First Plane

by Patti Larsen

  “And with me so close to the Seat, we both knew it was coming.” Dad kissed her softly. “I just wish we'd had more time. But I'm grateful for what we've had, my love.” He met my eyes, then Meira’s. “I want you both to know,” his gaze drifted to Sassafras whose ears lay flat, body crouched low to the ground, eyes full of sorrow, “the three of you, without your help, I’d still be the monster I became when I emptied Vandelarius.” I shuddered at the memory, felt the stirring of the beast inside me at the thought and nodded. “The lessons I’ve learned here,” he hugged Mom around the shoulders, “loving your mother, having you two, has taught me so much, so many things I can take back home with me. To make Demonicon a better place.” He paused, swallowed a few times. And when he spoke again, his deep voice cracked. “Mating with Miriam, being your father, was the greatest thing I’ve ever done.”

  I rushed forward, hugged him, Mom pressed to my side, Meira between us, sobs clenched tightly in my chest as the truth of what he was saying finally broke through my denial.

  When he finally let us go, his cheeks were wet, but he was smiling.

  “I love you all so much,” he said. “And I’m sorry things had to end this way. Syd, Meira, take care of your mother. And Miriam,” he bent and kissed her gently, “my heart will never leave you.”

  Mom faked her best smile back but her face looked frozen, even as her lips quivered, hand clinging to his.

  I turned away as Dad swept Mom into his arms and held her close, unable to watch their one last desperate, parting kiss. Meira wept on my shoulder before pulling back and facing them both with anger.

  “This is her doing.” I knew exactly who my sister was talking about. “And I actually thought I loved her.”

  Meira ran off, still crying, her footfalls pounding up the steps and overhead as she retreated to her room. Sassafras paused, bowed his head to Dad.

  “Harry,” he said, his own words full of grief. “Be well, my Prince.” He then turned and scampered upstairs to comfort my sister.

  Meira was so right. I stood there, cursing my grandmother, hating her with more passion than I'd ever felt as Mom and Dad finally separated. I slid my arms around Mom while Dad bowed his head. Ahbi—I would never call her Grandmother again—had finally done what so many others had tried to do, failed to do.

  She’d destroyed our family at last.

  Dad's hand rose, amber magic in a thread sliding out from his fingertips. Mom's own came up as if against her will, blue power flickering with green and white touching Dad's. I felt the power snap, saw their connection break, the recoil making Mom cry out while Dad's face crumpled.

  He met my eyes as he left us, his statue again cold and shining, a diamond of incalculable value now worthless to me.

  My dad was gone.

  Mom wove a sheet of power, each thread connecting in perfect harmony to the last until it was tangible, complete. With trembling hands but a resolute expression, she shook it out and up, draping Dad's statue in darkness.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  I couldn't take it. Couldn't. I fled from Mom, from Gram, from all of it. Couldn't bear the touch of the veil, instead threw on my jacket and boots and felt the bite of the cold as I ran out into a frosty white world almost unfamiliar, across town, through the glass door, down the stairs, across the green barrier and into Liam's waiting arms.

  The cavern’s power embraced me, held me as close as my Sidhe friend as he guided me into his room and sat me on the edge of his bed. The draping branches of the carved tree above me drooped as though in tune with my sadness.

  Liam held me, rocked me as I cried and babbled, unable to get anything out clearly for a long time. When I finally could, I’d calmed enough to pull away and stand, to pace, feeling odd as I did, my human body an adjustment after the muscular power of my demon form.

  He listened as he always listened, face creased in concern, hands clasped in his lap, hazel eyes full of worry while I dumped the whole crappy, nasty, unfair situation on him, from the fighting to Dad’s ascension and my new worry I’d never see my father again.

  Galleytrot padded into the room part way through, keeping his head down, stretching out at Liam’s feet as if he didn’t want to interfere or intrude. But when I finally turned to them both, I crouched and hugged the big hound, feeling his power slide around me too even as his wet tongue stroked over my cheek.

