Family Magic

by Patti Larsen

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, Gram,” I said softly to her, wishing I at least had a normal grandmother, not the disabled witch clinging to me, offended by a box on a stick.

  “He said some horrible things, Miriam,” she whispered. “Horrible.”

  “It’s Syd, Gram,” I sighed and tried to pull her away. “Let’s go home, okay? Mom will be worried about you.”

  “Lewd things,” she hissed, eyes flashing, “vulgar and suggestive.”

  “Really?” I tried to distract her. “Maybe Mom will want to hear it.”

  “Maybe I do, too!” She cackled, hopping up and down on one foot to the other, face splitting into a huge grin. “Say it again, sweetheart!”

  Gram reached out to grab the mailbox as I spotted the twitch of the living room curtain across the lawn. I waved, trying to appear harmless, tugging in earnest. I yanked at her even harder when I spotted a huge black dog. Yikes. This family had obvious protection issues to need a monster like that in the family. I felt a sudden shock of recognition. It was the same dog I saw the day before outside my house. Only this time, I paid attention to what he looked like.

  Shaggy, thick and massive, more pony than canine, he stood by the corner of the house, staring. The way he watched me made me shiver. I wasn’t sure if Gram’s antics would trigger an attack or not but I wasn’t about to hang around and find out. Man, that dog was huge.

  “Let’s go, Gram, the mailbox doesn’t want to play today.”

  She pulled free of me, shrieking. “Let me go! Leave me alone!”

  I pulled a little harder, not wanting to give her the chance to take off on her own. Who knew what the dog would do if he saw her run away?

  A wicked gleam appeared in my grandmother’s eyes.

  “Witch!” She cackled happily. “She’s a witch! Help, she’s evil, evil!”

  “That’s it,” I grated through clenched teeth, keeping one eye on the dog and the other on her, “no more nice Syd. Here, Gram,” I fished out a large milk chocolate bar from the front of my backpack. I had been saving it for a rainy day of pajamas and bad TV, but this was way more important. Thank goodness I had it with me in the first place. Besides chocolate, the only other distraction that worked was tequila and I was too young to carry it around. Guess the Boy Scouts have the ‘be prepared’ thing all figured out after all.

  Her gaze lit up like a child as she tore into the wrapper. I managed to turn her around and start her walking the block back to our house. I glanced over at the dog, but he was gone. Dodged that bullet. We slowly made our way without much incident while Gram sucked and smacked at the melting chocolate. One glance at her and I knew it would take a whole lot of scrubbing to get her clean. But, at least she was quiet.

  She stopped at the end of our driveway and I flinched. I took her by the arm again, hoping to head off another outburst, wondering why the chocolate hadn’t done the trick when she turned to me, face blank and serious.

  “Darkness comes,” she said softly, wetly around the chocolate in her mouth.

  “Yeah, Gram, sometime today.”

  She turned to me and pressed her index finger into my chest. I looked at the smear of chocolate. There was no way I was getting the stain out of my pale blue jersey.

  “Nice, Gram,” I said.

  “No light has it seen,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “none will it see, for it chooses the dark.”

  I stopped tugging.

  “Gram? What are you talking about?”

  “From within, but without,” she whispered to me. “Its goal is power, its joy, pain. Darkness comes, Sydlynn, and you must stop it.”

  I shook my head, not sure what to say. This was the most lucid I ever saw my grandmother, if you could call it lucid. She even managed to get my name right for the first time ever. Here she was after decades of living in her own little existence, attempting to communicate, and I had no idea what she was trying to say.

  “Gram,” I said. “Who is it, can you tell me?”

  “Beware,” she said.

  Our conversation ended with the banging of the kitchen door. Mom ran out into the yard toward us, her face a combination of anger and fear.

  “Mother!” She reached for Gram, spotting the chocolate. “Syd!”

  “Mom!” I fired back.

