Shadow Girl

Book One: Who I Am

[Chapter Six: Fear]

      I crumpled on the ground, covering my head with my arms, my whole body trembling with fear. Goddess, save me, I thought again, with more urgency than the first time. A feeling of weightlessness came over me, and suddenly I landed hard on…

            …A mattress?

            I opened my eyes, and nearly screamed again when I found myself in my own bedroom. Usually I am not a screamer. My voice gets caught in my throat and the most I'll get is a weird squeak. But seeing that man in the fire, the way he looked through me, had freed my voice. I could still feel that scream reverberating in my ears. I shook uncontrollably.

            I got up carefully. Had I been dreaming? I looked down at my sneakers: grass stains. And ashes from the fire. It wasn't a dream.

            That gave me another worry: How was I going to get back to the circle? I've only teleported myself once before, and that was when I was six and scared to death of an axe-wielding madman inside a haunted house. This strange power of mine was clearly triggered by fear. So how was I supposed to get myself back?

            I was suddenly hit with these strong vibrations of…love. Passion.

            Coming from my parents' room. And now I heard noises, and I nearly gagged.

            "Oh, Hunter…"

            Oh GOD!

            I jumped on my bed, thinking, Get me out of here, get me out of here! If this wasn't motivation to leave, I didn't know what was. I buried my head in my hands, frantically screaming in my head, Get me out of here, GET ME THE HELL OUT. I felt the weightlessness again, the floating between time and space, and this time the landing wasn't nearly as soft.

            I opened my eyes, and saw six pairs of eyes staring back. "Whoa," PJ said. "You were like…gone."

            "You screamed," Claire remembered, dropping to her knees next to me. "What happened?"

            I sat up, staring into the fire. The man was gone, and now the flames danced before my eyes in their infinite beauty. "I…my eyes were playing tricks on me again. I thought I saw something, and it really freaked me out." I rubbed my head, curling forward and resting against my knees. "I have this weird ability to…transport myself from place to place, if I get really scared, like I did just now." I slapped the ground with my hands, feeling frustrated. "Now you're all probably scared of Wicca, aren't you?"

            "No, we're not," Rusty said quietly, kneeling down next to me and rubbing my back. My eyes immediately flicked to his, and he said, "We're just concerned about how you're feeling. Are you sure you're okay?"

            I nodded slowly, looking away from him. "I think I'd like to go home now," I said, and Claire and Jamie helped me up and we walked to their car. I lay down in the backseat, curling up in a fetal position. The car vibrated as the motor came to life, and we pulled onto the road.

            I lay there, thinking about what I'd seen. Who was that man? Judging by the image of his face, he'd been about eighteen. Then, I wondered if that even had been a person at all. What if it was a taibhs, a dark spirit? I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about that. I'd never seen a taibhs before, so it was entirely possible that that was what it was. What if the thing haunting me was that taibhs? Incoherent thoughts whirled inside my brain, and I began tracing runes and other signs of protection all around me. Pentacles. Intersecting circles of protection. The angular runic p for comfort. I lay with my hands on my face, breathing slowly.

            Claire touched my leg gently. "Moira, you're home," she whispered gently.

            I got up slowly, thanking  Jamie for the ride home. "I'm sorry for my freak-out," I mumbled, shutting the door.

            "It's okay," Jamie replied. "We all had a good time." I wrapped my arms around myself, walking to the front door. I sent out some strong vibrations so my parents could stop whatever sordid activities they'd found themselves in. I quickly unlocked the door and hurried up the stairs to my bedroom. Once inside my room, I put on my pajamas and curled up under my covers. I drifted away into an uneasy sleep.

*  *  *

            My eyes fluttered open sleepily, and I got a shock when I rolled over and saw the clock reading 12:43 PM. My head felt stuffy. I felt sick from everything that I'd seen last night.

            There was a knock on my door, and my mom entered my room. "Hey, sleepy-head," she greeted me quietly, smiling.

            Oh, don't you smile at me like that, I thought. I know what you and Daddy did last night.

            Mom walked over and sat on my bed. "So, how was the party?"

            "It was okay," I said, my eyes closed. "I'm really tired, though."

            "What time did you get home?" she asked, concern in her hazel eyes.