  “Syd,” he rumbled a morning thunderstorm, “I’m so sorry.”

  Liam grasped my hands, pulled me into his lap. I sat there, tears welling again though I was sure the well of them was almost dry and cupped my face in his hands.

  “You survived,” he said, “more than that. You kicked ass. And your father… Harry will be okay, Syd. And I have absolutely no doubt you’ll see him again.”

  “Mom just made it look so… final.” I snuffled, wiping my nose on the cuff of my jacket.

  Liam nodded sadly. “It probably feels that way to her,” he said. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through.” He slipped his arms around me, hugging me close. “But as long as your father’s effigy is still here, you can see him. Right?”

  I perked a little. Liam was totally right. And I was being an emotional freak.

  As usual.

  I lifted my head from his shoulder to smile at him, only to meet his lips. Liam kissed me gently, with a tentative touch from his warm lips, tension in his body as though he feared I’d reject him. For a long moment I didn’t, hugging him around the neck, feeling the heat of his skin, the slow and welcoming pressure of his mouth on mine.

  But I finally had to pull away. Stood up. Backed off, almost tripping over Galleytrot.

  “Liam,” I choked. “I didn’t tell you everything.”

  He nodded a little. “I guessed as much,” he said. Blushed. “I’m sorry I kissed you, but I knew you were going to tell me something I wasn’t going to like and I didn’t want to miss the chance.”

  Sweet. Adorable and sweet and lovely and just the very best person I’d ever, ever known. And here I was, about to break his kind heart, just like Galleytrot asked me not to.

  “I can’t be with you,” I whispered. “Not ever. And not just you.” I hugged myself, turned away from him, faced the hall and the distant view of the Gate in the far chamber. “I’m immortal. I’m going to live forever. Which means I can never be with anyone who isn’t.”

  I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him laughing. I turned back, hesitant, really expecting to see despair on his face despite his good humor. Instead he smiled at me, eyes full of sparkle.

  “At least it’s not about Quaid.” He stood up, came to my side, hugged me again, but without need behind it. Just a hug, an offering of support.

  And I took it, no matter the consequences.

  “Syd,” Liam whispered into my hair as he held me, “it doesn’t matter. It never will. Yeah, I only have a normal lifespan to look forward to with you. But I’ll always love you, even if my ghost has to haunt you for eternity.”

  Great. Just what I needed, another echo to worry about.

  “I can’t even think about it,” I said. “I’m sorry, Liam. But this changes everything.”

  The part of me that had considered saying yes to him, throwing my feelings for Quaid away and committing to what Liam had to offer, withered and crawled into an unhappy hole inside me.

  “It does,” he agreed. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  I loved him for his optimism, but sometimes it really sucked.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  So much for a Merry Christmas.

  Mom went from mournful to cold and brittle by the time I trudged my way home again, tears spent on the wide shoulders of the guy who loved me no matter what. I knew it was a defense mechanism of hers, but we needed her, damn it. I needed her. Still, I couldn't blame her for retreating into her Council Leader persona, abandoning her promise and diving into Council business to stay distracted.

>   Let's just say Christmas morning was a real downer and leave it at that.

  It took me a few days to break Meira out of her angry shell. When I did, trapping her in her room with Sassafras for backup and letting her pummel me for a few minutes with her fists and her power—not telling anyone she broke the rules no matter what—she finally collapsed on her bed, sadness surfacing at last, and finally admitted to me the worst part of all of it was she felt like a traitor.

  Despite what she told Ahbi, Meira wanted to go back to Demonicon someday.

  Honestly, I was the last person to tell her how to feel, to reassure her she wasn't a bad person. Not when going back meant seeing Dad again.

  Speaking of whom, we hadn't had a word from him and despite what Liam said I was starting to worry maybe he was gone from us forever too. The breaking of the thread between him and Mom—did that mean he could never come back? Yes, his effigy remained, but maybe it was their connection that held him.

