by Patti Larsen
Mom and Erica left and I was alone again. Well, not quite. I had my not-all-there grandmother, Ethpeal, for company, but it was hard to carry on a serious conversation with a witch who lost her marbles in a fight to the death.
I did check in on her, though. Mom often left her damaged mother warded in her room when she left. I could visit, no problem, but Ethpeal herself couldn’t leave. The wards were keyed to her specifically and kept her inside. Since I was tired of the whining of the star-crossed lovers, I went down the hall and knocked on her door.
I didn’t get an answer and never really expected one. I opened the door and peeked around the corner. Ethpeal had her back to me and sat hunched over at the end of her bed, rocking slowly back and forth, her head of wispy white hair swaying slowly in time with her movements.
I went in, closing the door behind me. “Gram?” I made my way into her room slowly, a little worried when she still didn’t answer. She was once a powerful witch, the leader of our coven. But a battle royale with a rival family left her broken and childlike. Only problem was, this child had power she threw around like fireworks. Noisy, dangerous fireworks.
I always felt bad she stayed locked in her room so much, but there was little else Mom could do to keep her and the neighbors safe. And there I was, feeling even more guilty as I watched her rock herself, clutching a pillow, staring out the window.
I sat down next to her and touched her shoulder.
“Are you okay, Gram?”
She turned to me suddenly, eyes wide, mouth in a half-grin, half-grimace, face smeared in chocolate. She giggled like a little girl, lips working around a huge piece. She wasn’t upset at all. She hid her stolen prize, the remainder of which she clutched in her hand, the shiny gold wrapper destroyed in her fight to get it in her mouth as quickly as possible.
The only way to calm my grandmother these days was with chocolate and lots of it. And a full bottle of tequila would oddly enough do the trick. Gram was crazy either way, so alcohol in her system made little difference. I still found getting a chocolate bar in her much easier than explaining why an under aged girl needed booze.
Mind you, too much chocolate for her could almost have the same effect as alcohol on normal witches. It could turn her into a very energetic and very playful child with some seriously dark ideas of what was funny.
The sight of her, covered in sticky sweetness, giggling to herself in private delight, triggered something. I couldn’t help myself any more than she could.
I sat there and watched her and laughed.
I think she understood somehow I wasn’t going to take the rest of her prize, and that made her generous.
“Yummies?” She held up the drool-smeared remains of the huge bar.
“No thanks, Gram,” I said, still laughing. “It’s yours. Help yourself.”
She crinkled her face at me, happy. And sobered suddenly. I’d seen it happen a couple of times before and it freaked me out. She stared right in my eyes and I held my breath, knowing how rare these moments of partial lucidity were, how few and far between, and how they were so often connected to impending disaster.
Ethpeal grabbed my hands with her free one, skinny fingers grasping like a fragile claw with steel at the core. Her bright blue eyes sharply focused as she leaned toward me, so close I smelled the chocolate on her breath.
“Too old for you,” she whispered. “Too old for her. Need help to find the hidey-hole, Syd.”
I desperately hung on to every word, knowing what she said was important but not getting it. I knew it would all make perfect sense when the crisis was over, as it did when she tried to warn me about the Moromonds, but just like then I was in the dark as to what she tried to tell me.
“Gram,” I said, “what help? Who do we need to help us?”
“Blood, earth, fire, flesh.” She was so close I could barely focus on her eyes but didn’t want to break the moment by pulling away. “All are connected. All need to be fed.”
I could see the moment when her sanity left her and desperately tried to get her back.
“Gram! I don’t know what that means!”
She leaned back suddenly and cackled, crazy all over again. She made a face at me and I recognized the expression linked to the old question. I knew before she said a word what she was about to ask and still didn’t have an answer.
“Do you have something for me?” Her voice hummed soft and little, a child’s voice with a plea in it. She had been asking me the same question my entire life and I had never been able to figure out why.
I shook my head and looked out the window, trying not to cry. So much for making me feel better. I was at a loss as to what she tried to communicate, the important warning she fought through her insanity to deliver. Worse yet, I couldn’t even help a crippled old woman find whatever it was she needed so badly.
I left her, happily finishing her contraband, knowing I would probably get yelled at when Mom arrived home but not really caring.
***
Chapter Eight
I retreated to my bedroom and took a few minutes to write down what Gram said so I could tell my mother before stretching out on the top of my quilt. My brain fell suddenly quiet and I closed my eyes, grateful for a moment to rest.
I felt the heavy weight of Sassafras land on the end of my bed and the movement on the mattress as he quietly padded his fat cat body to my side. He circled and settled against me, taking a moment to clean his tail before landing his nose between his paws with a sigh.
In the stillness of a Sunday afternoon, exhausted and stressed, I finally found peace and fell asleep.
There is nothing more disorienting than waking up fully clothed on top of your homework with no memory of the night before. I dragged myself from my bed and squinted into the sunrise. It only took a moment of confusion before I kicked myself and swore softly under my breath.
I slept the night through and missed the vampires.
