A Reckless Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 3)

by Debora Geary

  The packages were seriously tempting, but she took another cookie and opened the envelope. A bus ticket, a hundred dollars, and a letter. She got up and quickly tucked the money in her tampon box, the one totally safe hiding place in her life. Then she opened the letter.

  Dear Sierra,

  If you’re like my daughters, you’re halfway through the plate of cookies, and you’ve opened the other packages already. No big deal—but it might all make more sense once you read this.

  We have a job for you, working for WitchNet. That’s a Realm-related project you probably haven’t heard of yet, but it involves lots of spellcoding and working with other witches. We have a couple ideas of things you can help with, but we can talk about that more when you get here. There’s lots of work to be done, and my brother Jamie will appreciate the help.

  My good friend Lauren is a real estate agent (and a witch). She’s found you a nice one-bedroom apartment about four blocks from the beach. You can stay with us until that’s ready for you in a few days. It’s a bit crazy here, but there’s lots of company and lots of food. You don’t need to move to the apartment at all if you don’t want to, but the choice is there if you want it. We thought you might enjoy your own space. Your salary at WitchNet should be enough to pay rent and live comfortably on your own.

  There’s a second letter attached with an official job offer. I sent a copy to your caseworker, so hopefully that will take care of the paperwork. Let me know if we need to do anything else to bust you loose—one of the presents in the box will make contacting us easier :-).

  You should also have couple of tickets in this envelope—for tomorrow, just like you asked. Take the bus to Eugene and then the train to San Francisco. Someone will pick you up at the train station. If you pack up your things and leave them by the side of your bed tonight, my teleporting witchling will grab those for you so you don’t need to lug them on the train. The money is to keep you fed until you get here.

  I hope I haven’t forgotten anything important. We’re really looking forward to your arrival—there are a lot of people waiting to say hello.

  See you tomorrow,

  Nell

  Sierra stared hard at the letter for a final moment, and then danced crazily around the room. Very quietly, so no one came to find out what all the noise was about. She kissed the tickets and tried to figure out where to put them—they were too big for her tampon box. Hmm.

  But wait—there were more presents too. She dove for the box on the bed, yanking lime-green paper off the first package. Holy cats. She touched the iPhone with reverence. No freaking way. Foster-parent budgets had never extended to a cell phone, and this was the coolest phone ever.

  The next package was a little bigger and contained a small photo album. Sierra opened it, puzzled, and found a picture of three identical girls, with a note written in purple, glittery pen. Dear Sierra—here are pictures of some of the people you’ll meet in Berkeley. You don’t have to remember who we all are, but we just wanted to say hi! Love Mia, Ginia, and Shay. She flipped the pages slowly. More than twenty pictures, and each had a little handwritten note saying hello.

  Swallowing a lump, she turned to the last two packages. The first held a pair of beautiful wool gloves, knit in intricate patterns of blue and green. Sierra slipped her fingers into their cozy warmth. She didn’t know why, but they felt like the ocean. She opened the piece of paper sitting under the gloves and squinted, trying to decipher the crooked handwriting. Lovely Sierra—I hear that, like me, you’re a water witch, and I know my hands are always a bit chilled in the winter. I hope these will keep you warm. Much love from Nova Scotia, Moira. It was hard for her to take the gloves off to open the last package. Her hands were always cold.

  The last package was small and light and smelled faintly of herbs. When Sierra took the lid off the small box inside, she found an ugly orange plastic frog hanging from a beautiful silver chain. Weird. She looked around for a note that might explain this last gift and found it written on the inside of the wrapping paper. Which was a serious bummer, because she’d pretty much torn the paper to shreds.

  Carefully, she pieced the wrapping paper back together. This time, when she read the message, tears fell. Sweet Sierra. One day, when I was about eight and at witchling school for the summer, some of the older kids drove us all into Halifax for ice cream. Your mom was one of them—it was my first year at Aunt Moira’s, and Amelia’s last. I vividly remember the big gumball machine that dispensed treats and small plastic toys for a nickel. Your mom bought one for each of us. This little frog was mine—it’s been sitting in my jewelry box for a long time now. I thought you might like to have it. Love, Sophie.

