by Patti Larsen
“Miriam brought me home,” the silver Persian finally said, breaking the tense quiet in the heavy, cool air. But not accusation, no teasing I’d left him behind. So he knew better than to push me. Not surprising, really. And yet, I wished he would. I really, really needed to fight with someone.
I shrugged, grunted, kept pacing, chewing my right thumbnail until I tasted blood.
“Femke isn’t in any shape to be taking over yet,” he said. Calm and rational. Because yeah, calm and rational was an excellent reaction to the crapshow that was going on in Hong Kong right now. “But when she emerged from her quarters and asked Miriam to leave, we had no choice.”
“The kids.” I snarled those two words at him, coming to a stop to face him, knowing I was just as guilty of leaving them behind. Damn it, why hadn’t I taken them with me when I’d gone?
“Miriam thought it best to let them stay,” Sass said. Still reasonable. Stupid cat. “At least until everything settled. She didn’t want to harm them with the tension of the moment.”
Okay, fair enough. At least Mom was thinking straight, something I apparently struggled with moment to moment.
Speak of the devil, her power touched the shielding of the family wards, physical form crossing into the kitchen upstairs to the sound of the screen door creaking. I held my rigid posture, stared at the steps while listening to her footsteps cross to the other side of the room, light washing down as she opened the door Sass had closed behind him with magic. She descended toward me with slow, measured steps, though when I could finally see her face, the distress she shared with me, through her physical reaction and through the magic that touched mine, almost broke me.
I. Would. Not. Cry.
“Syd.” Mom stopped next to Sassafras as though afraid to approach me. Wow. That made me feel better. Right. “Syd, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, dark curls swaying, cheeks bright with color though the rest of her face was pale. “I should have done more to block Femke. But I had no choice.”
I was really starting to hate those four words. I had no choice. The story of my freaking life.
“You’re right, of course.” She crouched to lift Sass into her arms, stroking his fur, and I wondered if holding him brought her comfort. “Belaisle’s crimes against this plane are terrible. Terrible.” She swallowed, tried to speak. Cleared her throat. And when she spoke again her voice was thick and heavy. “But the safety of everyone everywhere has to come first.” She shivered, resting her cheek on Sass’s head. “It’s so hard for us, don’t you see?” Her blue eyes shone with moisture. “So hard to comprehend the vastness of what you face. But we’re trying. I swear I am.”
My jaws ached from keeping my mouth shut. She’d never understand, but I couldn’t say that out loud. Wouldn’t.
Mom sighed in to Sass’s fur. “There’s something wrong with her,” she said. For a moment, I was certain she was talking to the cat, telling him I was damaged goods. Anger surged, a ripcord of rage pulled so hard my entire being ached from it. Until she met my eyes again. “Femke, Syd. There’s something wrong, beyond what she’s been through. I tried to see it, to help her, but she refused assistance. Even the Kennecotts.” The healing twins, once autonomous, now members of my coven, were the best healers in witchdom. “She took power from the Council, from the Enforcers, to recover so quickly.” Mom shivered. “Siphoned it, Syd.”
That was bad. And not how we did things. But not my problem right now.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I said, the sharp, angry tone of my voice surprising even me, layered with sarcasm and bitterness. “You’ll all be just fine, won’t you?”
Mom’s hurt expression held a tint of fear. There it was again, the slap to my face though I was sure she didn’t mean to be afraid.
Instead of arguing with me, she set Sassafras on the floor again, shoulders slumped, face lined with weariness. “I’ll do what I can,” she said, “to support Femke and stop this foolish attempt to take Belaisle from the drach by force. The last thing we need is a war we can’t win.”
I grunted again. Didn’t comment. Didn’t have to.
Mom half turned, paused as if she wanted to say something. And left, head down, steps not quite so firm. I felt her leave the way she’d come, glad she was gone.
Wishing she’d come back so I could hug her and cry on her shoulder.
