Hail to the Queen

by Shyla Colt

  “Actually, I don’t. I’ve seen the extreme side of it. Who knows what stages there are in-between.”

  “A snake can’t help what it is, Louella,” Fel whispers.

  “I’m going into this with open eyes guys. Besides, I have to deal with her anyways. She’s Blazh’s head witch.”

  “Doesn’t mean you need to connect with her on a personal level. You can’t save everyone, Lou.”

  “I’m not trying to save her. Hal made her choices. She has to live with them. It doesn’t mean I have to abandon her like everyone else. I think we all deserve a little forgiveness and understanding. Without it, I would’ve been screwed.”

  “Completely different circumstances,” Fel replies.

  “Yes, because I was lucky enough to have people who gave a shit about me. She never had that. You know how her family is.”

  Fel and Sacha exchange a look.

  “Let’s agree to disagree?” I plead silently with my eyes.

  They nod, the moment passes, and we begin to go over what we know about magic that involves actual body parts.

  Chapter Nine

  “Why don’t we call it a day?”

  I lower my shield, grateful for the reprieve, and bow to the older witch who just gave me a run for my money in a dueling battle. I wipe the sweat from my brow and suck air into my burning lungs. Hazel Walden might be pushing fifty, but her power packs a serious punch. I wince as my ribs protest my movement. She landed her fair share of hits.

  The muscles in my arms jerk as exhaustion sets in. Hours of casting have parts of my body feeling like they’re made of jelly. Over the past few hours, I’ve battled a handful of powerful witches. Mémé is determined to condition me to endure and expect the unexpected.

  Each witch had a different style and strength. I understand the why behind Mémé’s methods. Unfortunately, understanding does nothing to alleviate the toll taken on my body.

  “Thank you, Hazel.” I bow slightly.

  “The pleasure was all mine. I look forward to your coronation. You’ll be a strong leader.”

  The approval from the older woman makes me smile.

  “I’ll see her out while you freshen up,” Mémé says, giving me an escape.

  I head inside the house to the guest room where I’ve set up shop since training. The lavender walls with violet-themed wallpaper trim are comforting. Once upon a time, this was my room growing up. Moving into the bathroom, I strip down, tossing my dirty things in the wicker basket in the corner as I turn on the shower. The sound of the water moving through the pipes makes me smile. Older homes have a charm all their own.

  Slipping into the shower, I let the hot water beat down on my shoulders. Spent, I lean against the tile as the heat loosens tight muscles and takes away some of my soreness. I feel like I’ve been trapped inside the Mortal Kombat video game, and I’m one more hit away from a fatality. The steam puffs my hair up like popcorn being heated in the microwave, but I’m too tired to care. Appearance is the last thing on my mind at the moment.

  I close my eyes and focus on renewing my energy. Refreshed, I step from the shower and don my comfortable pair of yoga pants and the off the shoulder ‘Wifey’ shirt Renee purchased as a joke. I leave the room and walk down the stairs, avoiding the creaky stair three up from the bottom. I follow the scent of old bay seasoning and a host of other spices into the kitchen where Mémé is seated at the table.

  “Lunch?”

  She smiles. “The least I could do is feed you after wearing you out.”

  “You’re enjoying this a little too much, Mémé,” I say as I move to the cupboard for a bowl.

  “I am.”

  “Gee thanks.” I take the lid off the gumbo and scoop myself a healthy serving.

  “Not the pain. The gumption. Every time you rise to the occasion, you make us both look good. I’m proud of how you’re taking everything in stride. It’d be too much for most people.”

  “It’s not like I have a choice.” After setting my bowl across from her, I pour a tall glass of milk to counteract the heat I know will be dancing its way across my taste buds.

  “There’s always a choice. You’re doing well.”

  “That’s nice to hear you say, ’cause it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. I never realized how bad winning could make a person feel,” I whine.

  She snickers. “Takes a lot of pain and sacrifice to look pretty and polished while you wield magic effortlessly. Talent will only take a person so far. The rest requires skill. That’s earned with hard work and sweat. Do you think I got where I am by D.N.A. alone? Non.” She wrinkles her nose and curls her lip. “You have to be willing to work for it.”

  “Even now?” I tuck into the jambalaya and hum as the flavor mingles to perfection. The heat hits me at the end of every bite, and I sip on my milk to keep it from overpowering me.

  “Always. If you get lazy, your spell work will become sloppy and lack power. Being matriarch requires constant vigilance. You must hold yourself to the highest standard in order to demand the same for others. Lead by example.”

  I nod my head and gesture toward my food with my spoon. “This is so good.”

  “Thank you, cher. I do my best cooking when I’m thinking.”

  “Are we going to continue our story?” I ask between bites.

  She sighs heavily. “It’s past time we do. When the family revolted mid-crisis, I bound them.”

  I finish my final bite and place my spoon in my bowl. “Bound them from doing what exactly? Acting against your goal?”

  She gives a hollow laugh. “If only it was that simple. No, I bound their magic.”

