The Gift of Magic

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Her grandmother was instantly on her feet, rushing over to Morgan who had gone pale and was suddenly shaking. “What's wrong?” She asked, hovering behind Morgan looking at the book over her shoulder.

“It's talking, no more like singing, but I can't understand the words.” She said, then couldn't help but slam the lid shut, shocked when the clasps did themselves.

“Is this the case the book came in?” Her grandmother asked.

“Yes, but I don't think it's the original case, it looks too new.” Morgan said, relieved when Peter picked up the case and moved it off the table away from her.

Everyone was silent for a long time, “If you want my guess that book is under a very strong protective spell, only a very powerful witch could break that spell.” Peter finally said, then added, “Morgan can read the Corey grimoire as well.”

“That doesn't surprise me, but I think for now we'll put both books back in the library in the safe, Morgan isn't ready to deal with either of them, and I don't like the fact that she can hear that one singing.” Her grandmother said, pointing to the Bradbury grimoire. “Instead I'd like to spend the rest of the day introducing you to the people of island.

Morgan wasn't sure that she was up to socializing, but when she looked at her grandmother's hopeful face she couldn't refuse, besides it would do her no good to sit around brooding over what her ability to open the Bradbury grimoire or the singing meant. Maybe some fresh air and a look around her new home would help to clear the confusion that was slowly creeping up on her again.

“That sounds wonderful.” She said, getting to her feet, just let me grab my jacket.

“Oh, you don't need to go upstairs, just tell the house what you want and it will bring it to you.” Her grandmother said, looking at Morgan expectantly.

Morgan felt a little silly but she closed her eyes, held out her hand and said, “I need my jacket.” When she opened them, her jacket was draped over her arm.

She couldn't help but gasp which made everyone in the room laugh. “Welcome to Corey island, cousin.” Peter said.

Devon jerked awake and sat up in bed his breath coming in short gasps. He'd had the dream again, but this time something remained, the image of an island. He closed his eyes and focused on the image willing it to become clearer, but although the image remained he got nothing more, no indication where the island was or why it was part of the dream. The dream had become a part of his life after all these years, but recently he'd been having it more and more often, so often in fact that he'd left his life behind and began looking for the woman in the dream.

Normally when he woke from the dream all he was left with was the vision of the woman with dark hair and a sense that he needed to find her, that he had something she needed desperately, that it was a matter of life and death. When he was young it had been easy to ignore the dream, but as he'd gotten older and the dream began to come more often, he'd accepted the fact that someday he'd be forced to answer the call of the dream. To fulfill a destiny, he couldn't see or understand, but that he knew deep down would change his life forever.

For the last year he'd been floating around the country, the dream making it impossible to stay in one place for very long, the constant need to move making him anxious when he stayed anywhere for more than a few weeks at a time. His foster mother, a woman who had taken him in when he was sixteen, had tried to see his future, tried to help him make sense of the dream, but had failed just as he had. Finally, she'd done the only thing she could think of and sent him away to see if he could find the woman. He'd traveled from one coven to another looking for her, each failure to find her, increasing his frustration with each failure.

Giving up was not an option, he knew that, but he'd been seriously considering it last night. Life on the road hadn't been easy, hitching hiking and working odd jobs to support himself got old after a while. But the dream had finally given him something to go on, and he felt encouraged for the first time since the dreams had started. Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, he closed his eye and cleared his mind, focusing only on the island. Slipping into a trance, he saw himself floating above the island, then swooping down to the ground to land on his feet.

Using his talent, he walked the roads on the island, looking for any clue to where he was, confused because the island looked like something out of the past with it’s tiny village and old houses. But as he concentrated harder, he saw electrical lines and knew that it was a modern village. When he felt himself beginning to weaken, he flew back up above the island and looked around him for any clue as to where he might be. But exhaustion won out and the island faded from his mind until it disappeared and he was back in his cheap hotel room.

Morgan spent the afternoon traveling around the island and meeting people. It was both exhausting and exhilarating to discover that she not only had a family but that it was quite extensive. Most of the connections were so old that they could be traced back to the first settlers on the island, who had intermarried creating a big clan of Corey's. It would take her months to figure out who everyone was but they were all so friendly and welcoming that she decided it would be fun spend time with them all.

