Family Magic (31 page)

I saw the expression on Batsheva’s face as
she recognized she was losing control of the situation. I even knew
the moment she made her decision to destroy Mom if she could.

I just wasn’t in any position to stop it.

“Yes, Miriam,” she said, “tell us what to do.
Tell us how to find this traitor.” A whisper of power slid around
the circle. The witches wavered. “Tell us, oh mighty leader, how to
make this,” she gestured around at the damaged group, “right. Tell
us how you plan to reverse this, to save us all, because so far you
have only managed to bring this coven to its knees.”

They leaned to Batsheva, linking to her. They
agreed with her, actually
agreed
. I felt her win them over
at the same time my mother did.

Mom sighed. Whatever she clung to faded. I
watched her crumple in on herself. I couldn’t help her because she
wouldn’t let me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve failed you
all.”

Batsheva must have sensed victory because she
softened and approached us with gentle concern that turned my
stomach.

“Miriam,” she said. “As much as we want to
believe you, you have no proof. Do you?”

My mother shook her head. I wanted to
scream.

“So we have only your word,” Batsheva went
on.

I wanted to tear her a new one.

“You understand how this looks, sounds,” she
finished.

Mom was drained, done. I wanted to die.

“I have known you most of my life,” Batsheva
said. “Since we were girls together. You have always been a woman
of integrity, we all know that,” she turned to the other witches,
“don’t we?”

Murmured assent. At least they weren’t going
to throw us on the Samhain fire. Things were looking up.

“Miriam,” Batsheva went on, “you have served
this coven faithfully until now. But, I think it’s more than
obvious to everyone you can no longer fulfill that role.”

A moan from many throats. She had spoken it,
said the words that made the thought on everyone’s mind real. I
choked on tears, turned to Mom, desperate. Surely she would fight
back. Wouldn’t she?

Not this time. My mother stood frozen and
quiet. I worried she was taken again. But the eyes raised to mine
were hers. I figured out about a heartbeat too late what she
planned to do and why.

To protect my sister, to protect me and Gram
and Dad, Miriam Hayle made the ultimate sacrifice.

“My coven,” she said. “What say you? Am I
still leader or do you choose another?”

A wave of shock turned to fear turned to
agreement. Celeste stepped forward.

“We choose another,” she said.

Mom, my amazing mother, simply stepped
back.

“Done,” she said, and it was.

At first, there was nothing, held breath and
total quiet. The power, our family power, began to gather about
her, glowing ropes of blue and amber, twining around itself as it
came. It coiled, her body buried in the pulsing column embracing
her, a living, breathing thing that made Miriam Hayle who she was.
I saw her expression change as she forced it from her, face
crumpling in despair.

I could only imagine the pain it caused
her.

It rose from her, came off in a wave, but
didn’t leave her completely. She staggered as it separated from
her, the thin touch of its tail wrapped firmly around her left
wrist, anchored. I felt the brush of it as it flowed past me,
inhaled its sweet breath of fresh earth and flowers. I smelled the
distinct aroma of lilac.

It wound its way through the crowd, passing
through the broken coven, a flaming ghost. It brushed a witch here,
a witch there, but didn’t settle. In fact, it seemed to be
struggling in its search, trying to retreat over and over to the
form of its owner. She held it off despite its wishes and it
finally relented. I watched as it slid around Celeste, lighting her
face with its brilliant glow, heard my mother whisper. It moved on
to circle Erica. I knew then Mom guided it, making the best choice
she could under the circumstances. Despite my concern for her, I
knew she was doing her best to keep us safe.

The column of gold and blue bumped against
Erica, nuzzling her like a puppy. I felt Mom’s relief. I also felt
her let go. The thin wisp that kept her tied to it slipped away.
The family magic dove at its target.

There was a surge out of nowhere. The
collected energy seemed to divert as it flew to its choice. It
crossed the last few feet and instead plunged into Batsheva
Moromond like she called it to her.

