Family Magic (12 page)

“Mom,” I started, “Gram—“

“Is a mess and who knows what she’s been up
to,” Mom snapped at me. “Really, Syd, is it too much to ask for you
to watch out for your grandmother? I was gone an hour and this
happens!”

I froze, letting the familiar anger wash over
me. I was used to being blamed by now, but it didn’t make it hurt
any less.

“Not sure how I’m supposed to do that from
soccer practice,” I snapped back.

“Your family is far more important than some
game, Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle,” Mom used my full name to push my
buttons. “She could have been hurt. Or worse, she could have hurt
someone.”

“I’m not her babysitter,” I said. “I have a
life. Be grateful I found her and brought her back.” My anger had
the better of my mouth.

Mom’s face turned a shade of purple.

“Get in the house, young lady, right
now!”

“Fine, I was headed there anyway!” I snapped
back. I stomped past her, and shoved the kitchen door, making it
squeal on its hinges.

“Get back here and help me clean up this
mess!” Mom yelled after me.

“Only when you get around to making up your
mind!” I kicked the door shut and ran up to my room before I
completely lost it.

I slammed my bedroom door without gaining any
satisfaction. I leaned against it, shaking with anger. This would
never work. What was I thinking? She was impossible and I was sick
of trying. I was done reaching out to her, before I even had the
chance.

Magic or no magic, I couldn’t wait to cut
myself loose from my crazy family.

***

In bed, I poured over the day, finding it
hard to shut down my mind. Now that I made my decision about
school, I couldn’t wait. I was looking forward to talking to Brad,
to making friends, to stop volunteering as a punching bag and just
be myself. And if they didn’t like me? No big change there. I was
mad at myself for letting the years of bullying get to me. When had
I gotten so weak, so unwilling to stand up for myself? When did
being like them become more important than being me?

My mind shied away from the answer. I think I
knew wherever it came from was at the core of my distaste for
magic. Ever since I could remember, I felt an aversion to using my
power, like something inside me screamed “No!” every time I tried
to tap in. It didn’t hurt or anything, aside from making my stomach
queasy and giving me a brief case of the dizzies. It almost felt
like my conscience trying to stop me. Over the years I’d grown to
listen to it. Maybe it meant I wasn’t supposed to be a witch after
all. Whatever the reason, even though I’d told Mom about it years
ago, neither of us had ever found a malignant influence, so I
learned to live with it. But not my power.

Mom. Yeah. I also had no desire to ponder my
relationship with her either. How was it I could love her so much
one minute and hate her guts the next?

Instead of digging deeper, telling myself I
did enough personal exploration for the day, thank you very much, I
drifted to the memory of talking to Brad Peters, of walking with
him, of the way his soft hair moved in the breeze, how his eyes
shone open and honest, his smile, his voice...

I was so lost in the fantasy, it took me a
few minutes to see my bedroom wasn’t as dark as it had been. Light
from the back yard poured through, sparkling from the crystals of
my chandelier.

I rolled over and to my knees, leaning over
the windowsill and peering out. It only took a heartbeat to
register what was about to happen. I leapt from bed and hit the
floor running, praying I would not be too late.

I flew down the stairs, heart pounding, feet
barely touching the floor and made the kitchen, sliding on sock
feet, barely catching myself from skidding the rest of the way
across the floor by grabbing the edge of the kitchen table. I made
it to the closest cupboard, breathless, scrambling for the half
empty bottle stuffed in the back behind the cans of soup and beans.
I heard and felt the build-up of power from the back yard and the
soft drone of a voice. I spun and dove for the back door, cursing
softly under my breath as I raced across the dew-wet grass to where
Gram stood, casting a very large and very noisy spell.

I wasn’t sure which was worse–the fact my
grandmother was totally naked or the glowing ball of light she
conjured. I’m not sure what the neighbors did to offend her, but
whatever she was bringing to life, it would flatten their elegant
two-story, no questions asked.

