Shifting Loyalties Read online

  Shifting Loyalties

  Book Seventeen of the Hayle Coven Novels

  Patti Larsen

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2013 by Patti Larsen

  Find out more about Patti Larsen at

  http://www.pattilarsen.com/

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  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

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  Cover art (copyright) by Valerie Bellamy. All rights reserved.

  http://www.dog-earbookdesign.com

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  Content edits by Annetta Ribken, freelance Goddess. You can find her at http://www.wordwebbing.com/

  Copy edits by Jennifer Wingard. Find her at

  www.theindependentpen.com

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  Chapter One

  “That’s what she said!”

  I choked on a French fry as Tippy's punch line made me blush and laugh at the same time. As outrageous as ever, the red-haired Hensley witch winked at me, substantial rack pushing the rude hand gesture screen printed on her chest into everyone's face. She'd forgiven me for choosing Shenka as my second almost as fast as she'd gotten over the fact Liam and I were an item. Sort of an item. I glanced sideways at him, found him blushing just as brightly as I knew I was and realized he'd never survive Tippy even if he were into her.

  Hell, I still worried if he'd survive me.

  Not going there, not right now. I'd had a nice, quiet fall and a lovely Christmas holiday at home. Meira even made an appearance despite her permanent relocation to Demonicon. Mom acted like herself again, young, beautiful, enthusiastic. And though she still endured stress from her job, the control of the Brotherhood had been broken and her natural ability to balance work and home seemed almost eerie.

  No complaining. I was just happy to have my mother back.

  It felt difficult to return to Harvard for my last semester, to leave the happiness of my house behind, feeling, for the first time in ages, as though nothing changed since we first moved to Wilding Springs. Though so much had. Gram was the biggest indicator, quiet and withdrawn. Crabby most of the time, locking herself in her bedroom more often than not, her familiar touch in my mind so faint.

  Broke my heart, knowing how much she suffered from the loss of her magic.

  To Ameline of all people. I still owed that bitch for hurting my grandmother. Would kill her for it one day. Just as soon as my maji guide, Iepa, told me I didn't need the evil witch anymore.

  Talk about a mood downer. I set aside my fork, shoulders slumping despite the giggling going on around me, the shuffling of other students, both witch and normal, coming and going. Talking, laughing, living. I wasn't really listening anymore. Besides, I felt tired, a little worn out. I'd let so many people down in the past, forgetting their problems, letting too much slide. No more. Which meant almost constant contact with a large group of loved ones. Regular visits to Austria to see Sunny and Uncle Frank, to the Sidhe realm to check in on the now single court of the Fey. The constant bickering between Seelie and Unseelie was always a treat.

  The best part, though, were the almost daily chats with my sister, partly out of the need to keep her safe and partly because I just missed her.

  And the coven. Always the coven. Shenka was great, better than great. I met her eyes as she rolled hers at me while Tippy brayed her excessive laugh. I loved my second, knew I'd made the perfect choice sneaking her out from under her sister, Tallah, though I wondered how she could stand the cold after growing up in California. Shenka insisted on joining me for every friend and family visit she could possibly attend, even trying to cross to Demonicon with me once. We both knew it wouldn't work out, her sad face peering at me through the veil from the basement when I crossed without her proving my point.

  The only one who'd been able to join me on my father’s plane was Charlotte, my bodywere. Which led me to believe she had demon ancestry somewhere in her wolfish makeup.

  Thinking of Charlotte just made things worse. I still thought of her as “mine” even though she left me months ago, the bond between us broken. She came back from the dead for me, while, in hindsight, I thought she might have chosen to pass over in another circumstance. But then she'd left, with only a note in Ukrainian telling me she loved me. I hadn't heard from her in all this time. Yes, I focused on keeping an eye on those I cared about to be sure they were okay, but in Charlotte's case, she'd made it pretty clear she didn't want contact.

  And no matter how much I hated the fact she was out there on her own, I had to honor that.

  Mostly.

  Shenka set aside her napkin, pushing away her tray. The dark, early evening sky pressed against the stained glass behind her, window rimmed in the frost of deep January.

  “I'm off for home.” Right, I'd forgotten. It was Friday already. We'd both acquired the habit of returning to Wilding Springs for the weekends. More family time. And while I looked forward to it for the most part, the idea of staying at school and getting some well-earned sleep seemed like a good idea.

  No rest for the wicked.

  Liam's hand fell on my arm as the small posse of girls rose. Donalda, tall and gray eyed, winked at me as she turned, one arm sliding through Tippy's to guide her away while Nicci blew us both a kiss, freckled nose wrinkling before mimicking Donalda’s act, making a chain of witch girls as she linked up with Josie on the other side. It still amazed me at times I had real paranormal friends, people who understood me, the life I lived, because they lived it too. Looking up at the five beautiful girls made my heart happy.

  Shenka paused, a sweet smile on her face, before turning her back to give Liam and me a moment.

  Which made me nervous she knew something I didn't.

