by Patti Larsen
Quaid closed the distance between us, arms going around me. Not with heat or passion. With comfort, a safe place to harbor and I took it. Pressed my cheek against his chest, listened to his heartbeat, felt my body temperature warm to match his.
We'd severed our private connection over a year ago, when in a fit of rage I cut him off. When I thought he'd abandoned me. I still missed it, wished I could have it back, as selfish as that connection was.
Because he couldn't be mine.
That's why I was so shocked to feel it wake. Not broken, not severed after all. Just silenced.
Until now.
Quaid's arms tightened and I knew he felt it too. I didn't fight it, let it rise, shake, grow until it was as if it had never been gone. He trembled where he stood, and I know I shook too, tears rising at the joy of having him back again.
“Syd,” he whispered. “I—”
He jerked free of me, spinning sideways, the sound of flesh hitting flesh loud in the back yard as Liam, face a mask of rage, threw a punch taking Quaid full in the jaw. I stared, in so much shock I couldn't react, watched Quaid stagger back, hand going to his face, heard the deep, rumbling growl come from his chest as he lunged forward.
Toward Liam.
Who snarled back.
They froze within inches of each other, Quaid's dark bulk against Liam's tall brightness.
“You're lucky I don't kill you for that, fairy boy,” Quaid said in a voice like gravel.
“Don't touch her,” Liam rumbled back, his own deep tone full of fury. “Don't ever touch her again.”
Um, excuse me?
“I thought we were done with this.” My cold rage turned them both to face me, Quaid sullen, Liam full of righteousness. “Neither of you own me. Or have any right to fight over me.”
Liam's face crumpled, his hurt clear as he held out his hand, blood dripping from his knuckles. “You chose me,” he said.
“I did,” I snapped, “but I reserve the right to change my damned mind. And guess what?” I slashed my own hand through the air, letting a cascade of multi-colored sparks fall from the air. “You just blew it.”
Quaid's anger turned to a smirk.
Wrong choice.
“You can both take yourselves and just go to hell.” I turned my back on them, closing off the connection to Quaid no matter how much my demon begged, leaving them to beat the crap out of each other if that was what they really wanted.
None of my damned business.
I couldn't stay in the house, not now. Not while Gram watched me with slitted eyes and Shenka tiptoed around me.
I was in no mood for sympathy or a lecture, thanks.
My gym stuff sat near the front door. Begging me to get the hell out. So I did.
And ten minutes later, I hit the heavy bag with all the pent-up rage I'd kept inside me for days and days. For what felt like forever.
A shoulder pressed to the other side, sea-green eyes watching me quietly, without question. I stopped punching, panting to catch some air, dropping my hands to my sides as Sage dug in.
“You're a little off tonight,” he said. “Out of focus. Won't do you any good in a fight. Now, jab, jab, uppercut, roundhouse. Hit it like you mean it.”
I did. Over and over again, doing as he told me, losing myself, my frustration, my fears in the rhythm of the bag, my body, fists, feet.
“Good.” Sage's voice broke the spell, his grin lopsided and delicious.
Damn it. Stop that.
“Thought you quit on me,” he said as I sank to the mat to catch my breath. “Didn't seem like you.”
“Just had some family stuff to take care of.” I rested my forehead on my knees.
“Left your bodyguard home this time.” He sat beside me while I looked up, startled.
Looked for Charlotte. Who wasn't there.
So. Weird. Charlotte was always there.
Sage bumped my shoulder with his. “Not to butt in or anything,” he said. “But you look like you could use a night off.”
I met his eyes, the steady seriousness tempered by a kind heart and felt myself let go at last.
“You know what?” I stood up and offered him my gloved hand. He took it with a grin. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.”
And to hell with the rest of it.
***
Chapter Thirty Eight
I was positive my life was meant to be insane at the best of times.
And I guess I was okay with that.
Demetrius's usual disappearing act didn't happen this time around. In fact, he happily ensconced himself in the basement, hugging me with tears in his eyes when I helped him set up a little space for himself with a “real bed” and “clothes of his own”.
One more heartache in a long list of them. But at least he seemed content to stay and I wasn't about to kick him out.
Not when I knew I'd been needing him again, sooner rather than later. In fact, despite Demetrius's new digs, he was rarely home, more than eager to seek out the Brotherhood for me. And while I now worried about him, I knew I didn't need to. Demetrius might have reminded me of a scuttling cockroach lurking in the dark, but it was that very trait that kept him safe for so long.
His poking about also meant I kept my nose clean. For now.
I'd take it.
My internet searches of the Brotherhood's corporation turned up frightening results. One of the largest in the world, Coterie Industries controlled massive amounts of land, businesses and government contracts, spreading out like a sickness from the central core. My disgust was equal to my grudging admiration. They'd done what no magical race had ever accomplished. Fit in. More than that. They'd taken over.
It made me wonder if I needed to start finding some of my own allies in the normal world, despite the laws against it.
My burning pyre was calling again.
