Witch Hunt (The Hayle Coven Novels: Book Two)

by Patti Larsen

  Witch Hunt

  Book Two of the Hayle Coven Novels

  Patti Larsen

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2011 by Patti Larsen

  Find out more about Patti Larsen at

  http://www.pattilarsen.com/

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  Purely Paranormal Press

  ***

  Cover art (copyright) by Stephanie Mooney. All rights reserved.

  http://www.stephaniemooney.blogspot.com/

  Edited by Annetta Ribken, freelance Goddess. You can find her at http://www.wordwebbing.com/

  Copy editing by Jessica Bufkin.

  ***

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***

  Dedication

  My editor, my friend, my fellow snarker and writer of her own fine tales--to Annetta Ribken, my dear Netta, with much love. My work wouldn’t be the same without you--nor would my life. XO

  ***

  Chapter One

  I had the tune, no problem. It was the words eluding me. The latest pop song to make it to the top of the charts circled around inside my head, the lyrics begging to be recalled and hummed to the catchy melody. He loves my pain? He loves the rain? He lives in Spain? I struggled as my mind wandered, feeling the right words on the tip of my brain. Damn it, what was the line?

  “Syd.”

  I thought I had the words right by now. I sang it in my best friend Alison’s car on the way home. She knew every word, maybe I could call her and have her tell me. Or I could download the video and find out that way.

  “Syd!”

  It drove me crazy. I hated when I couldn’t remember. My mind wanted to make up new lyrics and I refused to be one of those losers who everyone picked on because they sang the words wrong.

  “Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle!”

  I snapped to attention just in time to lose the wavering shield I was supposed to be holding around the huge red candle in the middle of the pentagram. Too late, the flickering flame went out and my shield collapsed, useless. Kind of like me, at that moment.

  I heaved a sigh and slumped forward over my knees, trying not to meet the eyes of the powerful witch now hovering over me with a sour expression on her face. I finally looked up, trying for innocence and barely hitting bored. The tall, beautiful vision of jet-black flowing curls and deep blue eyes scowled so hard it made her cheeks red.

  “What exactly was that?”

  I shrugged. “Sorry, Mom,” I said. “I guess I was distracted.”

  Miriam Hayle, coven leader, witch of unsurpassed power and poise, threw up her hands at me and rolled her eyes.

  “Honestly, Sydlynn,” she said, exasperation clearly written, “you need to focus.”

  I glared at the extinguished candle. The wick lay quite dead, curled and blackened, the wax beneath barely a tiny melted pool, rapidly solidifying. I held the shield for maybe a minute.

  “I know,” I said. “I just…”

  “What?” Mom crossed her arms over her chest, right foot tapping rapidly on the cement floor as she struggled with her temper. Despite the fact I knew the truth would just drive her over the edge, I had a brain/mouth malfunction.

  “There’s this amazing new song on the radio,” I said. “And I just can’t remember how the words go.”

  She stared at me for a long moment. For such a long moment I actually winced. Her eyes closed slowly and her jaw clenched. The vein in her forehead lifted to the surface and started to pulse gently. I’m sure I imagined it, but I thought I saw smoke come out of her ears.

  Oh crap.

  I tried to backpedal. “I’m sorry, Mom, really,” I said, hoping to head off the inevitable crash and burn we seemed to engage in far too often. “I know I’m supposed to focus. I know I promised I’d learn magic.” After years of refusing to become just another witch in the family coven, resisting and rejecting my heritage and power, I had only agreed to give it a try a few months before. Naturally, because it was me and my demon butting heads, up to this point I hadn’t managed a whole lot of result.

  Mom opened her eyes and she looked at me.

  I saw it as a good sign. “It’s just not as easy as it looks,” I said.

  “At least you understand that much.” Her voice came out steadier than I expected “Magic, accessing your power, takes concentration, Syd.”

  “It never did before.” I felt a little bitter about the whole thing. My demon, the half of me I inherited from my father, the Demon Lord Haralthazar, muttered and complained right along with me.

  “Aside from your personal internal shields, you’ve been reacting, not acting.” Mom sighed, anger visibly draining. “You have no control, Syd. That’s the problem.”

  “So that’s why I’ve been having trouble using my power when there’s nothing important to do?”

  Like defend my family from an evil witch and her icky husband who tried to destroy us. Batsheva and Dominic Moromond stirred my desire to learn magic by ousting my mom from her place as head of the coven and draining our whole family of their magic to feed their negative power. An easy sell. But not having them as targets made it harder to tap in.

  Not to mention the hideously nauseous feeling that usually came and went when I accessed my magic. I called it a win the queazies hadn’t shown this time around at least.

  Had to find the happy somewhere.

  “Exactly,” she said. “When you were under attack, you found it easy to access your power, to call it up and let it out without compunction. But Syd, that isn’t how it works. Magic is about being calm, focused, attentive to the task at hand, no matter how small,” she lit the candle without looking, erecting a glowing blue shield around it, “or big the situation or threat. If I were to expend all of my power on one thing when I felt threatened, what would I do if there were two assailants? Or if it was a trick to draw out my power and weaken me?”

