Family Magic by Chloe Price (books you need to read .TXT) 📕

There was a certain presence to my father, a weight, a physical feeling to being around him that always made me uncomfortable, especially when the door first opened. I hated to admit it, but I think it made me feel that way because I was afraid it could be me someday traveling between worlds.

Haralthazar took the time to look over us. His chiseled face creased in a soft smile, gentle even, welcoming. Hard to believe, but true. My dad was a nice demon. Forget the whole pit of burning despair thing. Demons simply come from another plane, a different realm of existence. There are good guys and bad guys like here on Earth. Lucky for us, when my Mom decided to go unconventional after the attack leaving her own mother crippled, she fell in love with Dad.

He raised one arm over Mom. She stiffened as the energy rippled out of her in visible strings of light, flowing over the pentagram and back into each of us. I flinched as the thread hit me, out of breath and more than a little dizzy. Dad always gave back more than he took, at least to me.

“My love, well met.” He bent and took my mother’s hand, helping her to her feet. “Miriam, rise and stand with me.”

She took her place beside him. Emotion swirled between them. Dad beamed at us.

“I am well pleased, my friends,” he said. “Our coven grows and is strong. I offer power to the bond and love and protection to you all.”

“Our thanks to you,” the crowd murmured, my voice joining slightly late.

He turned to me.

“Sydlynn Hayle,” he held out one hand, “come to your father.”

This part always made me feel like I was being dissected by all the eyes staring into my back. I despised being the center of attention. There was a definite slouch in my stance as I climbed to my feet and dragged myself unhappily to my parents.

“The first gift of our joining, welcome and my thanks for the sharing of power. With you, our light grows.”

“You bet.” My father frowned for an instant, enough to make me feel like a spoiled rotten little kid. How did he do that? I was happily cynical with my mother but Dad could reduce me to a child with one raised eyebrow. I guess he was mostly a great father and a really good guy and I hated disappointing him.

I drew a breath and tried harder.

“My light to you,” I said, louder.

He smiled secretly. I smiled back as he bent over me and touched his lips to my forehead.

“Hi, cupcake,” he whispered through the official kiss. “How’s soccer going?”

Seriously. Cupcake. “Fine, thanks,” I whispered back. “And you can stop calling me that.”

He grinned pure evil.

“Whatever you say. Cupcake.”

Ooh. Dads.

“Don’t piss off your mother,” he said.

“Doing my best.” I rolled my eyes.

Dad straightened up and addressed the group.

“This is my child, truly born, a member of this coven. Who speaks against her?”

In the silence that followed, I half-heartedly hoped someone would kick me out.

“All is well,” he said. “Our love to you, Sydlynn Hayle.”

I made a face at him for the whole stupid thing.

“Thanks,” I said. Dad dropped a small wink as I stepped back.

“Meira Hayle, come forward.”

My sister stepped up eagerly. I heard her soft giggle as our father repeated the kiss he gave me. I’d ask her later what he said to make her laugh. Not that I’d ever admit it, but we didn’t get to see our father all that often and I was a bit jealous of her time spent with him.

Dad straightened over her.

“This is my child, truly born, and a member of this coven. Who speaks against her?”

Meira must have said something cute because our dad struggled not to laugh in the silence.

“All is well,” he repeated. “Our love to you, Meira Hayle.”

Meira stepped back, her little hand slipping into mine. She grinned up at me as the ceremony continued.

I tried not to laugh when Gram, up next, planted a wet, sticky one on him. He had the good nature to hug her back and smile at her with real warmth and love. She tottered back to us, so pleased with herself she wriggled like a little girl.

I struggled with a case of the fidgets as the validation process continued but couldn’t help the impatient shift from sneaker to sneaker making its way through my defenses. Witch after witch, male and female alike, professed their undying love and loyalty to our family, etcetera, and so on, ad nausem. It took forever. And to think we had to go through this twice a year. According to Mom, with the dying of the summer at Samhain and its rebirth at Beltane, the connection between our plane and Dad’s was closest. It made the bonding easier and more powerful.

Blah, blah, blah.

The only problem? It was the epitome of boring. Besides, I had homework to do. I could hardly explain to my science teacher I didn’t get my chemistry done because I was helping my coven renew its bond with my demon father. Who knew? Maybe Mr. Sinclair would give me a better mark if he thought I packed that kind of firepower.

