Lord of the Drach

by Patti Larsen

  No, not Gabriel. Liam.

  Someone knocked on the door. I turned as it eased open, Dad peeking inside. His tanned face lit up at the sight of the two of us, a big grin flashing his perfect, white teeth.

  “You two,” he said, “are in big trouble.” His sparkling eyes belied his words as he joined us, hugging me, pulling Mom against his chest. “Did you really just tear down the oldest governing structure in witchdom and replace it with your own?”

  “Naturally,” Mom said. “We’re Hayles. It’s our way or the highway.”

  I laughed. “Mom was amazing,” I said.

  “I wish I’d been there to see it.” Dad, as a demon locked on our plane with the destruction of his statue, wasn’t allowed to attend official witch functions. I thought of Tallah Hensley, her obvious absence, and frowned.

  “Something else to add,” I said to Mom. “Remember Tallah’s inclusion of the werepack?”

  Mom nodded, and then frowned in turn. “She wasn’t here?” So she hadn’t noticed either.

  Tallah might not like me much, at least not since I’d invited her sister, Sashenka, to be my second. Didn’t help the Brotherhood destroyed most of her coven while mine remained intact. She’d poached Shenka back from me, for what it was worth. But she’d been the most vocal on the Shadow Council, pushing for change.

  So where was she?

  “I’ll check into it,” Mom said, all business again as Dad stepped back. “I’ve asked Harry to transfer to Hong Kong and be my eyes and ears there while I’m back and forth.”

  “Just until we find Femke.” Dad’s concern was as powerful as ours from the darkening of his face, the way his blue eyes turned cobalt. “Syd.” He exchanged a look with Mom before speaking, absolutely assuring I’d be unhappy with what came out of his mouth next. I knew them both far too well. “Quaid has asked me to bring the kids with me.”

  Quaid what? “To Hong Kong?” No freaking way. Bad enough I barely saw them once a day as it was. They’d been living here, at Harvard, with Mom and Dad while we sorted everything out. The pieces of Creator were a big priority on my list, as was shutting down both Liander Belaisle and the Brotherhood before he could ruin the Universe and allow the army of Dark Brother across. I shuddered at the memory of the Order, their terrifying, unrelenting march toward our Universe. Not to mention tracking down Trill Zornov, the traitor I’d once called friend, who was just as guilty as Belaisle of stealing Creator’s pieces. All while balancing the mental health of my son and his particular power to open Gateways to other planes.

  A job I’d failed at recently and led to a blow from which I feared Gabriel would never fully recover. Bad mom, Syd. Bad, bad mom.

  And. And. And. So many layers, so many concerns. The disappearance of vampires as the damaged spirit magic of our plane crumbled. The sightless Fates who could only see the future when my son opened a Gateway. The werenation, still reeling from the betrayal of their king, Danilo Moreau. His trial was already over, his sentence handed down. The fact he’d been imprisoned for life, forgotten and buried in an Enforcer facility even I didn’t know the location of made my heart hurt. Yes, he’d turned his people over to the mafia, but he’d done it out of a need for revenge, to hurt those who’d killed his beloved Yana. That kind of pain I understood, that kind of motivation. And what would endless imprisonment mean to the soul of a werewolf?

  Mom had chosen to save his life through a quick trial and push for compassion. And though I knew making hard decisions wasn’t something she shied from, I wondered if she’d done him any favors. His ultimate fate was a weight Femke was meant to carry. Mom had enough of her own to worry about.

  The door behind me squeaked just a little, catching my attention as I struggled with what to say to Dad. A pair of blue eyes met mine, long, black hair curling around my daughter’s face. Ethie didn’t run to me the way she used to, a fact I felt like a dagger to my heart. Instead, her tiny, perfect face pinched in anxiety, she looked up at all of us with one hand wrapped firmly around the doorknob as if for support.

  “Is Daddy here?”

  That sound, like glass shattering? My heart breaking into a gazillion pieces, scattered by the breath behind my daughter’s words. I caught a sob in the back of my throat, turning from her for a moment, one hand clutched to my chest while Dad spun and grasped Ethie, lifting my six-year-old daughter into his arms where she clung to him, huge eyes locked on me when I turned and smiled at her, quavering and weak.