No way. Batsheva, the new leader? It had to
be a set up. The final lash that drew the column to her was no
coincidence. I thought more and more that the Moromonds had to have
something to do with the traitor. But now that she was leader… I
stepped up to my mother and took her arm. She leaned on me, feeling
somehow smaller, more frail than she ever had before. When she
looked up at me, the woman I knew was gone with the power of the
coven.

On the other hand, Batsheva glowed.

“My friends,” she said, voice full with the
magic, “my thanks for choosing me. I am honored by your faith. You
will not live to regret it, I assure you.”

Odd choice of words but I ignored her. I was
too focused on my mom.

She had ideas for that, too.

“Miriam Hayle,” Batsheva said, “I hereby
banish you from the coven and rename it. Strength and light to the
Moromond Coven.”

“Strength and light,” came the heavy
murmur.

“We shall repair our bonds, heal our wounds,
rebuild stronger than ever.”

Sounded like empty words to me, but I wasn’t
with the program any more. By banishing my mother, she effectively
cut Meira, Gram and I off too.

The circle collapsed. We were no longer a
part of it anyway. I couldn’t stand being there any longer. I
wanted to get my mother out. Everyone made a big deal out of not
watching us as I guided Mom out of the pentagram, away from the
family she used to lead, past people I knew my whole life who now
couldn’t even meet my eyes. As we stepped past the last burnt out
candle. I heard Batsheva start to give orders and draw her witches
to her. I hated them all so much, blamed them for their
betrayal.

I hoped the traitor took them after all.

I felt a tiny hand grab my sweater hem and I
knew Meira was with us. But it wasn’t until I had us at the Mustang
that I heard my grandmother start to cackle and knew Gram followed
too.

“Great party,” she rolled her eyes, smacking
her lips with drool running over her chin.

“Yeah,” I said. “Great. Meira,” I turned to
my quietly weeping sister. “Can you help Gram get in the back?”

Meira left me to go to Gram. I steered Mom to
the passenger seat. It was a testament to the state she was in she
didn’t argue about me driving her car. I worried, not to scratch it
up or anything, but because I only started to learn to drive and
wasn’t sure if I could get us all home in one piece. My luck, we’d
get pulled over. But there was no way I was letting any of them
near my mother and she couldn’t drive, so I was it.

I climbed into the driver’s seat and fixed
the rear view with shaking hands. Gram leaned forward, staring
intently at me through the mirror, her hands grasping me from where
she sat behind me.

“Darkness is here,” she said.

“Gram…” I tried to pull free but she wouldn’t
look away.

“More to come,” she whispered. “More to go.
Soon, light loses…”

She let me go, leaning back in her seat,
rocking herself. I thought she went back to wherever it was she did
in her crazy world. Meira still cried. I almost missed the words
Gram whispered under her humming. I focused on her lips in the
mirror. I made her out and my blood ran cold.

“Light loses,” she said over and over,
“darkness wins.”

I turned on the radio so I wouldn’t have to
hear.

***

I’m pretty sure I broke almost every driving
rule and traffic law out there on that ride home. But luck was with
us. The road was quiet. We avoided the police and the Mustang still
had an intact transmission by the time I pulled into the driveway
and turned off the ignition.

Not that I planned to kiss the pavement or
anything, but I was happy to be home.

Mom stayed silent on the drive. Aside from
the soft crying that eased as Meira hiccupped her way to exhaustion
and the hum of the radio, the car was quiet. Even Gram stopped her
endless chanting, something I was grateful for.

I managed to get my mother out of the car and
into the house. It was so still, it seemed like even the house knew
we didn’t belong there anymore.

I maneuvered Mom into a chair and turned to
Meira and Gram.

“Meira,” I said softly, “stay with Mom,
okay?”

She climbed up into Mom’s lap as I led Gram
through the house to her room. She followed, more docile than I had
ever seen her. I left her there, sitting on her bed, still rocking
and rocking.

I went back to the kitchen.

“Mom,” I said, “we have to talk.”

She shook her head, arms clasping Meira
tightly to her.

“Mom,” I tried again. “Please, talk to
me.”

She stood, dumping Meira on the floor, eyes
wild but empty of power.

