Chapter 431: Revelations And Questions
I stepped into the Yard, exhaling a stale breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, feeling the cool of the evening settle around me. I'd done what I could to get through to Mom and though she'd left me high and dry, I felt better for having at least tried.
Now I could act and not have to second-guess myself. Because the threat was real, even in Mom's eyes. Abandoning Trill and Owen to the Brotherhood was totally out of the question. And as I reached for the veil, my demon stretching her power to tear open the outer membrane, I had an epiphany.
How many times had I acted on my own in times of trouble, times when Mom was aware of my actions, but unable to do anything herself? And in at least a few of those instances, I knew my actions were exactly what she needed from me. Was that my mother's modus operandi? Turning me into her hands when she herself was trapped without a way to resolve the issue because of her position?
Not that I minded even if I should have. I'd found I was more of a take action rather than sit around and think it through kind of girl. No matter how deeply I managed to dig myself into a heap of crapola, things managed to turn out. But suspecting now as I did Mom was using me to do her dirty work, I almost rebelled.
Almost. Sighed. Stepped into the veil with a firm grasp on my demon, Shaylee and my vampire backing me up as she hummed her unhappiness and longed for Demonicon. If Mom was manipulating me-ha, if?-at least she was doing so around things I would be acting on anyway. Still, a little collaboration would be nice.
And not like I was completely shocked by my ah-ha moment. Mom had been carefully controlling me my entire life.
Fine. I'd be her action hero. But on my terms.
A second ding-ding sounded in my head as I stepped out of the veil at the edge of our property, as reluctant as before, but unable to hold me thanks to my preparations and support. The veil. Why couldn't Meira use it? Sassafras? Neither of them could use their demon power to ride it as I did. Ahbi Sanghamitra, our demon grandmother could control it, proved that when she trapped Meira and me on Demonicon. But she was Ruler, had all the power of the collected planes behind her, using sheer force to make it do her bidding. But the veil acted different with me, more open, welcoming. Despite Ahbi's attempt to keep me from using the veil when I was visiting, I'd been able to access it, ride it as I did here at home, in a moment of true need.
My maji bloodline. Did it give me more control over the veil because of my ancestors? Had to be. And yet, Meira had the same blood, from Mom. So there had to be more to it. Trill's cryptic remarks came back as I paused after a moment, wrapped up in thought in the darkness of the back yard. She'd said it wasn't my demon power that made it possible. Was she referring to the fact I had maji blood? If so, Meira had to as well, both of us from the same parents. What made me different?
So many questions for which I really needed answers, but was almost afraid to ask.
Almost.
Time to confront Trill and find out what was really happening to me. I didn't feel any more unusual than ever, though admittedly more in balance than I had in my life. But I equated that to growing up, to losing the geas keeping me from using my magic when I returned Gram's power to her. To accepting and finally embracing what I was.
Could there be more to it? Trill certainly seemed to think so. And now I knew the maji also had an influence over me, I was starting to wonder if the parts coming together inside me were accidental or some kind of grand plan I had no control over.
More manipulation? I wouldn't put it past Iepa. No, I didn't know her well yet, but if I'd learned anything it was those in power didn't hesitate to use the tools they had access to when a job needed doing. And I was really getting sick of being a tool.
I'm not sure why I didn't go to the cavern right away. Wishful thinking, maybe? Instead, I quietly slipped inside the house and down the hall to the kitchen. I waited a moment at the basement door, hand on the knob, debating if I wanted to add a heavy heart to all of the confusion in my mind, but I couldn't seem to resist the pull. Trusting my instincts, I opened the door and went downstairs.
Cool air greeted me, the thrum of the family magic welcoming as I set foot on the concrete floor, a faint glow of blue lighting the pentagram etched and painted on the floor in answer to my presence. I stood in the center of it, drew in my power, let the coven's energy warm me and hug me, instantly lightening my mood.
A slow pivot turned me to face the fabric-draped statue of my father, crystalline feet peeking out from under the woven magic sheet Mom made to cover his effigy when Dad severed their mating and went home to Demonicon. I'd called him a few times in the last six months with no luck, when I was home to do so, but only once since I returned from school for the summer. My efforts had been half-hearted at best, almost fearful. Better to call him quietly and fail then put my heart and soul into it for nothing.
Three steps put me at his side, my hands jerking free the sheet. I looked up into Dad's diamond face, guilt washing over me in a wave. It was my fault he was gone, forced to take Second Seat, a position he never wanted and fought against during his very long life. I'd allowed Ahbi to manipulate me, thus cornering him, doing what so many others had tried to in the past-tear our family apart at last.
I could call him. Maybe he'd come if I really tried. But there was nothing he could do, I knew that already. And yet the vision Iepa showed me had demons fighting side-by-side with witches. Which meant he deserved a warning.
I'd take that excuse.
Nerves tingling as anxiety tried to worm doubt into my magic, I pulled my demon tightly to me, feeling her chuff and squirm.
We have to reach him. Would he answer? Would she let him? My teeth ground together at the thought of Ahbi. Mom might have manipulated me, but she'd done so out of love, I was certain of it. Ahbi on the other hand, had spent so many centuries as a political creature, I highly doubted she had feelings anymore, outside of worrying about keeping her throne.
Determination cut through my nervousness and sent it packing. I had to try, if only to fill him in, to warn him about what was coming. But more so, to prove to myself I could.
My demon writhed, but in agreement, temper crackling as I held her in check. One last drawn breath and I let her out, my magic calling for Dad.