  “Did you have to give her that?” Mom tried to take the last of the bar from Gram but the old lady was quick. She managed to stuff it into her mouth with a squeal of joy. I half reached toward her but the woman I just spoke to had gone, leaving the damaged mind in control. Part of me wondered if it was the ravings of a crazy woman after all, but I needed to be sure.

  “Mom,” I started, “Gram—“

  “Is a mess and who knows what she’s been up to,” Mom snapped at me. “Really, Syd, is it too much to ask for you to watch out for your grandmother? I was gone an hour and this happens!”

  I froze, letting the familiar anger wash over me. I was used to being blamed by now, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

  “Not sure how I’m supposed to do that from soccer practice,” I snapped back.

  “Your family is far more important than some game, Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle,” Mom used my full name to push my buttons. “She could have been hurt. Or worse, she could have hurt someone.”

  “I’m not her babysitter,” I said. “I have a life. Be grateful I found her and brought her back.” My anger had the better of my mouth.

  Mom’s face turned a shade of purple.

  “Get in the house, young lady, right now!”

  “Fine, I was headed there anyway!” I snapped back. I stomped past her, and shoved the kitchen door, making it squeal on its hinges.

  “Get back here and help me clean up this mess!” Mom yelled after me.

  “Only when you get around to making up your mind!” I kicked the door shut and ran up to my room before I completely lost it.

  I slammed my bedroom door without gaining any satisfaction. I leaned against it, shaking with anger. This would never work. What was I thinking? She was impossible and I was sick of trying. I was done reaching out to her, before I even had the chance.

  Magic or no magic, I couldn’t wait to cut myself loose from my crazy family.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  In bed, I poured over the day, finding it hard to shut down my mind. Now that I made my decision about school, I couldn’t wait. I was looking forward to talking to Brad, to making friends, to stop volunteering as a punching bag and just be myself. And if they didn’t like me? No big change there. I was mad at myself for letting the years of bullying get to me. When had I gotten so weak, so unwilling to stand up for myself? When did being like them become more important than being me?

  My mind shied away from the answer. I think I knew wherever it came from was at the core of my distaste for magic. Ever since I could remember, I felt an aversion to using my power, like something inside me screamed “No!” every time I tried to tap in. It didn’t hurt or anything, aside from making my stomach queasy and giving me a brief case of the dizzies. It almost felt like my conscience trying to stop me. Over the years I’d grown to listen to it. Maybe it meant I wasn’t supposed to be a witch after all. Whatever the reason, even though I’d told Mom about it years ago, neither of us had ever found a malignant influence, so I learned to live with it. But not my power.

  Mom. Yeah. I also had no desire to ponder my relationship with her either. How was it I could love her so much one minute and hate her guts the next?

  Instead of digging deeper, telling myself I did enough personal exploration for the day, thank you very much, I drifted to the memory of talking to Brad Peters, of walking with him, of the way his soft hair moved in the breeze, how his eyes shone open and honest, his smile, his voice...

  I was so lost in the fantasy, it took me a few minutes to see my bedroom wasn’t as dark as it had been. Light from the back yard poured through, sparkling from the crystals of my chandelier.

  I r
olled over and to my knees, leaning over the windowsill and peering out. It only took a heartbeat to register what was about to happen. I leapt from bed and hit the floor running, praying I would not be too late.

  I flew down the stairs, heart pounding, feet barely touching the floor and made the kitchen, sliding on sock feet, barely catching myself from skidding the rest of the way across the floor by grabbing the edge of the kitchen table. I made it to the closest cupboard, breathless, scrambling for the half empty bottle stuffed in the back behind the cans of soup and beans. I heard and felt the build-up of power from the back yard and the soft drone of a voice. I spun and dove for the back door, cursing softly under my breath as I raced across the dew-wet grass to where Gram stood, casting a very large and very noisy spell.

  I wasn’t sure which was worse–the fact my grandmother was totally naked or the glowing ball of light she conjured. I’m not sure what the neighbors did to offend her, but whatever she was bringing to life, it would flatten their elegant two-story, no questions asked.