  “You what?” It’s a punishment left for the most disturbed and violent. To be stripped of your magic is to have your soul crushed. It renders the magic wielder unable to tap into their God-given gifts. My stomach roils. Instantly, I regret my lunch. “How could you do that to your own kin?”

  “I warned them.” Her lower lip trembles. “I told them I’d cut them out of our line. They laughed at me.” Her eyes glisten. “We’d just lost our parents, and I’d been appointed the matriarch. I was confused and looking to prove my worth. I didn’t understand how important things like patience, mercy, and the art of persuasion could be. I wanted to make them respect and obey me. I was willing to use any means necessary, including force and fear. We’d lost so many. I couldn’t stand the thought of another loss that could be prevented. I was desperate. Their refusal to assist also felt petty, and personal. It was my breaking point.” She covers her mouth, and her slender shoulders shake. “I used my own blood and magic to bind and banish each and every one of them who stood against me and the mission of unity. I thought the price would be worth it, but in the end, it was too high.”

  “Why not take it back?”

  “Once done, some things can’t be rescinded.” Tears roll down her face unchecked, and the sorrow visible in her eyes clogs my throat. “I severed our family line with a few careless words and blood magic. Once it was done, they all left. They had no choice really. To stay would mean enduring misfortune.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “I don’t know. None of them looked back or reached out. I let my children believe they were all missing in action. Misplaced in the Reaping and believed to be dead. That the sliver of hope kept me from erecting gravestones in the family plot.”

  “Jesus.” The depths of her deception is chilling. Do I really know this woman at all?

  “I’ve been a coward, too frightened to admit the truth.”

  “So why are you doing it now?”

  “Because you can fix what I’ve done. Once I pass on the title, you have the power to remove the binding.”

  “If I do this what happens to them? Will the magic become retroactive? What about the children born with no inkling of their heritage? Unearthing that inside of them
would be irresponsible and cruel. I have no clue how that might affect them, or if they have someone to teach them properly. At the very least, we should track down your siblings, make contact, apologize, and move forward from there.”

  “With what time? We both sense the danger and darkness in the air. We’ve already lost one of our own, and that coven was wounded, not killed. We’d be fools to think they won’t try again to harm us.”

  “So we force those family members into this after years of ignoring their existence? No. We don’t have the right to disown them and reclaim them when we need them. I saw what hate and resentment can do to a family, and those emotions were unjustified. These people would have every reason to hate us. I won’t do that.”

  “You think you can always choose the high road?”

  “No. I’m not naïve. But in this matter, I have options, and I’m choosing the lesser of evils.” Reaching across the table, I grip her fisted hand. “You’ve trusted me with this family. Now you have to let me handle things my way. I promise you, I will make this right for you, and heal this family.”

  She presses her lips tightly together and gives a curt nod. “It’s in your hands now. I can’t carry it any longer.”

  After everything she’s given me, I want to return the favor.

  “I think Fel spoke a prophecy the other day.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen one delivered, and it was only a few lines.”

  Mémé leans forward. “How did she behave?”

  “Out of it. Her voice was strange, and after it happened, it was as if she woke up. She didn’t remember a word she’d spoken.”

  “Tell me.”

  I repeat the lines.

  “Hmm. It’s nothing we didn’t know. We haven’t been able to tap into the site in decades.”

  “Is that a good thing?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. Change is coming whether we like it or not. The only thing we can do is hunker down and make the best of it. If this happens again, you need to come to me immediately. Some predictions are time sensitive, delivered in hopes of preventing a catastrophe, and others are more general.”

  “How can you tell which is which?”

  “You can’t always.”

  ***

  I leave the house conflicted. Confusion, disappointment, and fear blend together to muddy my brain. How could the wise, generous, loving woman I adore commit such a heinous act? To strip her kin of their magic and force them from the only home they’d ever known took a level of cruelty I wouldn’t have thought her capable of. Not when it was directed at her own family.

  My entire life she’s preached tolerance, family values, love, and strength in numbers. Was it a lie? A carefully constructed persona she used to gain our loyalty and obedience? Or was the binding really her worst mistake? She seemed genuinely apologetic and regretful. At the same time, her confession was poorly timed and linked to a questionable request.

  Did absolute power really corrupt absolutely? Was it a ploy to soften me up? Am I looking at an inevitable future? No one’s perfect. Logically, I understand that. It’s the viciousness of the situation and her solution to it that disturbs me.

  My brain threatens to shut down, and I run to the one place where I can escape all things witchy and lick my wounds―the mansion. I could never imagine the day my family home would feel like a prison. I park the car in the driveway and follow the link to our room.

  Stepping into the suite, I pause at the sight of the open suitcase. My mood plummets.

  “Are you headed off for business?” I ask as I step inside and close the door behind me. The four-poster bed has been lonely without his presence.

  “No, but we are leaving.”

  “We?” I smile.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “May I ask where to?” Intrigued, I watch as he packs enough for a few days.

  “You may, but I won’t tell you.”

  I frown. “Cristobal, you know how I hate surprises.”

