It was a sad procession, returning Dad back to Mom's room, settling him in the bed. Was it pure Hayle stubbornness on my part I refused to give up? We'd been through so much, survived unbeatable odds before. Why should this be any different?
And yet, it felt different. If only because it seemed all of our avenues had been explored. But this couldn't be it, the end. It couldn't.
My dad couldn't just die.
I hovered at the doorway, not sure what to do, torn between rushing off to look for another answer—where I had no idea, only that my feet wanted me to run—and sitting next to my mother in vigil.
I couldn't bring myself to mourn just yet.
The house wards quivered and Erica's power entered. I stayed where I was, feeling her as she passed through the kitchen, down the hall and up the stairs to come to stand beside me.
“I need to talk to your mother.” Erica looked like she had been crying, her perfect makeup missing, long, blonde hair in a messy ponytail.
“Good luck with that.” I guided her away, closing the door behind me, hiding Mom, Dad and Meira from her watching eyes. Why did her staring feel so offensive? “Mom isn't available.”
Erica's hands fluttered in front of her, a flash of desperation passing over her face. “This coven is practically leaderless, Syd. She has to reassure the others.”
I actually laughed. It wasn't funny, far from it, but the idea my mother needed to do anything of the sort was so absurd I couldn't help myself. “How sad for them.” Harsher than intended, but I wasn't in the mood for family crap, thanks.
“Celeste is pressuring the others,” Erica said. “We need your mother.”
For the first time I saw just how weak Erica was. I'd always thought of her as my second Mom, my mother's right hand, the family magic strong in her. But now I understood. She was second for a reason. With a powerful leader at her side, Erica was a tigress. But without my mother's guidance she was just pathetic. Why Mom chose her as her second at all... and then it hit me.
Because she would never, ever challenge Mom's authority. Ever.
Ah. My brilliant mother at work yet again. I had so much to learn.
I think Erica must have seen the growing contempt in my face because she shored up her weaknesses behind her own anger.
“Get out of my way,” she said.
“Not a freaking chance in hell.” I used magic to bully her back, not much, just enough to show her I meant business. She gasped, but relented. Partly because I was stronger but mostly, I think, because the second she tried to push back the family magic rose up and showed its face.
Mom had linked me to the power of our coven when she'd gone in search of Gram. And while she'd taken that power back, the link remained. And with my mother indisposed, it instantly recognized the next in line and came immediately to my call.
“Downstairs,” I said. “Now.”
She went sullenly, with reluctance, but without resistance. In the fading sunlight of our kitchen, I reached out to the family without hesitation this time. Gone was my nervousness, the influence of Erica's anxiety. I didn't have time for weakness.
Listen up. I sent my mind down the line to every single witch in our family. Mom's not available. You'll have to deal with me.
I felt Celeste's instant protest and crushed it. The resulting shock running through the network almost made me feel better as did their instant acceptance of my leadership. They embraced me like I was their salvation, a huge change from last time.
Maybe because I finally accepted who I was and why. Funny how taking firm hold on your power and position can instill confidence in others.
Dad is dying. I kept the same tone as much as I wanted to sob it out. His mortal form won't survive without demon magic. We've tried to return him to Demonicon, but without success. It's only a matter of time. Your leader needs your support, not your fear. Now, act like family and pull yourselves together.
Harsh. Hell yeah. Necessary? Obviously. They all complied immediately, apologies flying, instant regret reaching for me. I felt the family start to move, to mobilize. Mom had always been there for them no matter her circumstances. Now it was their turn.
Erica wouldn't meet my eyes when I pulled free of the family, Celeste's anger barely hiding the feeling of grim speculation wrapping up her thoughts. Screw her. If she wanted to face me down she could bring it.
I was so ready.
In the meantime, I prodded Erica with some magic, making her face me. “I mean it,” I snapped. “Get it together, Erica. Mom needs you, not the other way around.”
She nodded quickly and turned to run upstairs even as the sound of arriving cars signaled the gathering of the family. I stood there, accepted their nods and brushes of power on the way by, how they bowed to me and my control on their way to sit vigil with my mother.
My feeling of satisfaction was long gone. I wished they would just leave us alone. But I knew how important this was, the gathering of the coven. For them. And for Mom. So I accepted it and did my best to wall up my thoughts.
I’d learned a lot more from my mother than I thought. Faking the leader persona was getting easier by the second.
The sun was just setting as the last of the family arrived. I didn't expect Celeste or James and, surprise, surprise neither showed up. Good thing, too. I wouldn't have let them in the house.
Our last two family members joined us with the failing of the sun. It was hard not to fall into Sunny's arms, to keep the thick veneer of control against the worry of the others, to stay strong when Uncle Frank's hardened attitude softened as he reached out to hug me. But I did, if only for my mother. I owed her so much and keeping the coven in line was the least I could do.
Besides, no way was I letting Celeste feel even a heartbeat of weakening and I was absolutely sure she was waiting and watching for just such a moment.
As I pulled free of my uncle, I had a sudden flashback so powerful my knees actually buckled.
“I have an idea,” I said, keeping my voice low and controlled so I wouldn't scream in excitement.
Sunny and Frank exchanged a glance and nodded.
They followed me upstairs, past the quiet family, weaving our way through them where they stood in the hall, piled into the living room, sat on the stairs speaking in nearly silent murmurs. They parted for us, let us pass, all the way to the crowded doorway and Mom's room.
I didn't pause to see if the coven would make way, but moved with purpose until I was standing beside my mother. She looked up at me, her hand reaching for mine, Meira in her lap and Dad's sunken body stretched out under the barely moving covers.
“Mom,” I said, “there is one more thing we can try.”
She looked over my shoulder at Uncle Frank who nodded, hand falling on my shoulder while Sunny bent to kiss her cheek.
“Syd's right,” Uncle Frank whispered. “We could bring him over, Miriam.”
Mom's eyes lit with sudden hope. “A vampire?”
Sunny nodded, stroking Mom's hair as if she were a child. “He would live, if it worked. With new power. And you could remain together, at least under darkness. It's something to consider, Miriam.”
Mom turned away, eyes locking on Dad. “It's a brilliant idea,” she said, power returning to her voice. “But we have to ask him.”
I bent and sent power into Dad, waking him. His deep blue eyes blinked open, lit briefly with amber fire. “Syd?”
“Dad.” I crouched at his side, ignoring the coven crowding around, eager for an end to the terrible sadness, “we have a plan.” I gestured at the vampires behind me. “It's the only way.”
He met Uncle Frank's eyes. “Thank you, Frank,” he said.
“Anything for you and Mir, Harry.” Frank sighed. “We can't promise it will work, but we can try.”
“What of his punishment?” Erica was wringing her hands again, her fear reaching the others. I cut her off and sent her a jab to jerk her out of it.
“Harry would no longer be under coven law,” Sunny said with such conviction I knew Celeste wouldn't have a leg to stand on. “We are, by nature, creatures of blood magic. He would be undead, as well, and thus outside the threat of punishment.”
The coven sighed as one, accepting. All we needed now was to give it a go.
Hope, real hope, surged through me, into them, into Mom. Her shoulders went back, eyes clearing of the terrible pain in them. Even Meira perked from her weariness, blinking at me slowly, like a just woken owlet.
My dad's fingers reached for Mom's, squeezed them ever so gently.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Miriam, is this what you want?”
Mom's free hand lifted to cover her mouth. “Harry, please.” She nodded slowly. “I can’t bear to lose you.”
Dad smiled. “Then we try,” he said.
***