by Patti Larsen
I kissed him this time, hungry for something I’d never been allowed to have. Not just the physical connection, pure and delicious, but the absolute abandon of connecting to him with all of my power, unhindered and full of need. He groaned again, softly into my mouth before freeing himself from my lips.
“Listen to me.” I didn’t want to talk. Not when his mouth was so close and his power was filling me up in ways it had never been able to before. But he wasn’t giving me a choice. “I’ve never been so afraid as I was today. For you. For us. I was sure I’d lost you.”
“Never,” I whispered back, barely able to speak.
“Syd,” he leaned back even further while I tried to pull him close, “please, you have to listen.”
I dug my fingernails into the skin of his back and nodded. “Tell me.”
He drew a ragged breath before speaking again. “I have to go.”
No. Not now. Please, not now. “Quaid—“
“You’re safe.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “You’re whole. That much is done.” He looked down into my eyes again, soul naked and raw, for the first time fully exposing who he was to me. I dove into him, into his mind and his heart and felt what he was feeling. Through wavering tears, as I absorbed his terror for me, his great and passionate love, I settled on the one thing he had left to do.
“Your family.” I pulled away from him, understanding and yet not.
“I have to find them.” He didn’t try to touch me again, but his magic stayed with me, that openness still gaping.
“I’m your family.” I knew it wasn’t enough, felt the heat of my tears as they dripped onto the back of my hands, clenched now in my lap, longing to feel him again.
“Yes,” he said. “You are. And you will be, always. But Syd, I have to know.”
I nodded, head bobbing on my neck. I looked up at him, heart breaking, and saw at last what he really needed.
Quaid needed me to tell him to go. That it was okay to leave me behind and search for his history. I knew I could convince him. It was so clear in that moment, there in my back yard with the clear sky and sparkling stars watching us, the slumbering Wild Hunt pulsing its quiet power under our feet, the family magic keeping all at peace. I could make him stay. All I had to do was ask him not to go.
I was so tempted, my selfishness surging as I considered how much I’d missed out on, how my life had been one loss after another. Didn’t I deserve happiness at last? Didn’t he?
But I couldn’t do it to him. Not after he let me in, let me see and feel him so completely. I gripped his hand and opened myself as he had done.
And in that heartbeat between love and sorrow, tied to Quaid as I had never been with anyone, I let him go.
***
Chapter Forty One
I loved being whole. It was like everything I’d ever wanted to know and couldn’t figure out was right there at the tip of my fingers waiting for me. Mind you, the incredible power I’d known the night the Wild showed up wasn’t with me anymore. Mom figured it had to do with their power feeding mine. Personally I was just as happy to let that amount of magic go. My luck I’d stumble around the rest of my life doing horrible things every time I sneezed or lost my temper.
Still, Mom and I were both thrilled with the full integration of my other two sides. I knew I’d be a while getting used to it, but the idea that I’d never be alone was pretty appealing.
Surprise, surprise, Brad was suddenly interested in me again, now more than ever, but I was so done with his crap. It took me a few tries when I ran into him at Johnny’s to figure out how to shut off his magic once and for all, but as soon as I did he left me alone.
Perfect. That was all I wanted from him.
I wished things could go so smoothly with Alison. She wasn’t returning my calls and when I finally tracked her down to talk to her in person, she just walked away.
I had a meeting with Sunny a few nights later, asking about the Chosen. But according to her, the house was abandoned and the membership scattered. All she could figure was when they turned on Demitrius they must have lost their motivation and abandoned their cause.
I didn’t really believe that a bunch of fanatics would just give up, but at least they weren’t my problem anymore.
I noticed she and Uncle Frank weren’t together much anymore. When I tried to ask her about it, she refused to discuss it. And he was worse. It broke my heart to think my desperate need for power had wrecked their relationship and resolved to do something about it.
Galleytrot was settling in to our family pretty well, though he and Sassy had a cat/dog thing going on that was getting old really fast. As much as Mom and I tried to make him human again, we were both at a loss.
The best and weirdest part was the return of Gram. It was like Mom had no idea how to treat her anymore. I caught her following my grandmother around as if she expected a relapse or something and even had to tap her on the shoulder one night when she stood outside Gram’s door setting her wards.