I spun the top from the bottle of tequila as
I slid to a halt beside her and shoved the smooth glass into her
right hand, bringing it up forcefully to her mouth. Her incantation
halted abruptly. She grasped the bottle with both hands, guzzling
from it like a baby with milk. The glowing ball dissipated as her
attention switched to the tequila.

I snatched her gown from the ground and threw
it around her shoulders, taking her by the elbow, leading her back
to the house. I risked a glance around at the surrounding
homes.

That stupid dog was in my yard, staring
again.

I was so mad, I reacted differently than I
normally would have. In a fit of anger, I bent and picked up one of
Meira’s discarded toys.

“Beat it!” I yelled, throwing the plastic
doll directly at him.

He ignored the attack as it missed him by a
long shot and continued to stare.

Worried now my outburst would awaken the
neighbors, I scowled at the huge monster of a dog while pushing
Gram toward the door. By the time I maneuvered her into the house,
the dog had left. All was dark and quiet. I was relieved to get her
safely inside. I turned off the outside light. By then the bottle
was empty. She glared at me over the remains of the tequila and
shook it.

“More!” She demanded. I glared right back,
angry now the adrenaline wore off.

“Gram!” I snapped. “What were you thinking?
Oh, never mind,” I took the bottle from her. “You weren’t.”

I could tell from the silence in the house
all the adults were out. Mom or Uncle Frank would have sensed the
power before I did and come running if they were home.

I managed to get Gram back to her room,
dressed and into bed. It took some time to right her sheets and
quilt. Gram was an expert at making a mess. I ignored the scorch
marks on the bright yellow walls, leftovers from earlier tantrums.
Good thing the room was so heavily warded. Gram could do her worst
and the room would just take it. It was a testament to her strength
she was able to mark up the pretty paint my mom picked for her.

By the time I had her settled the tequila
kicked in. She was nice and pliable. She giggled at me, wispy white
hair everywhere. I smoothed it out as best I could. Twice in one
day, had to be some kind of record. Mom must have really been
slipping.

“How did you get out?” I asked her, a
rhetorical question considering she watched me with the
intelligence of a four year old.

That’s why I was so surprised when she
answered.

“He was really nice,” she whispered.

“Who was nice, Gram?” I asked.

“The man,” she said. She broke into laughter,
kicking her feet, rolling her head back and forth on the pillow.
She obviously thought it was funny.

I wasn’t laughing.

“Right, Gram,” I said.

Her gaze shifted in a blink. If I didn’t know
better, I’d say there was fear in her eyes.

“He opened the door,” she said, shrinking
down under the blankets. “He said it was all right, I could go out.
Was it all right, Mother?” She sat up and grabbed my arm so hard I
knew I’d be bruised the next day. “Was I bad?” She started to cry,
wail really, clutching at me as tears streaked her cheeks and mucus
ran from her nose.

Well. That was a first. I tried not to show
my revulsion as I grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned her
up.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I used my best
soothing voice. “You didn’t do anything bad.”

She lay back and snuffled. “He was scary,”
she whispered. “I couldn’t feel him right.”

I tucked her in, not wanting to abandon her
to her fantasy but unwilling to spend the time it would take to
really comfort her.

“It’s okay, Gram,” I said as I stood up. “He
won’t come back.”

“Promise?” She said.

I pulled her door almost closed and turned
off the light. “Promise.”

“Do you…” her voice was soft, mournful,
almost.

I rolled my eyes and tried to be patient.

“Do I what, Gram?”

Her sheets were drawn up under her chin,
wispy hair falling over her washed-out blue eyes.

“Do you have something for me?” She
asked.

For some reason, I heard that question from
her my entire life. Years ago, I tried to find out what I was
supposed to give her. These days, I didn’t bother trying anymore.
Nothing I gave her ever seemed to satisfy.

“Sorry, Gram,” I said. “Get some sleep,
okay?”

I closed the door behind me. Sad but true,
Mom was forced to keep Gram in most of the time so she wouldn’t be
able to do exactly what she attempted to do. But it was way more
for my grandmother’s protection than the neighbors.

I tapped in. For someone who didn’t want to
be a witch and refused to have anything to do with magic, I seemed
to be doing the opposite lately.