  Sierra’s hands shook as she clasped the little frog tightly. Oh, Momma.

  Chapter 4

  Govin looked at the contents of the grocery bag he’d just unpacked. Potato salad, TJ’s favorite beer, two jars of Jamie’s world-famous spaghetti sauce, and three different kinds of cookies. Ooooh, boy.

  He looked at Nell. “Awfully big bribe—what do you want?”

  She grinned. “I come bearing an offer of help and assistance.”

  “Sure you do,” he said dryly, taking a cookie. If TJ caught sight of them, they’d be gone before dinner. “Do you need me to give Aervyn weather lessons again?” Their last lesson had gone fine—until Aervyn had made a pet thunderstorm that followed him everywhere for a couple of weeks. Nell had not been impressed, and Govin hadn’t been able to reverse the spell. He could come close to matching superboy’s talents with fire, but his water and air talents were puny by comparison.

  Nell rolled her eyes. “Not just yet, thanks. My house has finally dried out, and I think I’d like to keep it that way for a while.”

  He waited patiently. Mothers of five couldn’t beat around the bush forever—they had too much to do.

  “We’ve fetched a new witch. We’d like to assign her to work with you on the weather-spells library for WitchNet.”

  “That sounds like you’d be doing me a favor.” He eyed the cookies. “What’s the catch?”

  She sighed. “She’s eighteen and just coming out of foster care. Her name is Sierra. We don’t know much about her, but she’s Amelia Brighton’s daughter. And we suspect she’s a weather witch like her mama.”

  That name sounded very familiar. Govin cast back in time, trying to make the connection. “The weather witch who ran off in the eighties? Claimed magic needed to be free? Disappeared a few years ago?”

  Nell nodded. “Yeah. And according to Moira, the one who didn’t use enough safeguards in her spells and took lots of unnecessary risks.”

  Govin winced. Those were scary qualities in a weather witch. “Was she any good?”

  “Moira says she wasn’t strong enough to influence anything beyond very local weather patterns, so perhaps they didn’t work hard enough to convince her of the folly of her ways.”

  He snorted. “Anyone who hangs out with Moira for a summer and still practices magic recklessly is irredeemable.” He had enormous respect and love for the woman who had been the driving force behind several generations of very well-trained witches. “We don’t know what happened to Amelia?”

  “We didn’t even know she had a daughter.” Nell’s eyes were fierce, a mama bear on the prowl. “Putting aside for a moment how mad that makes me, she also likely taught her daughter magic.”

  Now they were getting to the reason for the cookies. “And?”

  She shrugged. “No one’s evaluated her yet, but her air talents are strong, and she insists on living near the ocean.”

  Which practically guaranteed she worked with water, as well. And air plus water talents was the classic recipe for a weather witch. Govin spun around a jar of spaghetti sauce and thought for a minute. “So you want to assign me an intern for basic weather-spell work. An intern who’s motherless, powerful, and possibly dangerous.”

  “Yup.” Nell didn’t say anything else, just held his gaze quietly. “You’re the best one to e
valuate her, Govin. And if she has the power we suspect, the best one to help keep her and the rest of us safe.”

  She’d once called him a weenie, cautious witch. Today that was apparently a good quality. “Can she spellcode?”

  “Six years ago, when she was twelve, she reached the third witch-only level in Realm.” His old college roommate’s eyes held hints of pleading now.

  He had no idea why—he’d have done it just because she asked, and they both knew it. “Well, that’s something. Another spellcoder would be handy. When does she start?”

  Nell handed him a cookie. “She comes in on the train tomorrow. Why don’t you and TJ come over for dinner, and we’ll introduce you.”

  Anyone who volunteered to feed TJ was a true friend. “We’ll be there.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Devin shook his head. “Nell’s going to kill you, bro.”

  Jamie grinned, watching the flight test in progress down the valley at Ocean’s Reach. “Nope. She gave us her blessing before we left. Aervyn’s been putting way too many holes in her walls with the end of his broomstick. At least out here, there’s not so much to run into.”

