The Long Lost

by Patti Larsen

  I had a feeling he wasn’t. And from the actual fear I saw on Raoul’s face, I’m sure the bodyguard believed my furry friend.

  “I am just a servant,” he said. “I do my Mistress’s bidding.”

  “You will obey,” Galleytrot said, the ground beneath my feet humming and sparking, “or you will be punished.”

  Raoul actually whined like an injured puppy, shoulders slumping, head twisting to the side as if the magic of the Sidhe hurt him. The three other werewolves slid to their knees, clutching their heads in their hands. “I will obey.” Raoul panted out the words, the werewolf in him bowing to the might of the black dog.

  Galleytrot let his power ebb, but held it close as he sank to his haunches. “I will wait here, then,” he said, “for her safe return.”

  The werewolves all shuddered, fawning with their faces close to the ground as Raoul straightened and bowed his head. He stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. I did with my spine straight and my head high, refusing to glance over my shoulder at Galleytrot. He’d won me some cred and I was not about to crush it by looking back.

  The door swung wide, the volume of the music assaulting me immediately, along with the haze of smoke making me choke. Kids were everywhere, faces I knew from school. Three football guys hung out at the bottom of the stairs, singing at the top of their lungs, drinking beer. No surprises there. I let my mind drift outward, searching for the feel of Alison while I strode deeper into the house. Someone stumbled out of the parlor and right into me, giggling hysterically. A cheer girl, how original. One glance in the room told me this was the source of the music and most of the smoke. A huge hookah stood in the middle of the carpet, multiple pipes running from it. And from the scent in the air, they weren’t inhaling tobacco.

  I had to move fast before breathing alone got me stoned. A whispered call to the air element cleared a path without being noticeable to normals. Though I was sure I could have pulled off some pretty spectacular magic and none of them would have noticed.

  The dining room overflowed with more drunk kids. I spotted the remainder of the football team playing drinking games with a couple of werewolves, but saw no sign of Alison. Nor did I spot the brothers. Which made me even more nervous. I did see Brad, chugging a huge can of beer, and shuddered inwardly, wondering what I ever saw in him. Graduation and going to college in a month had done nothing for his personality. In fact, he’d turned into one of the jerks he used to despise.

  So long, good riddance.

  It wasn’t until I stepped back into the hallway that I allowed my mind to drift upward. And felt her immediately.

  I shoved past the guys at the foot of the stairs, taking the steps two at a time all the way to the top. I hit the landing and almost ran right into Kristophe. He blocked my path, dodging right and left as I tried to get around him.

  “You made it.” He sipped from a glass of what smelled like whisky, his shirt gaping open while one of the cheer girls left a room, buttoning her own with an embarrassed look on her face. She brushed past me, cheeks flaming and I knew he’d used his magic to make her do something she would definitely regret.

  I couldn’t wait to turn him into a smear on the ground.

  Soon.

  But Alison was more important and I needed to get her and escape before something happened. I felt my anger brewing, knew my fuse would only last so long. I shoved him aside at last, physically pushing him out of the way while I stormed toward my friend.

  I felt her behind another door, but before I could open it, Kristophe slid between me and it. “Come on then, Syddie,” he said. “Let’s have some.” He leaned close, free arm hooking around my waist as he bent and tried to press his mouth to mine.

  He. Tried. To. Kiss. Me.

  And I didn’t kill him. I simply slammed a wall of magic between us and let him smooch about five hundred volts of Hayle coven power.

  He flew backward, crashing through the door and into the room, landing on his backside, whisky all over him. I looked up, not caring about him anymore. He’d done it to himself, and couldn’t say otherwise. My eyes met Jean Marc’s and the bastard actually smiled at me.

  Movement to the right. I whipped my head around and spotted Page. She was staring at me, looked suddenly afraid.

  She held a video camera.

