by Patti Larsen
So there, Odette Dumont. Chew on that and choke.
Batsheva waved at us. “Enough.” She glared at Odette a moment before gesturing at the secretary. “We have a trial to deal with.”
Bravo. Gram's voice was soft, subdued.
I wished I felt like I'd won. As I sank back into my seat, Tallah reached over and grasped my hand.
Syd, her mental voice was gentle but full of steel. I'm here for you no matter what.
Violet stared at me. And bobbed a head nod like she'd heard.
Well now. Maybe there was hope after all.
The secretary held up his coil of black parchment.
“By the order of the High Council of North American Witches, may the trial of Miriam Hayle commence.”
***
Chapter Twenty Eight
Today's bound to be hard, Gram sent. You'll be hearing only their side of the story. Try to keep your temper. There was a hint of amusement fueled by satisfaction in her mental voice. But oh wouldn't I love to see you burn them all to the ground?
Don't tempt me. I ground my teeth together as the annoying little man gestured like he was ten feet tall at the Enforcers near the main door. The big wooden portal unsealed and Mom was marched inside. Her eyes found me the moment she passed through and though she hid it well I knew then someone filled her in on what happened. Either that or the walls the Council had built around her to keep her from contacting anyone with her power were simply nothing compared to the bond of the coven.
I was betting on a combination of both.
The secretary read his nasty little list of accusations all over again. This time I listened closely to all of them, though I knew the final one was the only one that mattered.
“Miriam Hayle,” he said, “you stand accused of the following charges:
“Stealing magic not your own from other power sources; releasing evil onto the local population in your quest for more power; colluding with the Chosen of the Light to whom you granted demon power; waking the Wild Hunt, one member of which you still harbor in your family while the Wild itself sleeps on your coven site; attacking a visiting coven leader without provocation; abandoning your coven during a Sidhe attack; allowing an Unseelie lordling access to a Sidhe Gate, and aiding and protecting a willing user of blood magic.” The list had been longer yesterday, full of begetting demon children, not really a crime, and other such nonsense. Batsheva clearly decided to shorten the load a little, though I knew there would be lots of extras dragged out into the light.
When the secretary was done, he stepped back and his two assistants came forward. Pages of some kind? Had to be. Within a moment one of the witches in the gallery gestured. The boy ran forward and took a piece of parchment from her, returning it to Andre Dumont who read it before tossing it up before him and setting it alight.
His eyes met mine as he did, a hint of glee in his gaze, as the black paper went up in a puff of smoke.
Message received. Loud and clear.
The Dumonts were toast.
As the first of the opposing witnesses was called, Quaid's mind gently touched mine.
I don't want to distract you, he sent, but I know you want to be kept up on information.
It wouldn't be good, but he was right. Go ahead.
One of the family was in touch with the police and just contacted me. They confirmed Alison's death was by drowning and that alcohol was involved. His sympathy was almost too much. They think it was an accident.
I knew better. She'd tried before, hadn't she? I'd been there to save her the night she slit her wrist. But I wasn't there for her, not this time. And she'd finally succeeded in ending her life.
Thank you. I cut him off before I could break down and pushed the knowledge aside. Okay then. Alison wanted to die. Then I'd just have to shake it off and try not to let the fury rising at her selfishness mixed with growing guilt cloud my mind any further.
Yeah. Good luck with that. We were two witnesses in before I was able to hear anything past mumbling noise.
I had no idea who the chubby old woman was standing before the Council when I returned to attention and didn't really care as she trundled back to her seat and plopped down with a huff of breath. She looked enough like a Dumont I was sure she was a plant of some kind, or one of the witches Odette brought with her when she came to visit last summer. Whatever. Let her bring her worst.
Speak of the she-devil herself, Odette was called on next. She rose from her place, shoulders back, head high as though she were the personally injured party in this whole trial. Mom's face remained calm, a soft smile on her lips. I'm sure it pissed Batsheva off to no end.
Which, of course, meant my baleful stare had to go. I carefully schooled my features to mimic Mom's, down to her kindly smile. It was easier than I thought, playing this role. Probably because my over-taxed mind just wanted to find a way to escape into something it could understand.
And annoying the crap out of Batsheva Moromond qualified.
“Odette Dumont, leader of the Dumont Coven, we will hear your testimony.” Batsheva sat back in her seat, eyes narrowed.
What followed was so outrageously false I wanted to laugh out loud. Her performance was masterful, I'd give her that, and while not a word she spoke had an ounce of truth, she knew how to work an audience. She simpered and cajoled, pulled on heart-strings and played on fears, finally drawing herself up and commanding they listen.
“I beg you,” she finished, voice throbbing with emotion, “you must find this woman guilty. She is a danger to all witches, to the entire Council. I fear for us if she is allowed to remain leader of her coven.”
I watched the gathered witches sway like a field of wheat as though she were a controlling wind. It was so hard not to stand up and yell at her, to counter the lies and the half-truths spewing out of her ugly mouth. But Mom continued to smile so I did too, until it was finally over.
Batsheva’s power flickered around the room as Odette wrapped up, and for the first time I felt it as it brushed past me, whispering.
