by Patti Larsen
Ethie groaned, but Gabriel took her hand firmly in his and smiled up at me, leading his sister away. She stomped all the way to the door, head down, face scrunched in irritation. I barely held in my laughter, Dad’s lips twitching, until the pair was safely inside.
Dad’s snort released my amusement and we laughed together for a moment.
“I hate to say it,” he told me with a grin of pure evil, “but I think she’s actually worse than you were. If that’s possible.”
I smacked his arm. “Thanks, Dad.”
He hugged me, chin resting on the top of my head. “Love you, cupcake.”
Sigh.
When he let me go I didn’t even bother commenting. He’d been calling me that since I was a little girl and no amount of chastising would make him stop. Ever. Besides, though I’d never admit it to him, I’d grown to love his term of endearment.
He joined me in the kitchen, the two of us barely sitting down when the shields in the back yard quivered one more time and the familiar, chocolaty power of my husband registered in the family magic. Quaid sauntered in a moment later with a hearty shoulder clasp for Dad. He crossed to me, bending to kiss me, the heat of his skin warming me up and making me feel instantly better.
Our lips weren’t connected nearly long enough, though. He sank into the chair beside me with a tired sigh, one big hand running over his face. He’d developed a few lines on his forehead, barely noticeable, but there. Seeing him age, even that little bit, always made me nervous. We were both twenty-nine, but I’d stay like this forever while Quaid…
Yeah, not going to think about that, thanks.
“Long day?” He’d been gone since before breakfast, spending the majority of his time at Harvard, too, though for different reasons. His reinstatement into the Enforcer order had been on purpose. I knew Mom was grooming him, with the help of her present Leader, Varity Rhodes, to take over the Enforcer leadership as soon as possible. That meant a crash course in being the boss man. I didn’t envy him and worried sometimes, though if anyone could handle it, it was Quaid.
He grinned at me. “I’m having the most fun of my life,” he said, dark eyes sparkling, the scruff on his cheeks making him look so delicious I wished Dad wasn’t here. My husband’s hand squeezed my knee, fingers drifting up my thigh under the table, out of my father’s view. I shivered slightly at his touch and the glittering in his eyes. “So, yeah. Long day. But it’s worth it.”
Seeing him this way made me so happy. Quaid gave up his place as an Enforcer to marry me, and I could only guess at the massive sacrifice he’d had to make. When Mom and I told him he was welcome, that the laws had been changed, the boy in him—a boy I’d only seen once or twice, one who had been beaten and kicked and almost broken—showed up in his hoot of joy.
We’d celebrated. And celebrated. I blushed, thinking about it. Maybe I could convince him an encore was in order…
“How are the new headquarters treating you?” Dad’s grin told me he knew he was breaking my focus, and I blushed all over again.
“Not bad.” Quaid sat back, shrugging his wide shoulders inside his black t-shirt. His dark curls fell to the collar, longer than he’d worn it in ages and my fingers itched to run through those shining strands, to caress the hot skin of the back of his neck.
Down, girl.
Quaid shifted in his seat, hand climbing further up my leg as he went on.
“It’s not the Stronghold,” he said. “But I think we’ll manage just fine.”
The former home of the North American Enforcer order was also the center of the Universe and the focus of my other problem. None of us realized just how important it was until it was too late. That it housed the broken body of Creator, nine parts scattered around the Universe. It wasn’t until the heart was stolen, the Stronghold’s personality silenced with its theft, that my drach friend, Max, and I figured out what was going on.
A huge mess waited to tear the Universe apart, and Liander Belaisle was right in the middle of it. Not content any longer to rule this plane, he’d tied himself to Dark Brother, Creator’s sibling in the other Universe, and was attempting to steal the pieces of Creator. For what ultimate purpose we could only make educated guesses. But that theft, we believed, was the source of the loss of the Fate’s ability to see the future.
Bad to worse. While I struggled to balance the fate of the Universe with the safety of witches here on this plane.
