This may be my favorite story I have ever written, and I hope you all like it, too!

I have all twenty-five chapters outlined and I would love to have it completed by the end of June. Once this story is 100% completed, I will refocus on my other stories. I just had to get this one out of my system.

Hope you enjoy, and reviews are appreciated!

Disclaimer: As always, any characters, situations, and places mentioned in the Sweep series are not mine and belong to Cate Tiernan and Penguin Group.


"Do I really have to go?" I pleaded with my mother for probably the tenth time that afternoon. "I always feel like they hate me just for existing."

"Sweetheart, I really don't think it's going to be like that this time." She countered. "Your Dad's got his own place now—you won't have to see the witch." She gave me an amused smile and sipped her tea. An inside joke.

We were all witches magickally—my father's wife was just one by personality.

Tonight I was taking a redeye to London to do my annual summer father-daughter visit, which consisted mostly of being corralled with his other children and kept out of his way. And that wasn't easy. Of my half siblings, only one loved me—my sister was a nightmare and always looked at me in accusation and my oldest brother was just annoyed by my presence, hardly ever saying a word to me. Killian was different; he was like my best friend, and we had a closer bond than he had with his full-blooded siblings.

I sighed, hopping down from the kitchen counter. "Dad is hardly ever there, and when he is, he's just complaining about how I'm not growing up to be a proper witch."

My mother rolled her eyes at that. For my entire life, it's been just me and her, in this small town in upstate New York. Ciaran, the other half of my genetic makeup, had supplied everything: our house, Mom's car, my car last November when I'd turned sixteen, an excess of money we rarely touched. It meant nothing, anyway. I'd grown up not trusting the man. To me, he was the sperm donor and the overcompensating provider. He wasn't a father. He had forced my mom to be with him for my sake, and she had agreed—slightly.

Every month, she would go off for days and meet him somewhere. As long as she did that, he would stay away from Red Kill, and I only had to see him in the summer. I knew she hated herself for it—he was still married, and she hated what his coven stood for. She hated him for turning to dark magick.

I'd always wondered if Ciaran had something on Maeve. She worked, she made enough to take care of the two of us, so why did she need him? Mom would never say when I asked. She wouldn't even give me a lame excuse. I knew it hurt her worse than it hurt me, so I tried to leave it alone.

I've read in her Book of Shadows about me before I was born and never brought it up to her. In it, she said that her former lover was my father, and that she had wanted to get an abortion so I would never know the pain of being a Riordan witch. She'd written that she hadn't been strong enough, and that she would not teach me the craft.

But she had, and rather successfully.

Ciaran had been trying for years—even before I'd been initiated—to get me to join his coven. I refused his offer every time, knowing that I wanted to work light magick like my mom. Then we would go months of Mom being really depressed, trying to get back to normal, and by the time she was herself again, away from Ciaran's influence, it was summer and I was going off to visit. Yet another reason I despised him.

"Morgan, listen to me." Mom set down her mug and held my face in her hands. We were the same height, so I had no choice but to look into her eyes. "You are a great witch, but more importantly, you're a good one. I know how hard it is for you to remember that when you see him, but I would rather he kill me than change you, alright?"

I nodded, feeling my eyes get teary. It wasn't some sentimental saying like "I love you more than my own life"—it was a promise, and I knew it. She would really rather die than have me become like him.


"You the welcoming committee?" I asked my brother, Killian, as I arrived in baggage claim. He was waiting by the carousel with my flight number.

Killian welcomed me with a hug. "Good to see you, little sister!" he released me from the hug but kept an arm around my shoulders as the luggage started coming in. "Which is yours?"

"It's black with a purple tie on the handle… there." I pointed as it tumbled onto the belt. Killian left me to retrieve it, and I smiled my thanks at him.

Once I had my suitcase, I followed him out to the car, shivering once the cool morning air hit my bare arms. Back at home, in late June, the nights and mornings were ranging from the low-60s to upper-70s. Killian looked comfortable in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but I had to guess that with no clouds in sight, this counted as summer here.

As we got to the car, Killian got everything into the trunk for me and led me to the passenger door. Shaking off a sleepless night, I quickly remembered the major difference between this car and an American one. I got in what felt like the driver's side and tried not to nod off. I hadn't been able to get comfortable enough to sleep on the plane, and being almost eleven in the morning here, I doubted I could get away with a nap.

We drove in comfortable silence, and after about ten minutes, I was out.

Killian shook me awake gently, and I rubbed my eyes. I glanced at the clock on the radio—it was already after noon, and we were parked in front of a fairly large standalone house. The closest house was several acres away.

"Where are we?"

"This is Da's house. He wanted something secluded to conduct Amyranth business." He said this so casually that it caught me off guard, and it took me a second to get out of the car.

Killian got my suitcase, and I grabbed my carryon. Ciaran was standing in the doorway when I turned around, and I mentally braced myself. Two months, I told myself. Just two months.

"Morgan," Ciaran greeted me, and then gave me a hug I returned stiffly.

"Hi, Dad." I said, not meeting his assessing gaze, which I'm sure didn't help to change his opinion of me.

Ciaran grabbed my carryon off of my shoulder and had me follow him and Killian up the stairs. In a room smaller than I had at home, there was a full-sized bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf. No TV, no computer. My cell phone probably didn't work here. Great.

Everything was pink and girly, except for the bedding—a look I'd had in my room until I was about ten. Since then, I'd painted my room every time I got bored with a color. Currently, it was a light brown with beachy accents. My next room change was probably going to include wildflowers.

I sat down on the white comforter covered bed and closed my eyes briefly.

"We'll leave you to get settled." Ciaran said, and he and Killian set my bags down and left, closing the door behind them.

I got up and opened a large window to let fresh air into the stuffy room that smelled like fresh paint, and then crawled into bed still fully dressed and passed out.