Chasing Power

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Moonbeam blew out the match. The candle wreathed her face in a soft light. It made her look fragile. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to save your sister.”

  “That’s okay. Really. She’s kind of a psychopath.”

  Moonbeam positioned the candle on the counter near the oil. “But she’s my psychopath. I owe it to Amanda to try. She blames me for leaving.”

  “She said she locked herself in the bathroom and screamed for Dad.”

  Moonbeam’s eyes widened. “She told you that? It’s true. It was either leave with you then, or lose the chance to leave at all. Still, I’ve replayed that day in my mind so many times. If I could have prevented her, or explained better … She was young. She didn’t understand the consequences, not truly.”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you.” That much was true. She was able to say the words easily.

  “You don’t? But I lied to you.” Moonbeam’s eyes were wide and so full of hope.

  Kayla wanted to put her arms around her mother. But she didn’t. Instead, she wet a paper towel and dabbed the smeared makeup under Moonbeam’s eyes, cleaning her up. “You should have told me the truth sooner, but you weren’t wrong to leave. I had a much better childhood with you than I would have had with Daddy Dearest. I would’ve turned out just like Amanda. You saved me from that. I know that’s why you left. For me.”

  Moonbeam smiled, albeit sadly. “Kayla—”

  “Your little psychopath is here.” Kayla pointed out the window. Queen Marguerite stood between the bench and the gate. She was gripping Amanda by the arm. Shrugging her off, Amanda strode toward the house. Kayla felt her heart beat faster.

  “Let me try to talk to her before you burn the oil,” Moonbeam commanded.

  “Fine. Talk fast.”

  Leaving the oil and candle, Moonbeam ran for the door. Kayla stepped onto the kitchen counter and out the window. She jumped off the window box. As she did, she grabbed with her mind for the stray leaves and twigs that littered the lawn. She aimed them at Amanda.

  “Kayla, no, we talk first!” Moonbeam cried, bursting outside.

  Kayla let the leaves and twigs drop.

  Amanda picked up the bench with her mind and threw it at Kayla. It pinned her against the house. “Happy to talk. Tell me where the stones are.”

  “Gone,” Kayla said. Glaring at her mother, she didn’t move a muscle. “Daniel jumped me to multiple locations without telling me where he was. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t know where I dropped the stones. So no one knows where they are.”

  “You’re lying,” Amanda said. “No one would throw away that much power.”

  Moonbeam came toward her. Her hands were open, palms out, a soothing gesture, as if Amanda were a wild deer that Moonbeam wanted to feed. “I did. At great cost. At the cost of you.”

  “Don’t talk to me,” Amanda said. “You don’t deserve to talk to me.”

  Hands still out, Moonbeam halted. “I’m your mother.” Her voice was gentle, soothing, as if she wanted to break out in a lullaby. Kayla felt calmer hearing it. She reached with her mind toward the candle, ready to light the oil.

  Amanda snorted. “You gave up that right when you left me behind.”

  “You chose to stay.”

  “I was a kid! You were trying to take me from my father, to destroy my family! You should have stayed.” Amanda pointed at her, and wind bashed into Moonbeam, knocking her off her feet.

  Pushing herself up, Moonbeam stood. “I couldn’t stay, and you wouldn’t leave. And then suddenly, it was done, and it was too late. Believe me, leaving you behind was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Pretty words.”

  “He’d already won with you. I realized it when you screamed for him. You and he were a team. But when Katie began to show signs of her power …”

  “I know. You had to ‘save’ Katie. It’s always about the precious baby Katie.”

  Moonbeam stepped toward her again. “I missed you.”

  “Don’t lie to me. How could you miss me? You had her.”

  Not moving from behind the bench, Kayla said, “I missed you. I missed my big sister. Remember how we used to play tea party with all my stuffed animals? Remember how you tried to teach me to read? We’d play school, and you taught me how to write a poem with lots of rhymes. You were the one who stood under me when I first started to climb trees. You were the one who taught me how to climb onto the roof. We used to sneak out and look at the stars at night. Do you remember that?”