  My mind could barely process what I saw. That Jean Marc was stripped to his jeans, the zipper undone, hanging open, as he reclined on the bed, someone’s naked legs beneath him. And Alison, my best friend, lay there, the owner of those legs, with her shirt undone. Unconscious or at least out of it, blonde hair spread around her like a shining curtain.

  My heart stopped. And for on endless moment, I died inside. But not for me. For her. For the innocence she’d never been allowed, the wasteland of her life.

  The moment broke when Page giggled. A nervous sound. I turned to her, murder in my eyes. She backed away, gasping, hand over her mouth, but her eyes were glazed. Thralled to the brothers, then. Their creature.

  They could have her. But they could not have Alison.

  I know they were expecting me to explode. It took every ounce of control I had not to. My family was counting on me and so was my best friend, whether she liked it or not.

  Instead of losing my mind and enveloping the room in blue fire, I stepped forward and shoved Jean Marc from Alison’s prone body. He rolled aside and lay there, arms behind his head, watching me with slitted eyes. I ignored him and Kristophe, even Page, as I sat Alison up and pulled her shirt closed, fastening each button with calm care.

  Don’t get me wrong. I was miles from calm. But Shaylee saved me. Took over when I could barely think, while my demon thrashed and howled and raged, doing what she could to return Alison her dignity.

  My friend groaned softly as I eased her to her feet. I turned with her, one of her arms around my shoulders while the Sidhe magic held her upright and spotted Page and that hateful video camera.

  A thread of magic melted it in her hands. Page dropped it, watched in horror as it dissolved into a puddle at her feet. I wasn’t worried about showing her magic. The brothers had done that particular damage themselves.

  They let us leave. I almost wished they’d pushed me. Until I reached the top of the stairs. Mia stood there, watching, her face full of scorn.

  “She always was a drunk,” she said.

  The brothers I couldn’t touch. But my old friend was another thing entirely.

  “Find your mother yet, Constance?” It came out in a low, deadly snarl.

  Her eyes flooded with tears, all mockery gone.

  I left her there, not caring even a little I’d made her cry.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Five

  The football boys had left the bottom of the staircase at least so I had a straight shot to the front door. Or so I thought. I was only part way down, Alison moaning beside me, when a crowd began to gather at the foot of the steps. One look told me what I needed to know.

  Werewolves. Raoul had broken his promise. Galleytrot was not going to be happy.

  But they didn’t make a move to hurt me, just formed a half circle of solid bodyguard and wouldn’t let me pass. Burdened with Alison, I knew the only choice I had to break through was to use magic. And even though the werewolves were in no way covered under coven law, I knew any aggressive act from this point would be seen as an attack.

  Great. Just great.

  I gathered my magic, letting them see the sheath of blue fire threaded through with amber and green. To their credit they didn’t waver.

  “I answer to my Mistress,” Raoul said softly. Almost sadly.

  What was that about then?

  No time to think about it. The bothers clomped down the stairs behind me. It was them, I could feel it, their disgusting smirks aimed at my back.

  “Going so soon?” Kristophe giggled like a girl. “But there is so much left of the party.”

  “You’re not allowing us to extend you any hospitality.” Jean Marc. The image of
him hovering over Alison would forever stay in my head.

  “Time to go,” I said, keeping my voice as level as possible. “I think Alison’s had enough.”

  “Let the normal be and come have a drink with us.” Kristophe circled me, arms crossed over his chest still wet with spilled whiskey.

  Like that was ever going to happen. Ever.

  “I said I have to go.” I stared him down. “Now tell your dogs to step aside.”

  Kristophe shrugged, long blonde hair swinging back from his face. “Not ours to order about,” he said.

  I looked past him at the line of men and women who were so much more and considered my situation. I had no doubt I could make it through them without a problem. But burdened with Alison? And in a way that didn’t disturb the fragile peace? Not so sure I could keep all of my bases covered.

  “Let her go.” I didn’t have to turn around to recognize the voice. Quaid. No one moved. In fact, Kristophe laughed, covering his wide lipped mouth with one long fingered hand.

  Guess Quaid’s orders had about as much weight as mine.

