by Patti Larsen
As the basement door closed on the last of them, Erica spun on me, whole body shaking with anger. But not at Celeste.
At me.
“This was your idea,” she snapped, “and I trusted you to keep things under control. And what did you do? You let Celeste walk all over you.” Erica’s frown was so deep I could see the wrinkles developing on her normally smooth skin. “I knew I never should have trusted you to handle this on your own.”
“That’s exactly what I was,” I snarled back. “On my own. Thank you so much for the fantastic effort at backup.”
“You don’t get it, do you, Syd.” She shook her head, long blonde hair swinging. “That’s your job. The leader has to maintain control and you blew it. Worse than blew it. I have no idea how we’re going to fix this without your mother.” She turned away from me, headed for the stairs before spinning back for another blow. “This is the last time I clean up one of your messes and I’m telling your mother so.”
She stomped her way out, slamming the door behind her. I just stood there, fuming, fingers twined in the fur on the top of Galleytrot’s head.
“I’m sorry, Syd,” he whispered. “I wasn’t much help.”
“You,” I said, bending to hug him, “were awesome.” I sighed all of my anger and fear and frustration into his warmth before pulling myself up straight. Mess or not, coven disaster or not, I had to do something.
Erica was wrong about that. Being on my own, that I was used to.
“Come on,” I said to the big dog. “Let’s go talk to Liam.”
***
Chapter Twenty Three
My trip to Liam’s to track him down turned out to be a total bust. Yeah, story of my life. The house was dark, not a soul answered the door and I started to worry maybe he and his mother had picked up and moved again. I ran home, tried calling him, but without any luck.
Crap. Galleytrot took off without me in search of him, or if that failed, his grandfather, and I let him go. I was tired and stressed out as it was. As soon as the black dog found Liam and/or Fergus he’d let me know.
Dad was still out when I arrived home, but Meira had locked herself in her room with Sassafras. At least she was talking to him. The computer beckoned and I went to check for messages.
It seemed like the moment I sat down Quaid was there and everything else went away.
How are you?
Awful. So happy you’re around. I dumped everything on him in the next few minutes of furious typing. And now I can’t find Liam and I need to find him so we can get to the damned Gate.
You should be able to find it yourself, shouldn’t you?
Did he not read what I just wrote? I need a Gatekeeper.
He must know what’s going on, then. Sounds like a douche.
Did Quaid just call Liam a douche?
He’s not, I wrote. I don’t think his grandfather told him. His father died when he was little.
Quaid was quiet for a long time. I’m just saying. He knows now there’s something big going on. And where is he?
I sighed. I wish I knew.
So you could run right to him? Oh. My. Swearword. Was Quaid jealous? What was wrong with the people in my life? First Alison, now him. Seriously. They all needed a good dose of grow the hell up.
What’s that supposed to mean? A twinge of guilt did hit me since I’d been flirting after all.
Nothing. I have to go. And he was gone, just like that, leaving me fuming and in a worse state than I had been before we spoke.
Thanks a lot. Jerk.
I reached out to Galleytrot.
Anything?
Not yet. His mental voice yawned. I’ll let you know.
It was Friday. Which meant they could be gone for the weekend. I groaned. That would literally be a disaster. Not that me showing up in the middle of the night if they did get home would be much better. Yeah great, Syd, walk up to the front door and tell Liam’s mom there’s a Gate he has to protect or the whole world will be overrun with fairy magic.
I threw myself on my bed and let my brain run on and on and on while my stomach just grew tighter and tighter and tighter…
***
The knock. The knock! My body is in pieces, fragments, the world dissipating under me as an army of blackness marches forth—
***
Someone was screaming and it wasn’t me for once, though as I emerged from the Gate dream I was sure at first I had to be wrong. Within a moment I understood the truth and found myself racing from my room in a panic and through Meira’s door. Hearing my sister scream in the middle of the night triggered memories of her kidnapping by the evil vampire Nicholas. And the way my luck was running, the way my whole life was running, there was no way I was letting anyone or anything come near my baby sister.