  I spun the top from the bottle of tequila as I slid to a halt beside her and shoved the smooth glass into her right hand, bringing it up forcefully to her mouth. Her incantation halted abruptly. She grasped the bottle with both hands, guzzling from it like a baby with milk. The glowing ball dissipated as her attention switched to the tequila.

  I snatched her gown from the ground and threw it around her shoulders, taking her by the elbow, leading her back to the house. I risked a glance around at the surrounding homes.

  That stupid dog was in my yard, staring again.

  I was so mad, I reacted differently than I normally would have. In a fit of anger, I bent and picked up one of Meira’s discarded toys.

  “Beat it!” I yelled, throwing the plastic doll directly at him.

  He ignored the attack as it missed him by a long shot and continued to stare.

  Worried now my outburst would awaken the neighbors, I scowled at the huge monster of a dog while pushing Gram toward the door. By the time I maneuvered her into the house, the dog had left. All was dark and quiet. I was relieved to get her safely inside. I turned off the outside light. By then the bottle was empty. She glared at me over the remains of the tequila and shook it.

  “More!” She demanded. I glared right back, angry now the adrenaline wore off.

  “Gram!” I snapped. “What were you thinking? Oh, never mind,” I took the bottle from her. “You weren’t.”

  I could tell from the silence in the house all the adults were out. Mom or Uncle Frank would have sensed the power before I did and come running if they were home.

  I managed to get Gram back to her room, dressed and into bed. It took some time to right her sheets and quilt. Gram was an expert at making a mess. I ignored the scorch marks on the bright yellow walls, leftovers from earlier tantrums. Good thing the room was so heavily warded. Gram could do her worst and the room would just take it. It was a testament to her strength she was able to mark up the pretty paint my mom picked for her.

  By the time I had her settled the tequila kicked in. She was nice and pliable. She giggled at me, wispy white hair everywhere. I smoothed it out as best I could. Twice in one day, had to be some kind of record. Mom must have really been slipping.

  “How did you get out?” I asked her, a rhetorical question considering she watched me with the intelligence of a four year old.

  That’s why I was so surprised when she answered.

  “He was really nice,” she whispered.

  “Who was nice, Gram?” I asked.

  “The man,” she said. She broke into laughter, kicking her feet, rolling her head back and forth on the pillow. She obviously thought it was funny.

  I wasn’t laughing.

  “Right, Gram,” I said.

  Her gaze shifted in a blink. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was fear in her eyes.

  “He opened the door,” she said, shrinking down under the blankets. “He said it was all right, I could go out. Was it all right, Mother?” She sat up and grabbed my arm so hard I knew I’d be bruised the next day. “Was I bad?” She started to cry, wail really, clutching at me as tears streaked her cheeks and mucus ran from her nose.

  Well. That was a first. I tried not to show my revulsion as I grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned her up.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I used my best soothing voice. “You didn’t do anything bad.”

  She lay back and snuffled. “He was scary,” she whispered. “I couldn’t feel him right.”

  I tucked her in, not wanting to abandon her to her fantasy but unwilling to spend the time it would take to really comfort her.

  “It’s okay, Gram,” I said as I stood up. “He won’t come back.”

  “Promise?” She said.

  I pulled her door almost closed and turned off the light. “Promise.”

  “Do you…” her voice was soft, mournful, almost.

  I rolled my eyes and tried to be patient.

  “Do I what, Gram?”

  Her sheets were drawn up under her chin, wispy hair falling over her washed-out blue eyes.

  “Do you have something for me?” She asked.

  For some reason, I heard that question from her my entire life. Years ago, I tried to find out what I was supposed to give her. These days, I didn’t bother trying anymore. Nothing I gave her ever seemed to satisfy.

  “Sorry, Gram,” I said. “Get some sleep, okay?”