In the bathroom across the hall, I surveyed the past few day’s damage. My face looked pale, pinched, eyes a little sunken, but way better than I expected. At least I had a good night’s sleep out of all of it, if nothing else. By the time I showered and brushed my teeth, I felt half normal and the color had come back in my face. I fussed over the black circles under my eyes, but opted out of cover-up, settling on my usual mascara and lipgloss.
It was a school day, after all. Time to make a good impression and keep my fingers crossed that my friends were freaked but oblivious.
I hadn’t heard anything to the contrary from my mother who, I knew, made sure everything was cool, but I still worried. I needed to check in with her and make sure we weren’t going to be forced to move in the middle of the night.
Although, if it was going to happen, I would have already woken up in a different house, in a different town. Seriously. There were times when the magic was uncontainable, when the normals had a real view of what our world was like and we were forced to pack up and run before anything worse could come of it. Left to their own devices, normals would revert as long as we left quickly enough, finding ways to explain away what they saw, witnessed, experienced, with a little family magic thrown in to ease the transition from real to imaginary.
I don’t know how many times I was forced to say goodbye to the life I just started to get used to for a new one in a new town. I had even once fallen asleep when I was ten or so in one bed and woken in another, so the whole prospect of that possibility was way more likely than I was willing to admit. At my age I doubted I would sleep through such a move, but when it came to my mother and her drive to keep the coven safe, anything was possible.
I hit the stairs two at a time and headed right for the kitchen. I was just in time to see Meira wave on her way out to the bus and breathed a sigh of relief. If things were really bad, Mom would never let my little sister go to school.
I dropped my book bag by the kitchen table and picked up the handmade card Meira left behind. It was covered in sparkles and fake jewels and v
ery loudly announced in huge bold letters, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SYD!”
Oh yeah. My birthday. With so much going on, I totally forgot. Leave it to my little sister to make a big deal over it.
My mother flashed me her best Mom smile as she turned to see me enter the room.
“Happy Birthday, honey,” she said. “Pancakes?”
My mother somehow went from the worst cook on the planet to having a deep fascination with the culinary arts. Not to say everything she concocted came out great, but she was definitely improving. I watched her flip the softly golden cake in the frying pan before turning back to me, wiping her hands on her favorite apron. The florescent green letters on the black background glared, “Witch in the Kitch.”
Tacky. But she loved it, so who was I to criticize?
“Any news?” I helped myself to a plate.
Mom handed me a cooked pancake and started another.
“I promise, Syd,” she said, “I’ll tell you the moment there is news, alright?”
Mom was in her let’s-just-carry-on-as-if-nothing-is-wrong phase. She had this habit of wanting to move on while dark and scary things happened in the background. I wasn’t sure if it was escapism or practicality, but I decided I wasn’t in the mood to play along.
“Are we still going ahead tonight?” I felt a little nervous about the whole Beltane celebration thing and half hoped she would say it was canceled.
Might as well try to cancel the sunrise. Mom smiled at me like I said something silly.
“Celebrating and honoring Beltane is a major part of our culture and beliefs, Sydlynn,” she said, “as you well know. And, no,” she flipped her pancake, “you will not be getting out of your part this year. Coven tradition and culture go on, no matter what.”
Bummer. But not exactly unexpected. I went back to the matter at hand.
“What did the vampire say?” I stayed put, plate extended, pancake cooling, not giving her an inch. Mom placidly flipped and gave me a look.
“Your breakfast is getting cold,” she said, gesturing with the spatula. “I suggest you eat it.”
I could have let it go. Should have. Didn’t. Just wasn’t in the mood.
“I have a right to know,” I snapped at her, far more frustrated with the whole situation than with her, but taking it out on her stupid pancakes and ugly apron.
The fire flashed in her eyes. “You have the right to sit yourself down and eat or go to school hungry,” she said. “Pick one!”
I tossed the plate in the sink with a satisfying crash, pancake and all, feeling distinctly belligerent.
“Hungry it is,” I said. I was halfway to my book bag by the time she had herself under enough control to reply.
“Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle! Get back here and eat your birthday breakfast!” She yelled at my back as the door slammed behind me.
On the sidewalk, I began the usual kicking of myself that came about when I fought with my mother. Mind you, compared to our usual rows, this one was minor. Almost half-hearted, as if we both were looking for an emotional out, but didn’t have the energy or the focus to really find something decent to argue about.
Stupid pancakes. I dug through my bag and uncovered a partially squashed breakfast bar, downing it to the last crumb to silence the rumbling in my stomach, wallowing in a bit of self-pity. I missed dinner the night before after all, and planned to hit the cafeteria at first period break to fill the hole.
Home was a short walk to school, but despite that fact I was very rarely early. For some reason, I always managed to drag myself through the doors of Wilding Springs High and to my locker with only enough time to get to my seat before my home room teacher, Ms. Fiat, decided to be nasty and give me an absent.
I really despised the woman and I knew the feeling was mutual. I couldn’t wait to end the school year and move on to a new teacher. For some reason, I’m sure it was high on her priority list as well.
Today, because of my little breakfast outburst, I was actually—gasp!—early. I had time to ease my way into school with my eyes and ears wide open to weirdness. I checked for my friends who often waited for me until the last minute in the brick nook by the front door but I was way ahead of them. I made it to my locker without comment and breathed a sigh of relief. I even had time to run to the cafeteria for some orange juice and a banana.