  “Of course I do,” Amanda said. “But that was a long time ago, and it doesn’t matter now. I’m not Dad. I’m not weak-minded or weak-willed. You are going to tell me where the stones are, whether you want to or not.”

  Queen Marguerite laughed lightly. “Oh, bless her heart, she still thinks she can win. Honey, you were outsmarted fair and square. Cut your losses and seek another way.”

  Spinning to face her, Amanda shot her a glare that was nearly as powerful as the wind. “You wanted those stones too. Are you telling me you’re giving up? There’s a limited number of places they could have jumped in the time they had. You and I, we can search them all. After all, it’s still only two.” She drew the third stone out of her pocket and held it up.

  Queen Marguerite frowned at it. “That’s a fake.”

  “What?” Amanda shrieked. She dropped the bench. It landed with a crash in front of Kayla, and the back of it cracked, a split right between the symbols for peace and tranquility. Amanda carried the stone into a patch of direct sun and twisted it in the air. Colors sparkled from deep within the black.

  “I’m sorry, my girl, but you’ve been tricked. It’s a fake.”

  Staying pressed against the house, Kayla eyed the bench. It could rise again at any time. Especially since Amanda was growing more and more angry. She kept a portion of her mind touching the flame and glanced at Moonbeam. Moonbeam shook her head.

  “Do you mean to tell me the spell—” Amanda raged.

  “Oh, the stone was real, and the spell would have worked. Someone would have died,” Queen Marguerite said. “But this … is not real. It must have been switched.”

  Amanda lifted up the bench again, and this time the bench rotated as if she was planning to hit Kayla with it. “You did this! Where is it?”

  Kayla held her hands up in front of her, knowing that wouldn’t be enough to stop the bench if Amanda decided to throw it. “Not me. You’ve seen my power. I can’t levitate much more than a pencil. Rocks are out of my league.”

  With a cry, Amanda threw the stone. It hit the house and fell on the grass. Rolling, it landed at Queen Marguerite’s feet. The voodoo queen met Kayla’s eyes. Slowly, she winked. Kayla looked at the stone. It’s real, she thought. She lied.

  Before Amanda could act again, Moonbeam stepped in front of her, between her and Kayla. “Amanda, look at me. Put down the bench.”

  Amanda glared at her and didn’t lower the bench.

  “Look at me, Amanda.”

  Crossing her arms, Amanda said, “I am looking at you.”

  “You know what I see when I look at you?” Moonbeam asked. “Me. I see me. You are exactly like I was when I was your age. All fire and no sense. I wanted to soar free. I wanted to be different and special and safe. I wanted to be so powerful that no one could ever hurt me or, more importantly, hurt the people I love.” Reaching out, she stroked Amanda’s hair. Amanda flinched back but didn’t move away. “And in the end, I lost nearly everything that mattered to me. My husband. My home. You. My job. Myself. Even my own name.”

  “You didn’t lose anything; you left.”

  “I lost,” Moonbeam insisted, “in every way that mattered. Your father and his ambition would have destroyed us all. You were young. You didn’t know what he was like. He was relentless, and I was weak. If I hadn’t left … I had to become someone else to find out who I was.”

  Amanda pulled away. “You expect me to believe that? You were ‘finding yourself’?”
r />   “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for so much of your childhood. I am truly, deeply, honestly sorry.” Her eyes were wet, and her voice had so much sincerity in it that Kayla could almost taste it in the back of her throat.

  Amanda seemed to hesitate. “I want …”

  “What do you want?” Moonbeam’s voice was gentle, motherly. “Tell me.”

  “I want you to never speak to me again.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Moonbeam said, taking her hands. “I’m your mother. I want to fix this, fix us. We have the chance to learn to be a family again.” Okay, now that is laying it on too thick, Kayla thought. After all, Amanda had just tried to kill Dad, whom she purportedly loved.

  Beyond them, Kayla noticed Queen Marguerite lowering herself onto the grass. She picked up the stone and then looked at Kayla, as if to make sure that Kayla was watching her. Hidden from Amanda by the folds of her billowy skirt, the queen fit the stone inside the broken garden gnome and then set the gnome upright.

