Family Magic (15 page)

“What?” I said back. “Let loose?”

He laughed, cynical and jaded well beyond
anything I had experience with. But with parents like his, I hardly
wondered where that attitude came from. I’d be pretty dark too if I
had Batsheva Moromond for a mother.

I had to plant that image in my head, didn’t
I?

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought
about it,” I admitted. “But I’d never do it.”

“Never?” His dark eyes challenged me, still
smiling while my demon half pushed me to agree with him.

“Never,” I made it a firm no in spite of her.
He laughed again.

“Yeah,” he almost whispered. “Me
neither.”

We exchanged a moment that made me
uncomfortable, all the more so because he felt so open and raw to
me. I didn’t want that glimpse inside him or his life. I didn’t
want to know how troubled he was or that his life sucked more than
mine. I almost had the impression he was asking for more than just
a conversation. Was he really reaching out?

Damn it. I had my own problems. But my demon
wouldn’t let me walk away.

“You’re doing a good job for someone who says
he doesn’t want to fit in.” Was that resentment showing its filthy
head? Probably.

That made him laugh again, as harshly as
before. “You could say that, I guess.” His dark eyes drifted away
from me, expression bored. “I could if I wanted to. And I don’t.
I’m not sure why it’s so important to you.” His gaze snapped back
to me. “Why take crap they hand you when you’re so much better than
that?”

It couldn’t have been a compliment. “In case
you hadn’t noticed, that’s exactly what I did.” It was like he
purposely tried to goad me. But my anger had faded, replaced by
curiosity of my own tied to wondering about how his attitude could
affect the family. I wondered if I should bring it to Mom’s
attention.

He shrugged, the smirk coming back. “The
thing about old habits is they tend to come back.” Like he expected
me to revert? Never. Or was he talking to me at all?

Quaid didn’t look dangerous or like a loose
cannon. Mind you, I didn’t think I did, either. My demon really
liked him but I wasn’t trusting her as a good judge of character.
Still, maybe it was normal high school angst? If anyone could
understand that, surely it was me. Still, I decided to keep a
closer eye on Quaid Moromond, just in case.

That made my demon incredibly happy.

Since when did I care? Guess even the
suggestion of a threat to the coven brought out protective feelings
in me and made me wonder if I really wanted to be cut loose after
all. Or did I want my cake and eat it too?

I hated it when I doubted myself. And this
was a big one.

I walked away from Quaid and headed home on
my own, leaving him to grin after me like he knew something I
didn’t. I had a feeling regardless of whether he was a danger to
the family or not, Quaid was a threat to me and the way I thought
about the world. I was starting to understand his presence was
going to be more of a challenge to my choices than I first thought,
not to mention the sulking my demon did every time I made her leave
him behind. Why I would let some strange boy affect my way of
thinking, I had no idea, but the way he pushed me to admit the
truth to myself pissed me off more and more the further I was from
him.

My mental conversation turned so heated I
stopped halfway home and turned around to confront him. I pulled
myself back to reality almost immediately. Kind of a stupid thing
to go charging after him when I had absolutely no idea where he
lived.

When I let it drop, reality rushed in. It was
Wednesday, and that meant because of my little chat with Quaid I
was about to be late for soccer for the very first time ever.

I ran the last block.

I tore through the kitchen and up to my room,
dumping everything to change into my uniform. Somehow Mom managed
to get the chocolate out of my jersey. Probably magic, but at the
time she could have chanted it out with a smoking stick of incense
in her underwear and I wouldn’t have cared less.

Well, maybe not in her underwear.

I hit the kitchen at a full run and ran into
my mom. Before I had a chance to dodge her she stopped me with a
hand on my arm. For the first time, I noticed the way she was
dressed.

Fear punched me in the stomach so hard I had
nothing to say.