Not that Gram was all the way back, mind you. I think no matter whether I returned her magic to her or not, she would always be a little odd.
Pain kept apologizing to me for having me killed to the point where I told her if she didn’t stop I’d return the favor. When we sat her down that morning and told her everything, she hugged me so many times with such pure relief on her face I knew I didn’t have to worry about her anymore. Mom managed to smooth the whole hospital break over with Pain’s mom with some constructive memory alterations, so she was free to study magic and not have to worry about locked rooms and sedatives three times a day.
I know she loved her new life and was thrilled she was a witch. As much as I resisted my magic my whole life, she had tried desperately to uncover hers.
To my surprise, Gram took her under her wing and was working with her on her training while Mom did some enquiries around to try to find out who Pain really was. Meanwhile, she didn’t say it, but I know she was planning some kind of confrontation with the High Council. I hardly blamed her.
As for Quaid… I still hadn’t heard from him, though he swore he would let me know when he learned anything. I felt his absence much like the loss of my demon, only this time I had support and love and that made it easier.
The more time passed without word, the more I missed him. And wondered. But I never, ever doubted.
The only person I was really worried about was Dad. He was acting really moody since everything happened, spending a lot of time in the basement alone. I knew he mourned his demon life and wondered if we’d ever figure out how to get him back to the seventh plane.
Celeste went missing for a few days and I was sure she left us for good, but unfortunately she came back. Even apologized to Mom and gritted her teeth when she did the same to me.
Hmm. I couldn’t help but think she was up to something.
# # #
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***
And now for a sample of the latest series by Patti Larsen
Introducing Auburdeen Hayle in
Smoke and Magic
***
Chapter One
I leaned over the railing of the giant vessel for my first look at London. I packed already, my sturdy travel case by my feet, my silver Persian in his wicker carrier. I could hear him snarling and grumbling to himself and suppressed a grin, knowing he would make me pay for stuffing him into his prison the moment we arrived at our destination.
But that was for later. Right now I focused on the deepening shadows filling in the cobbled streets and stretched long shadows down the rippling waters of the Thames. Even the rising stink of dead fish and worse things did little to dampen my enthusiasm. It was the first time in my four-week trip across the Atlantic that I had something new and exciting to focus on and I wasn't about to miss a moment of it.
�
�Miss Burdie?” Mr. O'Brien, the porter assigned to me, smiled his easy smile, the one I'm sure he thought made him irresistible though I'd found it easy enough to resist him, thank you. “A shame about the view. We're almost six hours early, makes for a dark entry into the harbor.”
“Does that happen often?” I did my best to be polite despite my discomfort. His eyes wandered downward and I knew he wasn't examining the buttons on my new black velvet shortcoat. I gritted my teeth and thought of my mother. She would be very disappointed in me if I turned him into something I could squash with my heel.
Being a witch had its benefits, but not when it came to punishing normals for nasty behavior.
“Not often,” he continued our conversation, heavy Irish accent making him difficult to make out. “You'll not have a chance to see the city like this again, more's the pity.”
I didn't bother to tell him I'd be leaving again the way I came and would have ample opportunity. My temper was known to get the better of me more often than I'd like and this boy was only making things worse.
Choosing to ignore him in favor of more banal conversation, I stepped away from the rail, the smell finally getting to me, turning my mood as sour as the air. It stank like a cesspool and I began to wonder how Londoners could stand it.
Not that my native New York was perfect, by any means. But at least the harbor was reasonably clean. My feelings of charity toward England and my trip here slid back into the gloom that plagued me the entire way—I had been, in effect, shipped off to jolly old England when I should, in fact, have been home helping my parents with the transition of our coven.
Our present leader's power was waning and quickly, the coven suffering from her lack of ability and her increasing dementia. And while my mother, Thaddea, was certain the take over of power would go smoothly from one family to the next, she wasn't taking any chances. The moment the coven elected Mum as successor she set in motion her plan to promptly get rid of me.
I stomped my way across the deck toward the gangway as the ship eased into dock, my mood as dark as the evening sky. I understood why Mum and Da sent me away. As the only female Hayle, I was next in line after my mother. And while they hoped the acquisition of family power from the Tremere's would go smoothly, Mum wasn't taking any chances.
