Lychos Cycle

Chapter 6: Family

I let Quaid take Ethie from me as he smiles and offers his free arm.

"Bedtime," he says. I'm cold without the girl's weight in my arms, already missing both children as their father turns and carries them into the house. Galleytrot licks my hand on the way by, following Quaid and the kids, their constant shadow. I know they are in good paws with him, and with Sassafras.

My excuses wear thin as I admit the need I feel to protect them is just another delay.

Meira waves to me and I cross to her, feeling the collective eyes of the coven and vampires on me, my wolf shuddering at the attention. Miriam rises from beside her daughter to hug me, and I firmly embrace her back, the scent of lilacs filling my senses and washing away my sadness. She reminds me acutely of my mother, and the empty place in my life. I wish even more I could stay here and pretend this family is mine.

"You look wonderful, Charlotte." Syd's mother should talk. Stepping down as leader of the North American Council of Witches did her a world of good, not to mention shaking free of the influence of the Brotherhood. She is as youthful and stunning as I remember her, as is her demon husband, Haralthazar. He stands to shake my hand, a happy smile on his face. I know him little, his role in Syd and Meira's lives a thin one until just a few years ago. But the wolf in me approves of him and so I allow his hug when he pulls me forward. They all treat me like I belong here, only making things worse. When I step back from Miriam and Harry, I admire the gorgeous couple they make, not just physically, but in the pure love they have for each other.

Meira struggles to rise to greet me, and I rush to her aid, guiding her to her feet. Her stomach reaches past the rest of her otherwise normal-seeming body, all belly as I've heard the term spoken. She beams at me, the demon she is shining through her blue eyes a moment in a flare of amber fire, red kissing her cheeks, the barest hint of her horns appearing in her piled black curls. Warm lips press to my cheek, her hands hot as she pulls me awkwardly to her, laughing in my ear.

"This is the most uncomfortable, frustrating and amazing thing ever." She leans away to rub her belly with one hand, still holding me with the other.

I smile at her predicament, wondering for the first time what it will feel like to welcome a life in my own body. I can't even imagine.

The party has broken up into chattering groups of witches and vampires now Meira is finished with opening gifts. I'm grateful they seem to avoid us, leaving us to catch up in the center of the lawn. Do they sense I want to be alone with those I love the most? Possibly. I've always felt welcome in the Hayle family, since I bonded with Syd, that is. Our first meeting wasn't as pleasant, though I was in the employ of the Dumonts at the time. But from the moment I encountered Syd and her family, I knew my life would be changed forever.

And so it has been.

Ethpeal and Demetrius join us, the small, white-haired sorcerer as sweetly cherubic as ever, his kiss full on my lips as his crystal blue eyes sparkle. The tang of oranges and chocolate, his signature scent, fills my nostrils. My wolf savors the taste. He's changed since regaining his sanity. He used to feel thin to me, transparent. But after the battle of the stronghold, when he and Syd defeated Liander Belaisle and the Brotherhood, his mind healed, Demetrius's spirit blossomed. He's almost overwhelming to me, now, as though the joy he feels at being whole exudes from his every pore.

His touch mingles perfectly with Ethpeal's and I can only imagine how hard it must have been for her to walk away from him so many years ago, to choose Ivan Dumont over the sorcerer she loved to save her family. Fierce pride and love wakes in my heart as I stand there with them. So hard not to love these people whose feelings are laid bare before me. Tears want to be shed, but I am expert at holding back and instead I smile and bask in their presence, as though soaking them up now will sustain me later.

"Thank you for the lovely outfit." Meira gestures beside her to the bag I carefully prepared, the pink fur hooded bag I had custom made peeking from the top. "And all the sweet toys. Charlotte, you shouldn't have."

I feel a blush rise on my cheeks. "A friend is a wood carver," I say, one of my werepack the most talented I'd ever seen. My eyes drift over the stunning creations of wolves and people in the family's likeness before meeting hers with a shyness I wished I could get over at being complimented. "I'll tell him you like them."

"Like them!" She motions to her father who bends and retrieves one of the wooden statues. Syd's likeness is perfect, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with her dark ponytail down her back. "Zuza is a very lucky girl, having a wonderful auntie like you."

"Zuza." I grin. "I love the name."

Meira rolls her eyes, lips twisting in a wry smile as she leans in to whisper in my ear. "Well, it's really Zuzameirhaylynn," she says. "Stupid demon tradition and their overbearing sense of self-importance. But at least she has a cool nickname."

