Blood Witch_ Book Three - Cate Tiernan [34]
“Who is Hunter?” I asked.
Cal made a face. “I don’t want to talk about him,” he said.
“Well, he came to see me today.”
“What?” Shock flared in Cal’s golden eyes. I saw something else there, too. Concern, maybe. Concern for me.
“What’s the International Council of Witches?” I pressed on.
Cal drew away from me, then sighed in resignation. He sat back against the couch and nodded. “You’d better just tell me everything,” he said.
“Hunter came to my house and said I was Woodbane,” I said. The words flowed from my mouth as if a dam had been broken. “He said you were Woodbane and that he was your brother. He said I was stumbling into danger. He said he was on the International Council of Witches.”
“I can’t believe this.” Cal groaned. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure he leaves you alone from now on.” He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. “Anyway, the International Council of Witches is just what it sounds like. Witches from all over the world getting together. It’s kind of a governing body, though what they govern isn’t really clear. They’re kind of like village elders, but the village consists of all witches everywhere. I think there’s something like sixty-seven countries represented.”
“What do they do?”
“In the old days they often settled disputes about land, clan wars, cases of magick being used against others,” Cal explained. “Now they mostly try to set guidelines about appropriate use of magick, and they try to consolidate magickal knowledge.”
I shook my head, not quite understanding. “And Hunter’s part of it?”
Cal shrugged. “He says he is. I think he’s lying, but who knows? Maybe the council is really hard up for members.” He gave a short laugh. “Mostly he’s just a second-rate witch with delusions of grandeur.”
“Delusions is right,” I murmured, remembering how Hunter had claimed his cold was the result of a spell. That was so obviously ridiculous that maybe I should just forget about everything else he’d said, too. But somehow I couldn’t.
Cal glanced at me. “He told you that you were Woodbane?”
“Yes,” I said stiffly. “And I went inside and found it in Maeve’s BOS. I am Woodbane. All of Belwicket was. Did you know?”
Cal didn’t answer right away. Instead he seemed to weigh my words. He looked at the fire. “How do you feel about that?” he finally asked.
“Bad,” I said honestly. “I would have been really proud to be Rowanwand or even anything else. But to be Woodbane ... it’s like finding out my ancestors are a long line of jail-birds and lowlifes. Worse, really. Much worse.”
Cal laughed again. He turned to me. “No, it’s not, my love. It’s not that bad.”
“How can you say that?”
“It’s easy,” he said with a grin. “Nowadays it isn’t a big deal. Like I said, people have sort of a prejudiced view of Woodbanes, but they’re ignoring all their good qualities, like strength, and loyalty, and power, and pursuit of knowledge.”
I stared at him. “You didn’t know I was a Woodbane? I’m sure your mom does.”
Cal shook his head. “No, I didn’t know. I haven’t read Maeve’s book, and Mom didn’t discuss it with me. Listen, knowing you’re Woodbane isn’t a bad thing. It’s better than not knowing your clan at all. Better than being a mongrel. I’ve always thought the Woodbanes have gotten a bad rap—you know, revisionist history.”
I turned back to the fire. “He said you were Woodbane, too,” I whispered.
“We don’t know what we are,” Cal said quietly. “Mom has done a lot of research, but it isn’t clear. But if we were, would it matter to you? Would you not love me?”
“Of course it wouldn’t matter,” I said. The flames crackled with life before us, and I rested my head on Cal’s shoulder. As upset as I had been, I was starting to feel better. I kicked off my shoes and stretched my feet out to the fire. My socks hung loose. The heat felt delicious on my toes, and I sighed. I still had more questions to ask.
“Why did Hunter say he was your brother?”
Cal’s eyes darkened. “Because my dad’s a high priest and very