by Patti Larsen
Anger built at last. But it was quiet, simmering anger, rising from deep within me, almost silent in its power.
“You want the family magic, Erica?” I felt my body relax despite the conversation I found myself in, the heat of my quiet rage granting me more strength than I'd ever known. “Is that it? You would go against the wishes of your leader and steal control from the heir to your coven?”
My voice was quiet. I couldn't seem to add volume, didn't want to. I think it was almost worse for her. I watched with clinical detachment as she flinched from each word, each statement. I think she'd been expecting me to explode, not this cutting calm.
Erica shuffled her feet. “Yes,” she said. “That's exactly what I'm saying.”
“I wonder,” I said, injecting power behind my words, “which of us is unprepared for leadership.”
Her eyes widened. “How dare you?”
I'd suspected Mom's reasons for selecting Erica as her second. I reached out with my magic, slid it inside hers, felt around. “You're weak,” I said, “afraid to act. And so you do the only thing you think you can. But Erica, you're second because Mom knows you'll never be first.”
This didn't feel like me. The words coming out of my mouth... were they even mine? I retreated, pulling my magic back, felt then the oh-so-subtle touch of another's magic in my mind, familiar as my very own, the gentle push her power placed over me.
Damn it, I was just tired enough for it to work. I snapped my shields up, cutting off Gram's control before focusing on Erica again. My demon was suddenly awake and aware and quite irritated while Shaylee made some very rude observations at her most arrogant.
“Go home, Erica.” I stood abruptly, chopping the air with one hand, cutting her off. “We're done here.”
She hovered another moment, face twisting in sadness and fear before she turned and walked to the door. She stood there a long moment, fingers on the handle. “It's not true,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said, sad, tired, worn down and just wanting her to go away. “It is.”
Erica sobbed once before leaving.
The next time you decide to use me in your little games, I snapped the thought at Gram, you damned well tell me you're doing it or you'll never, ever do it again.
It needed to happen. Gram's power shrugged.
Where are you? I sagged into my seat again.
Watching. Waiting. Her mind's voice drifted off. Stay strong. And whatever you do, don't show them a moment's weakness.
She was gone before I could demand answers. Not like I didn't know why the warning. Celeste was just waiting for me to screw this up.
Which made me wonder, with returning anger and a healthy shot of suspicion, whose side Erica was really on.
***
Chapter Seven
At least my next visitor decided to knock. I was just approaching the door again to head to the Vegas when Sassafras entered the kitchen and jumped up on the table. I ignored him as I reached for the handle and jerked the door wide.
I wished instantly I'd left it shut. The snotty Enforcer from the night before pushed her way inside the moment I did. She cast her gaze around the room with a sneer before turning to me.
“I didn't invite you in.” I scowled at her, watched the family magic crawl over the wards surrounding her, wondered what it was about her the coven's collective power despised so much. “What do you want?”
She scowled back at me, clearly unaccustomed to being treated with anything less than respect. Or more probably, fear.
Yeah, not likely. Angry contempt was about the best I could muster.
Besides, I had a feeling she hadn't been an Enforcer for long and under normal circumstances wouldn't have made the grade.
She pulled a black scroll tied with blue ribbon from inside her cloak and held it out to me. “You are hereby invited to the trial of Miriam Pernelia Hayle.”
I reached for the scroll, but she stayed where she was, clearly trying to force me to go to her. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her my best bored teenager look. “Nice of them to add me to the guest list.”
I watched her jaw grind, gaining a great deal of pleasure from her lack of temper control. She kind of reminded me of me, way back when. Without the back stabbing, nasty, evil stuff, that was.
She finally tossed the summons on the floor, the tube rolling over the tiles to touch my bare feet. I felt a thrill of energy transfer as the scroll encountered my bare flesh, a magic release as the scroll was received by the invited. Some kind of magical RSVP.
Classy.
“It begins today,” she said. “One pm sharp. Don't be late.”
“Mind telling me where?” I resisted the urge to bend and retrieve the scroll.
Her smile returned, vindictiveness loud and clear. “The mansion previously under control of the Chosen of the Light.”
Hang on. “The home of the Blood Clan DeWinter?” Sunny staked claim to it for her family after their leader Sebastian disappeared and Sunny assumed the role. “Where are the vampires?”
“The undead are of no consequence.” She raised her chin, looking down her narrow nose, blonde hair spilling out from the edges of her hood. A Dumont for certain. A cousin maybe? Who cared? She was the enemy.
“If you fail to appear by one pm, you will be denied admittance to the proceedings for the duration of the trial.” What a load of crap. Witch trials were open to all of power. The idea was full disclosure, so there were no secrets, no way for the guilty or the innocent to be falsely convicted.
Who changed the rules?
I stepped aside as the Enforcer swept for the door and didn't breathe until she passed the wards and disappeared. Only then did I bend and retrieve the scroll. The ribbon fell away from my trembling fingers, the smooth, almost polished parchment, the darkest black, unrolling under my hands.
The sparkling blue writing only confirmed what she'd told me. I rolled it up and threw it to the kitchen table even as I reached out for Erica.
They've announced the trial. I filled her in on the details. To her credit, she smartened up and did her duty.