  And I knew, as I stood there with my sweet girl watching me from her grandfather’s embrace, what I had to do. “He’s not, baby,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t start crying and make things worse. “But, would you like to go stay with him for a while?”

  Syd. Mom’s quiet mental voice echoed my own hurt. Are you sure?

  No, I sent. No, I’m not freaking sure. I’m dying here, Mom. But look at her.

  Ethie nodded a little. “Okay,” she said.

  And my tiny child succeeded where an appeal from my husband would have failed. In an instant of attempting to protect my kids from the world I lived in, the dangers I faced, the hurt I knew they’d encounter at my side, I chose to let them go.

  It was the hardest thing I’d ever done and, when Ethie’s smile broke out over her face, her happiness at the idea of leaving me scarring me forever, I managed one last wavering smile of my own before feeling everything good inside me wither and die.

  I would have fallen to my knees, begged my daughter to love me again. Was so close to it I gasped a breath when a mind touched mine.

  Syd. Owen Zornov’s timing was impeccable. And sealed my fate. We need you.

  Of course they did.

  Without another word to my parents, to my daughter, without seeing my son, I sliced open the veil and did my duty.

  ***

  Chapter Three

  I stepped out the other side in the basement of the Zornov’s bungalow to the hum of cooling units that couldn’t quite stop the extra heat of all the computers my friend, Simon Clement, kept running 24/7. No wonder the bespectacled young man was so pale—the hacker known online as BitsandBytes—rarely left the underground, his entire existence wrapped around the monitors he stared into, the screen contents manipulated by his fingers flashing over his keyboard.

  Grateful for the distraction, it didn’t take me long to turn from crushed by my daughter’s rejection to engrossed in the concern both Owen and Simon radiated as they watched me cross to them. Thank goodness for disaster or I’d be a pile of weeping patheticness by now.

  Didn't say much about me, did it?

  Owen stood, vacating the chair next to the computer wizard, gesturing for me to sit, his handsome young face pinched with strain. He’d been on edge, if still his sweet natured self, for a while now. Ever since his older brother, Apollo, decided it would be a grand adventure to infiltrate the Brotherhood, an organization he’d belonged to once upon a time.

  Since no one had ever succeeded in infiltrating the Brotherhood before, ending up either dead—the better of the two choices, in my opinion—or a blubbering vegetable, he’d taken a big risk. Or, so I thought at first. Until the only person who recovered from the Brotherhood’s not-so-tender mercies, Demetrius Strong, informed me it might work thanks to the fact Apollo’s sorcery had been claimed by the Brotherhood initially. It meant the Brotherhood would believe Apollo remained loyal to the organization that created him. Knowing he would at least be nominally safe, I’d let Apollo go. The Brotherhood had no idea his connection to his brother and sister nullified any hold they might have on him. Or, at least, that was the hope.

  Backed up with normal tech to give us an advantage the Brotherhood had, as of yet, to uncover, he’d left a few days ago to rejoin the organization and get us what we needed to bring Belaisle to heel.

  I sat down and immediately understood the source of Owen’s unhappiness. Apollo’s face filled one of the screens, the button cam he carried on him at all times warping the sides of the feed, making him look like he was
peering through the concave edge of a fishbowl. But even with the distortion I could tell he was worried.

  “I’m coming to get you right now.” I was half out of the chair again, refusing to let someone else down, mind still on my kids, when Apollo spoke up, his whisper cutting through my urge to act.

  “Please don’t.” I stopped, waited. “I have news, and you might not like it.”

  My thighs burned from the effort of hovering, so I gave in and sat again. “What’s up? You’re okay?”

  Apollo glanced over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. He was in his room, a view I’d become familiar with over the last few days since he left us to join the Brotherhood. It seemed like the only place he was safe to talk.

  “I’m fine. For now.” He shrugged. “I think. But the newest member of our little family isn’t making things easy for me.”

  My scowl hurt, jaw clenching. “Who?”

  “Your old pal,” Apollo said. “Jean Marc Dumont.”