  I didn't have the heart to ask her.

  Just wouldn't be fair.

  Of course, I could always have just gone down to the basement and called him myself.

  Sure. Just as soon as my heart put itself back together.

  I did look in on it regularly, just in case. It hurt to see Sassafras curled up on Dad's feet pretty much every time I did. My demon cat was taking this as hard as the rest of us.

  The thought of going back to school was so ridiculous I actually had a fight with Gram over it. She insisted I return to Harvard and I finally relented. Maybe absorbing myself in study would help me shake the deep melancholy holding the whole family in thrall. Even the coven was affected, power dim and sad as they mourned with us.

  Charlotte seemed to recover quickly, though I caught her staring at me all the time and the first night I was home I found her sleeping in a nest of blankets at the foot of my bed when I stumbled over her on my way to the bathroom.

  I didn't protest until the third night, gently steering her to her own room at last, knowing she had to break her fear of me disappearing somehow.

  I tried to examine the bond she’d formed to me, but every time I reached for it I’d catch her glaring. After a few attempts, I dropped the effort and let her be. Her choice, her problem, though I hoped it wouldn’t become a major issue for us one day.

  The only one who seemed to be fine with the state of affairs was my demon. Not that she was pleased Dad was gone or anything, but her growth of power made her very, very happy. Funny, but I felt like I'd grown, too. No more poor me, this time.

  About time, really.

  The rebalancing of my powers did take my mind off things when I focused on figuring out what other changes my demon's new status meant. As long as Shaylee and my vampire were okay with it, so was I. When my demon started to puff up with her own importance, it was actually funny to feel the other two smack her.

  Oh, the joys of being multi-me.

  I tried several times over the first few days to reach Quaid, but he'd cut me off again. So be it. Not like I was in the market for a boyfriend anymore. This whole immortality thing hung over my head, feeling like finality, not infinity. And even though Liam still acted like nothing changed, that with enough time I’d soften, my sadness didn’t go away. I could never be with Liam. No way was I doing that to the two of us. Dad and Mom's split was the icing on that particular cake.

  Either I found someone as long-lived as I was going to be or I was on my own.

  The second option had the most appeal.

  In the last days before I left for school again, I found myself watching Gram a lot. This whole immortality thing was really dragging on me. Was she a little slower these days? Not quite so perky? Jokes not quite so quick on the draw?

  I just couldn't go there. Not Gram. Not ever.

  If only I could shake the nightmares waking me almost every night. The beast inside me laughing, roaring in triumph as she stripped first my father, then Ahbi, of all their power before ascending the Ruler's Seat.

  Shudder.

  Maybe I was a monster after all.

  ###

  Like what you read? Find more at

  www.pattilarsen.com

  ***

  Now, try the first chapter of

  Book Eleven of the Hayle Coven Novels

  Light and Shadow

  Chapter One

  I grinned at the enthusiastic, if off key, rendition of Happy Birthday and added my own pathetically energetic voice. Twenty or so young witches, all about the same age as the birthday girl, sat around her as she gazed with wide, happy eyes at the candles on her impressive cake.

  Mom might have been acting distant and a little cold the last six months, but she went all out for Meira's eleventh birthday. Guilt driven? Maybe. Still, I found it hard to stay mad at her no matter how little time she seemed to have for either of us these days.

  My heart ached every time I thought of Dad.

  No room for sadness today, though. Even Mom smiled and clapped her hands when the singing was over and Meira finally got to blow out her candles. The giant cake was covered in them, a model of our house back in Wilding Springs complete with a big black dog in the back yard for Galleytrot, a furry silver Persian in her window for Sassafras and the whole family of us in the front driveway. Well, not the whole family. We lived in a coven, after all. Mom, me—I refused to look too closely at my candy sculpture when the first glimpse I had made me think ‘prostitute’—Gram and Meira. No Dad.

