Family Magic (2 page)

Haralthazar took the time to look over us.
His chiseled face creased in a soft smile, gentle even, welcoming.
Hard to believe, but true. My dad was a nice demon. Forget the
whole pit of burning despair thing. Demons simply come from another
plane, a different realm of existence. There are good guys and bad
guys like here on Earth. Lucky for us, when my Mom decided to go
unconventional after the attack leaving her own mother crippled,
she fell in love with Dad.

He raised one arm over Mom. She stiffened as
the energy rippled out of her in visible strings of light, flowing
over the pentagram and back into each of us. I flinched as the
thread hit me, out of breath and more than a little dizzy. Dad
always gave back more than he took, at least to me.

“My love, well met.” He bent and took my
mother’s hand, helping her to her feet. “Miriam, rise and stand
with me.”

She took her place beside him. Emotion
swirled between them. Dad beamed at us.

“I am well pleased, my friends,” he said.
“Our coven grows and is strong. I offer power to the bond and love
and protection to you all.”

“Our thanks to you,” the crowd murmured, my
voice joining slightly late.

He turned to me.

“Sydlynn Hayle,” he held out one hand, “come
to your father.”

This part always made me feel like I was
being dissected by all the eyes staring into my back. I despised
being the center of attention. There was a definite slouch in my
stance as I climbed to my feet and dragged myself unhappily to my
parents.

“The first gift of our joining, welcome and
my thanks for the sharing of power. With you, our light grows.”

“You bet.” My father frowned for an instant,
enough to make me feel like a spoiled rotten little kid. How did he
do that? I was happily cynical with my mother but Dad could reduce
me to a child with one raised eyebrow. I guess he was mostly a
great father and a really good guy and I hated disappointing
him.

I drew a breath and tried harder.

“My light to you,” I said, louder.

He smiled secretly. I smiled back as he bent
over me and touched his lips to my forehead.

“Hi, cupcake,” he whispered through the
official kiss. “How’s soccer going?”

Seriously. Cupcake. “Fine, thanks,” I
whispered back. “And you can stop calling me that.”

He grinned pure evil.

“Whatever you say. Cupcake.”

Ooh. Dads.

“Don’t piss off your mother,” he said.

“Doing my best.” I rolled my eyes.

Dad straightened up and addressed the
group.

“This is my child, truly born, a member of
this coven. Who speaks against her?”

In the silence that followed, I
half-heartedly hoped someone would kick me out.

“All is well,” he said. “Our love to you,
Sydlynn Hayle.”

I made a face at him for the whole stupid
thing.

“Thanks,” I said. Dad dropped a small wink as
I stepped back.

“Meira Hayle, come forward.”

My sister stepped up eagerly. I heard her
soft giggle as our father repeated the kiss he gave me. I’d ask her
later what he said to make her laugh. Not that I’d ever admit it,
but we didn’t get to see our father all that often and I was a bit
jealous of her time spent with him.

Dad straightened over her.

“This is my child, truly born, and a member
of this coven. Who speaks against her?”

Meira must have said something cute because
our dad struggled not to laugh in the silence.

“All is well,” he repeated. “Our love to you,
Meira Hayle.”

Meira stepped back, her little hand slipping
into mine. She grinned up at me as the ceremony continued.

I tried not to laugh when Gram, up next,
planted a wet, sticky one on him. He had the good nature to hug her
back and smile at her with real warmth and love. She tottered back
to us, so pleased with herself she wriggled like a little girl.

I struggled with a case of the fidgets as the
validation process continued but couldn’t help the impatient shift
from sneaker to sneaker making its way through my defenses. Witch
after witch, male and female alike, professed their undying love
and loyalty to our family, etcetera, and so on, ad nausem. It took
forever. And to think we had to go through this twice a year.
According to Mom, with the dying of the summer at Samhain and its
rebirth at Beltane, the connection between our plane and Dad’s was
closest. It made the bonding easier and more powerful.

Blah, blah, blah.