  “I was thinking,” Liam said in his deep voice, hazel eyes sparking with points of green as his cheeks pinked, tongue running nervously over his lips.

  “That's got to hurt.” I laughed, even more nervous, the giggling coming out a bit high-pitched. I squeezed his hand to cover my anxiety as he snorted. “Go on.”

  Liam relaxed, my irreverence seeming to put him at ease while my own butterflies beat their little wings against my ribcage. “You've been working so hard these past few months,” at least someone noticed, “I thought maybe you could let Shenka go home this weekend.” He paused. Swallowed. “Alone.” Paused again while my chest tightened around those pesky insects. “So you could stay with me.”

  Oh.

  Boy.

  I'd been waffling over him, over what to do about us. Avoided anything involving making a commitment one way or another. Didn't help I only had a few months left before I was supposed to get married. Yeah, probably made things ten times worse. Still made me break out into a cold sweat and want to pack up and run for the hil
ls just thinking about it. And while I felt pretty sure I’d be all over his sweet offer if the whole witching world wasn’t in such a rush for me to find a husband, knowing the inevitable loomed made me squirm like a trapped rat waiting for the cat to pounce.

  This was obviously some kind of bid on his behalf to spend some time alone and see if we could reconnect.

  Shenka glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. I knew then she was in full cahoots with Liam, but not in the way he thought. She waited, patient and 100% on my side, ready to support me no matter what I chose to do. As I looked back to Liam, the anxiety in his face, the way he bent his body toward mine, I thought of Gram.

  She told me once he was too weak for me. That he was a terrible choice for a mate, a life partner. Her words held me back as much as my reluctance to bow to the pressure of centuries of witch law. Was it fair? No. At the time, I lost my crap on her, furious she would say such a thing. But the more I thought about it, the more her argument gnawed at my heartstrings.

  And yet, there was only one way to find out if she was right. Which meant actually exploring this relationship at last. After all, I was running low on time. The coven law I had to be married by twenty-one loomed in my future.

  I had to freaking choose already or step down as coven leader.

  Images of other faces passed before me. Of Rameranselot, my demon friend who I knew now I'd never select to be my mate. But there were more, at least two more. One I pined for almost every day despite my best intentions. And the other I'd been trying desperately to free since August.

  My appeals for the release of Sebastian DeWinter fell on deaf ears, both in my attempted communication with his queen, Pannera Sthol, and with Margaret Applegate, the leader of the European Council. Every attempt Mom and I made to discuss Sebastian’s situation was ignored. I knew I could simply storm into the vampire mansion and take out their current leader, Celeste Oberman. Wanted to, so very much. Would enjoy watching her wither and burn in the sun. It was the very least I owed her after all the trouble the former Purity witch caused for my family.

  But Mom insisted we use diplomacy despite both of us knowing Sebastian suffered at Celeste's hand, not to mention the rest of his clan. Anastasia, one of his lieutenants, already begged for my help, told me Celeste starved those she was meant to protect.

  But my main concern centered on Sebastian. He was my friend, but more than that. He'd expressed his romantic interest at Sunny and Uncle Frank's wedding and, thanks to my immortality, choosing him was a distinct possibility. Yes, there were certain questions needing answers, such as if he was able to father children—blushing and having naughty thoughts—but no matter the truth, even if he was the perfect choice, I couldn't marry a vampire I couldn't reach.

  That left one.

  I just couldn't go there. To those chocolate eyes, that smirk. Delicious magic threading through mine. Creak of leather, the way his long, wavy hair hung, begging to be touched.

  All of him. Begging.

  Growl.

  And snap. I shook myself a little as Liam touched my cheek with his fingertips just as Shenka's mind poked mine.

  You suck at this, she sent with laughter in her mental voice. I'll see you later.

  She left me there, a wave for Liam, as I pulled myself out of comparing the handsome, sweet guy in front of me to the other options I had for marriage like he was an under ripe watermelon.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Sorry,” I said, clasping his hands in mine. “Space cadet moment.”

  He bobbed a nod, started to pull away, his disappointment clear on his face.

  “I understand,” he said. “You have so much on your plate. We both have responsibilities and the family has to come first. It was stupid for me to ask.”

  I tugged him back, forcing myself to relax. A weekend off with Liam? Okay then. Time to pull on my big girl panties and see where this went.

  Ah. Unfortunate turn of phrase. Blush.

  “I'd love to,” I said.

  And after the words left my mouth, I realized I really meant them.

  Imagine that.

  ***

  Chapter Two

  I tapped into some of my demon’s power, warming myself internally as Liam and I stepped out into the crisp January night. I didn’t really need his arm around my shoulders, but I wasn’t complaining. In fact, as we crossed the street back to Harvard Yard, I felt myself warming in other ways that had nothing to do with magic.

  Unless hormones are magical.

  This might work out after all. Once I managed to get out of my own way and stop being such a freakazoid about the future.