What I can't figure is, why the mansion? I turned as the door opened and Quaid stepped through. He looked freshly showered, in clean clothes. Damn. The Vegas. Would I ever get a chance to talk to them? I gestured at the scroll and included him in the conversation while he had a quick read.
It's the only place big enough, I'm assuming. Erica's voice was still fearful, but she had a grip on herself. There will be a full contingent, Syd. All major covens will be represented plus whoever they bring.
More than likely, it's meant to piss you off. Quaid used his mental voice to include Erica. Evicting the vampires will put our coven on edge.
We have so little time to prepare, Erica fretted.
Also on purpose. Quaid met my eyes, his full of anger. I imagine they left us last to know so they could keep us off balance.
Erica's mental voice sighed. You're right. It would take time to assemble everyone. There's no way such short notice would be possible unless they had this planned for quite some time outside of our knowledge.
Miriam was only arrested last night. Quaid took my hand, squeezed it. This has been in the works for at least a few weeks. It's just like Odette Dumont and Batsheva to keep us in the dark until they had everything in place.
Erica's touch felt instantly troubled. We're talking about manipulation of the High Council, Quaid.
You know it. His dark eyes didn't leave mine. Put nothing past them, either of you. And be prepared for anything.
So, they want to throw us off? I felt a grin growing on my face, fed by the cruel intent of my demon. Turning on the pressure cooker, seeing if we'll make mistakes if we're not ready?
Quaid nodded while Erica's power shuddered.
I sent her a shaft of energy so powerful I felt her stiffen.
I say, let them bring it. The Hayle coven was born ready.
My demon howled happily in answer.
&nbs
p; ***
Chapter Eight
I stood staring into my mother's closet, the scent of her lilac perfume filling me with the need to hug her and never let her go.
Since that wasn't possible, and knowing I needed to put on a good show, short notice or not, I'd made a plan of my own, one involving doing something I swore I never would.
I needed to be my mother.
My selections were carefully chosen, from the floor-length black velvet skirt with the fine silver embroidery around the hem to the paper thin and butter soft navy blue silk blouse with the flowing sleeves and sparkling diamond buttons.
I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised her shoes did fit after all and wasn't even a little above recognizing the irony. At least physically I could take her place. As for the rest... we'd have to wait and see.
I let the heavy, swirling skirt sway from my hips, for the first time understanding why Mom loved dressing the way she did. There was a weight to the velvet, the way it moved as if part of me. Even the silk of the blouse, though cold when I slid it on, quickly warmed to my body temperature and left me feeling a little breathless at the luxury of it.
Mom's pentagram pendant on the thick silver chain fell in the center of my chest, just above my cleavage. As uncomfortable as showing said cleavage made me, this was part of Mom's show, her style, and I had to do my best to fill her role.
Matching earrings hung from ignored piercings, the charm bracelet she loved with the tiny, sparkling representations of our family jingling softly around my wrist. I looked up at myself in the mirror, my long hair hanging down, wavy and thick, over my shoulders. A few moments with Mom's makeup and only one thing remained.
With a soft sigh near regret, I unstopped the tiny blue glass bottle and let my nose sample the scent. Like I needed to. Her lilac fragrance was everywhere in the room, even clinging to the freshly laundered clothes I wore. Here was the final touch and I couldn't go this far only to stop now.
One dab at the base of my throat, one behind each ear. How many times did I watch her apply it when I was a little girl, lying on her bed, my chin on my fists while she hummed softly to herself? Two more dabs to the insides of my wrists, and I was done. Shaking fingers set the bottle down. It slid from my grip in the last moment, the container thumping to the counter top and wobbling a bit before settling upright.
I breathed a sigh as I massaged the oil into my skin, feeling closer to my mother than I ever had. It was almost enough, standing there with my eyes closed, to convince me none of this was real, that I was little again, playing dress up, made me think Mom would sweep through the door at any moment with her deep-throated laughter to hug me and kiss me before rocking me to sleep, humming her song.
Someone gasped from the doorway. I turned, saw my sister, her eyes wide and staring. She let out a low cry before running to me, hugging me tight, face pressed into the soft silk.
“I thought you were Mom.” She barely breathed when she spoke, voice a whisper.
“Sorry, Meems.” I stroked her hair. “Pale comparison. But I'm doing my best.”
She shook her head, pulled away, smiled up at me. “You look beautiful,” she said. “Just like her.”
I took another look in the mirror, unsurprised as much as the old, stubborn part of me hated to admit it. Mom looked back at me from my own face, enough of her in my features I knew no one would ever mistake me for anyone else's child.
Excellent choice. Gram's voice reached me. You're learning, and quickly. I knew I was right to have faith in you. But, her mind softened, the magic hugging me gently, you aren't your mother, Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle. Your own way of being has always served you, one way or another. And your power far outweighs your mother's. They need to see you are perfectly capable, with or without Miriam.
She left me then, and I smiled at Meira.
“You're okay staying here?”
She made a face, clearly unhappy. “She's my mother too.”
“I know.” I stroked her cheek with my fingertips. “But until I know what we're facing, I want you safe.”
