All Spell is Breaking Loose: Lexi Balefire: Matchmaking Witch (Fate Weaver Book 2)

by Welling, ReGina

  "No. You have to let me go." I wasn't about to wind up in a burlap sack, sweeping her fireplace for the rest of my life.

  "Mayhaps I will." Mag moved close enough to rest one of her claw-like hands on mine and pierce my soul with those eyes. Her lips peeled back as she tasted my magical essence, turned it around and around on her tongue. "Strong magic and a pure heart. Be careful where you place your trust. I don't have your bow, but I do have something that belonged to your grandmother." Mag turned one hand palm up, and a ring appeared out of the ether. "She would have wanted you to have this, don't show it to anyone."

  The ring, warm from her grasp, dropped into my hand.

  "Hide it. Quickly now, child."

  "Why?"

  Before the old witch could reply, the front door blew off its hinges and framed my mother in the opening.

  "Now Mag, you know I'm not going to let you keep my daughter. The question is how ugly do you want things to get. Let her go, and we'll leave quietly." Sylvana's wide-legged stance, defiantly raised chin, and level gaze spoke eloquently of steely determination.

  Mag backed down, though I knew her reluctance was just for show. She was going to let me go anyway. Tendrils snaked away from my calves, and suddenly I was free again. "You didn't have to knock the door down. I'm just a lonely old woman trying to defend her home."

  "Save it for someone who cares." Sylvana dragged me out of there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I was still flying high from my visit with Mag and actually found the ride home enjoyable. It was as if the adrenaline running through me burned the anger and sadness from my veins. One thing was for sure; the term blood witch was certainly accurate. Every power-laced drop sang a song of vitality whenever I practiced magic. Whether that was an indication of good or evil, I couldn't tell, but it felt more like joy than pain, so I was willing to figure out the nuances at a later date. Procrastination was my middle name.

  Sylvana seemed slightly more relaxed, and conversation strayed to my relationship with Kin.

  "Do you love him?" She didn't pull any punches, did she?

  "Yes."

  "I sense a but coming..."

  "No but. Only crippling fear and self-doubt." I wouldn't pull any then, either. It's not as though I expected any decent motherly advice; Sylvana ended up trapped in the nexus when she was about the same age I was, and she might as well have been frozen in time for all the experience she gained sitting in a cell. We were more equals than mother and daughter--a thought so achingly sad I locked it up tight in that box in my mind and buried it beneath a half-ton boulder.

  "You're Alexis Balefire; there is no room for self-doubt. And no need. You're far more than his equal."

  "I'm not scared of getting my heart broken. There are plenty of other reasons why relationships don't work out." Maybe there weren't for her; after all, how many relationships could she have had. I was starting to realize my mother was, quite possibly, more of a child than I'd ever been. "I'm worried that he'll get hurt and it will be my fault. And then there's the whole lifespan problem. Watching him grow old and die before I do just means more pain and loss."

  Sylvana was quiet long enough to carefully frame her response, and when she finally spoke, it was with more grief in her voice than I had heard so far. "You've had to deal with a lot of that, haven't you?"

  I started to get choked up and felt the high I'd been riding quickly begin to deflate. "I can handle it. I'm sure things will work out the way they're supposed to. What I'd really like to talk about is my magic. You're the only person who has knowledge of both sides of my heritage. I don't fully understand what it is to be a Fate Weaver."

  Sylvana sighed, "I figured it would only be a matter of time before you asked me that. I wish I could answer your question, but the truth is, I can't. Your father would have taken over your training if you showed potential in that area."

  I detected notes of longing, sadness, and pain in Sylvana's tone. Almost enough for me to believe that she had wanted to make us a family--and certainly enough to allow the hatred toward my grandmother to turn from a constant, almost subconscious simmer into a full, rolling boil.

  Panic set in as we pulled onto my street. "Pull over," I instructed Sylvana who, to my astonishment, obeyed and parked us right in front of Clara's statue. She killed the engine and beckoned me to join her on one of the ivy-covered benches bordering the park. I didn't think letting her roll up in front of the house was a good idea, and she seemed keen to keep her distance for the time being.

