Chapter 171: Magical Conundrums
I retreated to the basement for the remainder of the evening. It had been hard to find time to use the family pentagram with Dad hogging it all the time. I'd been forced to chalk one out on the floor of my bedroom or make one with string in the living room. Now that Mom had my dad confined to quarters after his little fireworks display, I had the whole space to myself.
Everything seemed to come naturally lately. Without the constant threat of puking holding me back and the actually pleasant experience it was to open up to my magic, I still had moments of pure terror when my demon's power roared to life or when I felt Shaylee's magic touch me. It was all I could do to keep myself under control, to not shriek like a little girl in a haunted house at a carnival every time it happened.
The trouble was I remembered how it felt when my demon took over. And while I knew we didn't have that kind of relationship anymore, it still wound me up.
"Magic is about the unconscious mind doing the bidding of the conscious." Mom loved to say that. I could hear her in my head, even, one more distraction. Yes, okay, fine. But my unconscious happened to be a little screwed up after years of being two people at once.
On the other hand, my brain also remembered what it was like to be the Sidhe princess I carried around with me. And every time I came in contact with her, all I could think of was how we'd been murdered by the man who loved us.
Not the most conducive situation to making my magic behave.
My witchcraft gave me access to the elements-earth, air, fire, water and spirit. My demon power fed me with more fire tied directly to spirit. No wonder demons were feared when they first crossed over. That much energy fed into flame made one heck of a display.
My Sidhe magic gave me a boost in earth, water and air magic, also tied to spirit. That was a lot of power to handle all at once. There were times when it wasn't the others inside me that scared me, but the sheer volume of energy I had access to.
And, naturally, my demon was the one who always wanted to explore it, to play with it and see just how much we could handle. Shaylee's side was the temperate part of me, always cautioning my actions. It was like I literally had a devil and an angel sitting on my shoulders, only these two were very real and both had incredible amounts of power at their disposal.
My disposal. I still struggled with the concept we were one person. Even though the split was gone, I was whole, I continued to think in those terms. I'd spent so many years that way it was hard to break the habit.
Which, I knew, was the core of my issue. Every time I settled in to perform a spell or summon an element, it was like I was forced to pause to decide which of the magics I should use. Rather than being automatic, it forced me to stop and make a choice and that was completely screwing me up.
I sighed in absolute exasperation as the bubble of power I was trying to maintain shuddered with first blue, then amber and finally green magic before wobbling, warping and collapsing in a pop of released energy. I sagged, not from weariness, but from frustration, wanting to pound the concrete with my fists.
"You're fighting too hard." I looked up, jerking sideways with a small cry of shock, to see Gram emerge from the shadows. She'd been watching me? Creepy. Still, she was right and I welcomed the help.
"I don't know what else to do." I glared at the candle in the center of the pentagram, snuffing the life from the wick with a snap of demon power. The spark remained, a thick tendril of smoke climbing toward the ceiling.
Gram sank beside me, resting her weight back on her hands while she crossed her feet at her ankles. Her long gray skirt hiked up, showing off her fuzzy pink polka dot socks.
I loved my grandmother. Just being around her put everything in perspective.
"You are unique," Gram said, "even more than your mother. She came by her different powers as an adult, through magical means." True. Mom's Sidhe, vampire and demon energies were won when we fought Batsheva Moromond for the family magic.
"Yours," she went on, "are by birthright. Which means you have them in full measure. And you're coming to your control late."
Nothing new there. This was all ground I'd covered.
"It's like I'm three people." I didn't mind telling her. She'd been nutso for seventeen years. She'd never judge. "But I'm not. I know that." I sighed. "I never know what to reach for."
Gram nodded. "Of course not," she said. "You're thinking about the problem, not the solution."
Huh? "Sorry?"
She focused on the candle, her power coiling out slowly, a visible thread, touching the now black and quiet wick. Gram didn't need to show me. She clearly chose to. And I paid attention.
"The problem." She let her magic circle the wick. "There is no fire. But you need fire. How to kindle it?"
"Yeah," I said. "I get you."
"Do you?" Her faded blue eyes sparkled in humor. "Do you really?" Her magic whipped out, touching the tip of the wick. A flame burst into life as the thread of visible power recoiled and returned to her, but not before it tapped me on the tip of my big toe on the way by. "Then what is the solution?"
"Light the candle." I shrugged. This felt like crazy lady ramblings to me. But I knew better than to underestimate my grandmother. She'd saved our butts enough times, fighting her way to lucidity long enough to offer the help we needed when times were tough. If I knew anything about her, she was smarter than me and saw things more clearly than anyone I knew.
"Yes, Syd." Gram tapped her fingernails on the floor. "Light the candle. Don't worry that there isn't any fire. Just light the damned candle."
The wick went out in a rush of air. I knew she'd done it. I stared at the curling black stem.
"That's what I've been doing." Oh the whiny voice. I hated it. But it found its way out of me from time to time. I wondered if I'd ever grow out of it.
"No," she said. "You haven't. Make fire, Syd. Don't think fire."
I opened my mouth to protest only to be pushed back a few inches by a blast of air.
"Syd," she said, tone calm but eyes furious. "Make fire."
I grumbled under my breath, turning to the candle. "Make fire."
I reached for my power, felt my demon shoulder her way forward. This was her department. But my witchcraft was attached to the fire element, shouldn't it take precedence? I gritted my teeth at the endless argument in my head, turning to Gram.
"This sucks!" I felt sweat bead up on my lip.
She didn't move, didn't speak, just stared back at me. And gave me absolutely no indication I was in danger until she snatched the candle from the floor and hurtled it at me with her magic.
"Don't think!"
No time to think. My witchcraft reached out and formed a bubble of air around the missile at the same instant my demon blew it apart while my Sidhe side drew the energy from it and funneled it into the ground.
I gasped for air, glaring at Gram who cackled a laugh and slapped her thighs with both hands.
"No thinking," she laughed.
I was pissed, but more because it rankled she was right. "How do I not think?"
She shrugged. "Either stumble from one disaster to another, like you have been doing," she waggled her eyebrows at me, "or figure out how to relax, stupid." Her teeth flashed in the light. "Relax. This is fun, isn't it?"
I had to laugh with her. "Sure, Gram. Loads of laughs."
She stilled, sadness filling her eyes. "It's my fault." Gram's gaze fell away, fingers tapping together over and over in her lap. "I've done this to you." She looked up suddenly, fierce and protective. "But I'll fix it, Syd. I'll fix you. I promise."
It didn't matter I never blamed her for what she did. I knew she had no choice, hiding the core of her magic inside me when I was a baby. If she hadn't she might be all the way crazy instead of mostly okay. Or worse. She could be dead and I could be following a leader with the last name Purity.
"I wish things could be different for you." She reached over and patted my hand. "You have so much potential inside you. Someday soon, you will know how special you are."
I flushed, uncomfortable, but feeling better. "Thanks, Gram."
She clapped her hands together in glee. "Now," she said, "let's go eat muffins."
I followed her upstairs as she bounced and jiggled her way to the kitchen, doing a little jig dance in her fluffy socks while she made up a song about eating a chocolate chip muffin.
Yup, she was brilliant and all, powerful beyond most witches, but there was something still very odd about my grandmother.
And I wouldn't trade her for anything.
***
