by Patti Larsen
I thought it was an improvement.
I looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet my mother’s eyes as she and Uncle Frank approached. It took me a moment to register the mess the party left behind. I absorbed myself in looking around at the multitude of beer cans, liquor bottles, cigarette packs and condom wrappers strewn around the clearing.
Ew.
By the time Mom came to a halt beside me, I felt calm, my heart back under control, no longer on the edge of blacking out from hyperventilation. Nothing like a dose of disgusting to bring things into perspective. I looked up at her and saw the sympathy in her eyes. And, oddly enough considering what I had done, pride.
“Are you all right, honey?” Mom reached for me and all of a sudden Sunny couldn’t let go of me fast enough. I hugged my mother so hard I made her gasp. She hugged me back, stroking my hair and for once I didn’t care how embarrassing it might look.
In that moment, I just wanted my mom.
“You did very well tonight,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Syd. You did everything you could.”
I pulled back from her, horrified she could even say that to me. What, was she delusional? I fully expected Erica and a bully-squad of witches to arrest me on the spot while Miriam smiled at me to keep me quiet.
“I screwed up!” I knew I was out of control emotionally, but didn’t care. “I totally screwed up, Mom, it’s my fault!”
My mother seemed very confused and I wondered at her acting ability until I noticed Erica, Uncle Frank and Sunny all had the same look on their faces.
“Syd,” Mom said. “What are you talking about?”
I clenched my teeth, holding back the tears wanting to wrench themselves free, struggling with the truth and the telling of it. They really had no idea.
“I felt it.” I hated the weakness in my voice making it shake and crack. “And I didn’t do anything about it. My power must have called it or something. Mom,” I could barely see her waver in front of me as the tears won, “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I started to sob, big, massive heaving cries, feeling like they were tearing me apart. My demon howled within me, pouring out her own regret. I started to collapse again, not caring now that the truth came out.
My mother’s strong hands gripped my upper arms and shook me so hard I had to focus. Her beautiful face shone wet with her own tears, not her false get-what-she-wants-through-guilt tears, but real ones, for me.
Dull fear thudded against my ribcage, the truth so clear I felt it like a second heartbeat. She knew now, and would have to turn me in. No wonder she cried.
“Syd, honey,” she said, sealing my doom, “it wasn’t you.”
There it was. I would burn at the stake, my power drained to feed the flames and cleanse the coven of my bad influence. I wondered if Meira would try to save me. Or Sassy. I hoped they would let me see my dad one more time. Harry would try to convince them to let me go but I knew there was nothing he could do.
“Syd,” Mom said again. “Did you hear me?”
I nodded, miserable. Of course I heard her.
Didn’t I?
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “Syd, you didn’t raise it.”
Hang on. Huh? I felt like she slapped me and punched me in the stomach at the same time. I didn’t?
“But…” I shook my head, sobs forgotten, shock making me slow and wobbly. “But…”
Mom hugged me again and this time I felt her magic surround me, her love and pride a tangible thing around us.
“You saved that girl,” she said, “and probably the rest of your friends at the same time. If you hadn’t been here, whatever that thing was would have killed them all.”
She let me go, but not before gifting me with some of her power. Instantly I felt better, stronger, more stable. And as the full realization of what she said hit me, I cried again, but this time in relief.
The other truth came to me at the same time.
“It wasn’t just me,” I said. “Quaid…”
“We know.” Mom looked over my shoulder. I turned to see Quaid quietly joined us and stood very close. “The two of you saved a lot of lives tonight, including your own. Well done.”
Quaid finally met my eyes, but his were still shrouded. He held my gaze for a heartbeat before turning to Mom.
“Then where did it come from if it wasn’t us?” A part of me clenched as I realized Quaid had been thinking the exact same thoughts as me, blaming himself for raising the thing. Could it be we were way more alike than I wanted to admit? I sent him a thread of power with my demon’s full cooperation and to my surprise he didn’t reject it.
Mom sighed and I knew what she had to say would be hard for him.
“I’m afraid your parents are to blame.” She held his eyes. “I can feel the residue of their power still.”
Quaid’s parents, Batsheva and Dominic Moromond, were the traitors who tried to destroy our coven from the inside out. Using negative magic, they infiltrated and compromised our family and almost succeeded in taking over. But, with Quaid’s help, we defeated them the previous fall.
“Does this mean they're back?” Quaid’s voice sounded soft but steady, hands firmly buried in the back pockets of his leather jeans.
That would suck. But, Mom shook her head.
“No, Quaid. Whatever Batsheva and Dominic did, whatever they stirred up, it happened last year when they were with us. The power used to examine this area is old, at least six months. But, it seems like they somehow sensed what was here even when we didn’t and tried to raise it themselves.” My mother’s face grew pinched and she looked away, now in her own guilt. “We missed this when we came, missed the old power buried here. And frankly, that is my fault.”
Erica made a noise in protest, but Mom silenced her.
“I take full responsibility. This should never have been allowed to happen. But, it has and now we need to deal with it.” Mom smiled at me a little. “I need you both to tell me exactly what happened and what you felt.”