What the hell?
Odette retook her seat to soft murmurs from the others while I struggled with what I’d just felt. But my anger at the Dumont leader and the gathering of witches was much more powerful at the moment. Seriously? Were they that gullible? Even Violet looked shaken, doubtful.
The day was filled with a seemingly endless line of Dumont witches, each of them carefully schooled to repeat Odette's testimony, almost to the word. Though none of them carried her power of delivery, they simply served to reinforce what the old woman said.
Kristophe had the nerve to wink at me and lick his lips while he testified.
“I personally witnessed Miriam Hayle attack my coven leader.” He seemed to be repeating something someone told him to say. He certainly wasn’t paying much attention to his words because his eyes were locked on my chest so he was obviously being coached.
Jean Marc's smirk was almost the end of me. “Clearly Miriam Hayle is not in control of her coven,” he drawled, focused on me as his brother had been. “I observed her need for power personally, when she challenged my leader to the detriment of her family. Surely this is cause enough to have the woman stripped of her position.” He finally turned from me to focus on the Council. “When a leader is so intent on stealing power from other witches and not on supporting her coven, changes must be made."
They were just throwing back at the rest of us what they themselves had become—petty, small, power hungry, all under Odette’s leadership. And yet she smiled like she had no idea how close they hit the mark to her own leadership.
Typical.
I only managed to keep my poise because it was clear the two of them did nothing to support the case and, in fact, were making the gathering uncomfortable. Batsheva quickly dismissed them and called on Ameline.
I hadn't seen her since the night at the Hilltop Hotel when she'd told me her plans for the Dumont coven. I wondered yet if Odette was aware the girl was going to seize contr
ol of the coven from her the moment she showed a hint of weakness.
Not likely, considering she was still a member of the family. I couldn't imagine Odette would tolerate keeping Ameline around if she had a hint of what was going through the girl's mind.
“Miriam Hayle is a threat to this Council,” Ameline said in her cold, calm voice, looking every inch the coven heir, the perfect witch. “I know for certain she holds the powers of other magical races, have witnessed her using them to her own gain.” Ameline turned at pointed at Quaid. “The night my betrothed was linked to our family magic, Miriam Hayle used her corrupted power to overwhelm Quaid’s energy. He was forced to order her to sever his ties to the Hayle coven so he could take his rightful place with his family.”
Naturally she left out the fact he only did so to spy on them. And that the Hayle magic loved him and since took him back after he gave the Dumont power the boot.
Naturally.
Mia was the hardest one to listen to. I felt my anger drain away to be replaced by sadness. We'd parted, not friends, but at least not enemies I thought. She'd saved my life, attacking Ameline and knocking her out before the evil bitch could finish me off. But she'd refused to leave her family and as messed up as she was, I knew she didn't stand a chance if she continued to listen to what they told her.
Case in point. Mia spewed the same garbage as the rest. But she took it one step further.
“Miriam Hayle sent her daughter, Sydlynn, to meet with myself, Jean Marc, Kristophe and Ameline. We were told it was a gesture of peace, a reaching out to heal the rift between our covens.” Mia kept her eyes forward on the Council and refused to look at me. “When Sydlynn arrived, she attacked us, joined by the Sidhe hound and the Gatekeeper, kidnapping Quaid Moromond, my brother, in the process.”
I felt my eyes go squinty. If I'd wanted them dead, they'd have been dead.
It's not that I was super surprised when the next witch was called to testify against my mother. James was under Celeste's influence after all, born a Purity witch and still nursing a grudge against Gram and Mom over the death of his old leader.
Is he allowed to testify against Mom? My head went to all the cop shows I’d watched as my outrage surged. Isn’t there some kind of coven leader/coven member confidentiality thingamajigger?
Gram’s sigh was long suffering. Girl, what kind of crap have you been learning in that normal school of yours?
So he can just stab Mom in the back? I watched James descend to stand before the Council, wishing I could just lean out and slap some sense into him. That’s not right, Gram.
May not be right, she sent, but it’s the way things are. Now hush.
I sat there and steamed, not sure why the betrayal was worse than the lies the Dumonts already spewed. Why he gave a crap about Naudia I had no idea. Odette's insane sister brought it on herself, challenging Gram to a duel that resulted in the loss of the Purity magic.
Yeah, blame the winner when the loser brought it on herself. And the rest of her family.
Classy.
James's voice shook but he didn't hesitate, though he refused to meet my eyes and didn't for a second turn toward Mom.
“Our coven is collapsing in on itself,” he said. “Due to the negligence and lack of control Miriam Hayle has over her family and her children.” He listed off a bunch of crap about our coven, clearly at Celeste's prompting.
She herself had lots to say, so much in fact I tuned her out after, “Miriam Hayle is a menace and a horrible leader, her children wild and out of control.” I tuned back in when I heard people sighing in boredom before she was half way through. Batsheva finally waved her off and Celeste sat down in a huff of frustration.
I grinned at her like it was the funniest thing ever.
That went over well.
I'm going to evict her ass the moment this is over.