  “I know, I know,” I said, lying back on the floor, covering my eyes with my forearm. “I get it, Mom. Really. I suck at this and I waste power. Not to mention I’m uncontrollable and a liability to the family. Happy?”

  I heard a rustle and moved my arm. Mom settled on the floor next to me, her flowing silk skirt in an elegant puddle around her. Did she have to be so damned perfect all the time?

  “Syd, honey,” she said, “you’re coming to this late. If you had agreed to learn as a child—“

  “Yeah, yeah.” I stared at the ceiling. “Old news. My fault again. Nice guilt trip, Mom.”

  “I’m just saying,” her voice sounded mild, a hint of humor in it, “if you hadn’t been such a contrary, hard-headed, strong, willful… Syd, I wouldn’t change you for anything, do you know that?”

  “Seriously?” I had a hard time believing her. “Come on, Mom, even I know I’m a major disappointment to the coven. It’s cool. I’m not in denial, or anything.”

  My mother actually laughed. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I much preferred my mother when she wasn’t crying her guilt-laden tears or glaring her Mom-glare at me.

  “Syd,” she said, “you have no idea.”

  “About?” I sat up and wrapped my arms around my raised knees. I needed a little ego
stroking right about then and my mother wasn’t about to let me down.

  “You have more power than any of them.” She touched my hair in a way that made me feel six years old, a sappy and distant smile on her face. “And one day, you will lead them in my place.”

  I shuddered and pulled away from her.

  “No way,” I said. “Not going to happen. Ever.”

  “Syd—” she started, but I cut her off.

  “You may have me convinced I need to learn to control this… this…”

  “Power?” She tried not to snicker, lips twisting.

  I scowled at her. “Fine. Power. But I’m not leader material.”

  “I think you may be wrong about that,” she said in her mysterious way, meant to drive me absolutely around the bend and back again.

  “Whatever,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t win the argument and losing patience with the whole thing. “Besides, I won’t have to take over the coven.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because,” I grinned at her, “I fully intend for you to live forever.”

  My mother laughed and hugged me.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  “You’d better,” I answered, trying to block the memory of my crippled and powerless mother, her magic stolen by the Moromonds, barely alive and barely wanting to be.

  I leaned back and I know her thoughts were off in the same direction as mine. But, she was way less likely to let it come between me and my lesson. Bummer.

  “That being said, shall we try again?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Begin.”

  I drew a deep breath and fought for focus. I stared at the candle, now dark and cold. Back to task. Light the candle, raise the shield, keep the candle burning. No sweat.

  Right. Maybe it would have been easier if my stupid upset stomach didn’t make an appearance all of a sudden. Or if I didn’t have my internal demon struggling against me, her power pushing against the walls I so carefully raised over the years. Or if I didn’t have those walls in the first place. No one could explain why my demon and I were two separate entities, why she didn’t simply integrate into me, but I knew it had to be tied into the way I felt when I used magic.

  I know it should probably have freaked me out more than it did, having her floating around in my head. It’s not like I could see her or anything. But it did feel much like I imagined a split personality would, only I knew she existed. She was a presence in my mind and my body a lot of times, her power at least linked to me if not perfectly connected, though I had the feeling if I gave her the chance she’d love nothing more than to shove me out of the way and take over. I’d dreamed of her a few times, so I figured I knew what she looked like—she appeared to be a black haired, red skinned, horned and amber eyed version of me—but most of the time she came across as more a feeling I had, rather than an image. And her constant growling and complaining came across loud and clear.

  It just wasn’t fair. I knew it was never meant to be this way. But aside from my little sister Meira, I was really the first human-demon hybrid any of the coven members had personal contact or experience with. I know it baffled my parents. My dad seemed clearly mystified. There were children of mixed race born before, but none had the experience I did.

  I know my demon blamed me for the wall between us and I guess she was right. Maybe if I had just behaved myself and been a good little witch from the get-go, none of this would have happened. I did have my doubts, but my demon wasn’t listening to me.

  And so, in that moment in the basement, I fought not just her but the horrid, heavy feeling and cold sweats tied to the very protection I created for myself and, ultimately, lost to all three.

  As I eased down the wall between us, my demon forced her way through, pushing the barrier roughly aside and venting her frustration with me on the innocent and unassuming stick of wax on the other side of the pentagram.

  With a massive puff of black smoke, the candle blew up.

  Thank goodness my mom was there. I hunched over, fighting not to lose my lunch as Mom threw a bubble of magic around the thick stuff, compressing then disposing of the mangled ball of wax.

  “Syd!” Mom’s eyes shone a little wild as she turned to me. “What happened?”