“I know Varity has been after Miriam to just promote you,” Dad said.
Quaid fell suddenly silent, head dropping, a tiny frown pulling his dark brows together. His hand retreated from my leg, a forced smile coming to his face as he rubbed his thighs aggressively.
“She has,” he said. And that was all.
Which immediately made my witchy—and wifey—senses fire off on all rockets.
Dad left a few minutes later. I hugged him and let him go, watching him cross the yard to the house next door. It was nice not to have normal neighbors anymore, with my mom and dad—at least when she was able—just across the grass.
I turned and went back inside, climbing the stairs to the kid’s rooms. I peeked in on Ethie, finding Quaid tucking her in. She was already asleep, dark hair spread over her pillow, one hand curled up against her cheek like the petals of a precious flower. Sassafras perched next to her, his furry tail brushing over her shoulder. I kissed my sleeping daughter and left Quaid to finish up before going to Gabriel’s room.
He was sitting up, looking down at his hands where green sparks danced and turned like tiny fireflies. I crossed to him, sank to the side of the bed. His hands closed convulsively over the sparks, killing them, as his serious face turned up toward mine.
I could tell there was something bothering him right away. His empathy came from his father, as deep seated as Liam’s had been, the Sidhe in him doing nothing to cut his emotional sensitivity.
“Mom,” he said. “All the bad stuff that happened, all the witches that died. Was that my fault?”
He said what? “Who told you that?” I leaned in, protective mother mode on full blast.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, sighing. “It’s true, then.”
I cupped his chin in one hand, forced him to look up at me. The green sparks he’d played with now lit his hazel eyes.
“Listen to me,” I said. “None of this is your fault, my fault, anyone’s. But Liander Belaisle. You understand, Gabriel?”
He didn’t argue with a gesture, but his expression didn’t change.
“I know what I did when I was young was a bad thing.” He said the words as though he’d rehearsed them. “I’ve heard the talk, Mom. About what Ameline made me do. The Gateway to the other Universe. Everyone thinks that was the start of all the trouble.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Gabriel’s determination to take on the world’s problems faded in confusion as I shook my head, still chuckling.
“Sweets,” I said. “I can promise you, trouble started long before you were born. And only weak minds look for someone to blame when they could be focusing on a solution.”
Gabriel nodded, relaxing a little. “But I did make a mess,” he said.
“You did.” I stroked his hair back from his forehead, the soft freckles on his nose wrinkling at the gesture. “But that wasn’t your fault, either. Fate made sure you were there, that I was there. And Ameline.” My former nemesis, Ameline Benoit, under the influence of Fate, stole my son and aged him faster than normal, using him to open the gateway. “And we’re dealing with it. Gabriel, we all make mistakes. But what you did wasn’t a mistake. It was necessary.”
I think I got through to him. He smiled at me, hugged me hard. He smelled of the earth and fabric softener and my arms clutched him tight, a sob held firmly in my chest. He didn’t need to see me break down at the reminder of how much he was like his father.
And how much I missed Liam still.
“I remember her, you know.” Gabriel’s whisper was muffled against my shirt. I r
eleased him, let him fall back into his headboard. “Ameline.” There was no fear on his face or in his power, but there was sadness. “She wasn’t a very nice person, Mom.”
I had no idea he still carried memories of her. He’d never mentioned it. And now, knowing what I did about her, that her soul remained trapped in the maji chamber under the vampire mansion not so far from here… maybe there was a way to ease his conscience further.
Was I really considering bringing my son to see the woman who almost killed me?
“Sometimes I think I’m missing something important,” he said. “When I’m with Nana and she’s teaching me to use my power. I know more than she does.” He shivered. “Mom, I can see everything when I really want to.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I was afraid for him suddenly, wanted to wrap him up in magic and protect him forever. My demon rumbled her concern, Shaylee’s earth power sharp. But my vampire sighed and spoke.