When the door to the kitchen opened again, I was surprised. Enough I climbed the steps to see who was there, halfway to the top before I realized the magickless visitor was someone I dreaded seeing.
Simon stood in the early morning sun streaming into the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, grim expression closed and dark. I nodded to him just as he tossed a set of keys on the table, the ring rattling, silver shining as they slid across the wooden surface.
“Apollo’s safe,” he said, voice cold, dull. “I cleaned out my stuff.”
He was leaving after all. And I’d done nothing to stop him. Continued to do nothing, staring in silence, heart thudding painfully in my chest while the slim, handsome young man I’d only just begun to get to know again turned his back on me.
“See you, Syd,” he said. “Have a nice life. If that’s even possible for you.”
The door slammed behind him as he went, closing over the place he’d held in my heart. But no matter how much I told myself it was for the best, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it.
Sass sat where he perched on the kitchen table, staring at me with the most mournful expression I couldn’t stand it. Was grateful when my final visitor chose that moment to show, just to break me free of my need to fall to my knees and sob like a child who’d lost everything.
Until I realized what I was doing, where I was heading when I felt the familiar touch of magic in the back yard, my feet carrying me to an ending I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
***
Chapter Thirty Three
Quaid stood waiting for me, hands in the pockets of his jeans, black t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest. He’d been so lean when we’d first met, like some Goth punk rock singer with his dark waves hanging over his chocolate eyes, that ever present smirk making me want to slap him then smother him in kisses.
The last few years had brought maturity to his face, more obvious in the bright sunlight, thickened his jaw, stretched out his shoulders. He’d beefed up since I’d really looked at him, taken the time to actually see who he’d become. Handsome, still dark on the inside and the outside. My Quaid.
Not for much longer. I was sure of that.
We’d stood here so many times before, the soft, green grass under our feet no longer thrumming with the power of the Wild Hunt that once lived under my yard. So many years gone by, so much hurt passed between us, around us. My chest hurt but I could breathe, at least, my body still and unshaken though I felt I hurtled like a meteor toward a crash and burn so vast it would devour me whole.
Weird how calm I felt, staring at him, hands at my sides, inevitability taking hold. A crystal clarity I’d never encountered before made everything sharp and crisp, from the way he sounded when he breathed to the edges of his skin against the air itself. I held still, chest rising and falling, heart beating, mind in quiet, as he spoke at last in his deep, quiet voice.
“I’m sorry about Hong Kong.” How much of it? I had no desire to fight with him, strangely. No need to speak. Simply stood and breathed and let him go on as though this were the final moment of my life and I needed to hear what he had to say. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But, Syd.” He paused. “We’re broken. And I don’t know how to fix us.”
I nodded. Had nothing else in me to answer with.
“I feel like I don’t know you anymore.” Because blaming me was the perfect solution. Ah. So I had some anger left after all, did I? The girls remained silent inside me, as though knowing their input wasn’t welcome. That, despite the fact they’d been as much his wives as I had thanks to our intimate association, they had no say in the matter.
<
br /> “I just need some time.” That was always his answer. “To step back and evaluate. We can figure this out.” Could we? Was this sense of ending I felt merely my ego’s need to be right? Until I remembered Payten, the way she looked at him.
And shook my head this time. No defeat, though I know I should have felt defeated, that I’d lost a war I never should have been involved in in the first place. “No,” I whispered. Coughed. “No, Quaid.” Tears. There should have been tears, shouldn’t there? Wasn’t I human anymore, in the sense of being able to feel? But my feelings—aside from my anger—were numb, coldness washing up my legs, into my stomach, surrounding me in a wave of chill I allowed to come and take me over. “No.”
His face darkened even as a skim of panic passed through his dark eyes. “I didn’t sleep with Payten, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He was telling the truth, but it didn’t matter. Because when he said her name, I saw the trigger in him, the way his body shifted when he thought of her. Maybe he hadn’t taken that final step yet, but his heart was hers, wasn’t it? Had been all along, maybe. Reawakened with her return to his life and my departure from it. The part of him that wasn’t locked to me with magic.
