Changeling

Of course she knew I was Woodbane. Belwicket had been a coven of «new» Woodbane, those who had renounced dark magick and sworn to make only good an positive magick. Ciaran was one of the old Woodbanes. Yet he and Maeve had slept together and made me, a Woodbane who had one foot in darkness and one foot in light.

"These pictures are awful. But what do they have to do with me?" I asked.

"We've recently received information that Amyranth is planning on calling another dark wave," Eoife said. She tucked the photographs back into her briefcase. "Here, in Widow's Vale. They plan to wipe out the Starlocket coven."

My mouth dropped open. Whatever I had expected, it wasn't this. Starlocket had once been Selene Belltower's coven. When Selene had fled Widow's Vale, her most loyal Woodbane followers had disappeared with her. But not all of Starlocket had been Woodbane or dark Woodbanes. The members that had been from the other great clans—Leapvaughn, Brightendale, Vikroth, Rowanwand, Burnhide or Wyndenkell—and also those who were not blood witches had continued on under the leadership of my friend Alyce Fernbrake. Alyce owned Practical Magick, a store in the next town over that specialized in Wiccan necessities. Ever since I first discovered my powers, Alyce had been a kind of adviser, and after our t`ath me`anma brach, in which we shared one another's knowledge and experiences, I felt a special closeness to her.

Now my birth father and his coven were planning to plunder Starlocket for its books, tools, spells, star charts—anything they could find. Not only that. I knew from bitter firsthand experience that Amyranth could actually steal people's magick, their power and their knowledge, in a dark ritual. Unfortunately, the person didn't usually live through it. That was what had almost happened to me in New York before Ciaran had helped Hunter stop the ritual.

"How do you know about this?" I asked faintly.

"We had an agent who infiltrated the San Francisco cell of Amyranth. It was the last message she sent us," Eoife said. "Right before she died."

I was startled. "Died?"

"She was killed," said Eoife sadly. "Found drowned in the bay, with the Amyranth sigil burned into her skin."

"Oh, Goddess." My brain began piecing together ideas.

"But if she was killed because of passing on that message, then surely Amyranth knows the council is onto them. Surely they'll change their plans." I said.

"We thought of that. But it's not necessarily true. After all," Eoife went on, her voice turning bitter, "we've been singularly ineffectual in finding out anything about most cells of Amyranth—especially the New York one. And even having this bit of information doesn't really help us. Alyce and some of the other Starlocket members have been having disturbing visions. Some of their spells have gone terribly awry. They have bad dreams. It all feels like a noose closing around their necks."

"But why can't the council help? Isn't it made up of the strongest witched alive?"

Eoife looked at me with anger. "Yes. But we're not gods or goddesses. Simply knowing about a dark wave doesn't help us stop it. Frankly, we have no idea to stop it."

"So what can I do?" I asked carefully.

My guest took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. Her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as she sipped tea that by now must be cold.

"We want you to help us stop the dark wave," she said.

My world went white in an instant. Jagged images of what had almost happened to me in New York crashed into my mind, and my breath went shallow. With tunnel vision I stared at Eoife, sure that the horror and panic were written on my face.

"Eoife," I breathed. "I'm seventeen years old. I'm not initiated. I don't see how I can help with anything…"

"We know about your situation. But you have a great deal of power." She tried to keep defeat out of her voice but didn't succeed. "And you're our only hope."

"Why?"

She looked at me. "You're Ciaran's daughter. His daughter by the woman he loved. And you're very, very powerful. He would be intensely attracted to that. You could get close to him."

"And then what?" I was trying not to sound hysterical. Inside my thoughts were running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

"We need information," Eoife said. "We have strong evidence that Amyranth is planning a strike on Starlocket during its Imbolic celebration. There's a possibility we could stop them if you could learn something—anything—of the spell they plan to use to call the dark wave. Knowing even a few of these words would help us fight it. If Ciaran were to make you his confidante, you might be able to get us this information."

I looked at Eoife in disbelief. "And what if he tries to kill me?"

"He's your father," she said. "He didn't let his coven kill you in New York."

I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. "Okay. Get close to Ciaran. Discover what I can of the dark-wave spell. God, this is so surreal."

Eoife gave me a level glance. "There's more."

"Why am I not surprised?" I muttered.

Eoife shifted in her chair. "If you planted a watch sigil on him, it would help us track his movements. We'd have a better chance of knowing where he was."

"How am I supposed to plant a watch sigil on him? He's a thousand times stronger than me!" I was frightened now and running out of patience with this crazy conversation. What this woman was suggesting could easily get me killed.

"We don't believe he's a thousand times stronger than you," Eoife said, but her gaze dropped from mine. "Anyway, we would teach you how to do it. We would cover you with deception spells, with protection, with every weapon we have. With luck, you could even attend an Amyranth circle. Any information you pick up there would be useful. The more we know about them, the more chance we have of being able to dismantle their coven, remover their power, scatter them so they could never again call on a dark wave to obliterate a clan, to pillage their knowledge, to destroy their homes. With your help, we can save Starlocket. Without you help, they are surely lost."

"The witches in Amyrant would recognize me," I pointed out.

"But now they know you're Ciaran's daughter." Eoife said. "They would believe you'd want to be close to him."

This was all just too incredible, too absurd. "You must have someone more qualified," I said.

"We don't Morgan," Eoife said. "The San Francisco cell of Amyranth is the only one we've been able to infiltrate—and that was unsuccessful. It's only because we're so desperate, so without options, that we even considered asking you to take this risk. Amyranth has been gaining power for the last thirty years, and we've made hardly any progress in fighting them. But know we have you, the daughter of one of the one of the main leaders. Ciaran is incredibly charismatic. Anyone would believe you would want to be closer to him."