I slammed my hand against the light switch, the bulbs overhead flickering on as I flew through the door and to her bed. Sassafras sat next to her, paws on her shoulders where she sat, sobbing, while he gently licked her face. She gathered him into her arms and swayed with him held tightly against her, just like she always used to.
Could my sister be back?
I sat gently on the side of the bed, reaching out to touch her hand. She looked up from the sodden wreck she’d made of Sassy’s fur and lunged forward, releasing him and clutching at me as if she’d never let me go.
I rocked her softly, stroking her hair, tears rising in my eyes. Not because she had a nightmare, obviously the case, but because I missed her so much and could only hope this was the end of the train wreck we’d created between us.
“S-s-sorry,” she snuffled, pulling away. “I had a bad dream.”
“Happens,” I said with a soft shudder. “I’ve been getting those a lot myself lately.”
“Really?” She wiped at her nose with the corner of her sheet, eyes wide.
“Yup.” I held still, not wanting to make any fast moves and choosing my words carefully so I hopefully wouldn’t trigger some kind of full reversal in her attitude. “Kind of sucks.”
“Kind of.” She sighed deeply then hiccupped. Sassafras turned, amber eyes flashing. I saw his fur shudder as a glass of water floated toward Meira, as if the shape of a young man tried to emerge. He glared at me as he turned away. I so rarely got to see Sass use magic, it was weird to watch his demon soul try to escape the prison of his cat body.
Meira took a sip. “I miss Mom.”
“Me too.” I snaked out my hand, took her free one in mine.
“I’m sorry, Syd.” She was crying again, little face crumpling. “I was so mean to you, I’m so sorry.”
I let her cry herself out, fat tears falling into her water glass.
“Did you want to talk about it?” Seemed like a safe approach.
But I didn’t have to tiptoe around it anymore it turned out. Meira nodded. “I was just trying to fit in, that’s all.”
“You’re ten,” I said softly, “with really awesome friends who adore you.”
She shrugged, sloshing a little water over the rim of the glass. Sassafras cleaned it up instantly, swishing it back inside. “It’s just… at camp. The girls. They were all just so mean.” Her deep sigh came from the bottom of her, like it was a relief to say it. “They teased me, about my skin. My horns.” Her amber eyes met mine, brimming with fresh tears. “They said I was ugly, an abomo… abomo…”
Bitches. “You are not an abomination,” I said firmly and with anger. “You are not a monster, a freak or a weirdo. You are Meira Hayle, daughter of Miriam Hayle and Haralthazar, Demon Lord. And you are very, very special to me.”
She hugged me again, soaking the front of my T-shirt as the glass tipped forward, but I ignored it and the trickle of wetness that continued down my stomach. A little water wouldn’t hurt me.
“I had to wear my disguise,” she said, voice muffled in the fabric of my shirt. “It was really hard, but when I did they were nicer.” Meira sat back again. “I thought if I could just fit in they would like me.”
Thus the
makeup and hair and all that stupidity. “You could have called us,” I said. “I would have come and picked you up.” Would I. Stupid witch's camp. I hated that place with a passion.
“I know,” she said. “But I’m a Hayle witch.” Right. Hayles and our ridiculous pride.
“So when you came home,” I said. “How come you didn’t just forget those stupid heads?”
She shrugged. “They said really mean things about us, Syd.” Meira bounced the half empty glass on her knee, eyes locked on the swishing water. “I guess I started to hate us.”
Tumblers rolled over a clicked inside my head. “Who were these girls?”
“A bunch of them,” she said, “but the leader was the worst. Daniella Dumont.”
Naturally. Why didn’t I see it?
“She started in on me the first day,” Meira said, her anger at the offense driving her tears away. “Like she was queen of the world or something.” She snuffled, back straightening. “Like she knew anything. You’re right, Syd. She’s just a stupidhead.”
