Chapter 295: Channeling Miriam
I stood staring into my mother's closet, the scent of her lilac perfume filling me with the need to hug her and never let her go.
Since that wasn't possible, and knowing I needed to put on a good show, short notice or not, I'd made a plan of my own, one involving doing something I swore I never would.
I needed to be my mother.
My selections were carefully chosen, from the floor-length black velvet skirt with the fine silver embroidery around the hem to the paper thin and butter soft navy blue silk blouse with the flowing sleeves and sparkling diamond buttons.
I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised her shoes did fit after all and wasn't even a little above recognizing the irony. At least physically I could take her place. As for the rest... we'd have to wait and see.
I let the heavy, swirling skirt sway from my hips, for the first time understanding why Mom loved dressing the way she did. There was a weight to the velvet, the way it moved as if part of me. Even the silk of the blouse, though cold when I slid it on, quickly warmed to my body temperature and left me feeling a little breathless at the luxury of it.
Mom's pentagram pendant on the thick silver chain fell in the center of my chest, just above my cleavage. As uncomfortable as showing said cleavage made me, this was part of Mom's show, her style, and I had to do my best to fill her role.
Matching earrings hung from ignored piercings, the charm bracelet she loved with the tiny, sparkling representations of our family jingling softly around my wrist. I looked up at myself in the mirror, my long hair hanging down, wavy and thick, over my shoulders. A few moments with Mom's makeup and only one thing remained.
With a soft sigh near regret, I unstopped the tiny blue glass bottle and let my nose sample the scent. Like I needed to. Her lilac fragrance was everywhere in the room, even clinging to the freshly laundered clothes I wore. Here was the final touch and I couldn't go this far only to stop now.
One dab at the base of my throat, one behind each ear. How many times did I watch her apply it when I was a little girl, lying on her bed, my chin on my fists while she hummed softly to herself? Two more dabs to the insides of my wrists, and I was done. Shaking fingers set the bottle down. It slid from my grip in the last moment, the container thumping to the counter top and wobbling a bit before settling upright.
I breathed a sigh as I massaged the oil into my skin, feeling closer to my mother than I ever had. It was almost enough, standing there with my eyes closed, to convince me none of this was real, that I was little again, playing dress up, made me think Mom would sweep through the door at any moment with her deep-throated laughter to hug me and kiss me before rocking me to sleep, humming her song.
Someone gasped from the doorway. I turned, saw my sister, her eyes wide and staring. She let out a low cry before running to me, hugging me tight, face pressed into the soft silk.
"I thought you were Mom." She barely breathed when she spoke, voice a whisper.
"Sorry, Meems." I stroked her hair. "Pale comparison. But I'm doing my best."
She shook her head, pulled away, smiled up at me. "You look beautiful," she said. "Just like her."
I took another look in the mirror, unsurprised as much as the old, stubborn part of me hated to admit it. Mom looked back at me from my own face, enough of her in my features I knew no one would ever mistake me for anyone else's child.
Excellent choice. Gram's voice reached me. You're learning, and quickly. I knew I was right to have faith in you. But, her mind softened, the magic hugging me gently, you aren't your mother, Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle. Your own way of being has always served you, one way or another. And your power far outweighs your mother's. They need to see you are perfectly capable, with or without Miriam.
She left me then, and I smiled at Meira.
"You're okay staying here?"
She made a face, clearly unhappy. "She's my mother too."
"I know." I stroked her cheek with my fingertips. "But until I know what we're facing, I want you safe."
Meira shrugged. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Syd."
I laughed. "I know, Meems. But you can't blame your big sister for wanting to protect you."
Meira retreated, still grumpy, closing her bedroom door behind her. I'd expected more of a fight, so I must have gotten through to her.
I thought of Quaid as someone disturbed the wards outside in the back yard. After Erica left, he told me the Vegas had been cheerful, refusing to admit anything was wrong and he chose not to push them. When I reached for them again, told them what was happening, both agreed I needed to deal with the trial first.
Be safe, they both sent as if they assumed I wouldn't be.
But neither of them would agree to speak over mental channels so I was stuck until I could make it to their place.
Be safe. Yeah, I was working on that.
The wards quivered again. Gone were the days when I scrambled to see if it was Quaid. He was safe, here with me. I didn't need to act that way anymore. So it was a much more calm and stately Syd who answered the door. I have no doubt being dressed like Mom had a great deal to do with my new decorum.
The man standing in my back yard looked startled when he set eyes on me, his expression relaxing when he realized I wasn't Mom. This was going to be a pain in the ass if everyone I ran into had the same reaction. But the werewolf leader recovered quickly enough so I cut Raoul some slack.
"Hi," I said. "Haven't seen you in a bit." Mom had been working with the remainder of the Dumont's pet werewolves, trying to find them jobs after they were freed from the Dumonts, all the while talking to Sunny about maintaining the truce between them and the vampires. Not an easy task, considering they were mortal enemies for no good reason I could figure out.
"The Dumonts are here." He glanced around him, his fear clear on his face for a moment before he scowled and looked down at the grass. I knew he hated showing weakness, but I was the last person to judge him for worrying about his former owners.
"You heard about Mom?" Raoul nodded quickly. "They are here for her trial." I glanced at her watch on my wrist. "I don't have much time."
He shuddered a little before meeting my eyes with his. They were normally ice green, but right now they shone amber, like demon eyes, but without the glow of power I was used to. It always freaked me out, like he was something he wasn't supposed to be.
Werewolf eyes.
"We're leaving." His body jerked as he spoke, as if he struggled with what he had to say, one hand swiping over his shaved scalp, teeth chewing the bit of hair growing under his bottom lip. "The whole pack. I just wanted you to know."
My anger rose, demon snarling. "You're running?" Why wasn't I surprised? Hadn't his daughter, Charlotte, and the other weres Galleytrot freed taken off at the first opportunity without even a thank you? "We've done everything for you and just when we need you most, you're abandoning us?" I wasn't pulling punches, didn't have the time or the patience. "Classy, Raoul. Really damned classy."
"I need to think of my people." His eyes dropped again, gaze locked on the ground at my feet. "This isn't our fight any longer. And as grateful as I am to you for freeing us, we wish to remain that way."
"I'll let Mom know you all ran like the cowards you are," I said at my most cold and furious, "just like the filthy curs the vampires said you were."
He twitched, took the accusation like a blow to his tall, lean body. When he looked up, shame warred with rage.
"Be grateful I owe you," he snarled. "I've killed for less."
"Don't even try to posture," I snapped back. "You've just told me what kind of person you are. You know what, Raoul? Get lost. And good riddance."
He slunk off, passing through the wards like a little kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and I just fumed and let him go.
***
