middle of freaking nowhere. Is this some kind of trick? Am I gonna show up and no one else will be there?"

            Rusty smiled again, and shook his head. "I promise you, I'm not tricking you. I thought we could all watch the stars, just hang out. Maybe have a bonfire."

            I blinked. "Oh. Okay…" Rusty smiled and turned to leave. And at that moment, the bell rang. I was late.

            Invited to a party. But late.

* * *

            My mom comes home from work at five, and today she dropped her things and went right to work on making dinner. I jumped off the couch and followed her into the kitchen.

            "Hi, Moira," Mom said, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a couple of potatoes. "You're never going to guess what happened today."

            "Funny, I was gonna say the same thing," I told her.

            "My parents called."

            I stopped. "They did?" Mom's parents don't usually contact us unless it's a holiday or a birthday.

            "Yeah." She scrubbed the potatoes in the sink. "They're coming to town, tonight, and I told them to come over for dinner. So now I have to whip up a big dinner for them."

            "Huh. Well, I got invited to a party."

            Mom turned to me, a big smile on her face. "You did?"

            "Yep, I was surprised, too."

            "Cool, when is it?"

            "Saturday."

            Mom bit her lip. "Honey, Saturday's the twenty-first: Ostara. We were going to have a special celebration with Kithic, remember?"

            "Well, yeah," I told her. "But this is a party. That I was invited to."

            "Where is it?"

            I laughed a little. "That's the strange part; it's in the middle of nowhere, in the field out past Tower's market."

            Mom dropped the potato she was holding. "Where is it?" she asked again, and her eyes got that stormy look in them again.

            "In the middle of an open field." I handed her the flyer Rusty had given me.

            Mom looked at it for a moment. "I don't want you to go."

            "What?" Mom went back to washing potatoes, which aggravated me. "Mom, do you remember the last time I was invited to a party?"

            "Moira…"

            "It was Tommy McKenze's fifth birthday party, and I accused the magician of being a fake." Mom moved from the sink to wipe her hands dry, and I followed her. "Mrs. McKenze called you when I asked him why he didn't cast a circle and invoke the Goddess, remember that? And now I get invited to a party that won't have any magicians for me to accuse, and you say I can't go?!"

            "Do you know this person who invited you?" Mom asked.

            I blinked. "Not really…he seemed older than me. But Mom, I don't really know anyone in that school."

            "Do you know if he's new in school?"

            "If you're gonna give me the Inquisition, the questions could at least be relevant," I retorted. "Seriously, why can't I go?"

            At that point, my dad came home from work. "Hallo, girls," he said.

            At once, Mom and I came at him with our arguments. Soon Dad put up his hands and said, "Hey, hey, hey! Will you bloody take turns? I only have one pair of ears."

            "Mom won't let me go to a party," I told him.

            "I don't think it's safe," she shot back, more towards me than Dad.

            "Why?" I asked her. "Why don't you think it's safe?"

            She paused for a second. "There's probably going to be beer there."

            "So? I don't drink."

            "The other kids will. And I don't want anything happening to you because they're drunk!"

            "Dad?" I turned to my father, giving him puppy-eyes. "Come on, make her let me go!"

            My parents looked at each other for a long time, having one of their silent discussions. Which, in fact, is entirely possible, being blood witches. Mental telepathy and all that.

            "Morgan, I know why you don't think she should go…" Dad started. "But Moira's completely capable of taking care of herself."

            "Yeah," I agreed. "If anyone tries anything, I'll set their head on fire."

            "Moira, you will not do any such thing!" My dad yelled after me as I walked down the hall.

            "Kidding, Dad," I said lazily, flopping down on the couch. "So can I go? Puh-leease?"

            "Fine," my mother said, though she was biting her lip and her eyes were stormy as ever. "Now go and put something nice on for your grandparents."

            "Okay," I told her, hopping up from the couch and heading up to my room. But just as I was about to open my bedroom door, shivers rushed down my spine and I felt The Ghost's presence (I didn't know what else to call him).

            Hmm, Catholics…what fun I'll have…

            "Oh no, you won't," I whispered fiercely, hoping that The Ghost could hear me.