  "So he was planning on teaching me? Being there for me? Becoming a family?"

  "Yes, of course. What would make you think we weren't going to be a family?"

  "Um, I don't know, maybe the fact that I've grown up without either of you?"

  "I've already apologized for that. I was trapped in hell, Alexis, not partying in Cancun."

  "Doesn't feel that different to me," I mumbled, knowing full well she could hear me just fine, but Sylvana didn't take the bait. In fact, she remained unexpectedly calm as she responded.

  "I would assume that you've done your own research on your father; at least, I expect you've typed his name into one of those blasted electronic devices you're all carrying around these days. If so, you'd know that Cupid didn't have it much easier than either of us when it came to the family department. It's well known that his mother was Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty; but you've probably noticed that his paternity has been attributed to several different gods. The truth is; Cupid isn't even sure who his own father is. You're dealing with the same thing he had to deal with; wondering just exactly who you are and what you came from. Cut him some slack."

  "Well lookee what we have here." A voice spilled out of the darkness; one I had only heard a handful of times but would recognize anywhere: Jett.

  Before I could whip around Sylvana was on her feet in a fighter's stance, magic crackling between her palms, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Part of me wanted to see her in action, and another part wanted to wipe the smile off Jett's face using my bare hands. He brings out my primitive side.

  "Watch it; he's never alone." As if on cue, Serena stepped out from the shadows and tried to snake her pasty white arm around Jett's waist in a seductive manner. The attempt failed utterly as Jett edged away from her and toward us; Serena looked like a succubus deprived of her next meal but pasted a smug look on her pointy face anyway.

  "Spending a little quality time with Mummy?" She condescended.

  "Shut up, Swampgrass or my Mummy might show you what a real witch can do."

  "So it's true?" I hadn't noticed the expression on Jett's face--he always appeared to have just eaten an entire lemon, anyway, but if looks could kill, I'd be ashes on the wind. "Isn't that just lovely--isn't everything just lovely for perfect little Lexi. You were supposed to be dead," he turned and pointed at Sylvana who, recognizing the threat before he could articulate it, winged a spell in his direction and sent him flying into a stone pillar where he crumpled into a pile.

  "Don't you dare threaten me, you little brat! Yeah, I know who you are. I know you've been causing trouble for my daughter, and I know you think your father would be on your side, but you're wrong. Not only is there something literally wrong with you; but you're barking up the wrong tree if you think Cupid would ever forgive you for what you're doing."

  Keeping her finger pointed directly at his nose, Sylvana walked slowly toward Jett with enough intimidation factor to keep him from trying to get up. Jett might be a complete idiot, but he could recognize power when it was two inches in front of his face.

  Serena, on the other hand, seemed to have little sense of self-preservation and lunged toward me, flinging a lightening bolt that grazed my calf and left me with a deep but cauterized cut spanning from my ankle to my knee.

  Anger flooded my senses and magic welled into my chest from some deep, dark place inside my bones. For a split second, I let it flow through me until it coalesced at my fingertips and swelled w
ith the intent to inflict pain upon whoever stepped into my path.

  I flung a curse in Serena's direction, aiming for the tree behind her, but Jett still had a trick or two up his sleeve. He took advantage of Sylvana's distraction--she hadn't taken her eyes off me since Serena had struck--and loosed a gust of wind that knocked Serena out of the way just in time.

  The tree I had been aiming for broke in half with a burst of sparks and thundered to the ground at my feet. Stricken, I looked from my outstretched hand to the scorched wood and let out a cackle that would probably have made all eighteen of Salem's toes curl. I admit it; I reveled in the sensation for more than a few moments, enjoying the comfort of knowing I could hold my own. It never even occurred to me that I was walking a very dangerous line.

  "Get out of here, both of you." I spat at Jett and Serena. "And leave me alone from now on, or next time I'll be sure to hit my target," I spoke quietly, and even Sylvana stepped back and allowed them safe passage out of the park.

