Light and Shadow

by Patti Larsen

  Light and Shadow

  Book Eleven of the Hayle Coven Novels

  Patti Larsen

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2012 by Patti Larsen

  Find out more about Patti Larsen at

  http://www.pattilarsen.com/

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***

  Cover art (copyright) by Stephanie Mooney. All rights reserved.

  http://www.stephaniemooney.blogspot.com/

  Edited by Annetta Ribken, freelance Goddess. You can find her at http://www.wordwebbing.com/

  ***

  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 may have been 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 Meira or me 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 blew 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 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 after 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 its many glowing candles, happily spinning tiny 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 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 above 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 when she returned home tomorrow. Maybe it was silly of 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 I spent sixteen years rejecting my magic.

  Yeah, my own fault. Still.

  Lucky kid.

  Mom met my eyes briefly over the heads of the pack of laughing eleven-year-olds, though her gaze dropped just as quickly. Erica Plower, once Mom’s second and now the Hayle representative on the Council, hurried forward, taking over as Mom eased away. Good old Erica. No matter how much responsibility she had now, she still looked out for Mom. My mother had 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-wise, 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 and placed one hand on her arm just before she disappeared behind her office door. 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 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 Mom. 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 due a coven leader. Well, I guess I was okay with that. Better than hate and revulsion.

  Yup, I’d take it.

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

  “How are you, Syd?” She stroked my cheek. Erica had been Mom’s second since I was little, and had always treated me like she was my mother. 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 close.

  “I’m great, Erica,” I whispered in her ear. “How are you?”

  She pulled away after a moment, teary eyed, but smiling, a real, happy smile. I think I surprised her. Surprised myself, actually. But ever since I’d come home from Demonicon I felt hyper aware of the people around me, the ones I loved, cared about. How fragile they were.

  Part of me wished my demon grandmother, Ahbi, had never told me I was immortal. But at least it made me more empathetic. And appreciative.

  “I’m wonderful,” she said, blonde hair back to its old bob, the one I missed. It swung around her face in shining gold strands and I found myself grinning at her.

  She didn’t get to say anything more. Meira burrowed her way between us and hugged me, her forehead pressed into my shoulder. She was getting so tall and had matured so much in the last year, it was hard for me to remember she was only ten.

  Wait. Eleven. Wow.

  “Thanks for coming.” Meira grinned up at me, cute black horns shining in the low light of the room, amber eyes lit from within. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  I nodded, hugged her again, pulling her tight before releasing her to
go back to her friends. I waved at Erica, not prepared to go into any kind of deep conversation with her and headed for the elevator.

  Charlotte stepped out of the shadows, my bodywere practically attached at my hip as I waited for the doors to open. She seemed to suffer no ill effects from my prolonged stay on Demonicon, despite the powerful reaction she’d had to my absence. I was happy to know she didn’t suffer any permanent damage thanks to Ahbi’s arrogance. Still, Charlotte insisted she remain in close contact these days.

  I found I didn’t really mind, though there were times it would have been nice to open the bathroom door and not find her waiting for me on the other side.

  Guess I could get used to anything.

  At least things had been quiet since we returned from Dad’s plane. As Charlotte and I stepped out into the Yard and I reached for the veil, I felt a tiny shudder go through me at the memory of being trapped. Yes, the fear stayed with me that somehow when I rode the veil one day, Ahbi would be waiting to pull me over and keep me prisoner there forever.

  Silly, maybe. And yet, I wouldn’t put it past the old bat.

  Powerful Ruler or not, the grandmother I’d met was a conniving politician without morals who used her family on a regular basis to get whatever she wanted. I’d take my witch grandmother over her anytime.

  As Charlotte and I stepped into the veil, the rubbery membrane holding the two planes apart, sliding through toward home, I thought of Gram with a twinge of worry. She’d been absent more and more lately, wandering off on her own. Not that I worried about her, not in the least. Of anyone in our family, Gram had proven to me without a shadow of a doubt she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

  No, I missed her. It was that simple. The air felt warm on the other side of the veil as Charlotte and I stepped out into a secluded area of the park near the house, outside the reach of the family wards, neither of us missing a stride as we began the short walk home. Gram was my constant, even when she was still lost to us, spiraling in and out of madness. Now, back to her abnormal self and about as stable as she was ever going to get, her constant presence and her support in our co-leadership of the coven was something I counted on without question.

  When she disappeared on me, I finally felt alone.

  The sun was just setting as I walked through the back door. One quick sweep around the house told me Gram still wasn’t home. A bit bummed and missing my family, I said an early good night to Charlotte and retreated to my bedroom, closing myself off a little.

  No more poor me. I’d made that vow and I intended to keep it. But still, there were times I just needed to be alone.

  Good book in one hand and a half-bag of chips dug out from under my bed in the other and I was gone for a while.

  One touch was all it took. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, just ran for the stairs, the back door.

  The yard.

  And him.

  ***

  Chapter Two

  The screen door slammed behind me, bare feet instantly chilled by the damp patio stones.

  Didn’t matter. Could have been the dead of winter and I wouldn’t have cared.

  “Quaid.” I forced myself to a halt, refrained from throwing myself into his arms, covering his shadowed face in kisses, letting his power wrap around me like a blanket and stir things inside me. He still had that effect on me? Damn it. I thought I’d gotten better at cutting off my feelings for him.

  Had lots of practice at school where we did our best to ignore each other and go on with our lives as if we didn’t feel anything.

  “Syd.” He held himself rigid, body tall and still inside his black Enforcer’s robe, a thin band of blue at the cuffs marking him as a trainee. Did he feel what I felt?

