She looked back at me regretfully. "I'm sorry, Morgan, but I gave him a drink to make him sleep. He probably won't wake up until tonight"
"Oh." I stood up and retrieved my coat, unwilling to pursue the story about Hunter if Selene didn't want to tell me. I felt a thousand times better than I had, but I knew instinctively the pain and guilt would return.
"Thank you for coming," Selene said, straining a steaming mixture over the sink. "And remember, what you did last night was the right thing. Believe that."
I nodded awkwardly.
"Please call me if you want to talk," Selene added as I headed for the door. "Anytime."
"Thank you," I said. I pushed through the door and headed home.
CHAPTER 3
Dread
April 2000
Scrying doesn't always mean you see a picture—it can be more like receiving impressions. I use my lueg, my scrying stone. It's a big, thick chunk of obsidian, almost four inches at its widest and tapering to a point. It was my father's. I found it under my pillow the morning he and Mum disappeared.
Luegs are more reliable than either fire or water. Fire may show you pasts and possible futures, but ti's hard to work with. There's an old Wiccan saying that goes: Fire is a fragile lover, court her well, neglect her not; her faith is like a misty smoke, her anger is destruction hot. Water is easier to use but very misleading. Once I heard Mum say that water is the Wiccan whore, spilling her secrets to any, lying to most, trusting few.
Last night I took my lueg and went down to the kill that flows at the edge of my uncle's property. This was where we swan int the summer, where Linden and I caught minnows, where Alwyn used to pick gooseberries.
I sat at the water's edge and scryed, looking deep into my obsidian, weaving spells of vision.