  It seemed I'd wandered into irony's grand territory once again; on the spot where Clara had cursed Sylvana into the underworld, I had just allowed my anger to cloud my better judgment. I've heard that dark magic leaves a trace; perhaps the ground I was standing on had been tainted with Clara's ill-intentions all those years ago.

  Or maybe I really was just as wicked as I'd always feared.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I knew it was going to be bad as soon as we approached the front yard. The rising sun--we'd sat in the park until the first rays of light speared over the horizon--cast the house into a different silhouette than normal. Tooth-shaped spikes decorated the peak of the roof. For all I knew, the spikes could be birds, or gargoyles, or maybe even teeth. I'd known the faeries were upset when I left, and now my disregard for their feelings was coming home to roost, possibly literally.

  We skirted a border of lilac bushes, peeking through the branches surreptitiously to survey the yard. Greasy brown mushrooms with yellow underbellies--an entire lawn full of them--provided cover for some type of creature with big eyes and a barbed tail. If they'd lost control enough for the madness to make it to the front of the house, what was waiting for me inside must be absolutely horrendous.

  If not for the Balefire in my hearth that required my presence, I'd have been tempted to run and never look back. I'm sure my escape would have lasted about ten minutes since Terra could find me anywhere, but it's the thought that counts, right?

  "You should probably leave before things get ugly," I warned Sylvana in case those really were teeth on the roof.

  "Define ugly." Her seeming to want to jump to my defense warmed a cold place inside me. "I can stick around to make sure it's safe."

  "No, this is a family thing." The words slipped out before I thought them through. Way to go, Lexi--how does that shoe leather taste? "Wait, that came out wrong. It's just that adding you to the mix would be like pouring gas on a firecracker. Both stupid and dangerous. They're just blowing off steam."

  "I understand." Just like that, the momentary harmony was gone, and we were back to circling each other warily. "Well, I guess I'll see you..." Sylvana faced forward and waited for me to exit the car, which I did reluctantly.

  The Caddy had barely turned at the end of the street when Salem skittered around the corner, all arched back and puffed up fur, the trademark of an indignant cat. Dogs have the market cornered on soulful looks while cats do a mean withering stare. Ducking behind another bank of shrubbery bordering the front porch, Salem proved he could deliver a dirty look in both his native forms. He took a seat on the wicker love seat, and I joined him.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Salem growled. "This witch/familiar thing only works if you put in the effort. Keeping something this epic from me is...well, it's mortifying to start with. I'm not some pet you can leave food out for when you go away and get unconditional love when you finally return. Doesn't our history together mean anything to you?"

  He was mad, and I didn't blame him, but I'd underestimated how much pain I had caused.

  "I'm sorry, Salem. Truly. I didn't want you to let something slip to Terra or one of the others before I had a chance to tell them myself."

  "And how did that work out for you?" You have not experienced sarcasm until it has been delivered by a cat/man hybrid and I snatched back the hand that had reached out to pet him on the arm. Judging by his expression, my finger would probably freeze if I touched him. I'd better add a new batch of kitty toys to my shopping list.

  "You have no idea what I've been through since you left. They've gone right off the deep end." His tone changed. "One wrong move and they're going to top the Faefern Decimation of '09, and I'm not sure if you going in there is going to make it better or worse."

  The Faefern Decimation was the faerie meltdown all subsequent meltdowns had been measured against. Soleil, hopped up on Twinkleberry wine, had been juggling fireballs, lost control and burned down Terra's patch of tender ferns that only germinated every third century. Terra, also an entire factory full of sheets to the wind, retaliated by opening up a shaft, sending her sister deep underground, and closing the hole behind her. Next thing we knew, the soil started to heat up, and a mini volcano erupted in the backyard. Soleil was tossed back to the surface along with a lot of pyrotechnic debris. Evian had to climb up on the roof and dump about an ocean's worth of water to douse the flames. Fog blanketed the town for days.

  Today had the potential to make that experience look like a blip unless I handled the situation with tact.