Finally, and I do mean finally, the ceremony ended with the last of them stepping back from Haralthazar. He turned to my mother. The love in their eyes as they gazed at each other was, if I have to be totally honest, sickening and way over the top.

“My love.” He held her hands to his chest, the top of her head reaching his chin, the flawless, perfect lovers, channeling a bad romance novel.

Meira poked me. I knew I was making faces in disgust. It was just so embarrassing. Normal people didn’t do that kind of thing in public. Meira and I exchanged a knowing smirk and I pretended to gag.

“My life,” Mom said with bated breath.

Another grimace. Meira giggled.

“Our circle is whole. Our power is renewed, and our love.” Even Dad was in on the nonsense.

“Yours always, my love.” Mom stretched up on her tiptoes.

I quickly found something else to look at, horrified by the open attraction my parents had no problem sharing with the rest of us. Didn’t they get public displays of affection were the height of icky? I’m sure if it were me, I’d be grounded.

Meira sniggered and made a little kissing noise. I choked on a laugh and had to struggle not to cough.

Dad winked at us.

“My people, my family, I embrace you with my love.” I felt the warmth flow through me as his presence wrapped around us all. It made me want to fidget again but this time I won.

“Love to you,” we all said at once. I hated this part, too, and did my best not to battle against the power flowing in a great circle from one witch to the next, passing between us like a hug, connecting us in ways too personal for my liking. I shuddered when it was done, skin crawling. Personal space meant nothing to them.

“Joy and peace to you all.”

“And to you,” I murmured along with the others. I glared at my candle and fought the urge to run away.

“We are one,” he said.

“And the same,” the coven answered.

“Power to blood.” Dad raised his arms.

“Blood to power.” The coven swayed.

“Family for eternity.” I scowled at him.

“Family forever,” I stared him down, but this time he wasn’t smiling. I didn’t like the serious expression on his face but shrugged at him. He finally looked away.

“Joined together, my soul to your soul, my heart to your heart, past, present and future, one and the same.”

The coven sighed as a whole as the warmth slowly left. Dad lowered his arms and embraced Mom. She turned, a light sheen of sweat on her cheeks and a huge smile on her face.

“Thank you all.”

The crowd murmured and started blowing out candles. My stomach slowly unclenched as I extinguished mine with relief and tossed it at Meira.

“Thanks, Meems.”

She blew delicately at her own, leaving behind a heart in her smoke. I poked it with my finger, but couldn’t break it. We looked up together at our parents and for a heartbeat the four of us connected, just us, in the remains of the power in the room.

I actually felt like I belonged.

Someone had to switch on the light. I found the sudden brightness oddly offensive. And, what’s worse, the slender thread holding us snapped and I shivered in my robe, empty and cold. It bothered me I could get so wrapped up in the illusion of candlelight. When it broke and reality came back it was always disappointing to find myself in an ordinary basement.

Not that the magic was a sham, quite the opposite. In fact, it was way too real for me, always had been. Ever since I could remember I resisted who and what I was. Moments like the one I just shared gave me the creeps, even if they felt good at the time. What was I thinking? Normal. The ultimate goal was to be normal. My parents might be able to force me to do this song and dance for a couple more years, but eighteen here I come.

I winced as one of the men stumbled against a cardboard box marked “China.” A soft tinkle whispered of something delicate shattering. I guess it was fitting.

The crowd dissolved into a group of ‘just folks’, shedding their robes, revealing jeans and business suits underneath, as conversation started.

“…had a chance to try out the new babysitter? She’s a pet…”

“…was sure the boys would pull their socks up this year, but so far they’re still at the bottom of the league…”

“…love your new shoes! What's the name of the store…”

It amazed me they could simply shrug off the residue of power, the huge and scary stuff we did, and go back to an ‘ordinary’ life without even a hint of the truth showing through.

I, on the other hand, was terrible at it, like most everything else in my screwed up life. It seemed like after every ceremony I attended it took me a couple of days to stop dropping bits of magic here and there. Nothing major or the coven would take steps, but enough to reinforce my absolute resolve to get out of this crazy life forever.

I shucked out of my robe with relief. The only