            "Moira?" I turned to see my dad standing at the top of the stairs, slightly staring. "Dear, who are you talking to?"

            Uh… "No one," I told him, and shut the bedroom door behind me. Great, I thought. My grandparents are never going to want to come here again. Then, I spent a few minutes pondering whether or not that was a bad thing.

*  *  *

            A few minutes later, I was in a red dress with a tiny white flower print with my hair in two braids. My whole family was in the kitchen helping prepare dinner. I was chopping up vegetables for a salad when the phone rang. My dad answered it, saying "Hallo?" in his crisp British accent. He listened for a moment, then said, "Ah, yes…yes she's right here."

            Mom held out her hand, expecting it to be for her. But Dad shook his head, saying, "It's for Moira."

            I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. Suddenly I'm popular." I took the phone from my dad and said, "Hello?"

            "Hi." It was a female voice. "It's Claire D'Alessio, I'm in your Global class. You know who I'm talking about, right?"

            "Yeah," I told her. What I really wanted to say was, How can I not know you? Claire D'Alessio isn't an easy one to miss. She's got long, blonde hair right down to her butt. She could probably sit on it if she wanted to. It's a really pale blonde, too, so she might even look like a fairytale princess…

            …If it weren't for the blue streaks she put in her hair. Yep, she's pretty noticeable. Her sister Jamie's hair is a rainbow.

            "So, what's up?" Claire said.

            "Not much…" I was still trying to fathom why she'd called me. "What about you?"

            "Not much. Listen, you're coming to Rusty's party, right?"

            "Yeah, I am," I said. "Are you?"

            "Yeah, that's why I called. I wanted to know if you needed a ride, on Saturday, 'cause my sister and I could drive you."

            "Sure," I told her. "Thanks. Hey, is Rusty new at school?"

            A pause. "No…why?"

            I shrugged. "My mother's paranoid for some reason." Mom threw a dishtowel at me, and I laughed. "He's not new," I whispered to her, grinning.

            "So, what're you doing?" Claire asked.

            "I'm getting ready for an impromptu dinner with my grandparents. Should be a comedy," I added sarcastically.

            Dad poked me for that, and I whispered, "What? They're terrified of me."

            "They're terrified of you?" Claire asked. I guess she could hear that.

            "Yeah. The whole Wicca thing scares them." I didn't feel weird talking to her about it, since everyone knew anyway.

            "But…aren't they, you know, one of you?"

            "No. They're my mom's adoptive parents."

            "Oh." There was a small pause, then Claire said, "Well, I guess you have to get ready, huh?"

            "Yeah," I told her. "I'll see you in school tomorrow."

            "'Kay," Claire replied. "See you tomorrow."

            I said bye, then hung up. "That was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced."

            "What did she want?" Mom asked.

            I shrugged. "She offered me a ride to the party." Mom bit her lip and got that worried look on her face again, and I said, "Why are you so paranoid?"

            "A mother worries," she answered. I sighed and we all finished preparing dinner.

            Soon, my grandparents had arrived. "Hi Mom, hi Dad," Mom greeted them, giving them kisses on their cheeks.

            "Hello, Morgan," Grandma replied. "Hello, Hunter," she added as my dad came up behind Mom. Grandma kissed Dad's cheek, too, and Grandpa shook his hand.

            "Hi Grandma, hi Grandpa," I said clasping my hands behind my back and giving them a little grin.

            There was a short silence between my grandparents. "Hello, Moira," Grandma finally said, giving me a nervous smile. I could practically hear her saying, Please don't hurt me…

            Yep. That's me. The demon grandchild. Like I said, Grandma and Grandpa Rowlands are in denial about their daughter being a witch. They couldn't exactly deny that I was one the day I accidentally set Grandma's pocketbook on fire (I was aiming for the candle next to it, really!). Sometimes it really hurts when they act so cautious around me; like I'm this huge blemish on their family tree. I feel like saying, Hey, I'm not actually blood related so you can just leave and never come back, but that would just hurt Mom. She's worked so hard at keeping things civil between her and her parents, ever since she learned about the adoption.