Normally, Mom dressed in flowing skirts,
blouses, large silver jewelry. She didn’t get she looked like the
stereotypical witch right down to the delicate pentagram she wore
around her neck. I’d tried, Erica tried, I think the whole coven
mentioned to her gently at one time or another she could do with a
wardrobe change. But nothing influenced Miriam Hayle and her sense
of style.

Until now. I groaned at her ensemble of cute
blue yoga pants and matching cropped jacket, her white tank top
peeking out from behind the shiny sparkle zipper. A ponytail held
back her long, wavy black hair. Trendy little sneakers graced her
feet. My mother was in sneakers. She couldn’t possibly be thinking
what I thought she was thinking.

Oh, the horror of it all. My mother was
trying to be cool.

“Meira said today is one of your last soccer
games,” Mom said.

No, please, no. I nodded, not trusting my
voice.

“I’d like to come watch you play.”

She said it. She said the words that sealed
my doom and meant the end of the only thing in my life I had for me
and me alone with no interference. How did I tell her I didn’t want
her there? I knew this was painful for her, too, this effort she
made to be someone she wasn’t, to be the mom I wished I had instead
of the one I got.

Oh, crap.

“Okay,” I whispered.

The tension in her eased. “Wonderful,” she
said. “Let’s go.”

I followed her out the door, dragging my
feet, terrified at the implications of what was about to happen. I
shook myself. What was I expecting? It wasn’t like she would break
out into magic or anything. Looking at her, she screamed normal
Mom. What was I so worried about?

She opened the door of her beautiful
convertible and climbed in. I hesitated by the door.

“Coming?” She asked. I never got to ride in
the Mustang, usually relegated to one of the back seats of our
minivan. I climbed in beside her, careful to hold my kit bag
carefully in my lap.

“It’s only a couple of blocks,” I told
her.

“Rather arrive in style,” she winked at me
before putting on a pair of huge shades I had never seen before. I
was sure they had a price tag on them only a little while ago.

She spun the car out onto the street and
drove very fast to the soccer field. She pulled into an empty spot,
one of the only ones left, and climbed out, removing the
sunglasses, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. I
understood then how little my mother knew about the outside world.
How had she survived for so long? She was a grown woman for
goodness sakes. But she was a grown woman destined from birth to
lead a powerful coven, schooled privately, unlike me, by other
witches, groomed as witches were groomed in her generation,
protected by not only the magic but by the large mass of old wealth
the Hayle family managed and expanding for centuries.

I knew then what a leap it was for Mom to let
me be raised like a normal child, unsheltered from the outside
world, exposed to everything she'd been protected from. I instantly
gained respect for her. I walked around the car to her to offer
what little help I could.

I took the sunglasses from her and slid them
on top of her head, into her hair.

“Am I okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, Mom,” I answered. “You are.”

Together, we walked across the parking lot to
the soccer field. I left her by the fence to change into my cleats.
Maybe I really believed it. Maybe not. I was about to find out.

Mom clutched the fence with both hands,
smiling at me. She waved a little.

I started to relax and get into game mode,
fear easing. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

It wasn’t until I reached the field and
glanced around that I noticed how many faces I recognized in the
crowd.

My mom brought the family to watch me play
soccer. I didn’t know whether to scream and run away or hug
her.

I watched as the coven gathered around Mom,
chatting and laughing, their combined power leaking out around them
like a cloud. Erica and Jared both waved, Jared shooting me a wink
and a huge ‘go get ‘em’ smile. The more of them that joined the
group, the louder they were. My heart pounded as I watched the
normal parents, compelled by instinct, move away until the circle
of witches stood isolated.

A sharp word from my coach snapped my
attention back to the field.

“Hayle!” Coach Matters growled. “Get in the
game!”

I trotted to him and tried to ignore the
weight of the family on the other side of the fence.

“Sorry, coach,” I said.

