by Patti Larsen
“Like that’s possible,” I answered. A frown followed. Hey, wait a second. He didn’t want to marry me? Jerk. “Thanks a lot. Not good enough for him or something?”
Mom shot me a look of humored exasperation.
“Well aren’t you the end all,” she said, eyes sparkling.
“What?” I answered, trying not to be offended.
“Never mind,” she said. “I love you, Syd.”
I turned back to the action and caught Quaid watching me again. This time, I smirked at him.
Funny, he wasn’t smiling anymore.
***
Chapter Eight
I waited until everyone left to retreat back to my room. It was almost dark by then. I undressed, digging out my favorite grubby pajamas, dropping my clothes on the floor out of the habit of pissing off my mom. I knew she would glance in on me. I heard the long sigh of suffering she would heave at the unruly pile of clothes. I flipped open a textbook, trying to study and sighed myself. Damn, she was good. Even in my imagination, she could make me restless with guilt. I threw aside the book and glared at the pink chandelier. I slouched out of bed, put the clothes away, and went back to studying, feeling decidedly huffy.
It didn’t take me long to concede defeat. I sucked at chemistry. I was about to toss the book across the room when I felt a surge of power so strong it shook the house to the foundations.
I leapt to my feet, out my door before I knew I moved. I took the stairs three at a time, practically flying. I made it to the basement doorway ahead of the typically timely Sassafras. He ran at my heels as I pounded down the steps and hit the floor, freezing at the bottom.
My mom sat on her backside on the edge of the pentagram, the remains of her casting strewn about her. Her clothes smoked from the dispersed magic. The shocked look on her face would have been funny under different circumstances.
Sprawled across from her, equally as startled, lay two vampires. Which would have been an event in itself if these particular vampires didn’t live in our basement.
My Uncle Frank, forever preserved at boyishly handsome, with his sense of humor intact, flashed my mother a grin, showing fang.
“Morning, Miriam,” he said.
Mom shook her head as if to clear it, the last of the smoke dissipating.
“Frank!” She said. “Are you all right?”
Uncle Frank patted his hands over his black hair, plain white t-shirt and torn, faded jeans.
“Looks that way,” he said. “Sunny?”
Uncle Frank turned to the beautiful blonde vampire beside him. She smiled at Mom and me, her own delicate canines careful hidden behind plump lips. Sunny always tried to pass for living and breathing.
“Wonderful,” she said in her vibrant voice. I didn’t have the heart to tell her no matter how hard she tried her voice would peg her as undead every time. Nobody sounded that good unless they had help.
And, yes, Sunny was her real name. Most unfortunate for a vampire, but she thought it was funny.
I crossed the pentagram, feeling a thrill of residual power as I did. Mom was doing magic this close to sundown? I offered her my hand, which she took with a look of gratitude.
“What happened?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice now the doors of Frank and Sunny’s elaborate cupboards gaped wide open. They must have woken up, their auras colliding with Mom’s, causing the explosion.
Uncle Frank and Sunny stood without appearing to move. It always freaked me out, no matter how many times I saw it.
“Miriam lost track of the time, I guess,” Frank winked at his sister. He appeared to be about twenty-one, his light blue eyes dancing with mischief, despite being closer to forty.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “I… I thought I had time...” She looked at Sass who rubbed against her legs, his big head butting her knees in sympathy.
“It’s autumn,” Sunny dismissed it. “Sunset comes earlier now.”
“It was an accident, Miriam,” Frank said. “No worries.”
My mother shook her head.
“Inexcusable,” she muttered. “I don’t know where my head was. We could all have been badly hurt.”
She wasn’t kidding. Different magic sources did not mix. The vampires didn’t necessarily do magic, they were magic, animated by it. The reaction was strongest when they woke. Human power butting against the newly risen undead turned into an explosive combination, which was why Mom had to be so careful and made sure we were, too. Had things been a little further along with her spell, all that would be left of our house, and us for that matter, would be nothing more than a gaping hole.
Totally not like my mother.
“We weren’t,” Frank rolled his eyes. “I know you’re careful. Now get over here so I can suck your blood.”
He was kidding, of course. Neither of them drank human blood from the source. Still, the thought always made me queasy.
Mom crossed out of the pentagram to hug her brother.
“Are you all right?” He asked her almost too quietly for me to hear.
“I’m feeling a little weak,” she admitted, pressing one trembling hand to her forehead. “I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down.”
“Feel free to use my cupboard,” Frank winked at her.
My mother laughed. “You will never get me in that thing, Jonathan Francis Hayle.”
I snickered at his full name. He made a face at me.
“Go rest,” he shooed her off.
“Sydlynn,” Mom turned to me, “thank you for being here.”
“You almost blew up the house,” I said, wincing inside. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I added.
She smiled a little before leaving us.
Sassafras stalked to my side and smacked my leg with one heavy paw.
“That was productive,” he snarled. “Honestly, Frank, the girl is a walking disaster. Deal with it.”
With a flick of his tail, the fat silver Persian ran after my mother.
I turned to Uncle Frank, expecting some kind of sarcastic comment, only met by a worried expression.