The entire student body acted totally normal. I even heard two girls down the hall laughing about the keg chugging. For some reason, it seemed like no one really cared Suzanne freaked out or that the party ended so abruptly. It really made me wonder about the parties they threw in Wilding Springs. If this wasn’t something to gossip over, maybe we really had nothing to worry about.
I dumped my stuff in my locker and peeked into the classroom to assess the damage before risking it. I was met by waves and smiles from Alison and Beth, huddling over a textbook next to my usual chair.
I slipped into my seat as Alison checked her watch, tapped it, then looked up at the clock on the wall.
Ha, ha.
“Not very damned funny.” I rolled my eyes at her obvious attempt at torturing me, my mouth full of squishy banana goodness.
Alison winked at Beth who tried not to dimple.
“Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?” Alison did her best Ms. Fiat as quietly as possible.
“Oh, shut it,” I said, “before you get us both in trouble.” A slick toss landed the peel in the can by the door. Swish.
Alison giggled. “Not likely. I’d get a pass.”
“And I’d get detention. So unless you want me to stop talking to you for the rest of your life, give it a rest.”
Alison made a face at me but her eyes were still laughing.
Beth slid a card over my desk, the pink envelope decorated with hearts. “Happy Birthday, Syd,” she said in her soft, sweet voice.
I tried not to blush. This stuff always made me uncomfortable. “Thanks,” I said, sliding the card open to read the sappy sentiment.
You make me laugh, you make me smile,
And now that we’ve been friends awhile
I wanted to say, I needed to share
And tell you, my friend, how much I care.
Leave it to Beth to get me a card that made me want to cry.
“I’ll have yours later,” Alison said. “We’re still on for Johnny’s at five?”
In all the excitement I almost forgot. My gang, a term still with tons of amazement factor, was taking me out for dinner on my birthday. An absolute first.
“Yeah,” I said, unable to stop smiling all of a sudden. “Awesome.”
Alison grinned at me. “Brad’s going to be there.”
I thought it was time to change the subject.
“So, I missed seeing you after the party,” I said to them both, wincing inwardly at my clumsy attempt at information gathering. Could I be more obvious?
“Weird.” Alison’s smile fell into a frown for just a moment, then back to happy. “No way, silly, remember? Pain drove us home after Suzanne was hurt.”
I tried not to let my shock show. Had Mom and the coven rewritten everyone’s memories?
“Poor Suzanne,” Beth said softly, leaning in to whisper. “I hear it’s really bad. One of the cheerleaders said the drug she took had to be laced with something and that’s why she’s so messed up.”
Alison nodded sagely while my head spun. Wow. Kudos to my mom. This was almost surreal.
Alison returned her attention to me. “Saw you talking to a tall, dark and yummy.” Her eyes slid sideways as Quaid entered the room. Yeah, my luck. He was in my homeroom. “Way to go making Brad jealous.”
I watched Quaid walk to the back of the room, dark eyes not blinking as he held my stare, smirk firmly in place. He took his seat, easing his long legs forward under the table, continuing to look right at me.
That boy needed a good shaking. I really wanted to talk to him, to see if he remembered anything I didn’t, but his glare did me in. I scowled at him for a moment then
looked away first and believe me, it hurt. How come I never had the last word?
“You have no idea,” I said to Alison. “It’s not what you think.”
“Better make sure Brad knows that.” She winked at me. “Hear he’s still pissed at Quaid and wants to kick his ass.”
The part of me loyal to Brad felt flattered. The demon in me wished him luck. With or without magic, I knew beyond a doubt that Brad Peters, football hero and all American boy, was no match for Quaid Moromond.
Ms. Fiat entered the room with her typical massive cup of coffee and actually did a double take when she spotted me in my seat. I think I left her speechless and hoped she wouldn’t punish me for it.
I did my best the rest of the morning to talk to those I could about the party, but no one seemed to find it interesting and I couldn’t find one person who remembered it as it happened. I felt a little freaked my mother did such a thorough job and wondered at the legalities of messing with their minds. We did have certain rules to follow, after all. But, I could only assume Mom knew what she was doing.
Lunch hit none too soon. The remains of a breakfast bar and a lonely banana did little to keep my stomach happy. I loaded up my tray with fries and a burger. Not my usual fare, but I needed to eat. I took my familiar place next to Alison at our table in the back. Simon and Beth were already there.
“Syd,” Simon said, pushing his glasses back with one finger, plastic spoon dangling from the same hand with food still clinging. “Happy Birthday.”
What was this problem I had with being the center of attention? I tried not to blush as I ducked my head.
“Thanks.”
I just squeezed enough ketchup out of the tiny foil packet for one French fry when Blood and Pain arrived, parking themselves on the other side of Alison.
“Yo.” Blood nodded pleasantly, eyes and lips embellished with the same black makeup as his girlfriend. Pain sat across from him, setting her massive army issue tote bag on the table beside her.
“Hi, Blood.” Simon smiled and waved his still dirty spoon.