“Talk?” She said, her voice harsh. “Talk
about what, Syd? It’s gone, the power’s gone! You don’t care, you
never wanted it, how can you understand? You don’t understand…” she
drifted off. “You’ll never understand.”

But I did. I totally got it. She gave up the
only life she ever knew, the very thing she was born to do, and now
she was completely empty. I could feel it in her, like a huge,
gaping wound. I would have done anything to help her heal.

Instead, I let her leave the kitchen, heard
her drag herself up the stairs. I shut my eyes at the sound of her
closing bedroom door. I stood there, trying to make sense of what
happened. I failed miserably. I think I would have curled up on
myself like Mom did if it hadn’t been for Meira.

Her tiny hand slipped into mine and the
spell, the last gift my mother gave me, woke me up. I knew above
everything else, I had to keep my sister safe.

“Syd,” she said, tears starting again.
“What’s going to happen to us?”

I lifted her up and carried her into the dark
living room. I sat on the wide sofa with her in my arms and held
her, stroking her hair.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll take care of you,
Meems. I’ll take care of everything.”

“What about Mom?” She snuffled and wiped at
her face with her sleeve.

“She’ll be okay too,” I lied. “She just needs
some time to adjust.”

“I can’t feel her very well anymore,” Meira
whispered.

I drew a deep breath. “I know,” I said.

“Does that mean she’s not a witch anymore?”
She asked.

“I don’t know,” I told her. “But she’s still
our mother.”

“Yeah,” she said. “She is.”

We sat in the dark for quite a while,
clinging to each other, trying to forget what we had been
through.

It wasn’t long before Meira fell asleep. I
didn’t have the energy to carry her upstairs. I laid her on the
sofa and spread a blanket over her, brushing her hair back as a
soft curl fell on her cheek. I left her there, decision made before
I knew I made it.

I went to the basement. I stood in the
pentagram of the silent, dead house and felt around. My mother’s
magic was gone, fading like old perfume in the air of that quiet
place. It was the first time I fully grasped how much of my mother
went into everywhere we stayed. No matter where we went, no matter
how many times we moved, the house we lived in always felt like
home. As I stood there in the dark, damp basement smelling of mold
and age, for the first time I sensed nothing, no connection, no
warmth, only that I didn’t belong there and never would again.

I stood there and just felt it. After a
moment I pushed it aside. Time to do something about it, if I
could. I went to my father’s statue and looked up at him, his stone
likeness as cold as the house. I reached out and touched him,
running my fingers over the rough grain of the granite that made
him, feeling nothing. I took a deep breath to calm myself and tried
something I never thought I would.

I summoned my demon and called
Haralthazar.

As my demon came to me, a crippling wave of
nausea tried to hold me back. I shoved it aside, refusing to let it
stop me as I reached and reached, finding the edge of the doorway
that was his statue, feeling for him, calling him as I had seen my
mother do so many times before. She made it seem easy, but of
course she had a magic bond with him to expedite matters. But, so
did I. The demon within me should have been all the connection I
needed.

The gate cracked open but before it could
widen I met with a barrier. It was like struggling against a
curtain, a thick, textured veil of something wet and heavy that
never quite seemed to part. It flexed and flowed around my power. I
pushed harder and the curtain gave but stretched and didn’t tear.
I’m not sure whose idea it was to cut it, but I think it was my
demon. She sliced through the veil and for a brief and tantalizing
moment the door was open and I brushed the edges of my father. We
connected.

He wasn’t in Demonicon. And he wasn’t here,
either. He floated in some sort of limbo between the planes,
trapped and unable to speak to me. But he made it very clear we
were in real trouble. I hoped he would be able to come to our
rescue, somehow, to help Mom, restore her maybe, and help me find
Uncle Frank and Sass. But I understood as we touched in that moment
of stretched forever that Dad was in magical chains, a prisoner to
the traitor. Worse yet, his strength was being siphoned out of him
to feed something larger, something horrible. Despite our brief
contact, I couldn’t help him any more than he could help me.