  Amanda turned back to Kayla. “I tried to shoot you. Are you on board with all this lovey-dovey forgiveness?”

  Kayla shrugged. “Personally, I think you’re a psychopath. Or sociopath. I don’t really know the difference. Regardless of the diagnosis, I think you need years of therapy before we can have a normal relationship.”

  “Or you can come with me right now and we can be a team,” Amanda said. She lowered the bench to the ground and took a step toward Kayla, her hand outstretched.

  “Exactly what part of ‘I think you’re a psychopath’ was unclear?”

  Moonbeam shook her head. “Kayla, you aren’t helping.”

  Amanda pivoted to glare at her. Kayla noticed that the hedges were trembling, as if the wind had increased, except that it hadn’t. “At least she’s being honest! At least she isn’t trying to trick me!”

  Kayla took that as a somewhat ironic cue. Reaching into the cottage with her mind, she drew the candle flame to the wick in the oil. It began to burn, and smoke tendriled up. She then yanked the prayer scarves out the window. Snaking them down the side of the cottage, she drew them over the lawn to just behind Amanda.

  “Enough talking,” Amanda said. The hedges shook harder.

  Kayla agreed. Whether Moonbeam was ready or not, it was time. Kayla flew the scarves up around Amanda’s eyes. As she clawed at them, Kayla guided the smoke out the window and toward Amanda’s face.

  The walls of the cottage began to shake, as if in an earthquake. Crack. Plaster split. Kayla fell to her knees, landing hard on the quaking grass, but she held the flame to the incense, keeping it from spilling, as she wafted the smoke into Amanda’s mouth.

  Both Moonbeam and Queen Marguerite began to chant.

  The amulets around Moonbeam’s neck began to glow, as well as the blue-eye necklace that Kayla wore. They were echoed by the protective stones that circled the house—each of them glowed with a soft, moonlike white light. Slowly, the earth began to steady. Kayla kept up the flow of smoke, forcing it into her sister’s mouth and nose. She also kept the scarves over her eyes so Amanda couldn’t see to attack.

  Amanda’s knees buckled.

  She pitched forward as the earthquake died.

  Moonbeam caught her. She sank to the ground with Amanda in her arms. The stones and the amulets ceased glowing. “My poor sweet baby,” Moonbeam murmured.

  The walls of the cottage were cracked. The roof had a split in it that traveled across the shingles. In the garden, all the chimes were strewn on the lawn, and the gate had been ripped from its hinges. Kayla continued to funnel the smoke into her sister’s mouth until Queen Marguerite put her hand on Kayla’s shoulder. “Enough,” she said gently.

  Reaching with her mind, Kayla snuffed the flame. The smoke died, and the wisps dissipated into the air. She released the scarves as well.

  “I’m so sorry,” Moonbeam said softly. She held Amanda for a moment more and then lowered her onto the grass. Amanda’s chest rose and fell. The scarves had slipped from her closed eyes and lay loosely across her neck. Her mouth had fallen slightly open. She looked so peaceful.

  Kayla liked her much better this way.

  “You really think she can be part of a functional family?” Kayla asked.

  “It will take work.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I may have pushed a bit too hard too fast.”

  “Did you honestly expect her to hug you and say ‘I’ll forgive you, let’s go shopping for shoes and forget this ever happened—oh, and sorry about nearly shooting my father, drowning my mother, and trying to kill my sister in at least three different ways’?”

  Moonbeam sighed. “Honestly, no. But it did distract her, and we’ve bought ourselves some time. For now, until we decide to wake her, it’s over.”

  Queen Marguerite coughed lightly. “Not quite over yet. There’s the little matter of your ex-husband. He might not like our plans for fixing his darling daughter.”

  “Then perhaps it’s time for him and me to have a talk.” Moonbeam drew herself straighter, and Kayla stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She sounded so confident, and she looked so very strong and sure. “Kayla and I can handle him.”

  Kayla was fairly certain nothing could shock her anymore. “Mom?”

  Moonbeam smiled at her, albeit sadly. “You’re powerful. More powerful than I imagined. And I have been clipping your wings, keeping you caged, all those metaphors and more. I think it’s time I trust you a little, don’t you?”