  “Except for a big-ass rock.”

  His brother winced. “He’s pretty good at porting out of the way. And hopefully the bike helmet will keep his head from getting too dented.”

  It had taken a fair amount of discussion and an illusion spell to convince their nephew that real witches needed to wear bike helmets when they rode broomsticks. The pointy-hat illusion hadn’t survived high-speed flying, but Aervyn didn’t seem to care anymore.

  He was too busy.

  Hey, dude—slow down a little, okay? Jamie’s mental voice sounded a bit worried. It’s just like a bike—you have to be able to stop, too.

  Aervyn turned and headed straight for them, cape flying. I can stop. Watch!

  It was a serious act of uncle courage for Devin to hold still while a broomstick flew at his head at forty miles an hour. And basic survival instinct to get out of the way when his nephew’s brakes lacked a little in the way of precision.

  “Oops, sorry.” Aervyn giggled and held his broom out. “You want to try, Uncle Devin?”

  Oh, man, did he ever. However, he lacked the right kinds of power. Aervyn was basically flying by slingshotting himself against a complicated mix of air updrafts and gravity pulls. “I don’t think water magic’s much good for flying, superdude.”

  That caused a moment of silence, and then the offer of the broom again. “I can fly you, I think. Just don’t lean over too far—that makes it kinda tippy.”

  Who could refuse an offer like that? Devin swung his leg over the broom. “Start low and slow, okay?” There was adventurous, and then there was suicidal.

  The next few minutes considerably lifted his respect for both big-ass rocks and Aervyn’s magical talent. He leaned over the broom as it winged across the valley toward the ocean, wind whipping his hair and power streams calling to his magic. This was living—small-boy dreams wrapped up in big-boy speed.

  He pulled up on the front of the broom. This thing had to be able to do a loop-de-loop. It started out well—and then he felt the broom break.

  When shit happened and you only had one kind of magic, you used it. Hard. Even if it was totally sucky for the job at hand. Devin grabbed powerful lines of water magic from deep in the ocean and pulled. The mighty energies of the ocean pulled back, arrowing him the hundred feet forward he needed to hurtle over the edge of the cliff.

  He curled into a ball, readying for a hard water landing—and felt his butt thunk onto hard rock instead.

  Jamie rubbed his nephew’s head and snickered. “Nice catch, kiddo. I say you should have let him land in the ocean first, though.”

  “That would’ve been kind of cold.” Aervyn looked sadly at the two pieces of broom in his hand. “We better get Mama a new one, I think.”

  Devin felt about two inches tall. Nothing like breaking a kid’s favorite new toy to make you feel like the world’s lousiest uncle. He pondered for a minute. Water power sucked for fixing things, but there had to be a way…

  He took the two pieces of broom and twisted them together until he found a tight fit. “Hey, hot stuff—I have a picture in my head of how to fix this. Can you take a look?”

  Aervyn nodded, and Devin felt the incoming click of mindlink. Two clicks—obviously his brother was looking too. Their matching grins suggested the idea was a decent one. Which was good, since Devin had none of the magic required to actually get the job done. The two of them should be able to do it, though.

  You’ve been gone too long, Jamie sent. He’ll get it done all on his own.

  That rocked Devin. He knew his nephew was very talented—they all did. But this kind of cellular weaving was a spell that would normally require a full circle.

  Watch and learn.

  Devin bootstrapped onto Jamie’s mind connection—a trick they’d figured out as small boys—and watched his nephew build a spell. In ten seconds, he was impressed. In thirty, he felt something akin to awe. Aervyn wove delicate streams of earth power into a very tight funnel, and then stretched down into the earth and tapped a small aluminum deposit.

  When he tied off the spell and opened his eyes, the broom was sheathed in a very thin, very strong layer of metal. Devin had seen the metal strands lace right into the wood of the broom. It would handle loop-de-loops—and probably a flight to the moon, too. It was now one very over-engineered broom.

