by Patti Larsen
My heart flinched from the answer.
Dad met my eyes again, as if he knew, understood the realization I was coming to. “You deserved so much more, my beautiful, talented daughters. And even when I had the chance to be your father full time, when my effigy was destroyed, I could only focus on returning home to the life I knew.” He shuddered gently. “I was so afraid,” he whispered. “I didn’t know how to be this man. Weak, subordinate.” Dad managed to snort a laugh. “Your mother and I have always been equals. No,” he shook his head, “I’ve always felt superior. And then, just like that, I was nothing.”
“You aren’t nothing.” Meira sat back, face twisting in grief. “You are our dad.”
He was crying too, we all were, as I huddled there with my sister and tried to let go of the old hurt. It left me easily, as though only asking permission to go. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his forehead.
“I want you both to know,” he said, “how much I love you. How proud I am of who you are, who you’ve become. The Hayle family is in very good hands.” Dad squeezed mine, just a little. “I want you to go back at some point,” he said, “and find your grandmother. Tell her I chose you in the end.”
I nodded and choked through the lump in my throat. “I will.”
He laughed, a moment of strength. “She’ll hate that,” he whispered.
***
Chapter Twenty
It was just too much. Dad’s eyes closed a moment later, energy gone, back to a sleep he might never rise from.
Mom appeared as if she knew somehow it was done. Meira stayed where she was, but I had to go, had to leave, to get away from them, from this tragedy, this loss.
I’d only just now learned to truly love my father and he was leaving me.
My moment of weakness was bound to have consequences. But hopefully the family had seen enough they wouldn't judge me for it.
Not that I really cared if they did. My dad was dying. And there was nothing I could do about it.
My favorite retreat, the back yard, called to me. I stumbled through the crowd, down the stairs and out the door, rushing out into the cool embrace of the early evening air, a hint of bitter cold still lingering. I breathed in, tasting the flavor of newly cut grass, felt the hum deep beneath me of the sleeping Wild as they snoozed their way through time. This was familiar, welcome, brought me more peace than I expected.
Wasn't meant to last.
“Well, if it isn't Sydlynn Hayle.” The voice, softly accented in French, snapped the one tiny touch of calm I felt and I jerked around. Jean Marc and Kristophe Dumont stood, the former with his arms crossed over his chest, the second slumped in what I'm sure he considered an attractive model's stance that just made him look like a poser.
“Evening, mon cher.” Kristophe winked at me, blonde hair flowing back as he tossed his head, smirk pulling his thick, wide mouth sideways. “I'd say good, but...” he drifted off, eyes flickering to his more stoic brother.
But even Jean Marc seemed unable to suppress his amusement. “That's right,” he said. “Not so good right now, is it, Syd? What with your poor father's… condition.”
I'd remained frozen in shock at their appearance up until that moment. They weren't supposed to be in Wilding Springs let alone anywhere near my family. The Enforcers had ordered them to leave. And the consequences of breaking those orders were supposed to be dire. Not that I counted much on the High Council or the Enforcers to protect my coven.
I gathered my magic, calling on the family power. I felt Mom's energy twitch as she latched onto me in response, but I shoved her aside and slammed up my shields. No way was she interfering. They broke the law.
And I was damned if I would let them get away with it.
“You two are so predictable,” I said. “What's the trouble? All that inbreeding kill your originality?”
Yeah, I was prodding them. About time I got a few digs in.
Kristophe growled at me, but Jean Marc just rolled his shoulders in a slow shrug. “We wanted you to know we're here for you. When the time comes. You know, when your mother falls apart and someone needs to take steps to keep your coven going until she's back on her feet.”
Threats now, was it? My temper flared, demon roaring at me to rend them into tiny, edible pieces. “Maybe you two should run off like good little boys. I'm sure your Daddy must be worried about you.” I forced a smile. “Oh, and make sure you say hello to Ameline for me.”