I shoved aside the squeamish feeling rising
and the feeling of wrongness that always came from using my magic,
focusing instead on the physical lock for the triple wards Mom set
on the door every night. I swallowed back the rush of hot tang the
use of my talent left in the back of my throat. But despite my
attempts, there were no telltale ward lines, no residue of power,
just an ordinary door.

I stepped back and thought about it. Could my
mother have forgotten? On her way somewhere important, in a rush? I
shook my head to myself. No way, that wasn’t in Mom’s makeup.
Besides, she tucked Gram in personally every night so she knew
without a doubt her mother was safe. So where were the wards?

I was at a total loss. I did next to no study
in magic, and didn’t even know where to start to rebuild the ones
Mom used. I hunted around as best I could with my limited training.
I almost gave up when I brushed something I didn’t recognize. My
demon blood roared to life so suddenly I would have fallen if I
hadn’t sat.

A faint residue of something triggered the
other half of me, something my demon did not like one bit,
something she recognized, but I had no idea what. There was a rush
of sudden heat, the power dipping inside me, sending first a thrill
down my spine at the total rightness of it then a surge of nausea
so violent, I had to pull back for a moment. This was important,
had to be. My whole body went to war over the connection. How could
I crave that feeling and be so sick from it at the same time?

There was no way I was letting it push me
around. I drew a breath and probed harder. But when I struggled to
examine it more closely, it dissipated, as if me poking around made
it go away.

I dragged myself to my feet when my demon
just as quickly relaxed, leaving me drained but back in control.
Whatever it was, it was gone, and so was the part of me reacting
instinctively to it.

Okay, I admit it. I was scared. And excited
all at the same time. The magic I felt hung in my mind like residue
of something I missed. But every time I focused on it, the part of
me that hated magic slammed down over my senses and drove me
out.

It was the most frustrating ten minutes of my
life.

I finally gave in, making a mental note to
talk to Mom. Whatever this was, I knew I had to be on to
something.

After a quick debate with myself, I went
upstairs and retrieved my quilt and pillows, trudging back
downstairs to my grandmother’s door. I piled up my stuff on the
floor and made as comfortable a nest as I could, deciding my best
bet was to play sentry with my body if I couldn’t with my
power.

***

I must have been way more tired than I
thought because the next thing I remembered was my mom leaning over
me, worry plain.

She was about to be very unhappy.

“Syd,” she helped me sit up, my comforter
collapsing around me as I rubbed the blur from my eyes. “What
happened?”

I could tell from her stricken look she
already knew her wards were gone.

“Not sure,” I answered, getting up from the
floor and gathering up my pillow and quilt. “But Gram’s safe and
sound, so no worries.” I yawned, almost missing the fear on her
face.

“Did she get out?” Mom stared at the door,
arms hugging herself.

“Yeah,” I said, “but she made the mistake of
turning the outside light on. I spotted her and reached her in
time. Man, I don’t know what the Griesan’s did to her but she was
stirring up one whopper of a spell.” I grinned.

Mom spun on me. “This isn’t funny, Sydlynn,”
she snapped. “Not even a little bit.”

My defenses slammed up so hard I barely had
time to brace myself. “She’s safe, isn’t she? So are the
neighbors.”

“This time,” she said. “What happened to the
wards?”

“I have no idea,” I answered. “They were gone
when I got here.”

“She couldn’t have,” Mom talked more to
herself than me, shaking her head. She stared at the door again,
“not from the inside. You’re sure you didn’t let her out?”

I scowled at her. No way was she pinning this
on me. I saved Gram’s butt twice in twenty-four hours and this was
the thanks I got?

“I think I’d remember cutting through your
wards and letting the crazy lady out, Mom,” I said in my most
biting tone.

Wow. I’d never seen that particular
expression on her face before. Was she mad.

“You will have more respect for your
grandmother in my presence,” she was really angry, the most angry
I’d ever seen her. Didn’t do much to disarm me either, because part
of me knew she was right. Still, I wasn’t in the mood to be called
on it.