I felt Gram chuckle. Patience, demon child. Celeste Oberman will get what's coming to her. And more. There are things she isn't privy to I think will send her cowering with her tail between her legs.
The sun was setting by then, the two short breaks and fifteen minutes of lunch we'd been allowed feeling like a long way off. The accusing testimony over, the little secretary announced the day finished. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, even me. I'd grown numb to the horrible things they'd said about Mom, knowing they were just words, without proof, and that we had all day tomorrow to counter every single accusation.
But when the Council rose, Batsheva leading them out, I felt myself hesitate. I had to get up now, talk to people. Go home. A terror rose inside me, that any one of a million acts between here and tomorrow morning would end up with me falling apart, collapsing in on myself, losing it entirely.
And I just couldn't.
But I had no choice. So I stood up. As I did, I turned to find the other coven leaders, minus Odette, had stood to face me.
Oh my dear, Violet’s mental voice was as strong as her personality. Our hearts all go out to you and your family.
Tallah’s hand settled on my shoulder a moment before she looked away. If there’s anything we can do, please don’t hesitate. No matter the outcome of this trial, it’s clear something isn’t right. She frowned as if struggling against something she didn’t want to consider.
You make your mother proud, Sydlynn, Irene sent, her mental voice butter soft, which surprised me.
Benita didn’t comment, but she looked troubled and nodded to me before slipping away.
The other leaders didn’t wait for me to answer and I was glad. I watched them go, barely holding in my tears at their kindness. It took me a moment to cement my control back into place, to force myself forward to shuffle out, kept my shoulders back, Mom's little smile on my face. I had to show the world confidence I didn't feel. It worked. I made it out the door, into the hall, through the foyer and into the coming night. Charlotte hovered near me, Galleytrot padding along at my side, Sassafras cradled in Meira's arms while Quaid flanked us on the far right. Protecting me.
I wanted to stay and wait for the vampires, to check in on Uncle Frank, but my heart begged me to keep moving. The cool interior of the limousine awaited and I allowed the others to guide me inside.
Again the silent drive, though this one less tense. We'd seen the worst they had to throw at us, all of it laid out. There was nothing more the Dumonts or Batsheva could do to us now.
It was our turn to fight back.
Quaid paused at the kitchen door, frowning, as the others filed inside, the two Enforcers parking themselves in the driveway. I'd forgotten all about asking the Council to keep them away from me and honestly it really didn't seem to matter now. Let them hover, watch.
I was done caring.
“Come inside,” I whispered to him, leaning against him a moment, pressing my lips to the soft skin of his neck, breathing in the delicious scent of him. “This is your home now.”
He relaxed into me, holding me with his arms and his magic. “You're my home,” he said.
Damn those tears. He didn't mean to make me cry, I was sure of it. But there was just too much love in him and I was weaker than I thought.
The living room held us all, the television a quietly flashing distraction none of us paid attention to. Meira had the foresight to make popcorn, so that happy smell filled the house, but I couldn't bring myself to eat.
I only spoke again when the phone rang, Charlotte moving to answer it. I lifted Sassafras from my lap and went to retrieve it, pretty sure I knew who was calling.
My normal life. Though not the number I expected, I had to answer.
“Syd.” Beth's voice vibrated with grief. “Oh my God, Syd.”
“I know.” It came out in a whisper. “She's gone.”
Beth sobbed on the other end of the line, her voice tinny and far away. I reached out with my magic, not caring who watched or felt, offering her a thread of comfort, connecting her to me for a moment. It was enough her weeping ended, soft snuffles replacing it.
“I
love you, Syd.” Beth choked on the words, but I felt her emotion, genuine and intense. “I'm so sorry.”
“I love you too, Beth,” I said. “It's going to be okay.”
I released the connection between us. There was nothing more to say.
I left the others there in the living room, whispering among themselves, and retreated to my room. My computer chimed as I sat down, one wiggle of the mouse enough to bring the screen to life. I had emails to send, though I stared at the blank emptiness for a long time before being able to type.
Two addresses. Two lives. Two friends I missed very much right then.
Dear Simon and Blood...
It was the hardest email I've ever written.
***
Chapter Twenty Nine
Morning light woke me, burning my crusted eyes, making me groan. I rolled sideways, snuggling closer to the warm body next to me, feeling Quaid stretch and sigh as his face turned toward me in sleep, breath on my forehead.
I clutched at the front of his T-shirt, memories returning in a wash of sadness. I felt him wake as I cried again, wetting the fabric under my cheek, his hand gently, ever so gently, stroking my hair over and over again.
“You're still here.” It wasn't fair of me to say, I knew that, but part of my fear was waking to find him gone again. He tensed beneath me as if I'd poked a wound he'd thought healed.
“I am.” He hugged me then, lips pressed to my skin as his words whispered in my ear. “And from now on, and for as long as you need me, I always will be here.”
I wanted to believe him. Chose to.
Another hot shower, this time shorter, but necessary. I joined the others for breakfast, choked down some oatmeal and toast only after Charlotte stood over me with a spatula in her hand and tapped her foot like she'd smack me with it.
“Uncle Frank was here.” Meira smiled a little. “He's himself, Syd.”