Chapter 50: Practice Makes Perfect
Book Two: Witch Hunt
I had the tune, no problem. It was the words eluding me. The latest pop song to make it to the top of the charts circled around inside my head, the lyrics begging to be recalled and hummed to the catchy melody. He loves my pain? He loves the rain? He lives in Spain? I struggled as my mind wandered, feeling the right words on the tip of my brain. Damn it, what was the line?
"Syd."
I thought I had the words right by now. I sang it in my best friend Alison's car on the way home. She knew every word, maybe I could call her and have her tell me. Or I could download the video and find out that way.
"Syd!"
It drove me crazy. I hated when I couldn't remember. My mind wanted to make up new lyrics and I refused to be one of those losers who everyone picked on because they sang the words wrong.
"Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle!"
I snapped to attention just in time to lose the wavering shield I was supposed to be holding around the huge red candle in the middle of the pentagram. Too late, the flickering flame went out and my shield collapsed, useless. Kind of like me, at that moment.
I heaved a sigh and slumped forward over my knees, trying not to meet the eyes of the powerful witch now hovering over me with a sour expression on her face. I finally looked up, trying for innocence and barely hitting bored. The tall, beautiful vision of jet-black flowing curls and deep blue eyes scowled so hard it made her cheeks red.
"What exactly was that?"
I shrugged. "Sorry, Mom," I said. "I guess I was distracted."
Miriam Hayle, coven leader, witch of unsurpassed power and poise, threw up her hands at me and rolled her eyes.
"Honestly, Sydlynn," she said, exasperation clearly written, "you need to focus."
I glared at the extinguished candle. The wick lay quite dead, curled and blackened, the wax beneath barely a tiny melted pool, rapidly solidifying. I held the shield for maybe a minute.
"I know," I said. "I just..."
"What?" Mom crossed her arms over her chest, right foot tapping rapidly on the cement floor as she struggled with her temper. Despite the fact I knew the truth would just drive her over the edge, I had a brain/mouth malfunction.
"There's this amazing new song on the radio," I said. "And I just can't remember how the words go."
She stared at me for a long moment. For such a long moment I actually winced. Her eyes closed slowly and her jaw clenched. The vein in her forehead lifted to the surface and started to pulse gently. I'm sure I imagined it, but I thought I saw smoke come out of her ears.
Oh crap.
I tried to backpedal. "I'm sorry, Mom, really," I said, hoping to head off the inevitable crash and burn we seemed to engage in far too often. "I know I'm supposed to focus. I know I promised I'd learn magic." After years of refusing to become just another witch in the family coven, resisting and rejecting my heritage and power, I had only agreed to give it a try a few months before. Naturally, because it was me and my demon butting heads, up to this point I hadn't managed a whole lot of result.
Mom opened her eyes and she looked at me.
I saw it as a good sign. "It's just not as easy as it looks," I said.
"At least you understand that much." Her voice came out steadier than I expected "Magic, accessing your power, takes concentration, Syd."
"It never did before." I felt a little bitter about the whole thing. My demon, the half of me I inherited from my father, the Demon Lord Haralthazar, muttered and complained right along with me.
"Aside from your personal internal shields, you've been reacting, not acting." Mom sighed, anger visibly draining. "You have no control, Syd. That's the problem."
"So that's why I've been having trouble using my power when there's nothing important to do?"
Like defend my family from an evil witch and her icky husband who tried to destroy us. Batsheva and Dominic Moromond stirred my desire to learn magic by ousting my mom from her place as head of the coven and draining our whole family of their magic to feed their negative power. An easy sell. But not having them as targets made it harder to tap in.
Not to mention the hideously nauseous feeling that usually came and went when I accessed my magic. I called it a win the queazies hadn't shown this time around at least.
Had to find the happy somewhere.
"Exactly," she said. "When you were under attack, you found it easy to access your power, to call it up and let it out without compunction. But Syd, that isn't how it works. Magic is about being calm, focused, attentive to the task at hand, no matter how small," she lit the candle without looking, erecting a glowing blue shield around it, "or big the situation or threat. If I were to expend all of my power on one thing when I felt threatened, what would I do if there were two assailants? Or if it was a trick to draw out my power and weaken me?"
"I know, I know," I said, lying back on the floor, covering my eyes with my forearm. "I get it, Mom. Really. I suck at this and I waste power. Not to mention I'm uncontrollable and a liability to the family. Happy?"
I heard a rustle and moved my arm. Mom settled on the floor next to me, her flowing silk skirt in an elegant puddle around her. Did she have to be so damned perfect all the time?
"Syd, honey," she said, "you're coming to this late. If you had agreed to learn as a child-"
"Yeah, yeah." I stared at the ceiling. "Old news. My fault again. Nice guilt trip, Mom."
"I'm just saying," her voice sounded mild, a hint of humor in it, "if you hadn't been such a contrary, hard-headed, strong, willful... Syd, I wouldn't change you for anything, do you know that?"