  “My demon happened,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Was it necessary to destroy the candle?” My mother’s voice sounded testy again and I doubted this time I would get much sympathy. Her patience wore as thin as mine and I wondered for the millionth time if she was really the right person to be training me.

  “She obviously thought it was appropriate,” I snapped back.

  “Watch your tone, young lady,” Mom said.

  “I hardly did it on purpose,” I said. “This is stupid!” I climbed to my feet and faced her. “My demon is frustrated and doesn’t want to spend her time lighting stupid candles and raising baby force fields. And, to be honest, I don't either.”

  “Well, that’s just tough,” she snapped back. “You have yet to master even the simplest tasks, Sydlynn. If you want the coven to trust and accept you—“

  “Maybe I don’t!” I threw it at her like a weapon. “You’re the only one in this room who really gives a crap what the coven thinks!”

  Why did our conversations tend toward the atomic? I could see the countdown in her eyes and knew an explosion was brewing, imminent. Rather than give her the chance to blow, I opted for indignant retreat.

  “Are we done?”

  I could see her struggling too, and hoped she took the out.

  “Perhaps,” she said very softly, her body shuddering ever so gently with pent-up anger, “it would be best.”

  Imagine that. I left before she changed her mind.

  ***

  Chapter Two

  Funny how an ordinary basement can feel like a tomb. I emerged with a huge sigh from my forced confinement into the warmth of the last of the sunlight flooding the kitchen on the other side of the door. I actually paused for a moment to enjoy it, but not long enough for my mother to catch up, just in case.

  I heard her first footfall on the step below as someone knocked on the kitchen door. Relieved to have another warm body to use for a buffer against her, I rushed to answer it just as Mom reached the top of the stairs.

  Alison Morgan, my best friend and rescuer, grinned at me from the doorstep, her normally long, flowing blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, contact-tinted blue eyes sparkling. I can only imagine my expression since Alison laughed at me without me saying a word.

  Goofy, best bet. And desperate, I imagine.

  She walked in without asking, brushing past me to greet my mother. I silently prayed she would just say ‘hi’ and let it go.

  Why did my best friend have to like my mom so much?

  “Hi, Mrs. Hayle,” Alison quickly hugged Mom. It always amazed me. When was the last time I hugged my mom on purpose and without some huge, horrific circumstance hanging over my head? I think I was five.

  Wonders, Mom always hugged her back. “Hello, Alison, so nice to see you, honey.”

  Blech.

  “You look very beautiful this evening, Mrs. Hayle,” Alison gushed, and I knew she meant it. I didn’t know what this fascination was with my mother, but I often asked Alison if she wanted to keep her.

  Mom laughed a little, clearly flattered. “Thank you, Alison, how sweet. Taking notes, Syd?”

  Double blech.

  “Sure, Mom,” I drawled. “Sweet it is.”

  Mom returned her attention to Alison, ignoring my obvious sarcasm. “I have to tell you how grateful I am you were willing to fill me in the other day.” Mom winked at Alison, refusing to look at me, so I knew humiliation was on the way. “Syd won’t tell me a thing about this handsome Brad boy who likes her.”

  “Really? Still?” Alison shot me a wide, innocent stare and I made a shut up face. She ignored me completely.

  “Really,” Mom said. “I haven’t had even two
seconds alone with him to find out what he’s like.”

  “Oh, you’d like him,” Alison said as I cursed her to hell in my seething mind. She would so pay. And pay. “He’s a really nice guy.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and despite the fact I knew she baited me, I still wanted to yank her bouncing ponytail out of the back of her head and feed it to her.

  What sucked worse? Mom knew it and played the game. I couldn’t win.

  “So nice to hear,” my mother said. “I wouldn’t want her dating some mean boy, after all.”

  “We’re not dating,” I choked out before I could stop myself.

  They both focused their attention on me.

  “Did you say something, Syd?” Mom’s lips twitched. “About your boyfriend?”

  That did it. Seriously, could my mom be more embarrassing?

  “I said,” I grated between clenched teeth, cheeks so hot I was sure I would set off the smoke detector any second. “We’re. Not. Dating.”

  I could tell Alison was slowly losing a battle with hilarity, about to burst into silent howls at any moment. Meanwhile, Mom stubbornly refused to allow the huge smile tugging at her face to fully form, giving her cheeks an odd twitch.

  My best friend ganging up on me with my mother? How much did that suck?

  I guess I was mostly happy they got along so well, considering. Part of me wondered if I should be jealous. The other part wished I could keep Alison in my pocket to pull out at random moments when Mom lost her temper. Those dimples and wide eyes were a great distraction.

  Alison took pity on me and changed the subject. “Hope you don’t mind me dragging Syd off tonight.” She laid it on like two scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough and I wasn’t sure if Mom would swallow or choke.

  “Of course not.” My mother smiled at me, then back at Alison. “Some kind of party, Syd said?”

  Alison shrugged and bobbed her head, blonde ponytail bouncing with way more energy than I had at the moment.