With Sky driving and Moira navigating, the three reached Lilith Delaney's cottage in fifteen minutes.
"What exactly did you see?" Morgan asked for the third time.
"It was him," said Moira, from the backseat. "Turn left up here, at the second lane. I didn't recognize him before because the Hunter in my dream was young and looked really different. But the one I saw in Lilith's crystal was the same person I saw in the silver ball."
"Are you quite sure?" Sky asked, her long, bony fingers tight on the steering wheel.
Moira nodded to herself and said, "Yes. If that was Hunter we saw tonight, then I saw him in Lilith's crystal last night. Do you… do you really think he's alive?" Hunter had looked horrible. Moira thought about Colm, how neat and cheerful and ordinary he had looked. So comforting, reassuring. Like a dad.
"If it's the same person from the silver ball, then yes," Moira's mum said, her voice constrained.
Moira had been trying to suppress her fear this whole time, but now it was threatening to break through. She had no idea what to expect from Lilith Delaney now that it seemed like her mum had been right about her all along. "Here!" she said, peering into the darkness, recognizing the huge oak trees that lined the small road where Ian’s cottage was.
Just six hours ago he had been so comforting on the headland, when she'd felt like she was losing her mind. Had all of that really been an act? Was he using her, trying to gain her trust the way Cal had used her mum? It seemed hard to believe he wasn't now.
But something in her was still praying that somehow Ian had nothing to do with his mother. She just couldn't reconcile her image of him, so kind, so caring, with another image of him actively working with his mother to harm them. Please let it not be true. Not Ian. Please, please, just not Ian.
The house wasn't dark, despite the late hour. A light was on in one upstairs room, and several rooms were lit downstairs. The three witches got out of the car, and Moira noticed that Sky was watching Morgan intently. A wave of light fell on her mother's face as they approached the house, and Moira almost gasped aloud. Her mum looked older, harder-stronger, and almost nothing like her mother the softhearted healer. Was this what she had looked like long ago, when she'd had to fight Ciaran and the dark wave?
They strode toward the house, and about ten feet from the front door Moira suddenly felt like she was trying to walk through gelatin. The air itself felt thick: it had weight and a heavy texture.
"What is this?" she asked in a low tone.
"Spells to keep unfriendly people out," Morgan said grimly, pushing through it as if it were wet tissue paper. Next to her Sky was murmuring under her breath, and Moira saw that her mum was tracing sigils in the air in front of her.
The door opened before they got to it. Ian stood there, still in his muddy clothes from before. "Moira?" he asked, astonished. "Are you all right? What's going on?" He sounded sincere. Moira would have given anything for him to really care, but she couldn't risk him fooling her for another minute. She turned away, not meeting his gaze.
"Where's your mother, Ian?" Morgan asked in a voice like a brick.
"What's wrong?" he answered, his voice sounding formal, less friendly. Just hearing the change of his tone made Moira's heart sink. What had she been thinking? Lilith was his mother. Moira, Moira, how stupid are you?
"What's this about?" Ian crossed his arms and stood in the doorway. They were on opposite sides, had been all along, but she had refused to see it. Her heart felt crushed, bruised. "Moira?" Ian asked, looking over their heads at her, standing behind them in the dark. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she said shortly, more confused than ever.
Then a thickset figure appeared behind him, outlined by the light spilling out onto the lawn. "Morgan Byrne," Lilith Delaney said. "I confess to surprise. What could possibly make you think you have the right to show up here and harass my son?"
"For your sake, I hope Ian isn't involved," Morgan replied sharply. A shiver crept up Moira's spine at her mother's tone. Morgan's voice conjured up images of glaciers, scraping their way inexorably across a landscape of rock. "Let me see," her mum continued. "I could have come to return a boxful of pathetic, amateurish hexes, ill-luck charms, and injury fetishes that you've littered about my house and yard."
Lilith Delaney blinked and pushed ahead of Ian. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, sounding bored.
Morgan laughed thinly, and Moira winced. "Please," her mum said. "Bottles full of nails, needles, and vinegar? Let's see… I think most children learn that in about the third form. Not very impressive-for a high priestess."
Moira knew that the hexes and spells put on the house and yard had been much more serious than that, with dangerously dark intentions and a great deal of thought and power put into them. Mum was obviously trying to goad Lilith by making it sound like a slow-witted child had created them. Moira could feel the coil of anger starting in Lilith's stomach.
"Are you done?" Lilith asked. "It's late, and the children have school tomorrow. Moira's already interrupted Ian’s studies enough for one day."
Ian frowned and glanced at his mother.
"But then I guess she was upset, finding out she was a bastard daughter, just like her mother," Lilith continued.
Oh, Goddess. Ian had told Lilith about Ciaran and Hunter and everything. Moira took in a breath, then let it out, trying to release the raw sting of betrayal. She deliberately refused to look at Ian.