He must make his own way, she sent. As you did. And we will be here for him. But if he fails or succeeds, that is out of our control.
Gabriel settled down as my mind churned, snuggling under his covers. He sighed softly, eyes closing, drifting off to sleep while I hovered over my precious son and wondered what to do.
A wet nose pressed into my hand, the giant bulk of the black hound, Galleytrot, settling next to me. His heavy head landed in my lap as he joined me in staring at Gabriel.
“He is special,” the dog rumbled, the sound of a thunderstorm approaching. “And has his own destiny to fulfill, Syd, I have no doubt of that.”
“You’ll watch over him?” I wanted to cry, felt tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I pressed one hand over my mouth to hold in my sadness.
“Always,” Galleytrot said. “As will you. But he is the child of two Universes, now, Syd. And I fear that means we may not be able to protect him from what is to come.”
I’d been feeling the same way for a while now. Bad enough he was growing up. Whatever the Universe had in store for my son, if it was anything like what I’d faced, I could only worry and hope I’d given him the tools he needed to make the right choices.
I sat there a long time with the giant hound’s head on my knees, willing Gabriel to be safe and small and sweet forever, knowing this was a battle I would never win.
***
Chapter Five
By the time I slipped into our bedroom, Quaid was already sliding under the covers. I had yet to tell him about my day, or he me about his, but from the weary look on his face I knew it would have to wait.
Still, the issue of Gabriel was too troubling to let go. I hopped up onto the bed, hands toying with the hem of the sheets as Quaid sighed and settled into his pillow, bare arm dark against the cotton.
“Gabriel seems to think the loss of witches was his fault.” Anger roared suddenly now I was out of my son’s gentle influence. “Who the hell would tell him that?”
Quaid’s dark eyes blinked slowly. “You know witches,” he said, sounding sleepy. Too sleepy for my liking. This was our son we were talking about. “They like to blame, speculate, pass rumors. He must have overheard some busybodies looking for a target. It’s nothing, Syd.”
“Nothing?” My brow tightened, hands fisting around the sheet. “He’s seven, Quaid. He doesn’t need that kind of pressure on him.” I thought of what he’d said, how he could see everything if he tried. What did that mean? Anxiety bloomed along with my anger, the perfect one-two combination to render me an insomniac.
“He’s a sensitive kid,” Quaid said, yawning into one fist before closing his eyes. “He’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.”
I prodded him sharply with one finger. “Not good enough,” I snapped.
Quaid’s eyes opened, his own anger flaring. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, okay? He’s smart, Syd. He’ll get it. But he has to learn to stand up for himself and not take things personally.”
He did not just say that to me.
I opened my mouth to start a fight—knowing it would start a fight—only to have Quaid roll over and turn his back to me.
“Give it a rest, babe, would you?” Quaid sighed again. “I’m wiped. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
Good thing I loved his Enforcer ass. Or he’d be out in the front yard with all his crap looking for a new place to live.
It took me a long time to get to sleep, as I expected, the soft snoring Quaid settled into just adding to my irritation. But, I finally drifted off, though when I woke, groggy and cranky, he was already gone. A quick power sweep of the house just made me angry all over again. Quaid had already left for the day.
So much for helping me with Liam.
Syd. Gabriel.
Right.
I stomped down to the kitchen, realizing the kids were gone, too. I must have slept in. The coffee pot was almost empty, adding to my annoyance, and I grumbled and complained softly to myself as I made a fresh batch. Where was Shenka? She usually took care of it.
Whiner.
By the time I settled down at the table with a pair of partially burnt toast slathered in peanut butter and a piping cup of coffee, my mood had deteriorated into sullen funk. So, when Shenka finally swept into the kitchen, a frown on her face at the mess by the toaster, I latched onto her.
“Can you believe he just left this morning?” She was always good for a bitch fest with me when I needed one. Not often, I wasn’t that kind of person, really. But every once in a while it felt good to vent with her. “He promised he’d talk to Gabriel with me and instead he just vanished.”
