Chapter 48: Family Magic
The wailing started and would not stop. It was a horrible, broken sound, full of frustration and despair. It pierced me like a knife.
We all came together over the hunched form of Batsheva Moromond. I felt Quaid join us, his face expressionless but eyes soft as he watched his mother, wretched, shattered, shriek her sanity away into the night.
As she did, they started to arrive, slowly at first, in ones and twos, then large groups of them all at once, the coven, our family, come to pass judgment on the saboteur who almost destroyed us. None of them approached, leaving us alone, keeping their distance, standing guard over the Moromonds to allow us our moment together.
By the time the witches gathered, it was getting close to dawn.
"We should go," Uncle Frank said to us. Sunny shone beside him. She brushed my face with her fingertips in thanks.
"Stay," Mom said. "You are welcome here, both of you. From now on, you are always welcome."
Frank grinned at her. "Thanks, and any other time, we'll take you up on it." He looked to the east and the growing dawn. "We don't exactly have much choice at the moment."
We hugged them. I closed my eyes as I felt them dissolve and fly to safety for the day, feeling Uncle Frank's energy hug me as he left.
"Love you, too," I whispered.
I opened my eyes at the brush of fairy magic. Jared stepped forward. He reverted to his human state. I saw Erica in the crowd, her face pinched with guilt and anger that he fooled her for so long.
"I, too, have to go," he said.
"You are welcome with us, Galleytrot," Mom told him. I saw the hope and gratitude that crossed his face. It faded.
"I can't, but you are a generous woman to offer. You have been nothing but kind to me. I need to offer something in return."
"You already have," she said. "I feel your power in me, now, and I thank you for it."
We all knew it hadn't been his choice to make it a gift, but he didn't try to take it back, either.
"All I can grant you is a warning," he said.
"The others will come," Mom answered. I shuddered. I almost forgot about the Wild Hunt.
"I'm afraid so," he said. "They have been asleep for so long, but Batsheva and her meddling has brought them to the edge of waking. When they do, they will know about you."
"Thank you, Galleytrot," she said. "I will be watchful. I will know when they rise."
He sank into his other form. The coven gasped as Jared became the huge black dog.
"Know this," he growled out in his elemental, gravelly voice. "Whatever advantage you think you have from knowing, whatever plan you have to stand against them, when the Wild Hunt wakes, they will come for you, Miriam Hayle, and no power, not even that you have from me, will be able to stop them."
With that, he disappeared.
If it hadn't been for the perfectly serene look on her face, I would have been afraid. But, after what we went through, I figured we'd face it when it came and worry about it then.
Mom caught me watching her and winked.
My mother turned to the gathered coven, drawing Meira, Gram, Sassy and I to her as she faced those who let her down. I shook in fury. I wanted to tell the whole lot of them off. If they just stood behind her, if they were stronger, Batsheva would never have been able to come between the family and my mother.
I felt her hand on my shoulder squeeze followed by the gentle brush of her familiar power over me. I recognized how much I missed it, the perfect, warm weight of it. I was terrified it was gone forever. I calmed under her touch, trusting her to deal with them and for once keeping my big mouth shut.
"My coven, my sisters and brothers," she said, "my very good friends, what has happened has happened. There will be no blame placed from this moment on."
A groan ran through the gathered witches as they felt her forgiveness and love and her renewed bond to them.
"What of the Moromonds?" Erica asked. "Surely they are to be blamed?"
There was a murmur of agreement, an anger rising as the self-doubt and guilt turned outward. I saw the greatly reduced Dominic shrink back from them, terror etched in his pinched face.
Batsheva stayed stubbornly unrepentant. Her wailing ceased as she listened.
Mom held up one hand, calling for silence. It came in a breath.
"They must be punished," she said, "but they will be treated to the letter of our laws. They will have a fair and honest trial led by the High Council. There will be no old world justice here. I will not have its negative energy weaken us any further."
I had Superwoman for a mom.
"And the boy?" Celeste said. "What of the boy?"
My heart dropped. "He is innocent," I said.
"You speak for him, Sydlynn?" Mom asked.
My eyes locked on him. He bowed his head to me with one of his smirks and stepped forward, smile fading as he faced my mother.
"I seek asylum in the coven," he said. "I'm too young yet to leave them on my own. I need your permission to break from them and be free."
Mom's fingertips brushed his cheek.
"Granted," she said. I didn't miss the speculative look she gave me out of the corner of her eye.
"It is done, then," she said, magic carrying it to the furthest corner of the crowd. She turned to face Batsheva and Dominic. The sadness in her face aged her.
"I hereby cast you out," she said, "and order you to be taken before the High Council to be judged for your crimes. Have you anything to say?"
Batsheva stopped wailing. She stared at my mother with such pure hatred I had to force myself to keep from putting my body between them.
"Only that I will have my revenge on you," she snarled at my mother, "and your family. There is far more to this than you know, fool. I am not the only one who you must fear. Do you really think I acted alone in this? You have overstepped yourself, and you will be punished for it."
We all frowned. What was she talking about? My mother showed nothing.
"I pity you, Batsheva," she said, and meant it.
She couldn't have hurt the other witch more if she kicked her in the face. Batsheva's whole body shuddered with fury, wanting to lash out but unable.
"I will have your power for my own, Miriam Hayle," she howled, madness taking her. "And when you fall, I will dance on your shallow grave!"
It was only then I saw she was bleeding. She cut her hand with a sharp rock. Using her own life force as an energy source in the charged circle of the site, she threw herself completely into the darkness of her evil. A dull, shuddering portal oozed to life next to her. My whole being flinched from the rank stench blowing outward as it surged to life. Batsheva, her free hand already gripping Dominic, leapt for the hole and vanished, taking her groveling husband with her.
No one moved as the wash of her spell imploded and dissipated, unable to hold shape in the presence of so much positive magic.
"Mom," I hissed. "We can't let them get away!"
"They won't," she whispered. "Not for long. They will be hunted down by the Enforcers and destroyed." Mom drew me to her for a quick hug. Despite her feelings of regret, I was more than happy they were going to be someone else's problem from now on.
Besides, there were other questions needing answers.
"What was she talking about?" I asked her. "Who is after you? Are we in more trouble?"
My calm and peaceful mother refused to answer. I clenched my teeth but held my tongue. I'd get it out of her sooner or later. Preferably sooner. I was willing to offer her a grace period, considering.
It was a beautiful morning.
"Come," Mom said as the sun cleared the horizon and lit the site, "we have work to do. Samhain is here. Today we say goodbye to summer."
The witches broke up into small groups. They went about their appointed tasks, radiating joy and peace, to clean and reset the site for the real ceremony. Despite everything that happened, they felt whole again. Just like that. Could everything possibly go back to normal? Really?
I was shocked by the very thought, but not so much by the effortless re-fusion of the magic and the coven as much as my mother's intentions.
"You can't be serious," I said. "Mom, don't you think we've all had about enough magic for one day?"
She glowed with happiness. It lit her eyes, her whole being. I knew I could only ever dream of being as beautiful as my mother, her jet black hair on fire from behind by the rising sun, tall, slender body strong and confident, stunning face creasing with warmth and love.
"Oh, Syd," she laughed at me, "There's no such thing as too much magic."
For once I decided to agree with her.
***