"You are so mistaken, Morgan," Lilith sneered. "You're ashamed of your father, who was one of the greatest witches to ever live. But you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You are weak, uncommitted, unfocused-you belong to a coven of dog-witches who have milquetoast circles where you all celebrate someone having a good day. Ciaran MacEwan! His blood should be celebrated, his memory revered, his lessons learned by every witch! But no-you think him evil. Your vision, your knowledge, is so small, so pedestrian, that you can't begin to encompass what a leader he was! You shouldn't be allowed to live, much less work your pointless and juvenile magick."
"We have different views," Morgan said, her face like stone. "But we have some things in common. Hunter Niall. I want to know what you know."
"Never heard of him," Lilith said, shrugging. "Now quit wasting my time." She stepped back into the doorway.
"You do know him!" Moira cried, rushing forward. "You were looking at him in your crystal the first day I came by!"
Lilith's eyebrows raised slightly, then she rolled her eyes and started to shut the door, refusing even to acknowledge Moira's words. In the next second she froze almost comically, as if suddenly pretending to be a statue. Her hand was on the door, but her back stiffened and the only thing she moved were her eyes, which widened and focused on Morgan.
Moira saw that her mother's right hand was stretched out, palm facing Lilith, and as Moira watched, Morgan slowly began to close the fingers of that hand.
Lilith Delaney whimpered, and Moira stepped back and brought her hand up to her mouth. She'd never seen anything like this. Never seen her mother do anything like this. Morgan kept her hand outstretched, but the more she closed her fingers, the more Lilith seemed to crumple against the door. It was clear that Lilith was striving not to look afraid, but Moira could feel the prickles of fear emanating from her, the way she had felt her anger a minute ago. "You will tell me," Morgan said, her voice low and terrible to hear, hardly human. Mum? It was hard to keep from panicking-things were spinning out of control so fast that nothing made sense anymore. How could her mum be so cruel, so deadly? Moira's legs felt weak, and she struggled not to fall to the ground.
Lilith's eyes were still wide, but they shot a momentary glance at Ian, who was standing to her side. He reached out to touch her. "Mother?" he asked, concern in his voice. He turned to Morgan, angry. "Stop it! What are you doing?"
"It's a binding spell, Ian," Sky said, her voice as dry and calm as a desert rock. "Morgan's always been particularly good at them. Must be Ciaran's blood."
There was a spike in the fear that Moira felt coming from Lilith, fear and disbelief.
Lilith hadn't thought Mum was so strong, Moira realized. She'd had no idea who she was up against. Even after everything Moira had heard about her mum, even after the stories about the dark wave, it was hard for Moira herself to believe.
"Hunter Niall," Morgan said again. "Tell me everything you know." Her voice was like thunder, felt but unheard, deep tremors rolling through the five of them.
"I know nothing," Lilith spit through stiff lips. Morgan made an almost imperceptible movement, and Lilith whimpered again.
"Stop it!" Ian cried, trying to step between his mother and Morgan. "Moira! Make her stop!"
Moira ignored him, feeling her heart rip apart. She hated to hear the pain in his voice, but she couldn't give in. He had lied to her, betrayed her. She was so ashamed of how stupid, how naive she had been. Even after her mum had warned her about Cal, had tried to make her see the parallels, Moira had refused to believe it. She'd thought Ian was different. She'd been wrong.
"Where is Hunter Niall?" Morgan pressed, and when Lilith didn't answer, she closed her fingers a bit more. Lilith seemed to shrink against the door, her knuckles white, as if someone were wrapping her in a cloth of pain and twisting it. Her knees bent slightly, and Moira could see tiny beads of sweat appear on her upper lip.
"The thing about binding spells," Sky added conversationally, "is that they can do quite a bit of damage without leaving a mark." She let these words sink in, and then she looked at Lilith and said, an edge of steel in her voice, "The other interesting thing is that you're not the only one at stake here." She glanced first at Ian, then looked back to Lilith, making her intentions clear.
Moira bit her lips, tension making her muscles feel like knotted wood. Tell Morgan what she wants to know. Do not force her to harm your son.
Feeling ill, Moira started to sink to her knees in the wet grass, giving in, but instantly stood when Sky's eyes flicked to her. She could not show weakness. She could not become a liability in this desperate situation. She was Moira of Belwicket, Morgan's daughter, and she would show that she had her mother's strength. Locking her knees, she clenched her hands at her sides and pressed her lips firmly together. Only now was she beginning to understand what it must have been like for her mother when she'd found out she was a blood witch, when she'd realized that Cal was using her, when she'd had to fight the darkest forces Wicca had seen in generations. She'd never be able to look at her mum in the same way again.
"Moira saw you looking at an image of Hunter Niall in a crystal," said Morgan. "Tell me what you know. Don't make this worse than it has to be."
"You don't know who you're dealing with," Lilith snarled.
"Neither do you. You would be hard-pressed to come up with someone who could scare me," Morgan said coldly. "Not after my father. I've felt the foul wind of a dark wave against my face. I've gone face-to-face against Ciaran and defeated him. I've been hard to impress since then. Now, for the last time, you will tell me what you know, or after tonight you will know what it's like to be hard to impress."