"Seriously?" I had a hard time believing her. "Come on, Mom, even I know I'm a major disappointment to the coven. It's cool. I'm not in denial, or anything."
My mother actually laughed. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I much preferred my mother when she wasn't crying her guilt-laden tears or glaring her Mom-glare at me.
"Syd," she said, "you have no idea."
"About?" I sat up and wrapped my arms around my raised knees. I needed a little ego stroking right about then and my mother wasn't about to let me down.
"You have more power than any of them." She touched my hair in a way that made me feel six years old, a sappy and distant smile on her face. "And one day, you will lead them in my place."
I shuddered and pulled away from her.
"No way," I said. "Not going to happen. Ever."
"Syd-" she started, but I cut her off.
"You may have me convinced I need to learn to control this... this..."
"Power?" She tried not to snicker, lips twisting.
I scowled at her. "Fine. Power. But I'm not leader material."
"I think you may be wrong about that," she said in her mysterious way, meant to drive me absolutely around the bend and back again.
"Whatever," I said, knowing I wouldn't win the argument and losing patience with the whole thing. "Besides, I won't have to take over the coven."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because," I grinned at her, "I fully intend for you to live forever."
My mother laughed and hugged me.
"I'll do my best," she said.
"You'd better," I answered, trying to block the memory of my crippled and powerless mother, her magic stolen by the Moromonds, barely alive and barely wanting to be.
I leaned back and I know her thoughts were off in the same direction as mine. But, she was way less likely to let it come between me and my lesson. Bummer.
"That being said, shall we try again?"
"Okay," I said.
"Begin."
I drew a deep breath and fought for focus. I stared at the candle, now dark and cold. Back to task. Light the candle, raise the shield, keep the candle burning. No sweat.
Right. Maybe it would have been easier if my stupid upset stomach didn't make an appearance all of a sudden. Or if I didn't have my internal demon struggling against me, her power pushing against the walls I so carefully raised over the years. Or if I didn't have those walls in the first place. No one could explain why my demon and I were two separate entities, why she didn't simply integrate into me, but I knew it had to be tied into the way I felt when I used magic.
I know it should probably have freaked me out more than it did, having her floating around in my head. It's not like I could see her or anything. But it did feel much like I imagined a split personality would, only I knew she existed. She was a presence in my mind and my body a lot of times, her power at least linked to me if not perfectly connected, though I had the feeling if I gave her the chance she'd love nothing more than to shove me out of the way and take over. I'd dreamed of her a few times, so I figured I knew what she looked like-she appeared to be a black haired, red skinned, horned and amber eyed version of me-but most of the time she came across as more a feeling I had, rather than an image. And her constant growling and complaining came across loud and clear.
It just wasn't fair. I knew it was never meant to be this way. But aside from my little sister Meira, I was really the first human-demon hybrid any of the coven members had personal contact or experience with. I know it baffled my parents. My dad seemed clearly mystified. There were children of mixed race born before, but none had the experience I did.
I know my demon blamed me for the wall between us and I guess she was right. Maybe if I had just behaved myself and been a good little witch from the get-go, none of this would have happened. I did have my doubts, but my demon wasn't listening to me.
And so, in that moment in the basement, I fought not just her but the horrid, heavy feeling and cold sweats tied to the very protection I created for myself and, ultimately, lost to all three.
As I eased down the wall between us, my demon forced her way through, pushing the barrier roughly aside and venting her frustration with me on the innocent and unassuming stick of wax on the other side of the pentagram.
With a massive puff of black smoke, the candle blew up.
Thank goodness my mom was there. I hunched over, fighting not to lose my lunch as Mom threw a bubble of magic around the thick stuff, compressing then disposing of the mangled ball of wax.
"Syd!" Mom's eyes shone a little wild as she turned to me. "What happened?"
"My demon happened," I said through clenched teeth.
"Was it necessary to destroy the candle?" My mother's voice sounded testy again and I doubted this time I would get much sympathy. Her patience wore as thin as mine and I wondered for the millionth time if she was really the right person to be training me.
"She obviously thought it was appropriate," I snapped back.
"Watch your tone, young lady," Mom said.
"I hardly did it on purpose," I said. "This is stupid!" I climbed to my feet and faced her. "My demon is frustrated and doesn't want to spend her time lighting stupid candles and raising baby force fields. And, to be honest, I don't either."
"Well, that's just tough," she snapped back. "You have yet to master even the simplest tasks, Sydlynn. If you want the coven to trust and accept you-"
"Maybe I don't!" I threw it at her like a weapon. "You're the only one in this room who really gives a crap what the coven thinks!"
Why did our conversations tend toward the atomic? I could see the countdown in her eyes and knew an explosion was brewing, imminent. Rather than give her the chance to blow, I opted for indignant retreat.
"Are we done?"
I could see her struggling too, and hoped she took the out.
"Perhaps," she said very softly, her body shuddering ever so gently with pent-up anger, "it would be best."
Imagine that. I left before she changed her mind.
***