"It's perfect," I say, piecing the bits together. "Syd must have been touched."

Meira's nose wrinkles, taking the maturity from her face a moment, the girl I knew shining through. "She doesn't know yet."

"Then your secret is safe with me." I kiss her softly, heart gaping wide at the gift she's given me. What have I done to deserve such kindness? And how can I possibly walk away from it forever when all I want to do is make it permanent? Visits won't be the same. And I'll never have the connection I do now, not with the weight of the werenation on my shoulders. But I refuse to waste these moments and squeeze her hand, letting her feel my gratitude. "Thank you for sharing with me."

Her eyes glisten with sudden tears. "Dear Charlotte," she whispers before clearing her throat and forcing a smile.

I listen then to her chatter with her mother and grandmother about her pregnancy, happy to remain quiet, to simply be with these people. And as I do, the last of my resistance fades despite my longing to stay here and never, ever leave.

It is time to stop running. Doing so, rejecting my fate, would be an insult to the trials and struggles of the people I care about. Each and every one of them has given of themselves to make the world-the Universe-a safer and better place. I've learned responsibility through pride and passion from them, that has nothing to do with fear and oppression.

My question to Syd has been answered for me. How can I turn my back on my race's future now? Now we are finally free, I can't just abandon them. And the love and acceptance I feel here and now, there's no reason I can't take these lessons I've learned and recreate what I long for in my own family. There's nothing to say I have to endure a loveless mating or fulfill my duty to the detriment of my heart. And while I might not be able to claim the one I now love as my own, the possibility remains another could wait for me, one I can trust to rule at my side.

I thank Syd silently for the truths she's taught me as I drift away from the group and head for the edge of the lawn, ready to act despite the pain in my chest.

I pause at the hedgerow, looking back over the party. I've dreaded this moment, but now my heart is lighter. My magic reaches for Syd, only to find her gone. I'm sad I don't get to say goodbye, but it's not as if either of us need those words or that moment together. I know I'll see her again soon.

My magic hums to the heartbeat of my wolf and I let it out to stretch. It's grown well, though I still sense part of it is cut off from me. Syd seems to think the Black Souls used stolen demon magic to create the werewolves, tying wolf spirits to human. And because I'm not part demon, she suggested it's for that reason I don't have full access.

My wolf whines, sad about the whole thing, but recovering quickly, practical in the way of wolves. I wish at times I could speak to her, as Syd does to her alter egos, but, like the wolf pack at home, the best I get from her are impressions, feelings, scents. One thing I know she agrees with, it's time to grow up and be Princess Sharlotta Moreau and let Charlotte Girard go.

Only one last thing to do before I can move on. I slip into the park and head for the dojo, Sage's handsome face in my mind. He's the last reason I've held back from committing to my future and that of my people. I've managed to keep my affair with him quiet. Foremost to protect him from my grandfather's wrath. If he knew I'd been seeing a normal... not that such things are illegal for werewolves, but I am the heir to the throne and have spent the last five years resisting my place. Oleksander would surely blame Sage for that hesitance and I wouldn't put it past the king of the weres to take action against my lover if he thought it might be an issue in the future.

But, I've also kept Sage from Syd. She would never judge, but this way I don't have to endure her sympathy. It will be easier to cut ties and say goodbye without questions and sorrow from more than just my love. But that doesn't mean this is going to be easy.

The dojo is only a few blocks from Syd's house and I'm almost there, wrapped in my thoughts, in what I'm going to tell him, when my wolf growls and I come to a halt. This time, I know I'm not imagining things. The same pressure on the back of my neck, the same dark feeling of being observed, draws a snarl from my lips. I spin in place, glaring into the night, toward the source.

Show yourself. I push my mental voice outward in a swipe of claw-like magic. Someone flinches from the attack, melting into the dark. I almost go after my watcher, an odd feeling stirring in my gut as my wolf sniffs the air, distressed by what she senses. But whoever it is has fled and my wolf settles, as though nothing happened.

Could it be my grandfather sending weres to keep track of me? Anger burns, smothered behind my mask of control. That means he knows about Sage. But if he does, why has he never said anything before? It's not like Oleksander to stay quiet if something is upsetting him. Regardless, we will have a sharp conversation when I return home. For now, the lurker has left and I have a goodbye to complete.

I turn with a heavy heart and a prickling sense of nerves toward the dojo, ready-or thinking I'm ready-to say goodbye to the true and beautiful love I have in my heart.

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