  "I owe them an explanation, and I owe you an apology."

  "You owe me at least a week of groveling." Salem stood, whirled to present his back to me and said without turning around, "And don't think I didn't notice you smell like dark magic." He left me there to contemplate his last words and went inside, probably to warn the faeries of my impending arrival. Or maybe to hide.

  Had I really performed dark magic? Now that I'd calmed down I didn't think so, but I didn't entirely trust my own ability to judge. The image of Serena standing next to the fallen tree I'd obliterated clung to the back of my eyelids, but I shook it away. As a witch, I'm about as green as it gets and this wasn't the time for an existential crisis. There was a real enough one waiting for me inside, and I needed to stop procrastinating.

  Steeling myself for whatever waited on the other side, I got up and opened the door to face Faerie Apocalypse #877.

  Have you ever pictured your own personal hell? What I walked into that day was mine. Over the years, I've witnessed the results of faeries using the elements as fodder when fighting with each other. This was different; this was directed at me.

  Eyes. A thousand at least, fixed and staring at me from creepily lifelike porcelain faces. Dolls. I hate dolls. Give me spiders or snakes any day of the week. I mean, one doll isn't so bad, you know, all by itself. In a group with their creepy eyes and tiny hands reaching out toward me....shudder.

  I pressed my back to the door and tried to watch them all at once. If one moved, so much as a blink or the slightest flutter, I'd probably make a Lexi shaped hole in the door on my way out, and my screams would be heard in the next town over.

  Dolls are evil and should be burned. Every. Single. One.

  My skin crawled the entire time, but I ran the gauntlet anyway. Down the hallway and past the stairs to my rooms.

  "Salem, where are you?"

  It was too quiet for the type of reaction Salem led me to expect. Not comforting.

  "Anyone?" Crickets. I headed for the kitchen, the room where the godmothers spent the most time. Nothing to see there, until I looked out the sliding glass doors. One glance at the backyard and I knew I'd found ground zero and that I'd jumped to a mistaken conclusion earlier. I was not the only target of wrath. From here, it looked like a three-on-one situation, not surprisingly, with Vaeta the lone defender.

  The sleepless night wanted to drag my eyes closed, to force me to give in to the craving for a minute of solace before wading into the fray. I w
ouldn't change a thing about them, even if my family isn't in the same zip code as normal and I deserved whatever they had in store for me today.

  Under any other circumstances, earth, fire, and water clashing with air would fool the uninitiated into thinking they'd stumbled into a festive occasion. Vaeta danced out her vengeance in graceful steps, bending like a willow in the wind as she directed with elegant hands. In contrast, Evian's motions seemed sharper, tighter. Water fountained from every fingertip. If not for the snarl--and how unfair is it that even snarling she was breathtakingly beautiful--on her face, she might be mistaken for a statue carved by artist's hands. Soleil left showers of sparks behind as she flitted from place to place like a firefly. Flame-colored hair atop a slim body gave her the appearance of a candle burning against the sun. My true godmother, Terra, had shed her Earth Mother persona to embrace another side of her personality--that of avenging fury. Eschewing an aerial attack, she directed the ground below Vaeta to suck and pull at her feet. Vaeta nimbly avoided being caught.

  How had I never realized the breadth of her strength before today? To hold her own against all three irate sisters made Vaeta a formidable force.

  Scorch marks traced black and sooty across a wide swath of lawn leaving behind a boulder slagged from a burst of intense heat and two trees burning like torches. A little more destructive than Soleil normally got, I thought, until the shadow of a dragon rippled along the forest floor, and a burst of flame set another tree alight.

  The moment of admiration over, my hand closed over the sliding door handle, but before I could pull it open Sylvana, a ball of magic forming between her hands, strode across the lawn to turn a mere apocalypse into an all-out nuclear war. The next ten seconds blurred and the next thing I remember was standing between Sylvana and the four faeries as if my presence might be enough to diffuse the situation. For a second, I'd forgotten the faeries were mad at me. A crucial error.