Tears welled as his effigy instantly flooded with life, my father's spirit stepping across the veil and into his statue. I choked them back, chest tight, throat burning with sobs that wanted to escape as I stepped forward and into his waiting arms.
His warm chest was as strong as I remembered, the softening of his statue to human form almost complete.
"Syd," he whispered into my hair. "Hi, cupcake."
I was laughing and crying all at once, one hand smacking his arm as he grinned down at me over the old nickname. Funny, I didn't really mind it anymore.
"Hey, Dad," I said. "Don't call me cupcake."
We smiled at each other for a moment, a father-daughter instant in time where nothing had changed and I could just be happy to see my Dad. But it couldn't last, I knew it couldn't, as much as I clung to my flash of need to be young and innocent and just a girl who adored her father.
Not in the life I lived.
Dad broke the moment, hands gripping my arms. "I don't have long," he said, eyes full of sadness. "Are you all right? Your sister? Miriam?" So much sorrow in him, and a desperation, as though he'd been waiting for word while trying to pretend he was someone else.
I hugged him quickly again. "Meira's fine, loving school. Mom's... well, Mom is Mom, you know?" Dad smiled, nodded, though I could tell he wanted more. "Dad, you're right, I don't have much time either. But there are things happening you need to know about."
I filled him in as quickly as I could, for once not rambling on in my usual scattered way, proud of myself for managing a succinct breakdown of the past two days or so. Dad listened as Mom had, mostly just listening. When I finished with the conversation I'd had with her, he sighed, lips twisted in a grim line.
"As much as I wish she wasn't," he said, "your mother is right, Syd. It's not so easy." He frowned, arms crossing over his chest as his mind visibly churned. "I'll warn Ruler about the sorcerers, but it's unlikely she'll listen. We've been busy putting out fires in Demonicon and I know what she'll say."
"It's not your problem." I had a feeling that phrase was going to get old fast. And that I'd better get used to hearing it.
"I believe you," he said. "And I'll take the warning from this maji seriously. But Syd, there's a lot you don't know about the maji. Ask your friend Liam to look into it further. That library of his should turn up Demoniconian history. Specifically about the forming of the planes in the first place." His expression deepened into a scowl. "They may come across as benevolent, but remember they created the planes and the demons who occupied them. I've always believed we were some kind of experiment they chose to run. You might ask her about their real motives when you speak to her again."
Well, that was news. But again I wasn't really surprised. It was just one more layer of proof Iepa had an agenda. As long as our goals remained the same, I'd pay attention. But the moment I even suspected something was hinky, she'd find out what screwing with a Hayle really meant.
"Thanks, Dad," I said. Stopped. Felt guilty again. "Are you okay over there?" His face tightened, shoulders sagging just a little before he straightened and nodded.
"I'm fine, Syd," he said. Which naturally meant he wasn't. "There's been a period of... adjustment. But I'm dealing with it."
Oh, Dad. I could have pressed him, made him talk to me maybe. But the look in his eyes asked me not to and, though I felt like a coward for backing off, I took the easy road and let him be.
The feeling of him shifted, the sharpness of the crystal making up his effigy cutting through a little before Dad's human form returned. I was running out of time. But the act made me think, connected two ideas together, old ones I'd almost forgotten.
"The crystal." I tapped his chest. "The one that turned your effigy from metal to diamond. It's sorcerer magic. It's too bad I can't have it back."
"You're welcome to try," Dad said. "But Sassafras and I tried everything to damage this new form, remember?" Did I. I'd caught the two of them at it and screamed at them for being total idiots before bursting into tears. Sassafras died to send Dad back to Demonicon, all because his old statue had been destroyed. And the pair of morons thought it would be a good experiment to see how strong the new one was.
"I remember." I wrinkled my nose, irritation returning. Dad just laughed. "The crystal had an effect on your power. Made you able to stay here longer?"
Dad nodded slowly. "I feel different when I'm here," he said. "My magic isn't as raw. More defined."
I knew what he meant. The fire-based power of demons had a wildness to it, an almost primal feeling. What had the crystal done to him?
"I wish I could be of further help." He reached for me again, hugging me close, cheek on my hair.
"You have," I whispered into his broad chest, feeling our demon power connect. "You listened. And I just wanted to see my dad."
"You have no idea how good it is to see you." His voice choked off. Dad cleared his throat before gently pushing me away, moisture standing in his eyes. "I have to go."
"I know." I stepped back, felt his power retreating, hugging myself, trapping the remaining warmth from his embrace.
"Syd," Dad said as he faded away, "I love you. Be careful."
Ha. Didn't see that coming.
I bent to retrieve the sheet only to toss it in a half-open cardboard box. Mom might have decided to write him off, but I had a feeling I'd be needing my father again and draping him like he was dead or something just didn't seem right.
The crystal winked at me in the light of the single bulb swaying softly over the pentagram. Hmmm. I'd gotten the one Sassafras used to save Dad from Demetrius Strong, the leader of the Chosen of the Light. A sorcerer. But surely it wasn't the only crystal, nor he the only sorcerer who used such a tool? Demetrius was gone, taken by Batsheva Moromond when she was ousted from the Council Leader seat during Mom's trial, when it was revealed she used blood magic to steal the Council's power. But there had been other sorcerers in his group.
Maybe they knew where he found the crystal. Or had their own.
As much as the idea turned my stomach, I knew what I had to do. I needed a weapon against the Brotherhood and there was only one person I could think of who might lead me to what I needed.
Angela Morgan's nasty little maid, Rosetta, was going to be so happy to see me.
***
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