by Patti Larsen
Mom, I growled in her head.
She cast me a glance that said “payback”.
With a sigh and gritted teeth, I followed her in stomping steps up to the front door of Dumont House.
***
Chapter Seven
The place hadn’t changed much. Memories flooded in, of finding Mia here, my old friend now long burned at the stake, once leader of this coven. She’d been attacked by the Brotherhood, stripped of her family magic. That act completed her destruction. After a lifetime spent with her power shut down, losing to Andre cracked her so badly she shattered. Poor Mia, who I first knew as Pain, a fitting Goth name for a witch forever tormented by the choices of her parents. I often wondered what would have become of her had she the fighting chance Ameline Benoit and I both had. Mia was lost to me, her ghost simply the dying echo of her memory inside me, something I clung to those moments I needed an extra dose of guilt to make me feel worse than I already did.
The wide, sweeping staircase hadn’t altered, dark wood panels and marble floor adding an ominous feel to the place that never seemed to go away. The Dumont family power felt sullen in the dry and dusty grand foyer, simmering with resentment. Aimed at us or the Brotherhood? Or at its leader, Andre, who seized power from Mia and claimed the family magic when she had fallen so low? I hardly cared these days. There was a time when Andre and his mother, the long-dead Odette, were thorns in my side, along with the two brothers, Jean Marc and Kristophe. But I had thought little of them in the last eight years, aside from the one run in Charlotte had with them. All the dislike and disgust I felt for the Dumont family was aimed at the leader and his children, with good reason. I knew only a fraction of what Andre subjected Charlotte to, and what little she had shared with me warmed my blood to boiling with plans to hurt him as much as possible.
The faint scent of decay carried in the air of the quiet house, reminding me my werefriend had her own plans for the Dumont family leader. She’d inflicted him with wounds she swore would never heal and I wondered if he suffered enough. If that was even possible.
With my jaw locked in a permanent frown of disapproval and unhappiness, I stopped beside my mother in the gapingly empty foyer and glared at nothing in particular, hoping this little visit would be over sooner rather than later. For a moment, I imagined Mia might appear, sweeping down the staircase in her tall, black boots, thick eyeliner making her ice blue eyes pop, shiny black bob swinging around her pale cheeks and shoulders. Instead, two familiar forms oozed from a doorway on the other side of the stairs and came to an arrogant halt ten feet from us.
Jean Marc hadn’t changed much in the years I’d known him, still tall with buzzed short dark hair and cold eyes. He’d acquired a few lines around his mouth from scowling all the time, but he was as lean and broad shouldered as ever, a dark suit making him look more like his father despite their coloring difference. Kristophe, on the other hand, wasn’t weathering age very well. Only twenty-nine, like me, he’d gained a fair bit of weight on his formerly model slim body, long, light brown hair now frayed and stringy, hairline receding and giving him a widow’s peak. His pout appeared no longer European runway attractive but sullenly spiteful and far too young an expression for a man almost thirty. He hid his paunch behind a silk shirt but it was impossible to miss the roundness of his cheeks and the flares of red dots under the thin layer of makeup he wore to hide acne.
There was a time I almost feared them, the Dumont family. A time I saw them as my enemies and equals. But that time had long vanished. The diminished coven’s loss of power showed clearly in both of them, though Jean Marc did his best to bluster as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared directly at Mom as though I weren’t even there.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” He’d been selected as second when Andre took over the coven leadership, unprecedented as it was for two males to lead a witch family. Jean Marc’s cramping bitterness showed through with every word out of his mouth and I wondered if all was congenial between him and his father.
“You received notice of this visit.” Mom wasn’t taking crap from anyone, least of all Jean Marc Dumont. Where she’d been calm and caring with the other coven leaders, she was short, abrupt and cold with him. “Run along and tell your coven leader duty calls him.”
I almost grinned, only holding it back out of sheer will.
Nice, I sent to her.