An evil little stupidhead from a family of the most vile, most despicable witches who ever lived. And the moment I had the chance to pay them back for hurting my sister, I would do so with a smile and a ball of demon fire.
They did not mess with my Meems.
“Okay,” I said, fighting my temper. I had to fix this for her, somehow. “Here’s the thing. That girl, Daniella? She did it on purpose. Her family hates ours. So you’re none of the things she said and so much better than her.”
Meira nodded, eyes locked on me.
“Next up, you need to dump those girls you’re hanging with. Seriously.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I can’t.”
“Why?” No way was my sister staying one of the mean girls.
“My other friends won’t talk to me anymore.” She looked so forlorn, so tiny, lost and hurt and embarrassed, I wanted to rend something.
Rending would be good.
“I bet,” I said while my brain invented new and fabulous ways to tear the Dumonts into itty bitty pieces, “if you apologized to them like you are to me, they will forgive you.”
“You really think so?” She sounded a bit more chipper.
“I do.” I took the glass from her and set it on the end table while Sassafras just sat there and watched me, amber eyes glowing. “They miss you, did you know that?”
She shook her head, hair swinging. Her curls fought for freedom from the straight look she’d been sporting.
I tucked the blankets around her as she sank back into her pillow. Sassafras curled up next to her, head on her shoulder, soft purr rumbling through her to me. “I spoke to Jolie’s mom. She said she’s really lonely and wishes you were still her friend.”
One last shining tear. “I’ll tell her I’m sorry tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I kissed her forehead, pressing my cheek against it after I was done.
“Syd?” Her whisper tickled my ear.
“Yup.”
“I really hate makeup.”
So sweet of her to make me laugh.
***
Chapter Twenty Four
I left Meira in Sassy’s care, heading back to my own room. I was almost there when my cell phone rang. Now what? I almost ignored it, sure it was Alison pulling one of her drama queen moments, but sighed and checked it anyway.
Not Alison. Angela, her mother. A poke of panic jabbed me as I answered.
“Syd,” the woman’s voice was breathless, panicked. “I need your help. She won’t listen to me.”
“What’s going on?” I was already heading out my bedroom door, not caring how I was dressed, pounding my way down the stairs as Angela sobbed once.
“She’s drunk,” she whispered. I could hear someone yelling in the background, the sound of shattering glass. “I can’t make her stop. Please, Syd, she’ll listen to you, I know it.”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up, already behind the wheel, tossing the cell phone onto the passenger seat as I fired up Minnie’s engine and squealed out of my driveway.
It was the fastest drive of my life and I even used magic to make sure the cops looked the other way. Minnie’s tires protested as I took the turn into the Morgan’s long driveway, but she held on, propelling us up the hill.
I barely had the parking brake set and I was out of the car, racing up the steps and through the front door without knocking. The place was huge, corridors leading off in all directions, huge staircase beckoning me upward. My magic reached out in haste, finding my target even as the sound of Alison screaming incoherently led me at a solid run, still in my bare feet, toward the back of the house and the kitchen.
I burst through the door to a scene from a nightmare: Angela clutched at her arm, blood leaking out between her fingers, tears pouring down her face as she huddled in the corner of the cabinets. Rosetta, the evil little Chosen member turned maid, crouched behind the center island, terrified and muttering to herself in Spanish.
But it was Alison my gaze sought out and found. She stood near the sink, a huge kitchen knife in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other. Her head whipped around as I burst into the kitchen, wild eyes bulging.
“Syd—“Angela’s terrified voice shook. “Be careful.”
My demon hummed, smelling blood, but she knew better. No way was I letting the taint of that touch my magic. I focused on Alison, easing forward, both hands extended as if she were a wild animal I had to subdue.
“Hey, Al.” Hard to keep your tone light when faced with a blade-wielding alcoholic with a very bad temper, but I managed. “What’s up?”