His whole talk on game strategy went out the
window as my energy sucked away in waves of nausea and dizziness. I
felt it happen and couldn’t do a thing about it. But why? The coach
had to snap at me a couple of times to get me to focus, but no
matter what he did, I was lost a few minutes later. It was as if my
proximity to the group drew me into their circle and triggered
everything bad about my connection to magic. Even my demon seemed
disoriented and only then did I understand how much she supported
me when I played. Not having her strength to push me on had a huge
impact on my game. I couldn’t break free of the heavy family
influence no matter how hard I tried.

My heart pounded not from the cardio but from
pure fear. I couldn’t play! How could I with them watching,
leeching, leaking power and shoving me over my comfort edge? I
gritted my teeth and struggled to get some control back.

I loved soccer. They would not take it away
from me.

The worst part was, they didn’t even know
what they were doing.

Right from the first kick, I was a total
mess. I battled desperately to take focus, to block them out. But
the moment I thought I was in the game, I lost my concentration
again. I don’t know how many times Coach Matters yelled at me in
that first forty-five minutes, but I think it was the most times my
name was spoken cumulatively since I was born.

My skills went out the window with my
concentration. I couldn’t kick without ending up on my butt in the
grass. I couldn’t pass without getting it to the opposing team. I
was clumsy, distracted and very, very angry by the time the referee
blew the whistle for the end of the first half.

I collapsed on the bench, realizing as I did
I was alone on my end. The rest of my team huddled as far from me
as possible, shooting me dirty looks.

Coach Matters approached and crouched in
front of me. His face shone with fury.

“Tell me you’re purposely throwing this
game,” his voice was a low snarl. “Because if you are, at least
that would explain what the hell is happening out there.”

I trembled, hurting and wanting to die.

“I’m sorry, coach,” I whispered. “I can’t
seem to get it together.”

“Then stay on the bench,” he snapped. “And
stay out of the way.”

He stalked off in a huff to have a huddle
with the girls. I sat there for a minute, heart pounding, battling
tears and the sharp jab of loss. The family watched me with a
mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. Jared, obviously confused
about the rules of the game and the fact you need to win to
celebrate, gave me a double thumbs up and a grin. Mom tried to
support me, but she it was pretty obvious from the pained smile on
her face and the murmurs she exchanged with the others that she
felt far more worried about what they thought of my crippled
abilities.

It affected me more than I expected. I kicked
off my cleats, bagged them and fled.

I could hear my mother calling after me, but
I didn’t care. I ran across the street toward the park, refusing to
even consider going home. I ended up in the empty play area. I
threw my bag as far away from me as I could and slumped into one of
the swings, unable to believe I lost the last thing that made me
happy because of the stupid coven.

I hated them so much in that instant I would
have gladly turned them in to whatever authorities I could except
of course no one believed in witches and would think I was nuts if
I told them. I wanted to scream, to throw things, to hurt whoever I
could reach as much as I possibly could so that they would realize
what they took from me.

My mom picked right then to turn up.
Naturally. She took a seat next to me on another swing.

“Honey,” she said, concern in her voice, hand
reaching out to touch me, “what happened?”

I spun on her so quickly she pulled back with
actual fear in her eyes. Good. I wanted her to be afraid.

“You people happened,” I hissed at her, all
my rage, all my pain in my face, in my power as I released it and
pushed it at her so hard she paled. I ignored the battle between
disorientation and my demon to fling my fury at her with words.
“You and your stupid ideas, your meddling, your need to keep me
prisoner in your horrible family.” My voice climbed in volume as I
rose from the swing and started yelling at her, hands clenching
into fists as I spit my fury without reservation. “How dare you
ruin my life! How dare you take away the one thing I love because
you think you deserve to be a part of it? You never wanted to be a
part of it before! Why did you have to now? Why!”

I struggled to pull myself under control,
fought to keep from doing something I would always regret, but it
was hard, so hard. My demon writhed with anger of her own, shoving
aside my natural aversion to her and the magic inside me. Mom may
have seen it in me but she wasn’t about to make it easy for me,
either.