  “Did I tell you?” Liam smiled down at me, snow crunching under our boots, a puff of white mist floating from his lips in the still night air. “Mom remarried.”

  There was a shocker. I hadn’t heard from Sonja O’Dane since Liam used magic on her to make her leave us the hell alone. She’d been the reason Liam and I hadn’t taken our relationship any further when I first decided he was the one for me. Her constant helicopter presence drove me crazy, to the point I just couldn’t stand being with him anymore, knowing she was part of the deal.

  But now, thanks to his spell, she’d lost her anxious need to be with him 24/7. And from the sounds of things, she’d made a life for herself. Somewhere else.

  Away from me.

  Wicked.

  “That’s nice.” Wow, Syd. Way to show even a little bit of interest and genuine enthusiasm. But Liam didn’t seem to notice my lack of caring.

  “She’s really happy,” he said, one tartan patterned mitten rising to brush at his nose. “That’s all I wanted for her.”

  That hit me where it hurt. Liam really was the sweetest, most adorable and big-hearted guy I’d ever met. I slid my arm around his waist and squeezed, even managing a smile. After all, I may have hated her guts for a lot of reasons—like almost getting her son killed on several occasions while being a general pain in my ass—but even I wasn’t so jaded I couldn’t share Lima’s happiness for his mom.

  And while I couldn’t really muster happiness for Sonja, her allegiances did perk my interest. “Who did she marry?” Casual, Syd. Act casual.

  Liam took me at my innocent worst.

  “His name is Roger,” he said. “A normal, amazingly enough. Owns a motorcycle repair shop in Maine.”

  Which meant she hadn’t dipped her toes back into Unseelie business.

  Awesome. My mood lightened immediately. Not only was she out of my life, she had a new one of her own and was staying out of mischief.

  “You’re a good boy,” I said, winking.

  I meant it as a joke. Just a sidebar ribbing, my specialty. So why did he frown suddenly and pull me to a stop?

  “Syd.” He gripped my shoulders in his mittened hands, pulling me closer to him. So close the puffiness of his jacket sighed against my navy wool pea coat, the distinct pressure of his physical need pressing to the zipper of my jeans. “I don’t want to be a good boy.”

  Oh. My. Gulp. Swearword.

  Blush much, Hayle? It was pretty clear from his pink cheeks—cold winter night or not—it took him a lot of courage to say so. His meaning was pretty obvious, even for someone as dense as me.

  And how did I feel about it?

  White flakes began to fall, fat, soft ones, as I stood there and tried to think of what to say to him, to decide what I wanted to do about the two of us. They settled in his lashes, on the bobble of his brown earflap hat. So. Freaking. Adorable.

  How did I feel about it?

  Growl.

  He must have sensed the change in my mood, because he smiled shyly before bending over me. I reached up on my tiptoes, his earth magic rumbling through me. Shaylee embraced him whole-heartedly, though my demon turned her back, sulking in the corner. I knew what she wanted. Who. But Liam was here and I refused to let thoughts of Quaid—or my demon’s longing for him—ruin this moment.

  Liam’s hot breath brushed over my lips, the
scent of chocolate from his dessert washing over me as I slid both hands over the front of his jacket, fingers sliding between the snaps and under the puffy fabric to touch him through the thin material of his t-shirt.

  I always expected his lips to burn me when he kissed me, the expectation built in from other encounters with a darker soul, but the cool depth of earth met my mouth instead. And then all memories of past embraces faded into nothing as I leaned in to Liam, one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

  So strong, his arms, sweet his tongue. His cold nose pressed to my cheek, tiny snow kisses tingling on my skin as the fall came heavier. I ignored it, closing my eyes, grounding myself in his power as a deep, vibrating hum began at the soles of my feet and began to move upward.

  Making me wonder what would happen when it climbed a little further.

  Something wet and hard hit the back of my head, knocking me forward. My teeth impacted Liam’s with a clunk. We both jerked away, Liam holding his mouth where a small spot of red welled on his lower lip. I spun with a snarl at the sound of giggling, power gathering in a rush around me.

  Jean Marc and Kristophe Dumont stood just past one of the large trees bordering the Yard. Kristophe’s long, blonde hair was tied artfully back in a ponytail, his tailored long coat sweeping over the ground as he struck one of his model poses. But it was Jean Marc who brushed his hands together, evidence of who threw the offending snowball clear from his actions.

  I guess they forgot I’d saved their damned asses, saved their whole coven from ruin when I rescued the Dumont family magic from the Brotherhood.

  Gratitude went a long way with them.

  “How adorable,” Kristophe said. “Oui, mon frère?”

  Jean Marc didn’t say anything, just smiled at me, brow drawn low over his eyes.

  It was only the fact we stood in the open, in the middle of the Yard, that kept their nasty little lives from total extermination. After all, I now had carte blanche from the High Council to act as I saw fit, didn’t I? Yes, killing the Dumont brothers as horribly and painfully as possible was likely outside what the Council meant by “protecting all witches”, but I considered it a public service.