Tallah finally reached us, by phone of all things, furious. She gave me hell for putting Shenka in danger before thanking me for saving all of our asses again. The weird conversation ended with Shenka fighting for the handset with a pissed-off expression on her face while Tallah informed me if I got her sister arrested she'd kill me personally.
I left the two Hensley sisters to yell at each other and walked away.
Family. Sheesh.
Quaid stayed in touch, my only real line to what was happening in the witch arena since no one else would really talk to me. We were careful not to talk about his fight with Liam or the fact we were linked to each other again. All business, he sadly informed me Mia was trying to form her own coven after her last appeal to the Council failed. He didn't have to tell me what I already knew. She wasn't strong enough to lead when she had all the power of the Dumonts at her disposal. And now? In her weak state, her attempt would only end in disaster.
She managed to gather a few witches, Quaid told me, though they were only with her because they had nowhere else to go. Andre's first act as leader when he arrived home was to cull the herd. It surprised me, considering how many members the family lost in the Brotherhood's assault, their numbers already down to a third of their original strength. But according to Quaid, Andre was making it very clear if the witches in his coven couldn't pull their own weight, they were on their own.
Harsh and arrogant and just cruel. Andre's iron fist knew no mercy, it seemed. And, it appeared he had no intention of allowing his family to fall back into female hands. Quaid's disgust at Andre's choice of Jean Marc as his second resonated with me.
The Dumont family was in for a very hard time. I wondered what the rest of the covens, all matriarchal, were thinking about this male takeover of what was traditionally a woman's position.
They had to be nervous. I know I was, but not for the obvious reason. Despite the fact he kept his promise, Andre Dumont was not to be trusted and I had no doubt his mother's aspirations to gather more power were inbred into Odette's son.
Time would tell. Not my problem, right?
Let Mom deal with it.
P
ender finally returned my crystal. The moment it touched my hand I realized my mistake—the other coven's magicks still resided inside it. I could feel the power settling in to their new home and, though I felt terrible for the oversight, there was no way I was telling the Council now.
No way.
So odd Pender hadn’t said a word. He’d seen me take the magicks on, hadn’t he? Maybe I had an ally I wasn’t expecting, if one who simply protected me by omission.
Gram, Shenka and Sass all agreed I should keep my mouth shut and, when I thought about it, I grumbled to myself I should have let the crystal absorb the Dumont power, too, before anyone knew it was there. There would be no proof it hadn't been destroyed by the Brotherhood. And maybe it would have meant the end of a truly evil coven.
Again, not my problem. What was this habit I had of poking my nose in?
Varity Rhodes was making herself at home, coming to visit frequently. I loved to sit and listen to her and Gram talk, the pair of them cackling like old hens, though when I asked for stories of their days together as Enforcers, neither of them would tell me a thing.
Spoilsports.
My birthday came and went, the Beltane celebration embraced by the family who rallied to me as they had never done before. They were well aware of how close they came to losing their leader and, from the support I felt as I lit the Beltane fire, the outswell of love they practically smothered me with, I knew they were behind me no matter what happened.
Which only firmed my resolve to leave them if it came to my own imminent destruction. I'd save them if it killed me.
My shoulder healed from the bullet wound, but I still felt twinges now and then, mostly when I sparred with Sage. Now more than ever I knew I had to improve my fighting skills. There might come a time I couldn't use magic to defend myself. It surprised me when Charlotte asked if she could join me, no longer hanging back. Sage welcomed her, though I could tell from the widening of his eyes when she threw her first punch she'd impressed him.
Impressed the hell out of me. Though I was sure she didn't mean to tear the heavy bag from the ceiling.
Oops.
It was nice to go out with Sage from time to time, have a burger, laugh, be normal. He didn't push me despite the fact we both felt an attraction. I'd been down this road too many times and, in all honesty, I needed a friend more than anything. He seemed okay with our arrangement and I found myself turning to him more often than I did to Liam or Quaid when I just wanted to talk.
Felt good to be ordinary now and then.
As for Charlotte, she seemed perfectly fine. On the outside. The first night when I returned home from my date with Sage, she’d firmly and angrily informed me if I left her behind like that again, she’d chain me to my bed and never let me leave the house.
Odd, considering she should have been able to just track me down thanks to the link between us. Still, I took the threat seriously, apologized enough times she finally cooled off and promised myself I’d not give her reason to regret her choice to come back.
I knew her well enough to catch the moments of panic crossing her face when I turned to leave a room without her. Her own wound healed as though she'd never been shot, but when I asked her how she was doing, she ignored my question. She followed me even more closely than usual, reaching for me occasionally as if to reassure herself I was there. She was freaking me out a little, but that was Charlotte.
She'd taken a bullet for me. Died and come back for me.
I was okay with cutting her some creepy slack.
Trill checked in regularly, even sending me a card with a sweet note inside: Happy birthday to the sister I never had. It made me teary. And think of Meems.
I really needed to talk to my sister.