Two could play the threat game.
The brothers exchanged a look. “We'll do that,” Kristophe sneered, “right after she manages to pry herself from the lips of that delicious witch you gave up.”
He did not just bring Quaid into this. My anger swelled wider, but fed by fear now. How much did they know?
Before I could formulate a question which wouldn't tip them off, but get me the information I needed, the brothers exchanged one last look before Jean Marc fixed me with a steady glare and reached for me with his magic.
He had no possible hope of hurting me, not really, not here on my family's property surrounded by the protective magic of the coven. In fact, I'm surprised the magic didn't lash out on its own and drive him head first into the dirt. Probably because of the fact it was a minor attack or because of the split distraction with the events inside. For whatever reason, when he reached out with power and pinched my ass, he got away with it.
Let me correct that. He got away with it temporarily.
It was a smart-ass move, a clear assault disguised as a taunt, meant to be something he and his family could explain away as a simple boyish gesture.
My demon took it as a full-on attack.
While I still stared at him, mouth agape and brain churning for a way to make him pay for what he’d done, she lunged for him, her power wrapping around him and driving him to his knees. The look of pure terror on his face as she slammed through his personal wards was so comical and absolutely delicious we both paused.
Too long in our appreciation for his expression, it turned out. Kristophe gathered up his brother and ran.
And I chased them. I'd had enough—of their lies, their taunts, my family's inability to act, the Enforcers, the High Council. But most of all, I was tired of failing over and over again.
Screw that.
They used magic to run, something I'd never done. I fumbled around for the means to pursue them without having to go back for my keys and Minnie, feet pounding over the ground as they disappeared into the darkness.
All of a sudden I was shoved aside as my demon took over. I almost fought her, fear overpowering my anger, as she shuddered and dove into the veil between planes.
What was she thinking? This was no time to cross to Demonicon. I was about to try to seize back control when everything flickered and I found myself, still running, but a fair distance from where I’d started.
It actually pulled me up short for a moment. I turned, looked back the way I came before spinning around, heart pounding, a feeling of total awesome growing inside me.
“Wicked. Freaking. Cool.” I grinned maniacally, feeling my cheeks ache from it, the flow of demon power calling me. “Again!”
She didn’t hesitate. The moment I surged forward at a dead run, power focused on the retreating brothers, she slid us back into the edge of the veil. This time I paid attention, felt my demon’s magic bend the distance between me and the brothers, using the edges of the veil to slip in and out of regular space. They were flying, however they managed it, but I had something better. Much better. I laughed out loud and let them feel me closing in on them.
Their growing fear was delicious, my demon propelling us along with the power of the demon plane.
It seemed like only moments and we were at the edge of town. I tackled them, leaping from the place between, power lashing out at them, pulling them from the sky, not wanting them to leave just yet. They fell earthward, tumbling into old, damp grass, ironically enough in the clearing which used to be our coven site. I so wanted to
grind their faces in the dirt as I tromped over to them, my demon vibrating with good humor. She was enjoying this immensely and I had to admit she wasn’t the only one. The sense of power I had was almost overwhelming, just held in check by Shaylee’s firm grip on the both of us.
It meant the brothers both managed to recover, but the fact they were very scared of me now fed my growing satisfaction.
“Cowards,” I snarled, a ball of witch light bathing the old coven site in an eerie glow reminding me of the night the Moromonds tried to kill my family. “Stand and face me.”
Kristophe was already backing away, tugging on Jean Marc's arm. The older Dumont looked absolutely flabbergasted, as if I'd done something he did not expect.
“We only came to offer our condolences.” Nice way to try to cover his butt after assaulting mine.
“You can lie all you want, scumbag,” I snarled. “Consider your message delivered. Now get the hell out of Wilding Springs. The next time you show up here, I'll kill you both. And the Enforcers be damned.”