With that she clenched her hand into a fist, then twisted it sideways, and Lilith crumpled like a puppet with cut strings. She slumped to the ground, curled around the door, her face contorted into a mask of pain and rage. Ian dropped to his knees next to her and put his hand on her shoulder, then shot Morgan a look of anger.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he said harshly, and Moira closed her eyes for a moment and stepped back, still unable to bear seeing Ian frightened, angry, hurt.
Flecks of blood appeared at Lilith's lips, but she could not speak. Morgan made the tiniest gesture with her closed hand, and a high keening escaped from Lilith and split the night air, a howl of agony.
Morgan leaned closer, not looking at Ian. "I can do this all night," she said slowly. "Can you?"
Lilith's face deformed one last time, then suddenly she spit out, "It was Iona! Iona MacEwan!"
Moira saw her mother step back, visibly shocked, "Iona. What about her?" she demanded.
Iona? Moira thought. Ciaran's other daughter? "She'll know the answers you want," Lilith said.
"And where's Iona?" Sky said, her voice sounding like a dry knife on leather. "Where is she now?"
Lilith seemed to wrestle with this answer. Her short, heavy body was still frozen on the ground, and Moira thought that if she could move, she would be writhing and screaming. Then she burst out, "Arsdeth."
"Where is Arsdeth?" Sky snapped.
With an effort Lilith gasped, "North. North, by the sea."
Morgan looked at Ian. "Get a map."
He clearly wanted to refuse: his face was red with anger and overlain with worry for his mother. But Morgan's voice was a force field, and Ian stood and disappeared into the house. A few moments later he returned, a much-used and faded map of Ireland in his hand. He threw it on the ground between Morgan and Sky, and Sky picked it up.
"Arsdeth," she said. "In the north."
Moira swallowed hard as she saw a dark red drop of blood slide from Lilith's nose to sink onto the worn stone step under her head. Goddess, this was a bloody night. She understood now what Keady had meant when she'd told Moira it would truly be better never to understand what Morgan was capable of. So much pain and terror already. Did she have enough of her mother's strength in her to bear it?
"Arsdeth," Sky murmured again, tracing the map with her finger. "Oh, Goddess, here it is. Arsdeth, way the hell up north in County Donegal, by the ocean."
Morgan looked at her, and Sky nodded. Then Morgan said to Lilith, "What will happen to you if we go there and find you've been lying to us?" Morgan let Lilith have a minute to think about it. "What will happen to your son? Your house? Your coven? You do know you'd never escape me." Her tone was conversational, mildly curious.
There was no response, and Morgan rocked her fist from side to side slightly. A crumpled sound of agony came from Lilith, and once again Moira had to look away. "You know that I'll track you to the ends of the earth if you flee, if you've lied to us?"
Lilith nodded. Ian looked as though he was trying not to cry. Goddess, how could she turn off her feelings for him? How could he have betrayed her to his mother? Nothing would ever seem normal again. In one short week, one long night, her life had changed dramatically forever.
"Lilith," Morgan said, her voice sounding horribly gentle, "think about this. Do you believe I'm my father's daughter?"
A flash of fury sparked from Lilith's eyes. Her lips, stained with blood flecks, pressed even more tightly together. Her nod was unwilling, but it was there.
"You are right," Morgan whispered, and straightened. She nodded to Sky, who was looking at her curiously. Sky folded the map and put it on the ground next to Ian. Ian angrily scraped his sweater sleeve across his eyes. Moira couldn't resist meeting his gaze one last time. To her surprise, the look he gave her was anguished, but not full of hatred.
Morgan had already left Lilith and was walking to the car when Sky said softly,"Morgan?"
Morgan turned to look at her, and Sky met her gaze, then flicked her glance over to Lilith, still on the ground. Quickly Morgan turned and strode back to the high priestess of Ealltuinn. "I release you," she said, her voice low and steady. Her hand sprang open, and with an audible gasp Lilith seemed to melt onto her doorstep. "Mother?" Ian said, his hand on her shoulder. He gave the three of them a last glance, then went inside to return moments later with a blanket, which he pulled over his mother. Her face was waxen, and the blood from her nose shone dark and red against her skin.
Morgan turned again and walked to the car, her back stiff, hands hanging like claws from her sides.
Moira followed her quickly, sliding into the backseat as Sky started the car. She still couldn't believe what she'd just seen- her own mother had hurt someone on purpose. Had frightened and threatened someone. Bound someone. Miserably Moira leaned her head against the window, wishing she could just shut down and stop thinking, stop feeling.
In the front seat she saw Sky glance quickly at Morgan, saw her mother's shoulders bend and her head droop-and then she heard her mother start to cry. Not just smothered sniffles, but huge, heaving sobs.
Then Moira remembered one of the most basic Wiccan teachings, the threefold rule-What you send out comes back to you-times three. Morgan had just sent horrible pain to Lilith-what would be returned to her or to Moira and Sky for participating?
Sky shifted the car into a higher gear, and Moira saw that they were going back toward town, where Sky could get on the highway going north. "Morgan, it's all right," Sky said. "You need to be strong now. You had to do it. For Hunter."
"Oh, Goddess," Morgan sobbed. "What have I become? Who am I?" And she cried harder. Those were the only words Moira heard her mother say the rest of the night.