  Why wasn’t I surprised Andre’s oldest son slunk like a snake off to the Brotherhood after the disaster that befell his family? With Andre’s disintegration taking the family magic with him, Jean Marc must have felt he had no choice. Considering there was no coven left for him to lead or magic to dominate.

  “Turns out he’s old besties with Kayden.” Of course he was. Another shocker. Jean Marc and Belaisle’s second in command? Why the hell wouldn’t they be tight? I felt the black ribbon wrapped around my wrist with soft fingers, aware of its shift under my touch, content to simply remain there. Andre’s parting gift was still an anomaly, though Max’s suggestion it might be a drach soul from the other Universe was troubling. Still, Andre had told me enough I now knew he and his sons had been working with the Brotherhood behind the scenes. Didn’t save the Dumonts from the attack when it came though, did it? Belaisle betrayed everyone in the end.

  Sigh.

  “He’s trying to oust me,” Apollo said, though without any sort of whining in his tone. Just stating fact. “Subtle stuff, but I feel a full on accusation attack coming.”

  “Anything from Liander?” Honestly, I could care less about Jean Marc. Let the Brotherhood have him.

  “Not a thing.” Apollo seemed frustrated, too. “He took off with Eva Southway, and the pair hasn't been back since.” The only reason I hadn’t moved on the Brotherhood enclave. I wanted to capture Belaisle and question him personally. Impossible to do if he wasn’t where Apollo could pinpoint him. Which meant, as I suspected, another plan was required.

  I just hoped my son was up to baiting the trap.

  “What about the pieces of Creator?” That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? It would be worth letting Belaisle slip through my fingers if I could waltz in there and take possession of the two pieces he’d stolen out from under me.

  Apollo’s wince answered my question. “Sorry, Syd,” he said. “I’m botching this, aren’t I?”

  “Time to get out of there, Apollo.” I couldn’t risk him any longer. Once we had Belaisle, the Brotherhood’s head would be cut off. Apollo would be safe and I’d have the mouthpiece of Dark Brother to myself.

  “Not yet.” Apollo’s urgency seemed to grow. “I’ve been hearing rumors, something about the Steam Union. Since Jean Marc got here, they seem to be building up to something big. But I haven’t been able to find out what.”

  “Which means you’re compromised,” I said. “Or Kayden would have shared by now.”

  “Maybe.” He chewed one thumbnail, the camera shifting a little as he considered. “I can’t just leave without finding out something, Syd. Or this whole insertion has been useless.”

  Not exactly. He’d confirmed Eva Southway’s involvement with the Brotherhood. But… yeah. I got it.

  “Fine.” I exhaled. Not like I could stop him or force him to take himself out of harm’s way. “Just be careful.”

  “As always.” Apollo hesitated. “I’ll be in touch the moment I have something concrete on Belaisle’s location or my hands on the pieces,” he said. “But I need to see this through.” He looked over his shoulder again. “Gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” The camera turned back around, his fingers securing the buttons of the shirt. I turned away, slightly nauseated by the motion, and met Simon’s gaze.

  “You let me know the second he has what he needs,” I said.

  My friend nodded, light catching the lenses of his glasses, face calm. “Once we figure out what that is.” He shrugged. “You know I will.”

  We’d lost touch for years, Simon’s once bright future crushed and altered by Ameline and the vampires of Sunny’s old clan. But his renewed friendship I’d grown to cherish since he came back into my life.

  Which made me think of Mom and Dad and the kids and Quaid. I really didn’t want to go there right now after embracing this mess as a means to protect me from myself. I sure didn't want to sob in front of the two young men who watched me with expectation and at least a modicum of confidence I knew what the hell I was doing.

  Trusting souls.

  Instead of riding the veil home, I headed up the stairs, leaving the boys behind, their eyes glued to the monitor and Apollo’s progress. The interior of the upstairs felt muggy, the air heavy with the scent of old pizza and mold. I rolled my eyes at the pile of boxes on the living room coffee table, the dirty dishes in the sink. Now, I’m not the neatest person in the world, but gross. And typical. And though I considered asking some of the sweeter young witches in the coven to help out—those who’d had their eyes on Simon and Owen and Apollo all along—I hated to turn my family into servants to take care if these two when they were perfectly capable of caring for themselves.