It just wasn't fair. My brothers, Damon and Pharo, had been permitted to remain behind. Not for the first time, I railed at the fact I was a girl, and the youngest at sixteen. Da always indulged me, at least according to Mum and the coven, but I often argued the point with my mother. Coven leaders must be strong and fearless, capable of controlling the kind of power that came with such a great responsibility.
And since I knew Gramps had taught Mum to ride a horse in trousers, she had very little she could say in the matter.
I was the first in line to disembark. My feet itched to set foot on soil again, to still the constant roll that seemed to permeate everything about sea travel. I conveniently forgot the two days I'd spent during heavy seas disgorging the contents of my unhappy innards into the lavatory. I was sure it happened to everyone.
I strode down the ramp, bag in one hand, cat in the other, eyes roving the dock for my greeting party. As I set foot on the glorious ground, I felt my whole world shift sideways and had to catch myself from falling. If the roll of the ship was bad, this sudden heaving was worse, as though the very earth shook beneath me.
“Allow me.” A hand met my elbow and O'Brien was there, holding me steady. I glanced up, knowing my shock showed on my face and hating the weakness behind it, especially in his eyes. But he made no effort to take advantage and simply smiled, dark hair falling over even darker eyes. “Rather disconcerting, isn't it?”
I merely nodded, feeling the sway of the ground lessen as a few moments passed. “Whatever is it?”
“Merely your body adjusting to the stillness of land again,” he said, letting me go slowly to assure I was still upright and not about to collapse on him out of the blue. How hideously embarrassing. And, for the moment, I feared I'd misjudged him. “You'll adjust again, soon enough, I wager.”
Already feeling better, the vague, nauseated feeling I remembered from my two days of sickness lingering with unhappy clarity, I reclaimed my balance on my own and offered my hand.
“My thanks,” I said. “For all the courtesies you showed me on board.” I swallowed my pride and tried a smile. “I know I wasn't the most pleasant of passengers.”
“Not at all, Miss Burdie. It was surely a pleasure.” He really was much kinder than I'd given him credit for and my good feelings toward him grew. And then he went and ruined it all again by looking at my chest. Anger surged within me. I was no object to be admired, but a power to be feared. When he asked, “May I escort you?” my first reaction was cold arrogance.
“Thank you, but I have an escort.”
His eyes flew wide, cheeks red under the lamplight. “My apologies for being so forward.” He retreated with a bow and I instantly regretted my anger. “Have a safe and pleasant visit to London.”
As O'Brien retreated back up the gangway, my anger went with him. I sighed at my own foolishness. I could at least have made sure he secured my baggage for me while I waited for my escort to arrive. My eyes scanned the hansoms lined up near the dock, searching for some indication one of them was for me.
Then, like a ton of bricks falling from the sky, it hit me. What had O'Brien said? We were six hours early. Which meant no one even knew I was in London yet.
I could have used O'Brien's offer of escort after all.
Not to be undone by a simple matter of time, I shuffled myself off to one side out of the jolting pile of people and dug into my bag. Fortunately, I retained my mother's correspondence with my hosts here and there, neatly printed on the crisp envelope, was the address I needed.
I marched purposely to a hansom and nodded to the black-clad driver. “Have you been hired, good sir?”
He immediately took my bag, smiling and bowing, teeth yellow from an excess of tobacco, breath vile but face kind. “My pleasure to drive you, lady,” he said. My bag quickly found the top of the carriage as I handed him my baggage claim. The door closed beside me as I settled into the cracked leather seat, my blanket over my knees, wicker cat basket on the opposite bench.
Within moments the hansom rocked, once then twice. My driver's face appeared at the window, the soft harbor breeze carrying both the scent of his smoke laden breath and the stench of the quayside into the carriage, almost enough to make me dizzy.
I quickly told him the address in question and, to my great relief, he disappeared from my window and mounted the front of the hansom, clucking to his horses and we were away.
I gave one last look back toward the ship that brought me to London, wishing suddenly I was getting back on board to go back to New York and my family. The jab of home sickness was unexpected and made tears rise in my eyes. I firmly turned myself back around and squared myself for the ride ahead that had nothing to do with the hansom.