by Patti Larsen
I trotted to him and tried to ignore the weight of the family on the other side of the fence.
“Sorry, coach,” I said.
His whole talk on game strategy went out the window as my energy sucked away in waves of nausea and dizziness. I felt it happen and couldn’t do a thing about it. But why? The coach had to snap at me a couple of times to get me to focus, but no matter what he did, I was lost a few minutes later. It was as if my proximity to the group drew me into their circle and triggered everything bad about my connection to magic. Even my demon seemed disoriented and only then did I understand how much she supported me when I played. Not having her strength to push me on had a huge impact on my game. I couldn’t break free of the heavy family influence no matter how hard I tried.
My heart pounded not from the cardio but from pure fear. I couldn’t play! How could I with them watching, leeching, leaking power and shoving me over my comfort edge? I gritted my teeth and struggled to get some control back.
I loved soccer. They would not take it away from me.
The worst part was, they didn’t even know what they were doing.
Right from the first kick, I was a total mess. I battled desperately to take focus, to block them out. But the moment I thought I was in the game, I lost my concentration again. I don’t know how many times Coach Matters yelled at me in that first forty-five minutes, but I think it was the most times my name was spoken cumulatively since I was born.
My skills went out the window with my concentration. I couldn’t kick without ending up on my butt in the grass. I couldn’t pass without getting it to the opposing team. I was clumsy, distracted and very, very angry by the time the referee blew the whistle for the end of the first half.
I collapsed on the bench, realizing as I did I was alone on my end. The rest of my team huddled as far from me as possible, shooting me dirty looks.
Coach Matters approached and crouched in front of me. His face shone with fury.
“Tell me you’re purposely throwing this game,” his voice was a low snarl. “Because if you are, at least that would explain what the hell is happening out there.”
I trembled, hurting and wanting to die.
“I’m sorry, coach,” I whispered. “I can’t seem to get it together.”
“Then stay on the bench,” he snapped. “And stay out of the way.”
He stalked off in a huff to have a huddle with the girls. I sat there for a minute, heart pounding, battling tears and the sharp jab of loss. The family watched me with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. Jared, obviously confused about the rules of the game and the fact you need to win to celebrate, gave me a double thumbs up and a grin. Mom tried to support me, but she it was pretty obvious from the pained smile on her face and the murmurs she exchanged with the others that she felt far more worried about what they thought of my crippled abilities.
It affected me more than I expected. I kicked off my cleats, bagged them and fled.
I could hear my mother calling after me, but I didn’t care. I ran across the street toward the park, refusing to even consider going home. I ended up in the empty play area. I threw my bag as far away from me as I could and slumped into one of the swings, unable to believe I lost the last thing that made me happy because of the stupid coven.
I hated them so much in that instant I would have gladly turned them in to whatever authorities I could except of course no one believed in witches and would think I was nuts if I told them. I wanted to scream, to throw things, to hurt whoever I could reach as much as I possibly could so that they would realize what they took from me.
My mom picked right then to turn up. Naturally. She took a seat next to me on another swing.
“Honey,” she said, concern in her voice, hand reaching out to touch me, “what happened?”
I spun on her so quickly she pulled back with actual fear in her eyes. Good. I wanted her to be afraid.
“You people happened,” I hissed at her, all my rage, all my pain in my face, in my power as I released it and pushed it at her so hard she paled. I ignored the battle between disorientation and my demon to fling my fury at her with words. “You and your stupid ideas, your meddling, your need to keep me prisoner in your horrible family.” My voice climbed in volume as I rose from the swing and started yelling at her, hands clenching into fists as I spit my fury without reservation. “How dare you ruin my life! How dare you take away the one thing I love because you think you deserve to be a part of it? You never wanted to be a part of it before! Why did you have to now? Why!”
I struggled to pull myself under control, fought to keep from doing something I would always regret, but it was hard, so hard. My demon writhed with anger of her own, shoving aside my natural aversion to her and the magic inside me. Mom may have seen it in me but she wasn’t about to make it easy for me, either.
“Syd,” Mom said. “We were trying to support you. I thought you said you were a good player. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of the family.”
My control vanished in a blaze of demon rage I barely contained within me, a thin veneer my final barrier. The only thing between her and my magic was my absolute refusal to be her.
“I hate the coven,” I snarled at her. “I hate the family,” I leaned it to her so she would see and hear the truth, “and I hate you. I can’t stand you, you have no idea. You ruined everything and I hate you for it.”
It took Mom a moment to pull herself to her feet. She shook, just under control herself. I knew she held her own power back, could feel it firmly pressing against mine, raised in answer to the threat my demon presented.
“You will never speak to me that way again,” her voice was low, almost a whisper. “And you will get yourself under control right now. Right NOW.”
Her eyes flashed. I felt the demon retreat from her but fought against Mom and her desire to control me, her will, her very spirit. It surprised me how easy it was to get to a stalemate where I held her, my demon spitting and snarling, at a standstill. Was my mother holding back? I didn’t think so.