  I closed the door behind me. Sad but true, Mom was forced to keep Gram in most of the time so she wouldn’t be able to do exactly what she attempted to do. But it was way more for my grandmother’s protection than the neighbors.

  I tapped in. For someone who didn’t want to be a witch and refused to have anything to do with magic, I seemed to be doing the opposite lately.

  I shoved aside the squeamish feeling rising and the feeling of wrongness that always came from using my magic, focusing instead on the physical lock for the triple wards Mom set on the door every night. I swallowed back the rush of hot tang the use of my talent left in the back of my throat. But despite my attempts, there were no telltale ward lines, no residue of power, just an ordinary door.

  I stepped back and thought about it. Could my mother have forgotten? On her way somewhere important, in a rush? I shook my head to myself. No way, that wasn’t in Mom’s makeup. Besides, she tucked Gram in personally every night so she knew without a doubt her mother was safe. So where were the wards?

  I was at a total loss. I did next to no study in magic, and didn’t even know where to start to rebuild the ones Mom used. I hunted around as best I could with my limited training. I almost gave up when I brushed something I didn’t recognize. My demon blood roared to life so suddenly I would have fallen if I hadn’t sat.

  A faint residue of something triggered the other half of me, something my demon did not like one bit, something she recognized, but I had no idea what. There was a rush of sudden heat, the power dipping inside me, sending first a thrill down my spine at the total rightness of it then a surge of nausea so violent, I had to pull back for a moment. This was important, had to be. My whole body went to war over the connection. How could I crave that feeling and be so sick from it at the same time?

  There was no way I was letting it push me around. I drew a breath and probed harder. But when I struggled to examine it more closely, it dissipated, as if me poking around made it go away.

  I dragged myself to my feet when my demon just as quickly relaxed, leaving me drained but back in control. Whatever it was, it was gone, and so was the part of me reacting instinctively to it.

  Okay, I admit it. I was scared. And excited all at the same time. The magic I felt hung in my mind like residue of something I missed. But every time I focused on it, the part of me that hated magic slammed down over my senses and drove me out.

  It was the most frustrating ten minutes of my life.

  I finally gave in, making a mental note to talk to Mom. Whatever this was, I knew
I had to be on to something.

  After a quick debate with myself, I went upstairs and retrieved my quilt and pillows, trudging back downstairs to my grandmother’s door. I piled up my stuff on the floor and made as comfortable a nest as I could, deciding my best bet was to play sentry with my body if I couldn’t with my power.

  ***

  Chapter Thirteen

  I must have been way more tired than I thought because the next thing I remembered was my mom leaning over me, worry plain.

  She was about to be very unhappy.

  “Syd,” she helped me sit up, my comforter collapsing around me as I rubbed the blur from my eyes. “What happened?”

  I could tell from her stricken look she already knew her wards were gone.

  “Not sure,” I answered, getting up from the floor and gathering up my pillow and quilt. “But Gram’s safe and sound, so no worries.” I yawned, almost missing the fear on her face.

  “Did she get out?” Mom stared at the door, arms hugging herself.

  “Yeah,” I said, “but she made the mistake of turning the outside light on. I spotted her and reached her in time. Man, I don’t know what the Griesan’s did to her but she was stirring up one whopper of a spell.” I grinned.

  Mom spun on me. “This isn’t funny, Sydlynn,” she snapped. “Not even a little bit.”

  My defenses slammed up so hard I barely had time to brace myself. “She’s safe, isn’t she? So are the neighbors.”

  “This time,” she said. “What happened to the wards?”

  “I have no idea,” I answered. “They were gone when I got here.”

  “She couldn’t have,” Mom talked more to herself than me, shaking her head. She stared at the door again, “not from the inside. You’re sure you didn’t let her out?”

  I scowled at her. No way was she pinning this on me. I saved Gram’s butt twice in twenty-four hours and this was the thanks I got?

  “I think I’d remember cutting through your wards and letting the crazy lady out, Mom,” I said in my most biting tone.