Chapter 223: Shaylee's Fears
I was almost asleep when my computer dinged and the entire world focused on the dancing pen. Sassy snarled at me and leapt aside, muttering a sleepy string of probably nasty words under his breath before curling up in a new place and flickering his tail over his nose.
Couldn't care less.
Sorry it's so late. My mind imagined Quaid speaking the words as he wrote. I missed his deep voice, the warmth of his chocolaty-caramel magic wrapped around me.
Still up. He'd know I was lying, but that was okay. Do you have much time to talk?
Some. What's up?
Okay, was I that obvious? The usual Hayle craziness. For a moment I hesitated in telling him about Gram, then shook off the concern. Quaid was nothing like Grandfather Ivan. He might be a Dumont by birth, but he was a Hayle at heart.
I filled him in, my fingers flying over the keyboard, telling him about Gram and Mom and Uncle Frank. About the dreams I'd had and Galleytrot's absence. Meira's odd behavior. Dad. Erica. It seemed like I poured everything out into that little white box on the screen and Quaid didn't write anything.
I felt wrung out by the time I was done, but the act itself was cathartic. I considered telling him about Liam as well when his pen began to move.
I'll keep an eye out for Ethpeal. Damn, Syd, I wish I was there to help. Are you okay, love?
My eyes stung with tears and I caught myself smiling and hugging myself as if it were his arms around me.
I am. Thank you for listening. You have your own crap going on. Feel like dumping on me now?
LOL :) You've had a worse week than me. Things are actually pretty quiet and boring around here. Without access to his face, I had no idea if he was lying to me or not. I chose to believe not. I love you so much, Syd. Miss you every day.
The connection between us, the thread of magic he'd left behind, fluttered around my heart. I grasped onto it and added my power to it, sending it back to him.
I have to go. :( Write again when I can. Be safe.
You too. His pen fell silent again. I made me want to cry.
Instead, I went back to bed and the grumbling silver Persian.
***
The moon hangs over me, so low and full I feel I could touch it, break the thin barrier between it and my world. The song of the Gate drowns out everything, the pull so powerful I fall to my knees on the colorfully cobbled path, hands rising to clutch the sides of my head to hold my thoughts together.
I scream, my terror so powerful I can barely breathe to do it, the sound lost in the vibrating hum of the Gate before me. The ground begins to rumble, as though an earthquake approaches, though the feeling is rhythmic, pounding, a steady one-two-one-two that rattles my very bones.
***
Shaylee's silence when I woke was actually frightening. Not because she was ignoring me. It didn't feel like that. More so like she'd retreated in fear from something and refused to come out. My demon grumbled at her, joined me in coaxing the Sidhe princess to communicate, but it was no use.
This was not encouraging. After all, didn't Shaylee face down the Wild Hunt and the leader, Gwynn ap Nudd? Didn't she help me put the most dangerous elemental weapon known to the world back to rest? She was fearless that night, grief-stricken but unafraid.
Shaylee scared to the point of silence made me wonder what could possibly be so bad she would retreat from it.
Time to take these dreams more seriously.
But who could I tell? That question hovered around me as I made my way to the bathroom. Door locked. Again. Great. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed over my chest, and reached for Galleytrot.
Anything?
Syd. His voice was soft and tired.
Are you okay? My worry for him just added to my urgency about the dream.
Yes. Just... perplexed. I'll tell you everything later.
Perplexed was better than comatose in terror. Did Shaylee know something he didn't? At least he felt close by. My mind followed back to his, where he sprawled on the living room sofa. Assured he was safe in body while he sank back into doggy sleep, I turned to the bathroom door and knocked.
I could hear Meira behind it, messing around. She wasn't the only one in the house, damn it. Well, nearly. But so what? It was my bathroom too.
"I'm busy!" A thump. Maybe a little fist on the counter?
"And I have to get ready for school."
"Use Mom's bathroom." There was an idea. And maybe if she suggested it nicely I would have considered it. But my patience with her snarky attitude had worn thin. I suffered a moment of wondering if this was how Mom felt about me before I used magic on the lock and let myself in.
You'd think I was trying to murder her the way she shrieked at me. "Get out!" Where did all of this anger come from? My sister was a sweet girl, innocent even. The coven always sheltered her, kept her that way. I missed my Meems. This tiny ball of fury and spite could go back where she came from.