I’m tired of this whole family, she sent in return, though there was sadness in her voice. Perhaps it’s time they were allowed to put themselves out of their misery.
No argument from me.
Miriam. Sass’s voice interrupted. You know what you’re suggesting? He sounded shocked, appalled even.
We’re talking about the Dumonts, Sass, I sent. We do have the same memories of their interactions and betrayals, don’t we?
Syd, he sent, quiet, personal, I know very well what the Dumonts have done. But consider. He paused, his own sorrow soft but powerful. How many witches we’ve lost. How many families. And that Miriam is advocating we let another family fall? Despite their leader’s lack of good judgment, the Dumont family has been a powerful force in our territory for many years. The loss of their presence, even if it might satisfy our need for vengeance, is a blow to the Council and all witches.
I guess I could see his point. I understand your trepidation, Sassafras, Mom sent as I mulled it over. But they have created their own pain and suffering. And I’m tired of rescuing those who will not stand for others.
Sass sighed in my arms. As you wish, he sent.
“Our leader,” Jean Marc snapped after a moment, “is not at your beck and call, Hayle.” The two Council members gasped at his rudeness, Varity tensing, her two Enforcers doing the same. Mom waved them down as the second went on. “Your message was received, which means ours was as well. You are not welcome here. Leave before I am forced to make you leave.”
Bad bluffing, but enough to outrage the Council further.
“How dare you,” Mary said, dark eyes snapping with blue fire. Sylvia’s tight, thin lips told me she was about as impressed as her counterpart. They might have been young but both understood the insult.
Mom shrugged elegantly. “I will go,” she said. “But only under the request of your leader.”
Ha. So there, you pompous, arrogant asshat.
I was still celebrating Mom’s zing when I felt the blossom of black power from the two men and understood we weren’t the only ones working on waking our sorcery. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised these two were preparing themselves. They might have been creepzillas but I never considered them stupid.
Considering the Brotherhood decimated their family as much as any other they were smart to take action. As long as they kept their dark magic to themselves we wouldn’t have a problem. Was it wrong I hoped they’d overstep their bounds?
Like I needed more trouble. Still.
Jean Marc opened his ugly mouth to say something, only to be silenced by a crack of magic. I turned away from the two men to watch a shadow wheel forward. A tall, quiet man without expression gently pushed a wheelchair only as far as the base of the stairs. Still in darkness, his face hidden from us, Andre spoke.
“Miriam Hayle.” His voice sounded wet, as though he were drinking some thick liquid while trying to speak. A deep, tearing cough followed his words, one hand rising to cup over his mouth. I caught a glimpse of him in the gloom as his face partially entered the light. His pale skin had a faint gray cast, marred by what looked like a tear to his flesh that wept clear liquid. I shuddered but didn’t look away, though my demon’s desire to see him with her vision more clearly I suppressed as he went on. “I had not heard of your pending visit.” Even in the darkness of the shadows he hid himself in I could feel and see his animosity as he glared at his sons. Jean Marc glared back, though sullen and quiet, open rebellion not yet an option it seemed. “You would speak for me, boy? You think me that far gone?” Again Andre coughed, longer this time, his whole fo
rm shaking. Kristophe looked away, uncomfortable, hands trembling as he stuffed them in his pockets. But Jean Marc watched with a hunger that had nothing to do with kindness or compassion but only with the need for power.
He was waiting for his father to die. How kind of him.
Not for long, Sass sent.
Agreed, my vampire sent. His death will come sooner rather than later.
If Charlotte allows it, my demon snarled. Which I hope she doesn’t.
Even I didn’t hate him that much.
“We’ve come to speak about coven safety,” Mom said, light, almost airy. “To offer support and a network of protection against further attacks.”
Andre waved her off, one hand in the light, lined and thin. The glamour he used glittered around the edges, but even his magic couldn’t hide the full extent of damage, no matter how hard he pushed. I could only imagine what he really looked like past the power disguising the worst of his affliction. He’d once been a tall, handsome, blond aristocrat despite his black heart. The man in the wheelchair hiding from the light appeared a withered, wasting old man.