  “You heard him,” Ameline said. “Stand aside.”

  And with the parting of the werewolf line, it was very clear to me who would be wearing the pants in their particular little family.

  I turned at last and met her eyes. She and Quaid stood just past the staircase, further down the hall, had obviously joined us from deeper inside the house. Her cold blue eyes were empty as usual. But she nodded to me once, while Quaid glowered.

  She had her own little lap dog in him, it seemed.

  I refused to thank her or even acknowledge Quaid existed. Instead, I turned and dragged my friend out of the house.

  Charlotte met my eyes at the door, a warning in hers, but I didn’t have time to ask her what she wanted. I had to get my friend home.

  Some things are more important than others.

  Galleytrot was waiting for me where I’d left him. He grunted his way to his feet, the glow in his eyes never wavering. I turned when I saw him staring, caught Raoul watching me.

  “We’re only enemies if you make us so,” he said. “Withhold your judgments, Sydlynn Hayle, until this is through.”

  The door closed behind him while I rolled my eyes at the drama. Whatever. They had chosen sides and they weren’t on mine.

  End of story.

  Alison grumbled and muttered under her breath as I eased her into the front seat and clicked her safety belt into place. I quickly climbed in the driver’s seat, locking all the doors as Galleytrot settled, hot breath on my cheek, driving off as fast as I could without putting us in more danger.

  I actually laughed out loud when I cleared the last switchback. I’d done it. We were safe, Alison was out and no battle royale.

  “You’re all right then, I take it?” Galleytrot swiped his big tongue over my cheek. I swiped at the wet mark with the back of my hand, too relieved to be annoyed.

  “It was a little tense,” I said. “But we’re golden.”

  I spoke too soon, turned out. After all, I’d only been thinking about the Dumonts and the threat they posed. I hadn’t for a minute thought of Alison.

  She woke with a start, snorting and pulling against her seatbelt while she looked around with bleary eyes.

  “Where…” She turned her head, met my eyes, blinked at Galleytrot. “What?”

  “I’m taking you home,” I said.

  “You’re what?” Was that anger in her slurring voice? She fought the seatbelt so hard I thought she’d break it. “Let me go!”

  I considered using magic on her before giving myself a mental shake. I wasn’t the brothers. No way would I influence her like that. Not now, not ever.

  “You need to stay away from them, Al.” We were almost to her house. I just needed to get her inside, some food into her. Coffee maybe. Have a heart to heart.

  She was totally not interested. “No,” she snarled, “I need to stay away from you.” Alison glared at me like I’d committed some horrible act against her, not just rescued her from being raped. “You always ruin everything.” She lashed out with one hand, sharp nails ready to attack. If it hadn’t been for Galleytrot forcing his head between us, staring her down, she would have scratched me hard enough to draw blood.

  “Get this stupid mutt off of me.” She shoved against him.

  He backed off while my temper flared. “You’re welcome,” I snapped.

  “For what?” She pulled at her door handle, the lock still engaged as we wound up her driveway to her front door. I slammed on the brakes and spun to face her while she glared back at me. Her makeup was a ruin, hair everywhere, clothing disheveled and barely covering her. Alison’s blue eyes could hardly focus, but they were full of rage.

  “Party’s over,” I snapped. “Time to grow up, Al.”

  “What do you know?” She finally found the button for her seatbelt. It gave way with a retracting hiss. “Just leave me alone.” She spun sideways in her seat, shoving at me with both feet, one bare, the other in a shining gold flat now caked in dirt from the parking lot of the hotel. “You’re ruining my life, why do you have to ruin everything I want, I hate you!”

  I knew she wasn’t talking to me. I could feel it in her, knew exactly who those words were aimed at. All that venom for her mother, misdirected in her drunken haze.

  My patience was gone. I should have been more kind, maybe, or understanding. Should have tried harder. But Alison was making her own choices and without the thrall. There wasn’t a touch of the brothers on her. She’d gone to them of her own accord.