Meira threw a tube of mascara at me, which I caught. Mine. Brat. Did she actually just stomp her foot? I guess so. Her temper tantrum was so out of character, as she frothed and fumed, voiceless in her precious little hissy fit, I started to laugh.
My sister was so mad she lost control of her disguise, red skin, horns and amber eyes flickering in and out beneath the veneer of normal. "I said get out!"
"Why are you using my stuff?" I tossed the mascara back on the counter. "And wearing my clothes again." I loved that halter top. And she'd ruined it. The back was all cut out and tied so it fit her small frame. Okay, all funny aside, she needed to snap the hell out of it.
"I hate you!" Meira ran from the room in a wash of scent and flying black hair, leaving me to fume as I slammed the door behind her.
Sassy was curled up on my bed when I returned to my room to change for school.
"What is wrong with Meira?" I jerked on my jeans, taking my anger out on them.
"She has been different since she came home." His quiet tone, empty of his normal sarcasm, made me pause and stare.
"Did she hurt you?" No way. I couldn't see it. And Sassy shook his head to confirm it.
"Not at all." He snorted. "Like she could. I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, Syd." Sassy swiped his left paw with his tongue and attacked his ear with it. "She just doesn't want me in her room." Sadness trickled out of him, enough I was able to catch it before he locked it down.
"I've been trying to talk to her." Or had I? It seemed the only times I saw her was when we were in a perfect position to lock horns.
"One thing I've learned after all these years and countless numbers of you Hayle witches," Sassy said, "is to expect the unexpected." His amber eyes winked closed, ending our conversation.
Hint taken.
My sister was, as usual, gone to school before I made it to the kitchen. I grabbed a quick slice of toast for breakfast, missing Gram's morning cook fest that often ranged anywhere from pancakes to eggs Benedict to a full steak dinner. She even presented me with a freshly baked chocolate cake one morning, though I'm glad I looked before I took a bite. The middle was filled with raw bacon.
Um, thanks but no thanks.
Alison was missing from our nook, but her tardiness the previous day set a precedent so I didn't worry this time. It wasn't until I turned from my locker on my way to class that I spotted two points of interest.
One, the seemingly ever-present Ms. Spaft was watching me. Again. Maybe the fact I hadn't messed up yesterday annoyed her to the point she would now trail my every move in the hope of pinning me down for another humiliating round of detention.
The other was equally as upsetting. Alison was here at school, all right. But instead of bouncing over to me with her usual neediness, she huddled in conversation with Page. And the two of them were casting nasty glances my way.
What the hell was wrong with her? Page was the enemy. Alison hated her even more than I did. And yet there they were, the pair of them, whispering and giggling evilly like they were the besties.
Was it worth it? I doubted it at that moment. But it was Alison and she was screwed up and I had to try.
I approached them, making sure to keep calm on the outside while my stomach did a slow roiling bubble, my demon adding to the simmering volcano with her own dose of pique.
"Hey, Al." I ignored Page who scowled at me. Found her backbone, it seemed, in the support of my best friend.
"Syd." Alison rolled her eyes at Page who smirked.
"Guess I'll see you at lunch." This was more than I could handle right now. If she wanted to be a total bitch and fall under whatever stupidity spell Page cast over her, that was fine with me. I was this close to calling us done when Page spoke up.
"Alison is too busy for liars." They exchanged a look as the spiteful snake went on. "I told her all about you and that guy at Johnny's."
"Yeah, Syd," Alison snapped, her old face firmly in place, the Alison I'd banished when I stood up to her last year. "If you didn't want me around you should have just said so."
My demon howled for Page's death. Fought me so hard I had to hold my body rigid in order to keep her under control. The smarmy speck of grime had no idea how lucky she was I had lots of practice.
"Maybe someone should check her voicemails once in a while," I said very softly, like Alison deserved an explanation. "Or her text messages." I turned away as Alison's face went white.
"Have fun with Mr. Queer." Page sniggered. I didn't bother to turn back.
So not worth it. Either of them. By passing that rumor around, Alison Morgan had signed her parting papers.
And from the desperate look on her face as I turned away, she knew it.
***