  “Only the bad ones.” He shrugs.

  I laugh. “No, those I hate more than the other others.”

  “You like mine, though.” His arrogance never fails to astound me.

  “I like any time I get to spend with you, and I humor you about your surprises.”

  “Now you’re just playing hard to get.”

  I roll my eyes. “So full of yourself.”

  “No, I’m confident. I promise you, dove, you’ll enjoy this. We’re both in desperate need of time away. Everything can hold for two days while we take this break.”

  I sink onto the edge of our bed. “I can’t—”

  “You can, and you will. You’re no good to anyone exhausted with a muddied mind and a broken spirit.”

  I bow my head. Drained, frustrated, and in desperate need of respite, I yield. There’s nothing more I can do currently, and our people depend on our harmony. I have to think about more than myself. I can sense the tension growing among the court. Vampires on edge are a precarious situation. It’s like having hungry wolves all in one den―they snap at one another at the slightest provocation. “I can’t argue that.”

  “Good, because you’ll lose. I’m not the only one who thought you needed a moment away to gather yourself. If you’re a good girl, you’ll get to pick out next excursion.”

  “Anything I want?” My mind fills with pedestrian things to drag him along to.

  “I’m already regretting this. Yes, Louella, anything.”

  “Okay.” A vivid image of Cristobal camping forms in my mind. After being plunged into a perpetual state of adjustment, it’d be nice to turn the tables on him for once.

  “The court needs to settle. Call Luz here.”

  Like a spider’s web made up of single strands, we’re all connected. I can follow the path to each individual. And read them. I tug on the strand that leads to Luz. “Meet us in our room, please.” I sense her in the hall seconds before she appears in the doorway.

  “You rang, mother?” She scans the room. “Are the parental units going on a trip?”

  Her words warm me. Cute. “As a matter of fact, le chat, we are.”

  “I’m putting you in charge of wrangling this restless bunch.” Cristobal zips the luggage shut.

  She barks a laugh. “No difficult requests, huh? It’d be easier to wrangle greased pigs.”

  “We’re all feeling the pressure of living in a glass house right now. We can’t afford to prove anyone right, or fall into any traps laid out,” Cristobal says.

  “We’re not saying stay in the house, just mind yourselves while away, please.” I lengthen the second syllable.

  “I will not be pleased if this trip is interrupted for foolish reasons.” Cristobal’s voice is stern and fatherly. It makes me want to giggle.

  Luz nods. “I understand. I’ll keep everyone in line. Percival, Gil, and Lark can help. They’re good at having a calming effect.”

  “Buena.” Cristobal pats her face affectionately, and I’m awed by the relationship they’ve built. The parental bond inside of me flairs to life. Much like witches, the court has invisible cords connecting us all in different ways.

  “When we get back, we’ll all do something,” I promise.

  Luz walks over, and I embrace her, cherishing the closeness. It’s been slow but steady progress to get us back to this point. When I ran from the soul bond Cristobal established without asking, it hurt her deeply. My rejection and years of denial felt personal, despite the way I reached out to her. She couldn’t separate my intense anger and feelings of betrayal toward Cristobal with my desire to remain in her life.

  When the love of your life activates an unbreakable connection without explanation or asking permission, it’s like someone ripping your heart out. It broke every bit of trust I once held. Young, overwhelmed, and terrified,
I did the one thing that would counteract the effects of the bond … I put as much distance between us as possible as fast as I could.

  I don’t regret my decision. I needed the time to grow up and become the woman I needed to be to deal with Cristobal and everything that came with him. I do wish I had handled the way I left better. I damaged many bridges. Some I’m still trying to mend. No one expects his or her first love to be eternal. Given the fact that I was twenty-one when I met Cristobal, I think I was fully entitled to my freak out.

  Luz pulls away and graces me with a smile that could make an angel weep.

  “Thank you for keeping an eye on things while we’re gone,” I say.

  “It’s my job.” Second, in command, she wields a lot of power. “Besides, you need this.”

  I sigh. “That obvious, huh?”

  She shakes her head. “Only to those of us who know you. It’s been a non-stop roller coaster since you arrived home.”

  “My price to pay for jumping ship. I let fear rule me. It was a valuable lesson.”

  “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

  The words are a gift. I hold them close to my heart.

  “I love you, mija, but if you don’t stop delaying our departure, I’m going to be irritated,” Cristobal teases.

  Laughing, Luz holds up her hand. “Go, enjoy yourselves, I got things back here.”

  “We will.” I wink.

  Cristobal wraps an arm around me, guiding me out of the house with our suitcase in his hands. A man on a mission, his steps are quick and sure. He hurries me out of the house and into the car.

  “Are you going to tell me what made you so upset today?” Cristobal asks once we’re on the highway.

  His words break a damn. I spill the story, unable to hold back the flow of words, or the tears. By the time I’m done, I’m emotionally and physically spent. I slump in my seat, resting my forehead against the cold glass of the window.

  “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “No.” My voice cracks. “Right now, I want to think about anything else. Tell me about Spain.”