  Ouch.

  Despite his obvious absence, Meira squealed in delight over the monstrosity and it's many glowing candles, happily spinning little whirling balls of air to help her put them all out as she made her wish.

  It would have been nice to host her birthday back home, in the real thing instead of standing next to its facsimile, but Meira was still in school. I'd been home over a month now, the spring semester over. Amazing how quickly I grew accustomed to my own bed again and how weird it felt to be back at Harvard, even if it was only for a few hours.

  Mom's sitting room was as gloomy and dark as ever, but the giggling witches, balloons and animals shaped out of magic cavorting in the air over our heads made it feel much more festive. I swatted at a herd of unicorns galloping past my right ear, but couldn't help smiling.

  Meira's friends piled in around her, handing her presents, holding out plates for their chunk of her cake. I hung back, not wanting to interfere, saving my gift for her for when she returned home tomorrow. Maybe it was silly for me to make the trip to Harvard for her birthday, but I hadn't missed one yet and didn't plan to start any time soon.

  I was a little ashamed of the wave of jealousy I felt, seeing my little sister the center of what seemed like genuine affection and attention. I hadn't had access to other witches my age when I was growing up, partly because the age gap in births just happened to spread to older and younger than me for some odd reason, but also because of my sixteen years of rejecting my magic.

  Yeah, my own fault. Still.

  Lucky kid.

  Mom met my eyes briefly over the laughing heads of the pack of eleven year olds, though her gaze dropped just as quickly. Erica hurried forward, taking over as Mom eased away. She'd run out of steam, I could only guess, and was getting ready to retreat.

  I slid around the crowd, heading for Mom, just wanting a word, a moment, something to tell me the woman I loved still lived inside her. No matter what she said, I still blamed myself for the fact Dad was gone, his mating to Mom broken, now ascended to the Second Seat of Demonicon, one of its two Rulers. If I'd just listened to Mom and Gram, Dad wouldn't have to be Prince, take a demon wife, have demon children.

  And Mom wouldn't avoid me like she was doing right now.

  Did she hate me? The question crossed my mind many times in the dark of night over the last six months. I wouldn't blame her. I kind of hated myself, though I refused to let it show. The coven needed me to be strong for them. Even though Mom wasn't leader anymore, had no connection to our family magic-wis
e, they still felt the grief of Dad's loss, if only because he'd been a part of their lives as long as Mom and Dad had been mated.

  I reached her just before she disappeared behind her office door, one hand on her arm. She turned to me, the barest of smiles remaining, the lines around her eyes and mouth deeper than I remembered. Losing Dad seemed to be aging her even more.

  When did my mother start getting old?

  “Syd,” she whispered, kissing my cheek though her lips were dry and cold, her hands almost icy as they touched the sides of my face. “Take care of your sister.”

  I tried to pull her back, but she was gone already, in heart if not in body, then both as the door slid shut behind her. It was hard not to sigh and lean my forehead against her door, or to pound on it with both fists and tell her to wake up.

  I did neither. Wouldn't do any good. Instead, I turned back and faced the party, smiling at Meira whose amber gaze must have followed us as we retreated, sadness in her eyes.

  Love you, Meems, I sent. Happy birthday.

  I didn't last much longer than that. Once the cake was devoured and the presents torn open and admired, most of the kids left, picked up by their witch parents who treated me with a mix of deferential awe and fear. Well, I guess I was okay with that. Better than hate and revulsion.

  Yup, I'd take it.

  Erica hugged me as I stood from my chair, Meira huddled with three friends, giggling over something.

  “How are you, Syd?” She stroked my cheek. Erica Plower had been Mom's second since I was little, and had always treated me like she was my mother too. She had new wrinkles too, though not as pronounced as Mom's. The old me would have brushed her off, anger rising. But my arms reacted without my consent and hugged her to me.