The only problem? It was the epitome of
boring. Besides, I had homework to do. I could hardly explain to my
science teacher I didn’t get my chemistry done because I was
helping my coven renew its bond with my demon father. Who knew?
Maybe Mr. Sinclair would give me a better mark if he thought I
packed that kind of firepower.

Finally, and I do mean finally, the ceremony
ended with the last of them stepping back from Haralthazar. He
turned to my mother. The love in their eyes as they gazed at each
other was, if I have to be totally honest, sickening and way over
the top.

“My love.” He held her hands to his chest,
the top of her head reaching his chin, the flawless, perfect
lovers, channeling a bad romance novel.

Meira poked me. I knew I was making faces in
disgust. It was just so embarrassing. Normal people didn’t do that
kind of thing in public. Meira and I exchanged a knowing smirk and
I pretended to gag.

“My life,” Mom said with bated breath.

Another grimace. Meira giggled.

“Our circle is whole. Our power is renewed,
and our love.” Even Dad was in on the nonsense.

“Yours always, my love.” Mom stretched up on
her tiptoes.

I quickly found something else to look at,
horrified by the open attraction my parents had no problem sharing
with the rest of us. Didn’t they get public displays of affection
were the height of icky? I’m sure if it were me, I’d be
grounded.

Meira sniggered and made a little kissing
noise. I choked on a laugh and had to struggle not to cough.

Dad winked at us.

“My people, my family, I embrace you with my
love.” I felt the warmth flow through me as his presence wrapped
around us all. It made me want to fidget again but this time I
won.

“Love to you,” we all said at once. I hated
this part, too, and did my best not to battle against the power
flowing in a great circle from one witch to the next, passing
between us like a hug, connecting us in ways too personal for my
liking. I shuddered when it was done, skin crawling. Personal space
meant nothing to them.

“Joy and peace to you all.”

“And to you,” I murmured along with the
others. I glared at my candle and fought the urge to run away.

“We are one,” he said.

“And the same,” the coven answered.

“Power to blood.” Dad raised his arms.

“Blood to power.” The coven swayed.

“Family for eternity.” I scowled at him.

“Family forever,” I stared him down, but this
time he wasn’t smiling. I didn’t like the serious expression on his
face but shrugged at him. He finally looked away.

“Joined together, my soul to your soul, my
heart to your heart, past, present and future, one and the
same.”

The coven sighed as a whole as the warmth
slowly left. Dad lowered his arms and embraced Mom. She turned, a
light sheen of sweat on her cheeks and a huge smile on her
face.

“Thank you all.”

The crowd murmured and started blowing out
candles. My stomach slowly unclenched as I extinguished mine with
relief and tossed it at Meira.

“Thanks, Meems.”

She blew delicately at her own, leaving
behind a heart in her smoke. I poked it with my finger, but
couldn’t break it. We looked up together at our parents and for a
heartbeat the four of us connected, just us, in the remains of the
power in the room.

I actually felt like I belonged.

***

Someone had to switch on the light. I found
the sudden brightness oddly offensive. And, what’s worse, the
slender thread holding us snapped and I shivered in my robe, empty
and cold. It bothered me I could get so wrapped up in the illusion
of candlelight. When it broke and reality came back it was always
disappointing to find myself in an ordinary basement.

Not that the magic was a sham, quite the
opposite. In fact, it was way too real for me, always had been.
Ever since I could remember I resisted who and what I was. Moments
like the one I just shared gave me the creeps, even if they felt
good at the time. What was I thinking? Normal. The ultimate goal
was to be normal. My parents might be able to force me to do this
song and dance for a couple more years, but eighteen here I
come.

I winced as one of the men stumbled against a
cardboard box marked “China.” A soft tinkle whispered of something
delicate shattering. I guess it was fitting.

The crowd dissolved into a group of ‘just
folks’, shedding their robes, revealing jeans and business suits
underneath, as conversation started.

“…had a chance to try out the new babysitter?
She’s a pet…”

“…was sure the boys would pull their socks up
this year, but so far they’re still at the bottom of the
league…”

“…love your new shoes! What's the name of the
store…”

It amazed me they could simply shrug off the
residue of power, the huge and scary stuff we did, and go back to
an ‘ordinary’ life without even a hint of the truth showing
through.