The sun hovered, close to rising by the time Quaid and I recounted our evening. I was surprised to learn Quaid felt something on entering the clearing but ignored it, too. We both confirmed what Mom and Frank already guessed, though. The thing was ancient.
“It feels weak, yet,” Uncle Frank said. “It’s been buried for a long time and hopefully we’ll find it again before it gathers enough strength to be a problem.”
“Any idea who originally buried it?” Erica channeled to the coven again and I knew the question could have come from anyone.
“None,” Sunny said, “though to us it feels ancient.”
“How can you not identify it?” Erica’s voice had a masculine timbre to it.
“We’re all getting the impression it’s something we’ve never encountered before,” Uncle Frank said. “And the signature of the thing is so weak, it’s hard to come to any conclusions.”
I could hear the frustration in his voice and knew it bothered him. No answers meant no plan.
“Unacceptable.” The same male voice. Hearing it from Erica’s lips made me want to look away. “There must be some way to discover its origins.”
“Not so far.” Mom’s two cents silenced whoever argued with Uncle Frank.
“Can we track it?” Erica had taken her voice back.
Uncle Frank and Sunny exchanged a look with Mom. “We can try.” He shook his head. “The trouble is, the residue of the blood magic. It doesn’t affect vampires as much as witches, but it might as well have thrown a stink bomb across its trail. The feeling of the negative power is so strong it blots out everything.”
“You think it did it on purpose?” My eyes drifted to the dark stain by the fire where Suzanne’s blood fell.
Uncle Frank looked so grim he actually didn’t seem human any longer, for a moment dropping the veneer of handsome boyishness he created so very well. “Both for power and to hide itself, yes. I think so.”
“Then it’s intelligent,�
�� another male voice spoke through Erica.
“We can only assume so.” Sunny’s hand found Uncle Frank’s. It was odd to see them need comfort.
“Whatever it is,” Uncle Frank said, “it’s been trapped under the earth for quite a while.”
“And the spell holding it?” The masculine voice was back and I started to wonder if Erica ever tired of being a telephone.
“Unrecognizable after all this time,” Mom said. “It too is like no magic any of us has ever seen.”
“Our blood clan leader might be of some assistance here,” Sunny said. “He is quite old himself, and a scholar of magic lore. I could ask him to have a look.”
“I don’t think more outside involvement is necessary, do you, Miriam?” This female voice rang stronger than the rest and I recognized Celeste Oberman’s tone. She stood third in line for coven power and the most outspoken against Uncle Frank and Sunny. It always annoyed me even witches who lived outside the norm could still be bigots.
“I think we can use all the help we can get.” Mom shut down Celeste’s little rebellion immediately. “Sunny, we would appreciate it if you would ask.”
“So what now?” Erica’s voice went back to the masculine, but a softer tone this time, slightly accented in Spanish. Had to be Martin Vega. The sweet man was a voice of calm and reason.
“We have no choice but to wait and see,” Mom said. “None of us can feel it anymore which means tracking it isn’t an option. It is quite possible whatever it is has gone. We will of course keep a close eye on this area, but for all we know it burned itself out.”
“You will alert the High Council?” Celeste sounded testy after being publicly reprimanded.
“Of course,” Mom said. “Immediately. In any case, we will continue to monitor the situation and if it returns, we will deal with it ourselves.” She turned to Uncle Frank and Sunny. “In the meantime, we would appreciate all the information we can find.” Erica came back to herself for the last time as I felt her sever the connection.
“Do you really think it’s gone?” She seemed worried.
“I don’t know,” my mother said. “But we have more serious immediate concerns, at any rate.”
“Such as?” Uncle Frank asked.
“The large group of teenagers who witnessed magic,” Mom said.
“They didn’t see much,” Quaid said. I nodded in agreement.
“At the most,” I said, “they saw Suzanne freak out, which could be explained by the drugs and alcohol, and the fire explosion.”
“Easy enough to suggest some drunk kid accidentally put something in it they shouldn’t have,” Quaid said.
Mom nodded as we spoke. “You’re sure?”
I was pretty confident. None of the kids stuck around after the power released them. Quaid nodded once in agreement.
Mom sighed softly and smiled.
“That’s good news. We’ll check around, but I’ll feel better knowing for sure.”
I hugged myself as the horizon brightened.
“Uncle Frank,” I said.
“I know. We’re going. Miriam, we’ll do what we can and see you tonight.”
Mom nodded as Frank and Sunny flew off in the opposite direction of the sunrise. My mother came to me and offered her arms. I stepped into them and let her hold me, the heat of her power doing way more than warming me up.
“I’m just glad you two are okay,” Mom said.
“Me too,” I said.
“We’ll see,” Quaid answered. I looked over at him where he stood a little apart from us, head down, face hard in the new light of morning.
“Quaid,” Mom held out one hand to him. He looked up at the offer and I think he almost took it. But, in the end his pain burned stronger than his desire to belong.
Sound familiar?
“What will happen to me?” His voice was subdued and I knew he remained in his blame cycle, circling around and around in his head.