Meira shrugged. “I'm not a little kid anymore, Syd.”
I laughed. “I know, Meems. But you can't blame your big sister for wanting to protect you.”
Meira retreated, still grumpy, closing her bedroom door behind her. I'd expected more of a fight, so I must have gotten through to her.
I thought of Quaid as someone disturbed the wards outside in the back yard. After Erica left, he told me the Vegas had been cheerful, refusing to admit anything was wrong and he chose not to push them. When I reached for them again, told them what was happening, both agreed I needed to deal with the trial first.
Be safe, they both sent as if they assumed I wouldn’t be.
But neither of them would agree to speak over mental channels so I was stuck until I could make it to their place.
Be safe. Yeah, I was working on that.
The wards quivered again. Gone were the days when I scrambled to see if it was Quaid. He was safe, here with me. I didn't need to act that way anymore. So it was a much more calm and stately Syd who answered the door. I have no doubt being dressed like Mom had a great deal to do with my new decorum.
The man standing in my back yard looked startled when he set eyes on me, his expression relaxing when he realized I wasn't Mom. This was going to be a pain in the ass if everyone I ran into had the same reaction. But the werewolf leader recovered quickly enough so I cut Raoul some slack.
“Hi,” I said. “Haven't seen you in a bit.” Mom had been working with the remainder of the Dumont's pet werewolves, trying to find them jobs after they were freed from the Dumonts, all the while talking to Sunny about maintaining the truce between them and the vampires. Not an easy task, considering they were mortal enemies for no good reason I could figure out.
“The Dumonts are here.” He glanced around him, his fear clear on his face for a moment before he scowled and looked down at the grass. I knew he hated showing weakness, but I was the last person to judge him for worrying about his former owners.
“You heard about Mom?” Raoul nodded quickly. “They are here for her trial.” I glanced at her watch on my wrist. “I don't have much time.”
He shuddered a little before meeting my eyes with his. They were normally ice green, but right now they shone amber, like demon eyes, but without the glow of power I was used to. It always freaked me out, like he was something he wasn't supposed to be.
Werewolf eyes.
“We're leaving.” His body jerked as he spoke, as if he struggled with what he had to say, one hand swiping over his shaved scalp, teeth chewing the bit of hair growing under his bottom lip. “The whole pack. I just wanted you to know.”
My anger rose, demon snarling. “You're running?” Why wasn't I surprised? Hadn't his daughter, Charlotte, and the other weres Galleytrot freed taken off at the first opportunity without even a thank you? “We've done everything for you and just when we need you most, you're abandoning us?” I wasn't pulling punches, didn't have the time or the patience. “Classy, Raoul. Really damned classy.”
“I need to think of my people.” His eyes dropped again, gaze locked on the ground at my feet. “This isn't our fight any longer. And as grateful as I am to you for freeing us, we wish to remain that way.”
“I'll let Mom know you all ran like the cowards you are,” I said at my most cold and furious, “just like the filthy curs the vampires said you were.”
He twitched, took the accusation like a blow to his tall, lean body. When he looked up, shame warred with rage.
“Be grateful I owe you,” he snarled. “I've killed for less.”
“Don't even try to posture,” I snapped back. “You've just told me what kind of person you are. You know what, Raoul? Get lost. And good riddance.”
He slunk off, passing through the wards like a little kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and I just fumed and let him go.
***
Chapter Nine
Minnie's engine hummed softly as she cruised down the highway toward the mansion. It felt odd to leave the confines of Wilding Springs. Now that I was aware of Shaylee and the Gate to her realm, I keenly felt it as I passed from the influence of Sidhe magic and into the normal world.
How no one else felt the absolute supernaturalness of the town I had no idea.
I shivered as we passed the invisible boundary created by the Gate's magic and felt Quaid's power, along with his hand, grasp me and hold on. I was happy to have him with me, filling the front seat of the passenger's side with his long, lean yumminess, though thinking about him in any romantic way was hard considering the circumstances.
Hormones managed somehow.
The look on his face when he'd laid eyes on me when I descended to the kitchen was almost comical. I worried I'd scarred him for life, that he'd never be able to look at me again without seeing my mother. Instead, he bent and kissed me, all warm, soft lips and hot breath.
“Beautiful,” he whispered before backing off. And winked.
Tell me he didn't have a thing for my mother?
I'd considered using the veil to travel instead of taking conventional means, but I was ready in plenty of time and wanted the drive to sort myself out. It had been hard to leave Sassafras and Meira behind in the end, though I knew he would never let anything happen to my sister. I couldn't worry. I had to think ahead. To keep my cool and take whatever came in stride. I had a quick, sharp conversation with my demon who agreed to behave herself, but who knew? She was a demon, after all.
No promises.
I pulled up the drive of the mansion, remembering the last time I'd been here. Demitrius Strong had my demon under his power and Quaid, Sunny and I broke in to take her back. I felt a thrill of nerves shake loose the butterflies who liked to live in my stomach at such times, my eyes traveling over the huge stone castle-like building as it came into view around the bend. The lush, wide lawn was perfectly tended and again I had the feeling it was more a seat meant for royalty than a common house.