“Go away!” She threw the bottle at me, arm swinging wide. I was lucky she had terrible aim, though I felt the sting of something against my neck as the heavy vodka container struck a cabinet and shattered. Angela whimpered while Rosetta’s praying—it had to be praying because she crossed herself over and over again— increased in speed and volume.
I had several options, and none of them good. I could try to talk her down, knowing how impossible that was when Alison was like this. I could walk away. Or I could use magic on her. Shaylee’s Sidhe magic would be able to shield me from the negative power in the room from Angela’s dripping arm and the trickle now running down my throat and into the top of my T-shirt. But using magic meant revealing more than I should at a time when I didn’t dare give Celeste further ammunition.
“This is all your fault.” Alison’s voice was slurred, high pitched, but I could still make her out as she jabbed toward her mother with the tip of the knife. The blade was massive, a chef’s special of some kind. “I hate you! You never loved me.” Tears tracked down her face, through her makeup, running black lines over her cheeks. “You never loved me.”
“Al,” I said as softly as I could, “please give me the knife.”
She spun on me then, the blade swinging wide as she snarled her hate in my direction. I could feel it, a tangible thing, fed by alcohol and years of emotional damage. “Go away! You ruin everything, you always ruin everything.” I half ducked, worried she might throw the knife again, but she hung onto it, slashing the air as if it were my body she attacked.
When Alison turned the blood-tinted steel on herself, I froze. “Why am I even here anymore?” She swayed, the sharp blade sliding over the inside of her arm, a thin stream of red appearing. Alison looked down at it, almost startled by the pain, but when she looked up again, I saw truth in her eyes.
Out of time. My demon lashed out as Alison drove the knife deep into the artery in her wrist and severed it.
She fell to the floor as my magic knocked her unconscious, my demon searing the cut in the vein and quelling the flow of blood. I know Angela saw the flicker of amber fire, I’m certain she knew something weird happened, but she was so freaked out she just collapsed slowly to the floor, high heels slipping out from under her. She sat there, skirt up around her hips, blood everywhere, and sobbed.
Rosetta met my eyes with even more hate than Alison and scuttled fro
m the room. I let her go, not giving a crap if she saw. The Chosen of the Light didn’t scare me, her kind now powerless and leaderless. Besides, I had to act, had to.
I’d pay for it later, I was sure. But there was no way I was going to just stand here and watch my best friend kill herself.
Alison’s arm still leaked blood, but the beginning gush wasn’t pumping her life out onto the floor at least. I quickly wrapped a towel around her arm before turning to Angela.
“Call 911.” She stared at me through her sobs, whole body shaking so much I could barely maintain eye contact. Shaylee released a thin thread of earth magic, instilling in the woman a false calm, but enough Angela finally blinked and quieted. The boost wouldn’t last. She’d dissolve into shock again quickly. But it was enough that when I shoved the phone into her hands she automatically dialed.
I went right back to Alison and checked her over. My demon hissed at the amount of alcohol in her system, but I pulled her back from trying to do something about it. I wasn’t that good with fine healing work and it was likely we would just end up doing more harm than good.
Alison’s wound was on its second dishtowel when the ambulance arrived. I stepped back from my unconscious friend and let the paramedics do their job while Angela renewed her crying. Both women were taken away. I waved off the EMT who tried to look at my cut, watching as the double doors of the ambulance slammed and it drove away, alarm wailing.
Minnie followed close behind, carrying me to the hospital. I ended up pacing back and forth in the quiet emergency room waiting area, the shaking I’d managed to stave off starting up and taking over. It was impossible to sit still. Every time I tried, the image of Alison cutting herself drove me up and to my feet to resume my stiff walk.
I have no idea how she knew, but when Erica arrived, despite the differences we’d had, I was very glad to see her. Tears rose at last, sobbed into her shoulder as she hugged me and stroked my hair and whispered in my ear like Mom would have. Not quite the same, but good enough.