“To hell with all of you,” he said without anger or emotion of any kind. “I care nothing for your Council or your power or the fate of the Universe.” Was he speaking directly to me? Impossible to tell. And yet, I had the feeling he knew about the pursuit of the pieces of Creator despite his apparent disregard for what happened around him. “You’ve failed me for the last time, Miriam. The Dumont family wants nothing to do with you.”
Mom failed him? Even now, he was a self-centered asshat. Charlotte’s affliction was clearly messing with his already scrambled mind. But instead of arguing as I might have done, Mom just nodded and shrugged again.
“Our assistance is always available,” she said, empathy showing at last. How could she? But even Sass shook softly in my arms and I began to understand. The death of a coven wasn’t something to take lightly. I could feel the agony of the Dumont family’s magic and released my anger toward him and his abhorrent children. They had endured enough suffering. I didn’t need to add my animosity in the moment.
“Your assistance is unwelcome.” Andre sagged lower in his wheelchair. “Our family can take care of itself.” He gestured and the tall servant turned, wheeling him away. I watched Andre leave, felt the family magic retreat with him and turned toward Jean Marc and Kristophe as their father disappeared.
Kristophe spun and left, head down. But Jean Marc stared right back at me, defiant and horrible, until Mom gently led me away.
***
Chapter Eight
Mom stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pulled me aside as the others continued on. Sassafras, she sent, eyes locked on mine. You felt it?
His pending death? Sass shuddered, fur tickling my hands.
No, she sent. Something else.
Sorcery, I sent, nodding. Both sons have woken their power.
Sass grumbled softly in my head. We’ll have to keep an eye on them, Miriam, he sent. Jean Marc especially.
There’s no question he’s just waiting for Andre to die, Mom sent, eyebrows pulling together. But I think the elder son is in for a shock when his father passes.
You don’t think the family magic will accept Jean Marc? That would be a kick in the teeth. It happened, in fact was the reason Andre was leader and Mia was dead. It rejected her for not being strong enough. If Jean Marc couldn’t keep control of it the days of the Dumonts leading this family were over.
No, Mom sent, sad all over again. I fear something worse.
The coven’s magic will simply die, Sass sent, looking up at me with his amber eyes. The family power won’t survive Andre’s death. He fixed his gaze on Mom again. You’re certain this is what you want?
Mom wrung her hands ever so slightly, her only outward show of stress. Not what I want, she sent. But what must come to pass. It’s time this tainted magic line was allowed to perish.
Sass nodded. Agreed, he sent. After what I felt in there… but you realize that leaves Jean Marc and Kristophe as sorcerers. And vulnerable to recruitment by Belaisle.
He can have them, I snapped at the pair. Right after I smother them both in their sleep.
Mom didn’t get a chance to respond to my burst of anger. Not when the front door opened and an anxious, attractive woman hurried out and toward us. She stopped in her tracks when she saw me, but only froze a moment before coming to curtsy to my mother. I stared in open mouthed shock as the former Enforcer, Payten, rose from her gesture of respect and smiled faintly.
“Council Leader,” she said, hasty, words tumbling over themselves. Payten had grown up, time only making her more beautiful. Her tawny hair hung loose over her shoulders, expansive chest reminding me I used to hate her for stealing Quaid from me. Such a long time ago, but still fresh enough to make my temper snap and crackle with jealousy. There was a time I despised her for allowing Ameline Benoit to manipulate and use her, thought unkindly of her. Turned out that time wasn’t past.
“Payten.” Mom seemed as surprised as I did. “I had no idea you were a Dumont now.”
Hold on. She was a what? I felt her family affiliation with surprise. She’d been part of another coven when I knew her. What brought her here?
“My family was almost destroyed in the Brotherhood attacks.” Payten’s old bravado and extroverted nature seemed to have reversed. Her voice was soft, hesitant, chin tipped down as she spoke directly to Mom. “The Dumont family absorbed us after the fact.”
