Part 5 (1/2)

He nodded and turned to go.

”Wait!”

He turned to look at Skye.

”Why are you helping me?” she asked.

”It would be doing you harm not to help you. But there'll be the devil to pay if she finds out,” he murmured, then walked away.

Skye's legs trembled. She devoured the food. She was still dehydrated, but she felt a little better after she had finished eating. She folded the bag and slid it into her boot. Witches respected the earth in all ways.

The whole world's gone to h.e.l.l. My cousin has disowned me, I could die at any moment, and I'm worried about littering, she thought, smiling slightly. Some things never change.

Two hours later, as Skye stood staring at her family's cottage, she realized that some things had changed too much. The cottage had once been a simple structure, one large room that they all shared. She could remember many a night choosing her spot on the floor and rolling out her sleeping bag.

Now several new additions completely obscured the original building. Enormous and rambling, it no longer seemed to spring out of the earth, but rather to ride upon its back. The new construction was gla.s.s and metal. There was nothing natural or beautiful about it, and it made her sick to see it. The grand old pollarded tree, which had once held a swing, had been cut down to make way for the expansion.

She trudged forward slowly, mindful of the reaction that she had gotten from Summer. When she was almost to the door, it opened, and Melody, her sister, flew out.

”Skye!” she cried, and hugged her.

Skye hugged her back, sobbing with relief at the welcome. When she pulled free at last, she looked at Melody closely. Her sister had a baby b.u.mp under her embroidered peasant blouse.

”You're pregnant!” Skye exclaimed.

”Six months. This will be our second,” Melody said with a proud grin as she laid a protective hand on her belly.

Second.

The word made Skye feel as if she were falling. She was an aunt and she'd never known it.

”Why didn't you tell me?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Gathering up her loose, caramel-colored curls, Melody made a little face. ”Llewellyn takes the whole underground thing seriously,” she said.

Fear bubbled up in Skye. What else had she missed in the three years she'd been gone? Was everyone all right?

”Everyone's fine,” Melody a.s.sured her warmly. Melody had always been able to read her like a book. ”Come inside and see for yourself.”

Skye followed Melody into the cottage. She remembered what Jenn had said after she'd returned home for her grandfather's funeral. She prayed to the G.o.ddess that she would get a warmer reception than Jenn had.

She blinked as she looked around, trying to match her memories to what she was seeing. She saw absolutely no evidence that witches owned the place. Gone were the rows of fragrant dried herbs that had hung from the rafters. The York family charms-White magick sigils hand-painted on the walls, dating from the Middle Ages and even earlier-had been replaced by landscapes of rolling English hills and light-blue wallpaper. Furnished with an oak dinette set, a daybed in blue chintz, and some scattered chairs, the room looked like a pleasant room in a hotel.

A second story had been added, accessed by wooden stairs and a white metal handrail, which was ugly, yet functional. From the sounds above, the rest of the family were about to join them. Skye took a deep, nervous breath.

A playpen in the corner caught her eye. Skye's heart jumped. A toddler a little more than a year old solemnly gazed at her from over the top of the bars. The little one was dressed in brown corduroy pants and a tan s.h.i.+rt decorated with puppies.

”My son,” Melody said.

Tears stung Skye's eyes. She had a nephew. She had missed his birth. She didn't even know his name.

Melody's husband, Llewellyn, and Skye's parents descended the stairs. Skye's father, always very handsome, looked old. Both her parents smiled hesitantly at her but didn't move to embrace her.

Skye bit her lip and forced herself not to run to them. ”Blessed be,” she said, hearing the emotion in her voice.

”Blessed be,” the rest intoned.

”Merrily met,” Melody added in a whisper.

”How . . . it's good to see all of you.”

”It's a surprise to see you,” her mother replied faintly.

Skye tried to decipher her tone but couldn't. No one moved. The toddler babbled, and Melody picked him up. Skye got the impression that her sister was trying to avoid the tension in the room.

”I've missed you all,” Skye whispered. ”I was wounded, and I thought to come home.”

”And you've come to your senses?” Skye's mother asked in a tight voice. ”You're done with it?”

”And you're sorry?” her father said. He stood unmoving, and she realized that leaving the team was the price for their help.

No. Not their help. Their love.

Skye's heart broke. She wanted to collapse on the floor. She had been through so much-too much-to stand there and face their judgment.

But then she thought of Holgar. He had walked away from his family, his pack, everyone he cared about. He had done it because fighting the Cursed Ones was the right thing to do.

Skye had run to the academy to escape Estefan. Only fourteen, she hadn't wanted to tell her family that she had an evil stalker. With sudden clarity Skye realized that she hadn't told her parents about Estefan not because she believed they couldn't help her, but because deep down she had believed that they wouldn't. They would have just hidden her away from him. They never would have trained her how to stand on her own and defend herself.

And staring at their faces now, she knew she had been right to go. In a flash, the guilt she had felt for leaving her family for Salamanca vanished. She had done what she had to do in order to save her life. There was no shame in that.

”I'm injured,” she said slowly. ”I would appreciate some food and water.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity.

”So, you didn't come because of us?” Melody asked. ”You came because you're hungry? I'm sorry,” she added quickly. ”That was unkind.”

”No, I'm sorry,” Skye said. They used to be so close. Lying about Estefan, then running away, had changed all that.

Skye looked at her mother. ”I can't, not just yet.”

”If not now, then when?” her mother asked quietly. There was a challenge in her voice. Skye was the prodigal daughter returned home, but she would only be forgiven if she stayed.

”Mummy, I can't,” she whispered.

”Then you should go now,” Llewellyn said. ”And we'll forget that you were here.”