  Nodding slowly, Kayla didn’t know what to say.

  “Bring him here,” Moonbeam ordered.

  Chapter 31

  Kneeling next to Amanda, Moonbeam gently unwrapped the scarves that lay across her neck. Kayla joined her, took the strings of prayer scarves, and began to tie them around Amanda’s wrists and ankles. “You don’t need to … ,” Moonbeam began.

  Looking at her with her eyebrows raised, Kayla tightened the knots. “I thought you believed that magic is evil. Are you sure about this? You’re sacrificing your future to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”

  Moonbeam studied Kayla for a minute before speaking. “Do you remember when you were little how we used to play on the beach?”

  “Sure. We used to go all the time.”

  “I’d make you wear sunscreen, and you hated it.”

  “Still hate the stuff. But at least the spray is quicker. Why are we talking about this?” Crossing the garden, Kayla uprighted the bench and put it back by the hedges. She picked up one of the broken chimes. It used to have a glass globe in the center. The globe was shattered all over the ground. She scooted the broken shards into a pile with her foot. “Shouldn’t we be planning for Dad? Queen Marguerite will be back soon.” Maybe she could use the shards of glass as a weapon. She tested lifting one into the air with her mind. It was light enough. Concentrating, she picked up several at once.

  “You used to make sand castles, just using your mind, and I let you. You’d make these magnificently beautiful towers with arches and pillars. You’d use shells to be the knights and princesses, and we’d play for hours.”

  “You let me use magic? I don’t remember that.”

  “It was beautiful, and you were so happy.” Moonbeam pushed herself to her feet. “I’ve made mistakes, Kayla. And I intend to fix as many of them as I can.”

  Before Kayla could decide how she felt about this pronouncement, Queen Marguerite returned. This time she had Kayla’s father. He dropped to his knees on the grass beside the unconscious Amanda.

  “Amanda!” he cried. “Amanda, can you hear me? Are you okay, baby?” Scooping her into his arms, he cradled her against his chest. “What did you do to her?”

  Moonbeam crossed her arms, looking more fierce than Kayla had ever seen her look. “The key question is, What did you do to her?”

  “Well, I think you three have a lot to talk about,” Queen Marguerite said brightly. “I’ll be inside. Give a shout if you need him taken to T
imbuktu.” She headed for the house and opened the door. “Ooh, what a mess. I’ll do a little cleanup while you three chat. I owe Kayla a cleaning.” She ducked inside without waiting for a response.

  Kayla held the shards of glass in midair, ready. If he so much as said one word of a spell, she’d make them fly. Crossing her arms, she waited to see what her parents would do.

  Moonbeam knelt in front of him. “Oh, Jack.”

  “What did you do to her?” he demanded again.

  “She’s asleep.” Moonbeam sighed heavily. “How did we come to this?”

  “You left,” he said.

  Kayla walked closer, bringing the shards with her. “That was a rhetorical question. After seeing the result of your parenting style, I’m pretty convinced she had cause.”

  “Jack,” Moonbeam said. “Remember when we were younger? We had all these plans to change the world. Protect the weak. Help the helpless.”

  “Of course I remember. You walked out on all of that.”

  “Don’t lie to yourself, Jack. It stopped being about that long before I left. You wanted to mold our children into living weapons, not because it was right for them or because you wanted to help anyone. You wanted it for you, to prove you weren’t that scared little boy anymore.”

  “They had power!”

  “So? They were children who deserved childhoods.”

  Looking down at Amanda, he seemed to deflate. “It went wrong. I don’t know where or when. I did my best. I swear I did. I only wanted her to live up to her potential, to be strong, to be someone no one could ever tear down. But Amanda …”

  “Taking away her power isn’t going to fix her. It isn’t the power that’s broken; it’s her.”

  There were tears in his eyes. Actual tears. “I didn’t mean to break her.”

  “But you did.” Her voice was soft, kind. She looked up at Kayla. “Kayla, I am so very sorry. I should have told you the truth. At first, you were too young to understand. And then, I’d lied for so long that I didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”