  “You’re a mean drunk,” I said softly, “just like your mother.”

  Her face went pale, terribly white and she gasped out loud. I unlocked the doors, leaning toward her to undo her latch. The door swung wide behind her and she half fell out.

  “Don’t talk to me like that!” She yelled those words as she sprawled with her hands clutching the dash.

  “Get out of my car,” I said.

  She managed, but ended up on her ass in the process. I didn’t care. My heart was cold. Alison chose the Dumonts over me. And I’d risked everything, my family, my coven, to save her from herself.

  I refused to check the rearview as I drove off, sure she probably was unable to get up again.

  Galleytrot knew better than to say anything. It was a very quiet ride home.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Six

  I didn’t think my mood could get much worse. Until I walked into the kitchen and saw the look on Mom’s face. We’d been through a lot together in the last year, from risks to the coven, to the whole town even. And as much as Mom had shown cracks in her façade of perfect coven leader, even fallen apart a time or two—at times I hardly blamed her—I’d never, ever seen that level of pure terror in her before.

  “What now?” It came out snarky, but my tone was soft. If Mom was afraid, there was reason to be afraid.

  Dad paced the kitchen, anger warring with anxiety written all over him. “Your Uncle Frank,” he said.

  The door flew wide before I could say a word, as I was propelled forward further into the kitchen. Strong hands caught me, turned me around. I thought Mom looked scared.

  Sunny was absolutely desperate.

  She stepped around me, went right to Mom, vibrating with the force of her emotions.

  “It’s not true,” she said. “It’s not.”

  Mom just looked up at her.

  Uncle Frank… oh no. No. Was he…?

  “They have him in custody,” Dad told Sunny while Mom shook and hugged herself. “They have a witness. Sunny, it doesn’t look good.”

  Not dead then. Not dead. That penetrated the crazy terror in my brain. And drove me to ask the obvious.

  “What the hell happened?”

  The three of them looked at me like they didn’t know who I was.

  “Your Uncle Frank,” Mom whispered, “Syd you were there. Weren’t you?”

  I nodded slowly. “I got Alison out,” I
said, my anger at her in my voice. “Not like she deserved my help.”

  Mom didn’t seem to hear me. “You were there,” she repeated. “You must have witnessed it.”

  “Mom,” I went for slow speech and as much calm as I could manage to get through to her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I went to the hotel, got Alison and got out.” Galleytrot was nodding beside me. “What’s going on?”

  “Frank,” she choked out, one hand reaching for me before dropping with a thud at her side, “has been accused of feeding on a human.”

  Not dead, no. Not yet. But he would be soon.

  “Mom,” I choked out her name around the denial that rose up. “He would never.”

  She was on her feet, shaking herself, visibly pulling herself together. “We need to go,” she said. “Before they do something drastic.”

  Like kill my uncle. The Dumonts had so much to answer for. And if they harmed one hair on Uncle Frank’s head, coven law or no coven law, not one of them would survive.

  My demon roared her approval.

  The hotel was quiet and dark again when we arrived in the family minivan. It had been less than an hour since I retrieved Alison and yet the place looked like there hadn’t just been a raving party happening. The parking lot was empty of all but the Dumont’s shining black SUV’s.

  Charlotte opened the door, refused to meet my eyes, led us inside. I knew where we were heading and pushed past the werewolf and into the parlor. Odette sat on the antique love seat, dressed all in black, looking like a decrepit old spider spinning her web tight to those around her. Andre perched beside her, arms crossed over his chest. Uncle Frank knelt at her feet, bound in her sickly purple tinted magic.

  A row of werewolves backed her, the same group that tried to prevent my leaving, but they were all focused this time, not a doubt among them, not even Charlotte. She took her place and glared at me like this was my fault.

  “Miriam.” Uncle Frank’s voice was harsh, as if Odette tried to keep him from speaking. His white magic flared, cutting hers enough he was able to turn to face us. “I didn’t do what they claim. I swear it.”