The magic. I felt the thread of it, the same thin strand I’d held in my power once before, the night I knew I should let him go but chose the selfish path and held him to me. Regret finally woke and had its way with me while I ran a touch down the length of that tie that bound and to his heart.
“I can’t do this again.” And realized as I spoke those words they were the most absolute truth I’d ever spoken. Too many years of having him leave me, only to return and leave me again. Too much heartbreak, too much loss and loneliness. I shrugged, not knowing how else to physically express what I knew was right. It took me so long to learn to trust him to stay. And now, here he was, leaving me again.
Had already left me. And I was a fool for not paying attention to the cycle that would never, ever end.
“You can’t have it both ways,” I said, magic wrapped firmly around the thread between us.
Quaid hesitated. Didn’t come to me, hug me, tell me he was sorry. Though I didn’t expect it, a hint of remorse outside his panic would have been nice. A warm touch of need. Anything.
Anything.
But, nothing. Except the fear he felt of letting me go. Fear, I now believed, came from the magic between us.
Only one way to find out. I drew a deep breath, smiled at him sadly, heart aching at last.
And cut the cord holding us together.
It recoiled, that thread of power, hitting me in the chest like a blow, before sighing its death in my mother’s voice. I couldn’t breathe at last, the chill leaving me for a surge of heat so hot I gasped from it.
Heard Quaid’s answering inhale of breath while his face turned from shock to hurt. To understanding. Even as I nodded and accepted the truth.
“I was right,” I said, letting him go, though part of me would always want the habit of him to stay, even though my heart knew the truth. “It was just the magic all along.”
Tears trickled down his cheeks, lips tight, jaw jumping. And then, he nodded.
Just the magic.
I tugged at the family power he still held, setting him completely free. It returned to me, sad but resigned, while he rocked for the second time. Enforcer magic flared, filling in the space. And, for the first time since we’d met, I saw him, truly saw him, for who he really was.
I cared about him. The memory of his body, his lips, our love, remained. But he was just another witch, just a man, flawed and powerful and beautiful. But not mine any longer.
Enforcer Tinder didn’t speak or move or try to stop me when I turned and left him there, in the grass of the yard, closing the door to the house behind me.
***
Chapter Thirty Four
The coven battered against me as I entered the back hall, but I barely felt their desperate cries for answers. Sass stood at the bottom of the stares, his pure misery visible in the way his ears hung sideways, his whiskers drooping to the floor, head down, amber eyes full of tears.
I needed to go to his side, to pick him up and hug him. Cuddle him, maybe? Make him feel better.
Instead, I stepped around him, blocking out the cries of the family, steered clear of their feelings, of Sass. Of Mom as her power battered hard enough I let her through as I walked down into the basement. Embraced the cool quiet of the room while her panicked voice hit me hard.
Syd! So much hurt. Should I be hurt? What happened?
It’s all right, I sent, surprised by the soothing calm of my voice. I divorced Quaid, that’s all. Just a minor inconvenience. After all, I went through husbands, didn’t I? I stopped, felt a moment of understanding. She’d felt the magic break, then, had she? That was the only way she’d know. That she’d be here in my head. But you knew that already. The power had sighed in her voice, after all, when I broke the connection, when I’d officially ended my marriage by cutting my ties to him, by removing him from the family. Witch divorces were so much cleaner than normal ones.
Why wasn’t I more upset?
I’m sorry. Mom choked on her own grief. We thought it was best, back then. Batsheva and I. Mom paused, as if realizing what she’d just said.
Batsheva Moromond. I hadn’t thought of her in a while. Not since the Brotherhood came and took her mummified vampire remains from the basement. If she was alive out there, somewhere, she’d know Quaid and I were done. And that pissed me off.
Yes, anger. My old friend.