They didn't get to respond. As in, run away from me in terror, the only reaction I'd accept. As I was about to put some of my magical weight behind the 'request' to drop dead, the air above me compressed and a shape in a black robe emerged.
“Stand down, witches.” The Enforcer was alone, wrapped up in his heavy cloak, making him look huge and terrifying. If I had been in a terrifying mood, that was. Turned out I was way angrier than I thought.
“They are here illegally.” I jabbed one index finger toward the brothers. “I demand they be removed. You Enforcers are happy to impose rules and restrictions, but you suck on the follow through.”
The brothers were suddenly cocky again, not a good sign. I knew now Dominic Moromond was an Enforcer there had to be those among them who were a threat to me and my family. I recognized this Enforcer's voice, but at least it wasn't Dominic himself.
“Nice try, Enforcer.” Kristophe made a rude face at the black-robed man. “Wrong orders, idiot.”
Jean Marc shot his brother a withering look telling me everything I needed to know. The Enforcers were never on our side.
“I'm following the edict of the High Council, Dumont coven members. You are to leave this area immediately and not return.”
Before Jean Marc could stop him, Kristophe's magic lashed out at the Enforcer, slicing through the man's wards and dropping him to his knees. I stared in shock first at him, then at the brothers. Jean Marc slapped his brother across the face so hard Kristophe spun half way around.
“You fool!” He swore at him in French for a moment. It had to be swearing from the redness of his face. The Enforcer groaned, shaking his hooded head as the brothers disappeared into the darkness.
I wanted to go after them. Was about to when the Enforcer tried to rise, sagged sideways and collapsed.
He shouldn't have been that hurt. The younger Dumont just wasn't strong enough to do that kind of damage. I snarled at myself and went to the man’s side instead of going after the brothers, my good sense winning for once. I had good reason to chase them at least while they were in Wilding Springs, without reprisals. But pursuing them outside town was just asking for more trouble we didn't need.
I crouched over the Enforcer, peeling back his hood. I did know him. Pender Tremere, the only member of the elite guard force to even remotely show any affinity for my coven, groaned softly, one hand coming free from where he clutched the front of his robe.
It was covered in blood.
***
Chapter Twenty One
One call was all it took. The coven flooded to my aid, several members arriving in short order to whisk the Enforcer back to the house. I chose to ride the veil, figuring it was good practice, but more so wanting the time to myself.
I beat them home, coming face-to-face with Mom as I emerged in the back yard. She didn't say anything, just hugged me and led me back inside. Sassy grabbed me the moment I walked in and hugged me too, silently. I'd almost forgotten all about him, about Dad and the rest of the mess in the face of the Dumonts and the dying Enforcer.
Tires peeled up and two of our more burly witches guided the man's black-clad body into the house. Mom leaped into action, gesturing imperiously for them to place him on the kitchen table. One swipe and the matching salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder were magicked safely to the counter, leaving the table free for surgery.
Mom's hands acted quickly, pulling away Pender's cloak. Everyone gasped, even me. A thin, short-handled silver dagger, glowing with lavender fire, stuck out of the man's stomach, pulsing softly with his heartbeat and a life of its own.
Family magic wrapped him up in a blue glow, oozing around the flickering light of the opposing energy. Intense and focused, Mom's hands bent as if gripping the blade, though it was a rope of her magic that did the actual deed. Pender cried out as the knife emerged, family magic plunging in to seal the hole, diving inside him, expelling crackling strings of lavender fire before flashing over and repairing the wound on the way out.
Mom's magic held the knife suspended, allowing every single one of us to feel it through our connection to her—the Dumonts were the source, no doubt about it. The bits and pieces of power left over magnetized right to it, making it glow brighter as it almost writhed and growled in Mom's grip.
I felt Celeste coming before she broke through the kitchen door, her face so pale I thought she might pass out. James was right behind her, looking just as shocked, but more guilty than anything.
