Blood Witch_ Book Three - Cate Tiernan [53]
I nodded. “That’s what I’ve gotten from her Book of Shadows. I mean, I haven’t finished reading it yet.”
“But she brought all of this with her, anyway? And didn’t use it? That must have been really hard.”
“Yeah,” I said. An inexplicable sense of unease began to cloud my happiness. “I guess she couldn’t bear to leave her tools behind, even if she couldn’t use them again.”
“Maybe she knew she would have a baby,” suggested Robbie, “and thought that in time she could pass the tools on. Which she did.”
I shrugged. “Could be,” I said thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find some explanation in her book.”
“I wonder if she thought not using them would protect her somehow,” Robbie mused. “Maybe using them would have given away her identity or her location sooner.”
I gazed at him, then back at all the stuff. “Maybe so,” I said slowly. The unease began to grow. My brows came together as I went on. “Maybe it’s still dangerous to have these things. Maybe I shouldn’t touch them—or maybe I should put them back.”
“I don’t know,” said Robbie. “Maeve told you where to find them. She didn’t seem to be warning you, did she?”
I shook my head. “No. In my vision it felt positive. No warning signs at all.” I carefully folded the robe and placed it back in the box, followed by the wand, the athame, and the four small cups. Then I closed the lid. I definitely needed to talk to Cal about this, and also Alyce or David, the next time I saw them.
“So, are you getting together with Cal tonight?” Robbie asked. He grinned. “He’s going to flip over all this.”
My excitement began to return. “I know. I can’t wait to hear what he says about it. Speaking of which, I better go. I have to get cleaned up.” I bit my lip, hesitating. “Are you going to Bree’s circle tonight?”
“I am,” Robbie said easily. He stood and started walking back down the hall. “They’re meeting at Raven’s.”
“Hmmm.” I put on my coat and opened the front door, the box tucked securely under my arm. “Well, be careful, okay? And thanks so much for coming with me today. I couldn’t have done it without you.” I leaned forward and hugged Robbie hard, and he patted my back awkwardly. Then I smiled and waved, and headed out to my car.
My birth mother’s tools, I thought as I cranked the engine. I actually had the same tools that had been used by my birth mother, and her mother, and her mother’s mother, and so on, for possibly hundreds of years . . . if the initials on the athame represented all the high priestesses of Belwicket. I felt a sense of belonging, of family history—one that I knew had somehow been lacking in my life until now. I wished that I could go to Ireland to research their coven and their town and find out what really happened. Maybe someday.
18
Sigils
When I got home, no one else was around. I was glad to be by myself; I’d had an idea while I was driving back from Robbie’s house, and I wanted to test it in private.
First, though, it was time to take some precautions. I got a Phillips-head screwdriver from Dad’s toolbox in the mudroom. Then I carried the box with Maeve’s tools up to the second-floor landing. Unscrewing the HVAC vent cover, I pulled it out from the wall and set the box inside the vent. When I screwed the cover back on, it would be totally invisible. I knew because I’d used this spot as a hiding place over the years—I’d kept my first diary here, and Mary K.’s favorite doll when I hid it from her after a huge fight.
Before I closed the vent, though, I took out the athame, the beautiful, antique athame with my mother’s initials on it. I loved the fact that my initials were the same as hers and my grandmother’s. I ran my fingers gently over the carved handle as I carried the athame downstairs.
About a week before, I’d been looking for information about Wicca online, and I’d come across an old article by a woman named Helen Firesdaughter. It described the traditional witch’s tools and their uses. The athame, the article had said, was linked with the element of fire. It