Thanks for checking in. I cut Mom off before I could use that anger against her, say something equally hurtful and untakebackable, because I would have. I knew myself well enough to see where the train of fury would take me.
No need to do that to Mom. I was sure she felt guilty enough right now.
I turned to find Sass watching me all over again, resented the fact he wouldn’t leave me alone in a burst of fury I couldn’t control. “Max was right,” I said. “I’ve put so much emphasis, placed so much energy, into the small crap I’ve lost sight.” I threw my arms wide, a weight lifting from me as I said it. And suddenly all the threads to the people I knew appeared in my head and I could see them all, the way I clung to them and their petty problems. Holding me back.
Making me crazy. I had to be crazy, to let this go on.
One of those ties shocked me. I had no idea I still clung to Sashenka Hensley like a desperate child wanting her best friend to come home. But seeing it, feeling it, drove me out of my anger and into a need I hadn’t wanted to admit until now.
Even as the door to the kitchen slammed open, Tippy’s voice calling my name to wait, I tore open the veil, turned my back on the weeping Sassafras and stepped through onto a California beach.
The sun was hot, midday on the Pacific coast, my feet taking in the sensation of burning sand, skin absorbing the warmth of the blazing sun, though I barely really felt it. More a side bar to the pull of my need to tear open a wound I’d ignored and find out why. Why she’d left me as everyone seemed to leave me.
Not fair. I’d cut Quaid off, had to let Piers go. And yet, and yet.
I called to her, stood there in the sunshine wishing it could warm me like it used to, the immortal and near invincible shell of my body impervious to extremes despite my need to feel. She hesitated on the other end, but I knew the moment she chose to come, power vibrating with anxiety. I was close enough to Hensley house she walked, each footstep carrying her to me, tightening the thread.
I didn’t turn as I felt her stop behind me, inhaling the salt air and the humidity, the breeze stirring my ponytail, tugging at my t-shirt hem. It was lovely and peaceful here. I could see why Californian’s loved it.
“Syd.” Shenka finally broke the silence, uncomfortable for her, I assumed, though it was just the opposite for me. I finally turned and met her dark eyes, saw the wariness in hers. The guilt.
“I just needed to ask you a questio
n.” So casual, Sydlynn Hayle. So precise and yet collected and gentle.
She seemed surprised by my attitude, the thread between us vibrating with fear and curiosity. “I’ll try to answer,” she said.
I nodded, looked out over the ocean, pushing a stray lock of hair away from the corner of my mouth as I thought of Quaid. “Why did you leave? Really.” I turned back again. “Not for Tallah, I don’t believe that. There’s a reason.” About me.
Arrogant. And part of me hoped she’d deny it, that she’d insist it was her sister’s need that took her from Wilding Springs, brought her home to California.
Shenka’s face tightened, her turn to look away. The thread vibrated, unreadable as she hid herself from me. I could have looked more closely, dug out her feelings, but I wanted her to say it. To be honest with me, tell me at last.
“You won’t like it.” Did she hate me that much her voice shook, her anger surging to the surface?
I just waited, breathing in the beautiful sea air, trying to absorb the heat of the sun.
Shenka exhaled loudly, sharp and bitter. “You’re too big,” she said.
I knew it. I’d known it before she’d gone, felt her resentment, the way she had grown to see me as someone else, not the young woman she’d learned to love. And I had changed. Never before was I so aware of it as I was at this moment, on that quiet beach while the surf sang nearby and my former best friend and second hurt me with the truth I demanded of her.
“You didn’t need me,” Shenka said. “You don’t need anyone.” A pause. “You’ve changed, since the Brotherhood, Syd. Even before then. I didn’t want to see it, to accept it. But when the world went to hell, so did you.”
Just keep hitting me. Just keep doing it. I could take it. I really could.
“No matter how hard I tried,” she said, voice filling with grief, “no matter what I did, there was nothing I could to do stop it. Syd.” She cleared her throat. “I got tired of trying to support someone who has tools in place of people she cares about.”