  Aervyn stroked the shiny metal and grinned. “Thanks, Uncle Devin. That was the awesomest idea. Wanna try flying again?”

  Yeesh. Break the kid’s broom and he still wanted to give you the next turn. “You go first, superboy. And watch out for the air currents near the water. I probably stirred them up a little trying to avoid my crash landing.”

  A huge grin, and then one silver broom was off in flight, with one very loud and happy witchling holding on for dear life.

  Jamie shook his head. “I don’t think he even needs the broom.”

  “He’s got some incredible control. Real finesse, and not just on the flying. You’ve done an amazing job of training him.”

  “When you’ve got that kind of power, control matters.”

  Devin nodded, suddenly aware of exactly how much responsibility lay on his brother’s shoulders. “So does finding some freedom.”

  Jamie grinned and ducked as Aervyn streaked by. “Yup. And the best things give him both.”

  Devin laughed and clapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “You’ve got to give it a try when he gets back. It’s way better than a motorbike.”

  “That’s heresy, dude.” Jamie’s eyes looked a little wistful as he watched Aervyn shoot back up the valley, cape streaming. “I think I’d better stay off the broom. Karma says I’d crack my head open, Nat would go into labor, and Mom would show up just in time to kill me.”

  There was more than one responsibility lying on his brother’s shoulders. “More turns for me, then.”

  Jamie punched his arm. “Next time, I’m letting him drop you in the ocean.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Nell looked around their Realm hangout and grinned at Moira. “I feel really old.”

  Moira grinned back. “It is feeling rather fertile in here, isn’t it?”

  She looked over at the couches where Elorie, Sophie, and Nat sat with their feet up. Ginia was running through the basic prenatal checkup for each of them, her hands currently resting gently on Sophie’s belly. Her girl was growing up. “Ginia’s so excited to be part of the healer team for Nat’s birth.”

  “She’s got a very steady mind for such a young witch. It won’t be too long before she could handle a birth on her own, if need arose.”

  Nell was very grateful that would probably never be necessary. “With our new ability to shuttle healers through Realm, our witchlings won’t have to grow up quite so fast.” Healing talent came with heavy responsibilities, not all of them pleasant.

  Moira reached for h
er hand. “She has so many people who love her. Whatever comes her way, you’ve rooted her well. She has a deep and generous heart, and a lovely sense of competence.”

  “I know.” Nell smiled. “But it never hurts to hear it again.”

  “You have wonderful instincts with your little ones.” Moira glanced at the couch again. “And Nat watches you carefully. I believe she knows what’s coming, at least as well as any non-witch can.”

  “She’s not exactly getting an easy first baby.”

  Moira chuckled. “A fire witchling who’s clearly coming into her power early? No, she certainly isn’t. But she also has many people who love her, and she knows how to nurture her own roots as well as anyone I know.”

  “It’s changing Jamie.” And it was an odd experience, watching your baby brother take those steps.

  “As it should. But he’s a man who knows exactly who he is. I don’t expect it will change him all that much.”

  Nell grinned, oddly comforted. “He’s out giving broom-flying lessons to Aervyn.”

  Lauren laughed behind them, having just beamed in. “I think it’s the other way around—Aervyn’s schooling Jamie and Devin. And if Aervyn’s mind-glee is any indication, they’re having a very good time.”

  Nell raised an eyebrow. “You can hear them all the way from Ocean’s Reach?” She was a little envious.

  Lauren pulled over a chair and shrugged. “Evidently so. The more circle work we do together, the further away I can hear him, at least when he’s got his barriers down. I think he’s been flying Devin around.”

  Oy. “Only an idiot gets on a broom magically driven by a four-year-old.”

  Moira giggled. “Devin’s always had the soul of an adventurer, dear.”

  That was one way to put it. “You weren’t his big sister.”

  “Don’t you worry.” Moira patted her hand. “One day soon, he’ll find himself a nice girl and settle down.”

  Porky pink pigs would fly first. Nell wiggled an eyebrow at Lauren. “You interested? He’s tall, dark, handsome, and rich.”