“Did something happen?” Uncle Frank asked.
“Like Mom trying to marry me off to some witch without telling me then inviting them to join the coven?” I told him. “You could say something happened.”
Frank exchanged a glance with Sunny.
“Tell me everything,” he said.
I went to them on their side of the basement and filled them in. Despite Uncle Frank’s usual flair for amusing comments, he was silent, which made me nervous.
“I don’t like it,” Frank told me. “I wish Batsheva hadn’t been invited to rejoin. Miriam always thought they were so close, best friends. But we could all see she was only using your mom for her position and influence.”
“You wouldn’t know it by the way Batsheva tells it,” I said. “Chum city.”
“You know your mother would never make you marry this boy,” Sunny said, her flawless face concerned, clear green eyes earnest. I loved Sunny. She was the nicest dead person I knew, aside from Uncle Frank.
“I know,” I told her. “Anyway, you guys missed the fireworks, lucky you.”
“Not exactly,” Frank said, brushing at some imaginary dirt on his shirt. “After all, your mother almost blew up the house, remember?”
I made a face and laughed.
“Honestly, Syd,” Frank said. “Your Mom told me about the other night.”
“Naturally.” I didn’t feel like having that particular conversation, not even with my understanding uncle.
“I can see you don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “But you need to get your stuff figured out, kiddo.”
“And why is that?” I challenged him.
“Because,” he said, “if you really intend to leave this life forever, it’s probably a good idea to figure out why you want to leave in the first place so you have a good argument for them.”
“I just do!” I cried. “Isn’t that enough?”
Uncle Frank lau
ghed and hugged me. He smelled of wood polish and fabric softener. I felt Sunny’s arms slip around me from behind, adding her comfort and the scent of roses. As much as I loved them both, I was eager to let go. The silk of Sunny’s blouse did nothing to shield me from her and Uncle Frank’s t-shirt wasn’t much better. Trouble was, neither of them had eaten anything. Their cold bodies made me shiver.
“Just because isn’t good enough,” Uncle Frank said. “Trust me. From one rebel to another.”
I knew he attracted a lot of trouble with the family when he came home a vampire with an undead girlfriend in tow. And I knew he was right.
“I don’t know why,” I admitted in a whisper to his white t-shirt.
“Then figure it out,” he answered, “or make something up. Because otherwise, they’ll never let you go.”
Uncle Frank and his brutal honesty. I couldn’t be mad at him for it.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “Now if you two don’t mind, it’s a little chilly being the center of a vampire sandwich.”
Sunny laughed in my ear and let me go. Uncle Frank took a little longer.
“I’m here for you, anytime,” he whispered.
“I know,” I whispered back. “Thanks.”
Uncle Frank stretched. “I love a happy ending,” he winked at me. He looked over at Sunny and grinned. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” she said back.
Totally creepy.
Sunny kissed my cheek in passing as they spun into mist and disappeared.
I was wrong. That was totally creepy.
***
Chapter Nine
I lay in bed for a long time, struggling with my thoughts, shying away from taking the real steps I needed to figure out what my problem was. For some reason I probably should have been aware of, I didn’t want to know. I wanted out! Why couldn’t that be enough?
As I sprawled there torturing myself, I heard my door creak and the soft pad of little feet. I watched Meira as she picked her way on tiptoe across my floor and to the end of my bed. She twisted a handful of quilt in her tiny fingers and peered up at me through her silky black bangs, eyes wide and almost completely black in the darkness.
“Are you awake?” She whispered.
“Nope,” I answered. “Come back later.”
Meira giggled. She had the cutest giggle, clean and fresh and genuine. She always made me feel way younger than I was.
I giggled back.
Meira made her way further up the bed, twirling her slender body, her pure white nightgown flaring out at her ankles as she half-danced, half-tiptoed to me. She leaned over the bed and touched my forehead with one little finger, face solemn, eyes glowing in the light from the street outside.
“You are blessed,” she whispered.
I choked on a snort and started writhing on the bed in mock agony.
“No, I can’t take it! Please, don’t make me be like you!”
She crossed her little arms over her chest and smirked at me.
“I’m not that good,” she said.
I grabbed her and dragged her onto the bed. She squealed, covering her mouth with both hands, tears brimming with mirth. I tickled her. She shook her head, lips clenched together, snorting laughter escaping.
“Nasty little ruggers,” I continued the torture, “say it!”
“No!” She tried to whisper. It came out a little louder than she intended. We both laughed, glancing at the partially open door.
“Say it!” I demanded in a whisper when no one came to shush us. “Say uncle!”
Meira giggled silently, her red-tinted face even more crimson from the effort of holding it in. She squiggled and squirmed underneath me, trying to catch her breath.
“Never,” she hissed.
I sat up and whacked her with my pillow. She squealed for real this time. She grabbed one of the decorative throw pillows Mom insisted accompany the stupid chandelier.
“Cheater!” She shrieked, smacking me with the satin monstrosity.
I popped her a good one, sending her tumbling across the bed.
“Brat!” I retorted.