They were on their way home before her grandmother brought up the subject of the events of the days before she arrived on the island. “Morgan, now that you've had some time to rest and relax I think we better talk about the grimoire and the man who attacked you.”

Morgan sighed, she knew that they needed to talk, but talking about it made it so real. “I'm not even sure where to begin.” She said, looking out the window at the ocean crashing against the rocky shore.

“Let's get out and walk along the beach for a while, that always helps me think.” Her grandmother said, pulling the car over.

They walked along the pebbled beach, the waves kissing their feet, seagulls the only sound besides the sound of the water for a while. “It's really beautiful here.” Morgan said, realizing that she was beginning to relax.

“I can't imagine living anywhere else. Will you miss Denver?”

“It's a wonderful place to live and I'm sure I'll go back some day; my mother is still there.” Morgan said, reminding her grandmother that her mother was still a part of her life.

They walked on in silence until Morgan finally felt ready to talk. “I'm so confused by everything that's happened, it still feels like a dream.”

“Why don't you start at the beginning, I might be able to help you if I know more about what happened.” Her grandmother said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Well, I guess it all started the afternoon I found the grimoire in the collection, it was buried in a box of other books like it was worthless.” Morgan began, feeling stronger with her grandmother's hand in hers.

By the time she finished her grandmother was shaking her head as if she understood perfectly what had happened to Morgan. “Sweetheart, it sounds to me like your magic is beginning to surface again, it's a slow and difficult process and much more suited to a small child than a grown woman.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan asked, confused.

“Let me try to explain, when a person like you who has true magic inside them starts to exhibit their powers, they're usually just children. The one thing I heard you say over and over is that you wished for something. You wished that magic was real and that the spell would work that first night, you wished that same thing the next night, and when you were in danger you wished for someone to save you.”

Morgan thought about that for a few minutes and realized that her grandmother was right, she'd been wishing for something each and every time. “But that doesn't explain why I felt like I knew that spirit or whatever it was that saved me in the parking lot.”

“That's harder to explain, let's sit down.” Her grandmother said, gesturing to a big log that was weathered and smooth from the waves and the weather. “That spirit was your familiar, most young witches have them, some move on as the witch matures and some stay for the witch's entire life.”

“Is that why I felt like I knew him?”

“Yes, he was your constant companion when you were a child. You called him Whiskers because when he was in his animal form he was a white fluffy kitten with long black whiskers.” Her grandmother explained, a wistful smile on her face. “He saved you from yourself so many times, it became a bit of a joke.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Morgan, you have incredible magic inside you, as a child you didn't understand how to control it. Once we found you floating ten feet in the air picking apples off a tree and that was a minor scrape. It got to the point that we couldn't let you out of our sight for a second, drove your mother crazy and made your father proud.”

The mention of her father made Morgan sad, “It must have been hard to let us go.” She said.

“I can't say it was easy, but your father did what he thought was best, what he thought would keep you safe. Your mother and I had our problems, and I still think that they should have told you sooner, but she loved your father. I never would have let him go if I didn't think she did.”

Morgan thought about that for a moment and realized that it made her feel better to know that her parents had loved each other as much as she'd always thought. “There's one more thing I don't understand. How did that man find me? How did you find me?”

“That's simple, from your magical signature.” She answered, then when she saw the confusion on Morgan's face, she continued. “I'm sorry I forget sometimes that all of this is new to you. Everyone has what we can an aura around them, most people don't even know it's there, and for non-magical people it looks similar. But for those of us who have strong magic inside, we give off a different glow, a glow that is obvious when we're with regular people.”

“So, it was easy for him to tell that I'm magical?” Morgan said, the last word hard to say.

“Yes, and our auras are a bit like DNA, people from the same family have similar auras. Honey, I don't think he was after you, I think he was after your father. Instead of facing your father the way he should have, that coward Malcolm, sent one of his demons to kill him.” Her grandmother said, putting her arm around Morgan.

“He couldn't tell it was me?”

“I don't think the thing that Malcolm sent had the ability to differentiate between the two of you. One thing you'll learn very quickly, spirits aren't always as reliable as we want them to be.” Her grandmother answered, making Morgan realize that she had a lot to learn if she was going to survive in her new life.