Not rescued or helped. Absorbed. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Mom reached out, squeezed her hand and I had to look away. “How have you been, dear?”
Okay, yes, so Payten hadn’t acted entirely on her own free will when she did everything she could to keep Quaid and me apart. She’d been partially under Ameline’s control. Made things worse, in my opinion.
Grrr.
“I can’t stand it here.” Payten’s tears rang in her voice, even as hushed as it was. She finally turned and met my eyes for the first time, hers full of pain. “I know you would never offer me a place in your family,” she said, “but I hoped there might be a coven that would take me.” Her hands dropped to her sides, desperate unhappiness digging holes in even my animosity. “Can you help me?”
Mom nodded immediately. “Of course,” she said, firm and confident, arm around Payten’s shoulders as she guided her toward Varity and the others. “There are countless covens desperate for witches to swell their ranks. You have your choice of families, my dear.”
Just. Not. Mine.
“Unless.” Mom stopped, turned to face the former Enforcer. She’d been stripped of her position and sent home when Pender found out about her association with Ameline. I knew that gleam in my mother’s eyes, though, and clenched my teeth against what might come out of her mouth next. “I have a position available, am in need of an assistant. If you’d like to apprentice for the role, I would be happy to have you.”
Payten’s eyes lit up even as my stomach rolled over in a slow simmer of fury.
WHAT THE HELL, MOM. I hit her with a sharp poke of power as I yelled in her head.
My mother didn’t even flinch. Get over it, Syd, she sent as the blue fire of Varity’s power engulfed us. Bygones are over, sweetheart. You’re even friends with Ameline’s soul, if I recall correctly. I flinched at that. Because, damn her, Mom was right. And Payten has always been an excellent witch. With time and training, she can be a valuable member of my staff.
At least Quaid wasn’t around. That made accepting Payten a little easier. For the first time I was happy he’d taken the job with Femke. Nice and far from the tart.
Oh, Syd. Mom was right. Get over it already.
We’ve lost so many good people, Mom sent. It’s a waste for her to be used up by the Dumonts. Her mind swelled. Varity, please have one of your Enforcers escort Payten to Harvard. We have one last stop to make.
I felt two powers leave the flames even as I prodded Mom’s mind. She was suddenly closed and, as w
e appeared on a familiar stretch of beach, I understood her newfound quiet.
Bile churned in my gut, threatened to rise while I turned slowly on my heel in the sand, the white stuff grinding under my shoe, and I looked up at the open patio doors leading into Hensley House.
Oh, hell no.
The Dumont visit might have made me feel irritated and off color, but looking up at the sprawling California home of the Hensley family set me on fire. I was about a half a heartbeat from tearing open the veil and going home when Mom’s mind embraced mine.
Sweetheart, she sent, remorse at war with need, please. Just listen.
You’re in so much trouble. I sent that to both her and Sassafras who didn’t seem at all surprised by our location or my reaction. Which meant she’d warned him ahead of time. Sneaky buggers, the pair of them.
Syd, Sass sent, no nonsense crackling with amber fire, this is important. Listen up.
Whatever. My demon hissed and snarled, Shaylee grumbling enough I was sure the ground would shift under my feet any second. Only my vampire remained silent. Shenka’s defection burned like an open wound, Tallah’s poaching made worse by the proximity. I could forget about it, at least a moment at a time, when I was home in Wilding Springs or anywhere that wasn’t right here, in this spot. But looking at the mouth of the beast just fired up my sense of outrage that did little to mask the broken heart I did my best to hide behind my temper.
I can’t do this alone, Mom sent. I’m worried about Tallah, Syd. But I can’t tell anyone else. You’re the only one I trust.
Donalda’s comment about the Hensley leader made me pause despite my anger and hurt. She’d said something similar. That she and the girls left because Tallah was acting strangely. I held my breath as Mom went on.