I, on the other hand, was terrible at it,
like most everything else in my screwed up life. It seemed like
after every ceremony I attended it took me a couple of days to stop
dropping bits of magic here and there. Nothing major or the coven
would take steps, but enough to reinforce my absolute resolve to
get out of this crazy life forever.

I shucked out of my robe with relief. The
only things keeping me from leaving it in an unruly puddle on the
floor were my mother’s eagle eyes and her crooked finger summoning
me closer. I was so tempted to do it, to see what would happen,
what she would do, say, to piss her off. I was in that kind of
headspace, a mother-baiting mood usually starting so innocently and
ending in punishment and tears. But, instead, to keep my father
happy, I slouched toward them as Mom addressed the crowd.

“Snacks in the kitchen. Erica, will you open
the wine, please?”

Erica Plower, my mom’s best friend and
second, waved as she left, shiny blonde bob swinging. I ignored the
pointed glare she shot at me before leaving, knowing I would have
her smart comments to deal with later. At least Mom had a good
friend, but because Erica knew us all so well sometimes it felt
like I had two mothers.

Personally, I figured the one I had was more
than enough.

The crowd followed Erica, moving to the
stairs, talk getting louder as the real world finally took over and
the hungry horde made its way out of the basement. Gram, her ears
perked by the mention of food, dashed from my side before I could
stop her and pushed her way through the rest of the crowd. She
disappeared through the door and I heard her badgering Erica for
chocolate. Meanwhile, Mom slipped her arm around my shoulders and
hugged me a little harder than necessary as she smiled at the
exiting group. No escape for me. Meira hovered near Dad, as if she
knew something was coming but was too young to realize it would
probably dissolve into a mess she shouldn’t witness.

In fact, from the expression on Mom’s face I
was sure Meira should leave before we tore into it. But as I drew a
breath to make that very suggestion, the last of the coven vanished
up the stairs and Mom turned me bodily toward her, a frown creasing
her perfect face.

“Thank you for your enthusiastic
participation, young lady.” She tried very hard to be stern, but my
mom didn’t do stern very well. It came across as huffy.

“You're welcome.”

Her eyes flashed fire, normal Mom fire, not
the magic stuff. Dad chuckled. She spun on him. He held up his
hands for protection.

“Miriam,” he started.

“Harry!” She finished.

It dissolved into them sweetly gazing at each
other. Would my time in family hell never end?

“Can I go?” I glared back and forth between
them. “I have homework.”

Mom crossed her arms over her chest.

“You would think you didn’t want to see your
father, Sydlynn.”

“Mom… ”

“Of course she does,” Dad said, “don’t you,
Syd?”

“I love seeing you, Dad.” I really meant
it.

Mom softened a little, but I knew the
dangerous stuff was still to come. The crying and yelling stuff. To
be honest, it was getting to the point where I hardly listened
anymore. The same old, same old. And yet, there was obviously more
ammunition on the way. I braced myself for the guilt trip and held
on.

“This ceremony is very important to the
family. You know that.”

“Yes, Mother.” She hated it when I called her
Mother. What was wrong with me? I was only making things worse for
myself, prolonging my grief. I zipped up and hoped she’d give me a
pass.

She glared as I shifted from one foot to the
other, the cloak getting heavier and hotter in my arms, hoping the
expression on my face radiated innocence.

No such luck.

“And yet again, you have this… attitude.”

I gritted my teeth and tried to keep a calm
expression. More attitude would make her crazy and I’d end up
grounded or a frog or something.

Unfortunately, my brain and my mouth had a
miscommunication.

“Yeah, Mom,” I said. “It’s called ‘I don’t
give a crap.’”

Mom’s face crumpled. Oh damn, the waterworks.
My mother was a freaking supernatural faucet.

She reached out and brushed her fingertips
over my cheek. “You have been fighting your power your whole life.
Would it hurt you to participate just once? We’re your family,
honey.”