  Did I care?

  “Nice to see you.” I’d seen him, of course I had. We attended the same school, after all. But we both avoided each other, for the most part. He had his life, I had mine. There were moments over the course of the year I’d wanted to reach out to him, when I thought he’d been ready to do so himself, but either we had the worst timing on the planet or I imagined his need to reconnect.

  I pulled my heart and my demon, who begged me to grab him and kiss him until he begged for more, under control. He’d made his choice back in the fall, abandoned me when I thought we would always be together, and I wasn’t about to be an idiot and fall into that old trap again.

  Wasn’t.

  “You too.” He paused, one hand reaching out a little before it fell to his side. “You look great.”

  “So do you.” What I could see of him. Maybe it was a good thing he wore the robe. That way I didn’t have to watch his wide shoulders pull against his t-shirt, the way his thighs filled out his jeans. For all I knew he’d gotten fat and was hiding it.

  Sigh. Yeah right.

  As long as he kept his distance, I could handle it.

  “I wanted to bring you this.” He did hold out his hand this time, a small box with a silver bow on top shining in the outside light. “And for Meira.” His other hand held a bag. “Happy birthday.”

  A month late. Still.

  “Thanks,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to move. Tried to convince myself I was aloof, cool, collected. Held very stiff as he approached, offering the gifts to me. By the time he stopped, it was worse case scenario. I smelled him, felt the heat of his body and found myself shivering, hugging my arms around the thin tank top I’d worn to bed, aware at last of my cold feet as the struggle inside me intensified.

  Even after he’d broken my heart, I still loved him. Needed him. Wanted him around. The magic tied to our supposed destiny was a sneaky little bastard.

  Yeah, blame fate. I was such a sucker.

  “Sorry,” he said softly. “You must be freezing. Here.” He swept off his robe, slid it around me. Took a step closer to drape it across my shoulders.

  So close. Too close.

  Oh, Syd.

  It was my fault. Or was it his? I’m not sure who moved first or if we did it together, but the moment his robe touched me his hands were in my hair and my fingers clutched the front of his shirt and we were pulling each other in desperate need.

  One touch of his lips and I was lost.

  ***

  His brown eyes were black in the dim light of the moon shining through my bedroom window. I curled on my side, forehead almost pressed to his, the sheets pulled up to my chin, wanting to stroke the warm skin of his arm and shoulder, to trace the pattern of the pentagram tattoo he wore. But I held still, just breathing, my body relaxed and happy while my heart hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, fingers stroking hair out of my face. “This was a bad idea. I never should have come to see you.”

  Even as he spoke, the pain inside me eased. I could feel it, the grief trapped in him, the agony of our separation. He did feel it, too. I wasn’t the only one.

  It was enough.

  “You have to know I still love you, Syd.” Quaid’s face crumpled, as sad as I’d ever seen him. “It breaks my heart every time I see you, knowing we’re not together.”

  I nodded, swallowed. “You have to follow your dreams, Quaid,” I said, finally letting go of my need to make him do what I wanted. Maybe it was the fact I knew I could never have him now, not really, not knowing what I did about myself. Or maybe the fact he was so young and yet had so little time compared to me it broke the terrible hold blame, guilt and anger held over me. I reached for him, kissed his forehead, sighed against his skin, loving the hot scent of him, the way his power held onto me. “I’m glad you did.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll quit right now.” Quaid grasped my hands, kissed them, kissed my mouth. So much desperation, confusion. He was still conflicted. How could I let him choose me when I knew he’d regret it?

  “There’s something you need to know.” We’d been in touch over Christmas, but my offer for him to spend the holidays with us had been rejected. Now I knew why. Every time Quaid saw me he doubted his choice. It wasn’
t fair to either of us. But now I had a way to ease his conscience.

  And, maybe, mine.

  I told him everything, about the trip to Demonicon, fighting for status, Dad’s ascension. And about my immortality. Quaid didn’t say anything as I spoke, but he did pull me into his arms, bare chest against my naked skin, arms holding me close as he breathed softly over my cheek, fingers sliding through my hair over and over again.

  When I finished, I cried, not for me, not really, but because I needed to cry. For us. For what it meant, no matter the choice he’d made.

  Not wracking sobs, though. Just soft tears wept into the arms of the man I loved while he held me and loved me with all his heart.

  I pulled away a little at last and smiled up at him while one of his wide thumbs wiped moisture from my cheek. “Good thing we’re not together,” I said, “I’d hate to have to dump you.”

  Quaid didn’t laugh. It was a terrible joke anyway.

  “I’m just happy to have you in my life,” I said, meaning it, knowing this was enough. “I can’t promise you anything and you can’t either.” He nodded. “So maybe we have this and that’s all. Are you okay with that?”

  Quaid sighed, deep and long, his chest collapsing as he exhaled. When he finally took a breath, he nodded, though there were tears in his eyes. “I’ll take it,” he said.

  “Now,” I snuggled closer, “tell me about your training.”

  His body relaxed. Was that all it took, for me to accept him and the choice he made for this mess to heal between us? Maybe, maybe not. But for the moment, I was happy to think so.

  Quaid’s voice rumbled softly in the dark of my room as he told me with growing enthusiasm just how much he loved being an Enforcer trainee. From learning offensive magics and counter-intelligence spells to the camaraderie of the corps, by the time he wound down, voice sleepy, my own eyes falling slowly shut, he actually sounded happy.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up, but I needed to know. “And your friend?” Funny, no twinge of jealousy at the thought or mention of the blonde with the rack. Wow, I really was growing up. Either that or being in his arms diffused it enough I didn’t feel it.