My questions about the dark maji went unanswered, though. Trill finally asked me to leave them to her and I backed off. Not like I didn't have my own crap to deal with. I had to start trusting the people around me to do their jobs while I did mine.
The reconnect of my power to Quaid’s made me uncomfortable at times, though I took great comfort from his magical presence. Why was it every time I tried to cut him loose I ended up reeling him back in? It wasn't fair to either of us.
Or to Liam. I knew he was doing his best with Sonja, but I was so done tolerating the woman. He came crawling, begging me to forgive him. I agreed, though I told him friendship was all I could handle right now, after all. Knew I broke his heart.
I’m sure Sonja was thrilled. Though despite his assurances to the contrary, she still remained a pain in my backside. With the craziness of my life and constant threats looming on the horizon, the last thing I wanted was to deal with his overbearing mother.
Single again. Yup yup.
Speaking of mothers... I tried several times to reach out to Mom, knowing now what was going on with her and wanting to support her if I could. But she wouldn't let me in, kept a cold front between us and I finally stopped trying. Maybe if I distanced myself from her, she'd be able to find her own balance. Not be forced to fight against the power she wielded. With time, with a little space, Mom might get a chance to wrangle the Council power under her control and come to the dark side.
No more meddling. I just made things worse.
My maji power was stronger than ever, the crystal helping a great deal when I focused on my exercises. I felt like I was so close to some kind of breakthrough, but still had the impression I was missing something. My goal was simple—to be able to access my maji abilities whether I was in trouble or not. I was tired of only being able to connect when my life—or the lives of those I cared about—were in danger. Mom tried to tell me years ago, how important it was to be in control, to act and not react.
She was right about that, at least.
It was time to visit the maji chamber again, and soon. To track down Iepa if I could, ask her about Ameline. Only trouble was, when I reached out to talk to Sebastian, he didn't respond. In fact, none of the vampires did. My invitation to my birthday sent to Uncle Frank and Sunny went unanswered and all attempts I made to reach Sebastian went cold.
That just wouldn’t fly.
Above all else, I hated being ignored.
###
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And now the first chapter of the next installment in the
Hayle Coven Novels: Book Sixteen
The Undying
Chapter One
The sound of giggling witches filled my back yard. Giggling. And not young witches, either. The Lawrence twins twittered beside Talee Happern while Mary Gripper gossiped over her baby son, Alex, and how he was keeping her awake.
I did my best to plaster on a smile, hoping it didn't look like a grimace, wishing I was back at the gym. I'd doubled my efforts since the run-in with the Brotherhood, the twinge in my shoulder where Liander Belaisle shot me a reminder of just how serious things had become.
Deadly serious. Like almost losing Charlotte serious. The weregirl kept her distance, watching from outside the party, eyes locked on me at all times. And though she was as protective as ever—worse, sometimes, it seemed—I sensed something was wrong with her. The way she flinched when I asked her a question or the way her blue eyes would fill with almost desperate anxiety.
She'd been shot herself, at the doorway to death, only the wolf inside her clinging to life, the ego of her wereside trying to hold her back. And I'd let her go, to choose life or death despite knowing I could have brought her back, maybe made things easier for her.
I tried not to feel guilty about it as I smiled wider, a glass of punch clutched in my hand as I made my way through the group of laughing women. She'd come back, by choice, my Charlotte. But she hadn't been the same since.
Near death would do that to a body, I guess.
Everyone I passed smiled at me, though no one tried to stop me, thank the elements. It freaked me out, to be honest, the way they looked at me. I tried to convince myself it wasn't
awe, wonder on their faces.
A little full of ourselves these days. Gram's mental voice cackled in my head. I was about to protest when she slapped my mind with her magic. You should be. You deserve it. As long as you don't let it screw you up when it counts.
I glared at her over a gaggle of gray haired witches. Gram just wiggled her fingers at me in a wave and flashed her teeth.
So unhelpful.
I could have been at the gym. Working out. With Sage. Okay, so being with Sage was higher on my to-do list than working out. Though learning to fight was a close second.
I think I impressed him, too, when I came back from my brush with the Council with a new attitude.
“Kick my ass,” I told him. “I need to learn how to kick yours.”
Sage just nodded, smiled. And gave me the worst beating of my life. Not hard enough to leave bruises. Well, not many. But embarrassing enough I was ready to crawl in a hole and never come out.
By the time he crouched over my prone, groaning body lying on the mat, I was ready to quit.
“How was that?” Sage's smile was the same as ever, pulling against his lips, bit of scruff on his wide jaw darkening at the cleft in his chin while his sea-green eyes laughed at me.
Laughed. At. Me.
Oh hell no.
I punched him right in that beautiful nose of his, sending him back onto his own butt with a shocked look on his face.
Didn't last long. The smile came back ten times as bright.
“You'll do,” he said.
“I'm done.” I collapsed, all out of everything.
Sage stretched out next to me, waist dipping as he rolled on his side, big shoulders looming over me, cheek in his hand. “You didn't give up,” he said softly. “You were down, I came in to gloat and you took your shot.”