Meira lunged with her pillow, but missed and ended up on the floor. We both froze at the heavy thump. I heard quick steps come to the bottom of the stairs.
“You girls better be in bed,” Mom called up to us.
We giggled.
“If I have to come up there…” The threat was an empty one. She hadn’t come up to stop us in years.
Still, we held silent, as much a part of the game as the rest of it. Finally, Mom’s footsteps retreated back to the kitchen. Meira gazed up at me from the floor and laughed.
I scooped her up and planted her on the bed beside me. She stretched out facing me. I flipped the covers over us. She snuggled into my neck.
“That was fun,” she said.
“So I can blame you if Mom decides to come check on us?”
Meira batted her lashes, Miss Innocence. “She’d never believe it was my fault.”
I didn’t mean to but with everything that happened in the last few hours, I took her words personally.
“Right. Of course. It’s always me screwing up. I forgot.”
I rolled over onto my back, focused fury settling on the stupid pink chandelier. I jumped up, stood on the bed and grabbed onto it. I pulled, but nothing happened. Meira made a noise, something sad and afraid, but I ignored her completely. Mad, beyond frustrated, I gave it a good yank. The whole thing let go. I hunched on the bed covered in pink crystals, stars, wires and a large chunk of ceiling. I’m surprised my mom didn’t come running, but I guess it wasn’t as noisy as it looked. Dust hovered everywhere. Meira stared at me, tears pouring over her cheeks.
“Syd,” she cried. “I’m sorry! Don’t be mad anymore.”
She covered her little face in her hands and sobbed. The giant heel I turned into reached out and grabbed her. I pulled her into my lap amid the mess I made and hugged her hard.
“It’s okay, Meems, it’s okay,” I rocked her and stroked her hair until she fell quiet. She pushed tears from her cheeks. The fear I saw in her face made me cringe, even though I knew she was less afraid of me and more afraid for me.
“Why don’t you love us anymore, Syd?” Meira went limp against me, her hurt a physical thing that made me want to take everything back.
“It’s not that,” I told her, stroking her hair back from her cute little horns. “Of course I still love you. What’s not to love, huh?”
She slid her hair over her horns to hide them. “That’s not what you said before,” she whispered.
I ran back over the conversation in the basement and winced. Oops.
“Meems…”
She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “You hate us.”
“No I don’t.”
“You think we’re monsters.”
Oh crap. “Meira, look at me.” I forced her face up and stared her in those huge, demon eyes. “I don’t hate you, okay? Nothing you could ever do would make me hate you. And I don’t think you’re a monster.”
“I have horns,” she whispered. I flinched. How much damage had I done to my little sister? How had she gotten into the middle of my battles with our mother? For the first time I was painfully aware Meira probably suffered way more than Mom and I. She was going to carry our garbage with her for the rest of her life if I didn’t do something about it right then and there.
I scooted her further into my lap, pushing the remains of the ruined pink horror away. I held her tight and opened up my power to her, only a bit, as I spoke, happy and surprised when my stomach stayed quiet.
“You are the most wonderful, sweet and perfect kid ever,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to hear me lose my temper with Mom and Dad. Sometimes when I get mad I say stuff that isn’t quite the way I mean it.”
“You didn’t mean it?” She snuffled.
“Not that way,” I said. “I didn’t mean monster as in demon. I meant monster as in me turning into a bad person b
ecause I’m being forced into something I don’t want, that I never wanted.” Part of me whispered a denial but I shoved it aside to deal with later. “It has nothing to do with you or Mom or Dad. Just me. Okay?”
“How come, Syd?” Meira asked.
“I wish I knew,” I said. “I don’t want to be a witch. Is that really a bad thing?”
She thought about it for a second. “I guess not.”
“But?” I poked her. She managed a little giggle before getting serious again.
“Well, it’s just… you are a witch, Syd. How can you not want to be what you are? And how can you stop being it, either?”
Meira's sharp perception scared me sometimes. I let her go and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, closing off with some relief.
“That’s my problem to figure out, Meems, not yours. But,” I stroked her hair back from her horns, “I want you to remember no matter what happens, no matter where I go or what I’m doing or who I become, I love you and I always will. Okay?”
Meira threw her arms around my neck, kissing me on the cheek.
“I love you too, Syd,” she said.
She sat back and made a face. She fished around under her and pulled out a pink crystal. We both laughed.
“Guess I have some explaining to do in the morning,” I squinted up at the ceiling. “I could always blame it on Sass.”
Meira winked and waggled her fingers. I tried not to squirm as I felt her power gather like a web around her, tickling me. She was very careful, most of the magic shielded, as she sent out the force in delicate fingers, reassembled the chandelier before our very eyes. I watched as sparkling shards and glittering stars repaired themselves, wires twisting back into shape. The whole thing, now reattached to the chunk of plaster, rose toward the ceiling, settling into place. The seam faded and finally disappeared altogether. I knew if I turned on the light, it would be as though the whole thing never happened, right down to the last speck of dust.
Better her do it than me. My luck I’d slip or screw up and the whole ceiling would come down and the roof with it.
“Thanks, Meira,” I said.