            Mom led us all into the living room, where I sat in the armchair, Mom and Dad occupied the love seat, and Grandma and Grandpa settled on the couch. "So, how is work going, Morgan?" Grandpa asked.

            "Oh, you know…it's work," Mom laughed. "Business as usual."

            Grandpa nodded. "And you, Hunter?"

            "Same old, same old."

            Another one of those silences. "Moira, how is school?"

            "It's…school. Kind of boring. I'm getting good grades in English class and math," I told him.

            "Moira was just invited to a party today," Dad said brightly. Mom gave him a slightly cross look.

            "Well, that's wonderful!" Grandma said. What she really wanted to say was, Thank God she isn't a total outcast because she's a witch!       

            "Yeah, it's this Saturday," I told them. They nodded in mild interest.

            "So how's Mary K. doing?" Mom asked. "I haven't heard from her in a while."

            "Oh, she's doing well," Grandma said. She swelled with pride as she said, "David's doing just excellently in school. A's in everything."

            I sighed. David, age eight, was the favorite grandchild, no doubt about that. He was the perfect, normal grandson, who did sports, was a genius, and had plenty of friends. Whenever our family gets together for a family reunion, David always points out, "Grandma and Grandpa like me more than you."

            To which I always say, "I saw the future today. You're not in it."

            "Oh, that's great," Mom said. "So, dinner's ready when we are." We all walked into the dining room and sat at the table. Grandpa and Dad sat at the ends, Mom and Grandma sat on one side, and I got the drinks and the bowl of salad out of the kitchen. We all sat and piled salad into our bowls.

            So far, no ghost, I thought as I munched on lettuce. I breathed a sigh of relief.

            And, of course, I spoke too soon.

            Chills went down my spine as that eerie presence filled the room. Suddenly the candles that had been lit on the table extinguished themselves.

            "Oh dear," I whispered.

            "What the bloody…" My dad never finished his sentence. The flatware began to shake, as if we were in the middle of an earthquake. His eyes grew wide, trying to understand what was happening.

            The Ghost gave out a hollow, evil-sounding laugh. Scared, are you, Giomanach?

            I gasped. This thing knew my father's coven name. How did he know?

            Grandma was staring open-mouthed at the table, and next to her Mom had grown pale. I stared at Mom. I hadn't seen her so terrified since the car accident.

            Suddenly a plate shot from the table, nearly hitting my dad in the face. He ducked in time, and the plate shattered against a wall.

            I leapt up from the table, yelling, "Run for cover! This house is haunted!" I was tempted to add, And it's not my fault! but that just makes people ask questions.

            I ran up to my room and slammed the door behind me. Pacing my room, I wondered why this thing was after me. "Why?" I suddenly asked, out loud. "Why are you haunting me? Why not someone else? Why me?"

            My door suddenly slammed open. "Moira Fiona Riordan-Niall!"

            I cringed. My mother only uses my full name when she's really, really, pissed at me.

            "What in the name of all things holy were you thinking?" she screamed at me. "Did you think it was funny? Did you think it was amusing?"

            I gaped. "Mom, I didn't--"

            "Oh, please! 'Run for cover, this place is haunted'? How could you possibly deny doing that?!" My dad was standing behind her now, and he put a hand on her shoulder. Mom shook it off. "Was it the David comment? Are you that jealous?"

            "Mom!" I yelled. "I know why you think I did it, but I didn't do it." I was trying hard not to lose it. "Look inside my mind if you want. I'm not lying!"

            My mother stared at me for a moment, and then her shoulders sagged and she looked like she was about to cry. "Oh, Moira, I know it wasn't you," she said in this defeated kind of way. "I just wish I knew what that was! And I still don't know why I got in that car accident--"

            "You got in a car accident?" Dad interrupted, looking at Mom in concern. "Why didn't you tell me?"

            "It didn't seem important," Mom said quietly. They looked at each other, discussing something silently.

            "No," my dad said. "That's impossible."

            "What's impossible?" I asked.

            "Nothing," my mother said. "Nothing." They left my room without another word. Secrets, I thought, remembering the tarot reading. But I immediately pushed that out of my head. My mother had grown up among lies; she knew what it felt like.

            Why would she do that to her own daughter?