The very thought that I, untrained and unwilling, was already able to block out my powerful mother, shut me down instantly, like water running from a broken glass. My demon hissed spitefully as I stood in front of Mom, shaking with the release, free of both the pressure of my power and the smothering anger I used as a weapon.
“You need to go home,” she said, voice steady but low. “We’ll talk when I get there.”
“We have nothing more to talk about,” I said, but this time I felt empty, used up, my stomach ready to empty itself without my consent. The anger vanished, leaving only a little regret.
She looked up, knowing more than my voice changed. We faced off in that park, neither of us making a move, letting the certainty of what we did to each other there settle between us like a curtain.
Neither of us spoke as I retrieved my kit bag and walked away.
***
Chapter Sixteen
It was almost dark by the time I arrived home. I trudged into the back yard, dragging my bag along behind me. It wasn’t until I reached the ward surrounding the house, though, that I felt the presence of my father.
Just lovely. She had to drag my dad into this.
I went immediately to the basement, do not pass go, do not collect a butt whoopin’. I made it down the stairs with my shoulders back, unwilling to let her see me as weak, not caring what either of them thought right then. My mind was already made up. As soon as Uncle Frank and Sunny rose for the night, I was going to ask them to help me get away from the family once and for all.
I walked across the basement into the center of the pentagram as my parents watched. I took my place in the middle of the ancient symbol and stopped there, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling very calm, calmer in fact than I expected to be under the circumstances.
Of course, it helped Dad radiated sympathy and love.
Cheater.
“Hi, Syd,” he said.
“Hi,
Dad,” I said back.
“I think we need to talk.” Dad extended one hand to me but I ignored it, considering his other hand held Mom’s.
“We do.” I refused to look at her.
They exchanged a glance. Mom kissed Dad on the cheek before letting go of him and walking away. She paused next to me.
“No matter what happens,” she whispered, “no matter what either of us does or says, Syd, I will always love you.”
With that, she left.
I would not cry. The new tough Syd who knew what she was doing and where life was about to take her, sort of, did not cry because her Mommy told her she loved her despite all the horrible things that were said.
No way.
Dad stepped forward, joining me in the pentagram. His power blazed to life along the lines of the symbol. A soft red curtain rose slowly from the floor and over us to form a shimmering, semi-opaque dome. I’d been inside this field before. Surprise, surprise.
“Now we can talk,” he said, hands reaching for me. Which really meant, now I could go nuclear and let my Daddy hold me and make everything better.
As much as I resisted, as much as my newfound resolve was now a part of me and I would not give in to my father’s usual tactics, I totally caved.
Dad pulled me against his chest and let me sob my eyes out. Which I proceeded to do for quite some time. Long enough, in fact, I felt Uncle Frank and Sunny rise. I ignored them as they quietly left the basement.
Finally, Dad pushed me, easing me away from him. It wasn’t until he did so that I felt the hardness of him, the structure of stone that lay under the warmth of him. As much as he looked real, it reminded me he wasn’t really here. Sure, his mind was, his power. But his body was a whole plane away while all I had of him stood in front of me, a granite statue just a parody of life.
It was a sobering thought and snapped me out of my need for his comfort.
I’m sure he felt the shift.
His usually glowing red eyes shone blue like mine, like hers, and his skin had faded from red to soft tan. The longer he stayed on our plane, the more human he appeared, something he hadn’t passed to Meira, unfortunately. It was pretty obvious from his coloring he crossed the divide well before I reached home. Which meant Mom had tons of time to tell him what happened and encourage him to influence my choices, just like always.
While that would have worked even a few short weeks ago, I hardened my heart against him and my demon snarled in agreement.
“Syd,” Dad kissed my forehead before leaning back again. “Honey, what happened?”
“I’m sure she’s filled you in,” I snapped, wiping at my face with the back of my sleeve. The anger came back and for the first time I didn’t care if Dad saw it. I usually hid it from him if I could. But not this time. Maybe not ever again.
“Tell me,” he said. “Syd, you’re a great soccer player, I know that, I saw the videos you made. What happened?”
I told him everything, not just about the soccer game, but about school and Quaid and Gram, the stuff that fell on me in the last few days. As I told it I became more and more overwhelmed with the weight of all of it, of how miserable I felt. My shoulders slumped from the pressure but I refused to accept his comfort. Still, Dad kept a firm hold on me and never let go, using his presence alone to hold me together, giving me the impression through the flow of his loving magic that he knew and understood exactly what I told him.
Any show of unnatural influence from him, even as a means of helping, would have been completely rejected. At least he really understood something.
I ground to a halt in my story, knowing I was all over the place when I told it, it sounded pathetic and small. I meant to be stronger than that, to prove to him I was fine and more than capable of handling things, that Mom was the real problem. Too bad I wasn’t so good at lying.
“Syd,” Dad stroked my hair, “you need to talk to your mother.”
“Forget it,” I snapped. “We’re done. I’m done. Don’t you get it, Dad? I want out now. Not in two years. Now. Take the power back and let me go.”