            I forced myself to sit up a little. "I dunno." I rubbed my left eye with the heel of my hand.

            Mom patted my knee. "I'll make you some breakfast. Or is it lunch? Whatever, I'll make you something to eat." And with that she left my room.

            I stretched and yawned, and rubbed my eyes a little more. My hair was a mess, I felt like crap, and I thought I'd seen a taibhs. Not the best way to start the day.

            I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, then tried to drag a brush through my dark hair. Soon it looked reasonable, and I padded down to the kitchen. Mom fed me scrambled eggs and Diet Coke, and after that I lay around, watching television.

            The phone rang, and this time I could tell who it was: Claire. I picked up the cordless and said, "Hi, Claire."

            There was a pause on the other line. "Tell me you have Caller ID."

            I grinned. "I love being a witch."

            "That's just freaky," laughed Claire. I laughed too. "So, I just called to ask if you're feeling any better."

            "I just woke up; does that tell you anything?" I asked her, smiling a little. I walked up the stairs to my bedroom.

            "Wow. You must feel horrible," she said sympathetically. I nodded, though she couldn't see me, and sat down on my bed, leaning against the pillows. Claire paused for a moment, then said, "I want to know what happened last night."

            "What do you mean?" I asked, feeling nervous. Oh, no, I thought. Claire, if you want your room intact, don't ask about the Ghost.

            "Moira, get real. No one gets so scared that she whisks herself away without a trace because her eyes played tricks on her," Claire reasoned. "And I saw what happened last week, at the assembly. What really happened last night?"

            I sighed. How do you tell your first real friend that you're being stalked by a ghost? Finally, I said, "Okay, you have to promise me some things."

            "Like what?"

            "Like, you can't get scared off from Wicca. This kind of thing doesn't happen, usually."

            "What kind of thing?" Claire persisted.

            "Okay, second thing: Do you have a helmet?"

            "What?!"

            "I'm serious. Every time I try telling someone about this, something really bad happens. I tried telling my Aunt Bree, and my shelf fell down. I tried telling my mom, and we nearly got killed in a car accident."

            "Oh my God, Moira!"

            "Are you getting the helmet?"

            "No. I'll take my chances. Now tell me." I took a deep breath, and told her everything. About hearing the voice in my own circle, the message at the assembly, what happened at the math class, Aunt Bree, her tarot reading, and the car accident. I told her about dinner with my grandparents, and finally, the face I'd seen in the flames. "And when we threw our hands up at the end of the banishing, I saw his whole body. He was just standing there, looking at me, no, more like through me. And that's what made me scream and blink out."

            "Whoa…" Claire whispered. There was a pause, then she said, "Well, nothing happened."

            "What?"

            "Nothing happened," she repeated. "No catastrophes, nothing. I'm fine."

            "I don't get it!" I said in exasperation. "Every time I try to tell my parents or anyone else, something happens! Something always happens!"

            "Hmm…" Claire thought for a minute. Then she said, "Your Aunt Bree, she's your mother's sister?"

            "Actually, no," I said. "Mom's best friend."

            "How long have your mom and Bree known each other?" she asked.

            I shrugged. "I dunno. Forever?"

            "Forever," Claire repeated. "What about your dad? When did your parents meet?"

            "When she was seventeen, what are you getting at, Claire?"

            "Your tarot reading said that secrets were being hid from you," Claire said. "I think it's obvious by now that your parents—Maybe even your aunt Bree—are hiding something." She spoke with this Yoda-like wisdom. "What I'm saying is, what if the thing that's haunting you is part of that secret? What if your parents know how to strike it down if they knew what it was? Then the thing wouldn't want you to tell them anything. Therefore, he created distractions, warnings, to keep you from leaking his secret."

            "Claire, you're a genius."

            "Thank you; I know." I told her that I had to think about this new information, and we hung up. Secrets, huh? I wondered, tapping the phone against my lips. What are you hiding from me, Morgan and Hunter?

            That's when I realized I didn't know how Mom found out about Wicca.