  Not to mention, as I exited the side door and into the driveway, Owen’s grandmother was in residence. No, she wasn’t their maid, either. And the idea Nona would be anything of the sort made me snort to myself. The hardcore blood maji matriarch of the Zornov family couldn’t be too tolerant of the way the boys chose to live.

  One glance at the old, rusting motor home in the driveway told me her solution. She’d originally moved into the house, to Wilding Springs, to be with her grandchildren after the Brotherhood attacks. Since then, Trill’s betrayal had darkened our relationship. But I was still glad Nona was here, safe and sound. And back living in her trailer.

  I hardly blamed her. Though, as I crossed to the door in the cool autumn evening on impulse, hoping to reconnect with her, I paused. Maybe I should just leave her be. Hadn’t I screwed up enough lives so far? Still, the fact we had bad blood between us troubled me enough I forced my sneakered feet to carry me to her door and raised my hand to knock.

  What was I going to say? I had no idea. But, it was time to put this particular relationship back to rights. That much I could do, at least.

  Until I caught the soft whispering of two female voices. And my heart froze in my chest.

  No. She wouldn’t. Nona couldn’t. Not right here, in my town, under my nose.

  Damn it.

  Power gathering to me in a rush of fury, I slammed open the door and charged up the two steps into the trailer. Just as Trill looked up from where she sat with her grandmother, a stricken, sorrowful look on her face.

  ***

  Chapter Four

  I was already moving, leaping for Trill with my power and my body, even as the blood maji lurched to her feet and toward a dark tunnel reminiscent of the traveling ports sorcerers used. She’d corrupted her blood magic with sorcery so I wasn’t surprised by her mode of travel, but there was no way in hell she was going to escape me, not that way.

  Not ever.

  The only thing I didn’t count on was the fact she had help. I was so focused on capturing Trill, my demon roaring her fury, I failed to remember the blood maji wasn’t alone. And, though her power was nothing compared to mine, Nona mustered enough energy, thrown directly in my face, I paused. Just a heartbeat, to clear the clinging, desperate net away, wiping at it like an unexpected cobweb in the dark with a spluttering shout. Long enoug
h for Trill to disappear through the portal and vanish as it collapsed behind her.

  I grabbed with my magic, but too late. Without the end of the tunnel for purchase, I had nothing to go on. Nothing at all. Instead, I was left standing there, panting from anger, the last threads of Nona’s power crumbling around me as I glared into the empty space where Trill had been. Before pivoting on one foot to glare at the old woman staring back with open defiance.

  “What.” The trailer rocked under me as Shaylee vented her anger, the ground vibrating with her earth magic. “The.” The temperature inside rocketed upward, my demon’s fire let out with her temper. “Hell.” Windows hummed and vibrated from the pressure of my vampire’s spirit magic. “Were.” The family magic rumbled in answer, traveling outward in unhappy waves from my point of origin. “You.” Two panting, panicked young men burst into the trailer, Owen and Simon staring, their shock registering in my peripheral vision. “Thinking?”

  My power collapsed, reverting everything to normal. Car alarms echoed in the distance. Damn my temper. But dear elements preserve us. Had she lost it entirely? Because I was about to. That little show was just the tip of the Sydberg.

  “What happened?” Owen’s voice shook as he eased his way into the trailer, past me to his Nona. She continued to glare, face pale in the single light on the built in table next to her, wiry hair pulled back in a kerchief, making her look even more old school than ever. She was afraid, that much was apparent in the quiver of her lower lip. But her dark eyes didn’t relent and the crevasses of her wrinkles deepened as she stared me down, Owen’s arm around her rounded shoulders.

  “I was talking to my granddaughter,” she said. Owen gasped next to her.

  “Nona.” He sounded so hurt, so disappointed. She finally reacted, patting his hand.

  “It’s not what you think,” she said, sharp gaze on me again. “Trillia is not the enemy, Sydlynn Hayle.”