Dad released me physically but I could tell by his expression I wasn’t about to be released magically. He seemed regretful when he caught my eyes, an unspoken apology in his own
“There is something you need to know,” he said, his deep voice trying to wrap me in the same old loving warmth he always used on me. To control me, I now felt clearly. Wow. I thought Mom was bad.
“Stop it, Dad.” I shook his power free. “I’m done being manipulated.”
His shock was clear on his face as his power retreated. “You’re right.” He looked down, took a step back. When he looked up at me again, his face was grim. “It’s time your mother and I started treating you like an adult. Even when you aren’t acting like one.”
That hurt. And felt a whole lot like a guilt trip. “Really, Dad?”
He flinched from my words and sighed. “I’m finally seeing it.” He actually smiled at me.
“Seeing what?” At least he was smiling. Maybe he’d finally really talk to me now.
“What you’re mother has been saying your whole life. Stubborn doesn’t begin to describe you, cupcake.”
That nickname. He was deflecting again. And that meant he didn’t want to tell me what he seemed to think I needed to know.
Dad was way more complicated than I ever gave him credit for.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” A fear grew inside me, shoving my anger and frustration out of the way. There was only one thing he could tell me that would make me unhappy. They were never going to let me go. I knew it. I was trapped forever. I fought the panic as he spoke.
“No, cupcake. You’re not going to like it.”
I tried to hold back the feelings of betrayal until he betrayed me.
I didn’t have long to wait.
“Syd,” Dad said. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
I didn’t know Uncle Frank was there until he walked through the dome. Vampires aren’t affected by human magic. Or demon for that matter. Go figure.
“Tell her, Harry.” Uncle Frank, angry? His pale face pinched tight with it. Since when and why?
Dad and Frank faced each other over me. Their expressions made me afraid. I’d never seen my father angry before. Even in mostly human effigy form, it wasn’t pretty. It summoned up images of him in full demon incarnation, something I couldn’t bear to think about.
“This has nothing to do with you,” Dad said, words clipped short with emotion. “Syd is our daughter, Frank. You need to stay out of it and let us handle it.”
Uncle Frank laughed, bitter. “Like you’ve been handling it, Harry? Like Mir has? I’m surprised things aren’t all peachy keen by now the way you handle things.”
I stared at Uncle Frank with my mouth open. I never heard him speak to my dad that way before. Or anyone for that matter.
It was pretty obvious from Dad’s expression, he had.
“I asked you to go.” It wasn’t a request. Dad’s power swelled, slid around Uncle Frank. I saw it melt away from the vampire magic and dissipate into the walls of the shield around us.
“Are you going to tell her?” Uncle Frank asked without even acknowledging Dad had tried anything. “Because if you aren’t, I will.”
This time, Dad backed off. His fingers traced my cheek while his power ached with regret.
“I never meant for this to happen,” he whispered to me, cupping my face in his hands, blue eyes full of love I hated to doubt but now wondered about. I’d been played far too often. “We didn’t know. Please believe me, Syd, we really didn’t. And we had no idea you wouldn’t want to be like us.”
“I want to know, Dad,” I said.
“Syd, your power is permanent.”
Okay, I hadn’t been expecting that.
“What?”
I looked at Dad and back at Uncle Frank.
“It’s true, Syd,” Frank said. “They didn’t want you to know.”
“Frank,” Dad said his name like a warning. This time his power swelled but instead of reaching for Uncle Frank it tried to wrap around me like a blanket. My demon shoved it free, driving me back a step and out of his influence. Dad looked stricken while Frank shook his head.
“She needs to know everything now,” he said before turning back to me. “The power, your power in particular, it won’t just go away, Syd, as much as you want it to.”
“But,” I sputtered, brain not registering what he said, “Mom said... Dad, you said... when I turn eighteen...”
Dad scowled at Uncle Frank, a growl much like the one my demon used escaping him. But when he spoke to me, his voice was gentle. “I’m sorry, Syd. It should be possible. It’s been done before. But there is something about you, about your connection to your demon, to our demon, that makes separation impossible.”
“How do you know?” My growing panic slammed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs.
Dad said nothing.
“You’ve tried already, haven’t you?” I gasped for air to speak.
“Yes,” Uncle Frank said. “They have. They can push it down, disguise it, put it to sleep, but it’ll hide for a while. When it wakes, and it will, you won’t be able to control it. Isn’t that right, Harry?”
I felt very weak, betrayed by my own body, my own mind. All the while, my demon grumbled and growled inside me.
“Damn you, Frank,” Dad said with only sadness behind his words.
“Too late,” my uncle said.
“What am I going to do?” I started to shiver and couldn’t seem to stop. Uncle Frank reached for me but I avoided his hug as much as I backed away from my father’s.
Dad answered me.
“You have to learn to control it, Syd,” he said, “if what happened today is any proof. Your mother... Miriam said you almost lost control.”
“Because of her.” Damn, there was the defense again.
“Maybe this time,” he said, keeping his voice soft, reasonable. This time I was paying attention and realized he wasn’t using power anymore to influence me. “But what about next time? And the next? What happens if you lose control in a fight with a normal? Someone who can’t help you hold the demon back?”