So she'd betrayed us again, told the Dumonts we were finally at our weakest point and ripe for an attack. I found myself grinning at her with the image of her crumpled into a puddle of begging patheticness at my feet filling my head.
Her gaze flickered to me before settling on the knife.
“What have you done this time, evil child?”
There was no way she was getting away with it. The whole coven turned on her this time, to my shock and appreciation. She staggered backwards as Erica, face a mask of fury, poked her hard in the chest with one finger.
“Back. The. Hell. Off.”
Right on.
Pender groaned softly, struggled to sit up. Mom gestured and Martin Vega, one of his rescuers, helped support him as he swung sideways, head hanging, regaining his strength. He looked up at last, meeting Mom's eyes.
“Thank you, Hayle Coven leader,” he said. “You saved my life.”
Everyone sighed, most of us in relief. Only Celeste looked unhappy. Pender pointed at the knife.
“I'll take that evidence, if you don't mind.” She relinquished it into his control, the deep blue of his magic crackling around the slim blade. “The Dumonts have gone too far this time. Some minor trespassing I would have allowed, but they will answer for attempting to murder an Enforcer.”
That was a totally jerky thing to say, but I understood he didn't mean he was more important that we were. I was just happy the Dumonts finally slit their own throats.
Mom shooed the coven out, sending everyone home, leaving Erica to watch over Dad. Celeste refused to leave, hovering near the door, her man-hands wrapped around her thick braid, face a scowling mask. I was about to escort her out with a blast of power that probably would have sent her through the side of the house when Mom’s mind touched mine.
Let’s see where this takes us, shall we? Always clever, my mother, thinking two steps ahead, subtlety raised to an art form. I wondered how she managed it, all things considered, and worried instantly I’d never, ever fill her sparkly witch shoes.
Mom settled Pender into a chair with a mug of steaming coffee. He seemed none the worse for wear and I was glad I let Mom handle his healing. I had as yet to learn the ins and outs of that particular branch of magic and would probably have just made things worse.
“I've been following the Dumonts,” Pender said, steam rising past his frowning face. “Ever since they were ordered to leave this place.”
“Under your own orders?” Celeste sounded so skeptical I k
new she was in on everything the Dumonts were up to, but Mom let it ride.
“Under my Enforcer authority.” His voice snapped like a whip, power behind it. For the second time that night the big witch fell back and silent. Pender met Mom's eyes. “I don't trust them, I must admit to you now. I worry about events happening with the Council, with the Dumont family.” He took a long breath before plunging on, as if he was taking more than his life into his hands speaking up. “And I don't trust my new leader.”
“Who leads you now, Pender?” I was amazed how present Mom was. Until I realized it was easier for her to focus on the moment than what was happening upstairs. I agreed with her. Give me an action-based crisis over slow death any day.
“Dominic Moromond.”
I had to clench my teeth against the hiss of air that passed my lips.
Shut. Up.
“There is more.” He set his mug down on the table, coffee untouched. “The pleas of this coven, your need, was ignored by the Council on purpose.”
“Says you.” Celeste's growl was just loud enough for us to hear.
“Yes,” Mom said softly. “And I have every reason to believe him, Celeste. He is a Council Enforcer, no ordinary witch.”
Ouch. Awesomeness.
“Dominic's wife, Batsheva, has the ear of our Council's head,” Pender said, voice falling to a mutter of barely suppressed anger. “She has made many claims against you, Miriam Hayle.”
Mom sighed softly before leaning forward and offering her hand. “I would show you the truth, Enforcer,” she said. “If you'd have it from me.”
Holy. She didn't just offer to open herself up to him? To bare everything? I almost protested. If he was lying, dissembling, only pretending to be concerned, really a tool of the Dumonts sent here to win our trust, Mom was putting herself in mortal jeopardy. Worse, she was offering him access to the family magic.
My heart in my throat, I held myself taut, power tightly wound, as Pender took Mom's hand and nodded to her.