*  *  *

            Dinner was tense for me. I wanted to lash out at my parents, yell, Tell me your secret! How did Mom find out she was a blood witch? I couldn't believe I hadn't questioned it sooner. When you're brought up by two strict Catholic parents, you don't just suddenly start practicing witchcraft. I wanted to slam down my fork, stand up, and make a speech that would blow them away. But I was afraid of what The Ghost would do. The last time, he'd almost killed my mother and I.

            "So, tell us more about the party," my dad told me, smiling brightly.

            "It was interesting," I told them. I paused a moment, then dropped the bomb. "They want to know more about Wicca."

            My parents stopped eating, surprised looks on their faces. "Really," Mom stated, looking at me.

            "Yeah." I nibbled at my oriental chicken. "They want to start a coven with me, and I know I have to be initiated to be a coven leader, so…can I be initiated soon?"

            "Well, of course," Dad said, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "Oh, this is brilliant, Moira. Tell me, have you thought of a name for your coven?"

            "Cirrus."

            That one word caused my mother to gasp and drop her fork and knife. She and Dad stared at me, and honestly, I felt like staring at myself. Where'd I come up with that? The word had just sprung to my mind. Sort of like when I'd banished loneliness. I hadn't really thought about that, either.

            "What?" Mom breathed, looking the way she did when the plates started shaking during dinner with Grandma and Grandpa Rowlands. She's acting so weird, I thought.

            I shrugged. "I dunno. Cirrus, it just popped into my head. I dunno why."

            Dad leaned in towards me. "Tell me honestly, Moira. Where'd you get the idea to call your coven Cirrus?"

            "I don't know, okay?!" I yelled, standing up. "Will you two stop acting so cryptic? I know you're hiding something from me, and I'm gonna find out what your secret is!" I stormed up to my room, slammed the door shut, and spelled it closed. I lay on my bed, fuming. How could you, Mom? After all you've been through, how could you keep secrets from me? I cried myself to sleep that night.

*  *  *

            Later that night, I heard noises in my room. Someone was in there with me. My eyes snapped open, and I tried to look around without moving. I suddenly saw the glint of a blade near my window.

            I immediately leapt up in my bed, grabbing the heavy metal flashlight I'd stashed under my bed and snapping my bedside light on. I made this yelling noise, raising the flashlight in a threatening way.

            "Moira, Moira, good God!" I stopped when I saw my father standing near my window, his athame in hand. "What in the world are you doing?"

            "What are you doing?" I fired back. "Geez, you scared me!"

            My dad turned back to my window sill. "I'm looking for sigils."

            "What?"

            "Sigils. Bespelled runes--"

            "I know what sigils are, Dad," I said irritably. "What I meant is, why are you looking for them?"

            He sighed. "Your mother found some on the window sill in our bedroom. Sigils for great loss. Devastation. Despair."

            I gaped. "Goddess…" I whispered. "Where's Mom?"

            "She's downstairs," he told me. "Why don't you go down there and keep her company?" I nodded and jumped off my bed, walking downstairs.

            My mother looked horrible when I found her. The tea cup was shaking in her hands, and her eyes stared straight forward, seeing nothing. "Mom?" I whispered.

            Her head turned, and she sighed and put down her cup. "Hey, sweetie." Dagda leapt up onto her lap, and she pet him absently. I went to her and she embraced me, burying her face in my shoulder. "Goddess, I don't know what we're going to do," she began to cry, shaking.

            "Mom, we are going to be fine." I pushed her away from me and looked into her eyes. "Nothing is going to happen to us. Whatever's happing it's going to stop."

            I rambled on a little more, still holding eye contact with Mom. But suddenly, her face went white. "Hunter…" she whispered. She shoved me away abruptly,  and ran up the stairs, screaming, "Hunter!"

            I stared after my mom. What the hell was that? I wondered angrily. But suddenly, I saw my reflection in a mirror on the refrigerator.

            My eyes were gold. I gasped and shook my head, blinking hard. They returned to their normal hazel color. I stared into the mirror, touching my face. What was happening to me?

            Run, witch, run.

            I turned, and headed for the front door, grabbing my jacket on the way. Once I got outside, I ran blindly, even though the pavement was painful for my bare feet, even though it was in the middle of the night and I had no clue where I was going. I had to run, away from my family, away from whatever was haunting me. I needed it to stop.