“Nothing, Quaid,” Mom reassured him. “Why do you think otherwise?”
“Guilt by association,” he said.
My mother didn’t get a chance to answer. Quaid was already on the move, his long legs making short work of the walk to his bike. I considered going after him, but Mom’s arms tightened as he pulled on his helmet and started the motorcycle.
“Leave him be,” she said. “He needs to figure this out alone, Syd.”
Was she right? I wasn’t so sure. But, regardless of how I felt and my demon’s demands to go after him, I simply watched him leave.
Why was it suddenly so hard to just let him go?
***
Chapter Seven
My attempt to sleep when I arrived home that Sunday morning was a wasted effort. There was far too much going on in my head to let me rest. In fact, my head ran so busy even my demon grumbled in protest.
So I dragged myself to the basement and tried to focus. If the night before taught me anything, I needed to get a handle on my power, like immediately.
I intended to spend my entire sunny Sunday locked up in the basement. I started running drill after drill, sometimes succeeding, most times not as my focus drifted in and out, concentration blasted by my lack of sleep, surges of nausea and worry about that thing being out there somewhere.
Part way through the morning, I felt the swell of power coming from my father’s stone effigy and reached for him with relief. The doorway between our planes only needed a connection between him and someone on our side to open, despite the coven’s need to glorify the process with stupid ceremonies. I gladly gave him the key he needed and the massive statue of a stunningly handsome man with chiseled features and tiny horns went from polished granite to flesh in a matter of moments. Haralthazar opened his arms to me and I went for a much needed Daddy hug.
“I’m impressed,” he said into my hair.
“With what?” I mumbled around his shirt smelling faintly of stone dust.
“You’re actually down here on your own with no one forcing you.”
I pulled away and looked up into his laughing amber eyes.
“Figured with what happened I really need to grow the hell up.”
Dad nodded slowly and I knew Mom already filled him in through their permanent link.
“You’ve had a rough six months, kiddo,” he said.
I folded down onto the basement floor in the center of the pentagram, legs crossed, elbows on knees.
“You think?” I tried to harness the sarcasm but it oozed out around my defenses.
Dad took a seat next to me, stretching out on the floor. I always wondered how it felt so normal to have him around, that he appeared so ordinary despite the fact he was a demon lord.
Weird.
“We’re both proud of you,” Dad said. “We know you’re trying, Syd. That’s all we ask for, ever.”
I nodded, feeling a little miserable again and hovering around the edges of self-pity. I hated it when I gave in and felt sorry for myself. I tried to be so past that.
“I just… I feel like if I had been more in control last night…”
“You would have been able to stop it,” Dad said.
I nodded, feeling pathetic.
“What about Quaid?” Dad said. “He’s been studying his whole life. Was he able to stop it?”
I shook my head. I knew where he was going and let him. I needed a little Daddy support at the moment.
“Syd, once that thing tapped into blood magic, there was nothing anyone would have been able to do. Not even me.”
“I know,” I said, feeling better. He was totally right. Time to kick the self-pity out and get a grip.
“You did what you had to and did it well,” Dad said. “Despite all you’ve been through, you still don’t understand what you have to offer will always be good enough.”
I looked up at him, shocked he hit it so clearly. How did he know? He was a Demon Lord of the Seventh Plane, a powerful and respected leader. What did he know about not being good enough?
Dad k
issed me gently before getting up and going back to where he started. I could feel the connective power waning and knew his time on our plane ran short. If I had more energy I would have helped him stay longer, but I knew I barely had enough to stay awake.
“I love you, cupcake.” He winked just before freezing in place, skin melting to polished granite as he left me to go home to his own plane.
I stood up and touched his statue, feeling the residual warmth of him fading already as the cold of the stone took over.
“Love you too, Dad,” I said. “Stop calling me cupcake.”
I guess I could understand why he didn’t answer.
I gave up trying to force it and went upstairs. I knew neither my demon nor I had the patience or the endurance to keep torturing ourselves over something we couldn’t change and that if I continued to practice with so little energy and sleep, I could easily screw up and blow up the neighborhood.
So instead, I retreated to my room. Homework seemed like such a waste of time in the grand scheme, but it kept me distracted for a couple of hours. Part of me worried a little I hadn’t heard from any of my friends about the night before and I wondered if Quaid and I were right no one besides us witnessed what happened.
Mid-afternoon, Mom arrived home. I tossed my copy of Romeo and Juliet and raced downstairs at the sound of her voice in the kitchen. I found her with Erica.
“Anything?”
Mom shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, voice tired. “It really may have left the area, Syd. We can’t find any trace of it.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer. At least if it was out of our lands we didn’t have to deal with it, right?
“I haven’t heard anything from the High Council,” Mom told me. “So it’s bad either way.”
The High Council. What a useless bunch they were turning out to be. The Council of North American Witches, the overseers of all covens on the continent, failed to answer us when we were attacked in the fall and now were just as silent when other covens, let alone normals, were under possible threat. I always held the Council in awe, but right now I just felt pissed. According to Mom, they were notorious for minding their own business, but this was ridiculous.