Shenka didn’t reply, pouring her own cup of coffee. Her hands shook slightly, but I didn’t comment, just sank deeper into my angst. If talking about Quaid didn’t get her going, I’d have to shift complaints.
“I wish we could just find the next damned piece of Creator already.” Weeks. It had been weeks. And not a sniff of luck. For all I knew, Belaisle had the others already and we were screwed. Man, I was in the worst mood ever.
“I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time.” Shenka’s tone said just the opposite. Her testiness came through loud and clear.
I glared at her over the lip of my mug. “Thanks a whole lot, Shenka.”
She tossed her dark hair, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry,” she said, though her tension screamed otherwise. “I’ve just been so busy with the new coven members.” Ever since the Brotherhood retreated, we’d been accepting refugees from fallen covens into our family. We’d grown almost double in the last six weeks. My bad mood vanished in my own rush of guilt.
“No, I’m sorry,” I said, sitting up straighter. “You’ve been handling everything. Can I help?”
For a moment, her face softened and she smiled at me. The old Shenka I adored was home, with me again, and everything was all right. Then, her eyes tightened just before she turned away. “I can handle it,” she said. “I’m your second, after all.” Was that bitterness? Where was it coming from? I stood up, went to her, but her bright, brittle smile told me she didn’t want to talk about it. “I’ll do my job and you take care of the big stuff.” Definitely a bite to her words. “As usual.”
Before I could ask her what the hell her problem was, she stomped from the kitchen, leaving her coffee steaming on the counter. I stared down into the creamy liquid, alternating between irritation and sadness. Things had been strained between us since she came back from California. What had Tallah said to her? Or, was Shenka just tired of being second in our crazy family?
“It’s not always about you, you know.” I spun to find Sassafras cleaning one front paw from his perch in the center of the kitchen table. “There’s been a lot of upheaval, Syd. Things will smooth out again. You just need to be patient.”
I flopped down into my chair, no longer hungry for my crispy toast. “I know that,” I said.
“I don’t think you do.” The silver Persian swatted at me before resuming his grooming. “Let her deal with her issues. On her own terms.”
I sighed out the last of my bad mood. “And I should deal with mine, is that it, fuzzy butt?”
Sassafras just glared with his amber eyes. I leaned in, ran one finger down his furry tail.
“Okay,” I said. “I get it.” He hopped down from the table as I stood and headed for the basement door, coffee cup in hand. “Just, keep an eye on her for me, would you?”
Sass nodded, slipping past me down the stairs as I began my descent. “Always.”
With that assurance, I let go of my worries about my son, my husband, my best friend and family. Had to. I had bigger issues to tackle this morning. And a pair of Universes to save all over again.
The concrete floor was rough under my bare feet, but ignored it as I settled into the power in the basement. I’d had to embed it all over again after we returned to the house when the Brotherhood threat was chased off. For a while, this place felt like a normal’s home, not like the place I spent the last thirteen years. Amazing how emotional it made me. It was, after all, just a building of wood and stone.
But it was home. With the family magic returned to it, it had that solid, dependable feeling about it even more than ever.
Sassafras came to a halt in the middle of the basement, his tail flicking over the center of the pentagram. “Have you spoken to your mother yet?”
Damn. Oops. “I’ll get to it,” I said, sinking into a lotus position behind him. He turned slowly to face me, his cat brow arched, fire flaring in his eyes. “I promise. Was a little busy last night.”
Sassafras shrugged. “And Femke?”
I didn’t want to talk about it. “Stop being so bossy,” I said.
“You two have been cool and cordial with each other for weeks now,” he said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the brief times you’ve been in touch. When are you going to bend that proud neck of yours, Syd? Femke is your friend.”
Grumble, mumble. “She could apologize first.”
Sassafras sighed. “I am the last person to criticize you for standing your ground,” he said. “But when it comes at the cost of a valuable ally and personal relationship, I don’t mind telling you I think you’re daft.”
