by Debora Geary
Bless the Witch Central pipeline. They’d have a steady supply of food arriving for as long as they needed it. Nell stepped into the hallway and laid a hand on Sophie’s arm. “Thank you for coming. This was pretty big for Ginia to handle all on her own, especially with her baby brother involved.”
Sophie smiled. “Do you have any idea how wonderful it is to be able to come? To not have to watch from afar and pray? So thank those girls of yours who have been busy building the Realm shuttle service.” She turned to head down the stairs. “And if the day comes when I can’t get here? That girl of yours will deal. She’s amazing—just like her mama.”
Nell managed to find a grin. A good healer always took care of the collateral damage as well, and Sophie was one of the best. “I’ll be okay. Aervyn had both uncles there to keep him safe, and it’s only channel shock.”
“I could say something comforting, but honestly?” Sophie touched her belly. “I don’t know how you do it. Really. I find myself hoping sometimes that Seedling just has a touch of plant magic or something. Nothing big.”
With two major earth-witch healers for parents? Not likely. Nell chuckled. “I could say something comforting, but—”
Sophie rolled her eyes, amused, and started down the stairs. Nell followed her down and shook her head when they found her brothers and Nat sitting in the living room. “Didn’t Sophie tell the two of you to go take a nap?”
Devin held up a cookie. “There’s more than one way to deal with channel shock. I’ll be okay. Made Govin lie down, though.”
Nell snorted. Govin was the one adult male in her life who usually followed common-sense instructions.
Jamie grinned and put an arm around his wife. “And I’m not taking a nap unless she takes one with me.”
Sophie chuckled. “That’s not the kind of nap I meant.” She looked at Devin. “Did you get Sierra settled in okay?”
He nodded. “I did the manly part and carried her to bed. Lauren’s taking care of the rest.”
“She’s settled,” said Lauren, coming in from the hallway. “And Caro said she’ll bring out the lasagna when it’s done.”
Nell sat down in her big recliner and let her head rest on its ugly orangeness. Crisis over. She looked over at her two brothers. “You kept my boy safe today. I owe you one.”
Devin scowled. “You owe Jamie. I tried to keep our weather witch from blowing herself up. I wasn’t much of a cover for Aervyn.”
Even Nell’s feeble mind powers could pick up his guilt. “My kiddo came out of today in way better shape than any of the rest of you. He’s more traumatized by that poor baby bird than by the magic you all did.” She eyeballed Devin with her best big-sister stare. “And keeping stray weather witches safe is part of the deal, too.”
He looked at her silently for a moment, and then shook his head. “Man, you’re good at that.”
Yes, she was. She looked at Jamie, trying to figure out if he needed the same treatment.
He just grinned and held up a hand in mock surrender. “We have a fractious little fire witch arriving any day now. Feel free to owe me as much as you like—I’m pretty sure we’ll be claiming payment shortly.”
Truth. Nell looked over at Lauren. “How’s Sierra? My boy broke her heart out on that island.” And every mind witch present had felt the echoes.
Lauren shrugged. “Hard to tell, honestly. Even with the sleep spell, she’s pretty agitated. She feels responsible, and she’s got the image of that bird in Aervyn’s hands imprinted on every brain cell.”
Jamie sighed. “And that’s not actually the worst thing that happened out there.”
“I don’t think she understands that at all.” Lauren flopped on the couch, and then looked up in surprise as Devin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in.
He grinned. “I’m cold. Humor me. We water witches like a couch full of warm bodies.”
Nell blinked. Devin had always been friendly, but there was a blanket right beside him.
She got distracted by Jamie’s worried tone. “How are we going to handle things tomorrow? We have two pretty distraught witches in the same house right now.”
Yup. And when her little boy was hurting, he had some formidable weapons to make everyone else miserable too, even if it was largely accidental. However, she was sitting in a room full of exhausted witches. Nell took a deep breath, ready to issue mama marching orders. “Everybody go home, get some sleep. I’ll page you in the morning when I need you.”
Jamie nodded and stood, helping his wife out of the couch. “That nap’s starting to sound like a really good idea.”
Lauren’s quiet chuckle had them all turning. “Apparently someone else thought so, too.”
Devin was snuggled into Lauren’s shoulder, sound asleep.
Jamie snorted from the doorway. “That dude’s always been able to conk out anywhere.” He grinned at Lauren. “Just push him off. He’ll never notice.”
Nell stared at her awake brother, wondering if she was the only one paying attention. Then she caught Nat’s eye. Nope. And Nat was very rarely wrong.
Chapter 10
Sierra raced through the still-dark streets of Berkeley on Jamie’s borrowed moped, hair streaming in the wind. Dumb helmets anyhow—you couldn’t feel the air on your face that way. Momma never would have made her wear a helmet.
She’d woken under the bed, crying from the nightmare she could never remember and haunted by a dead baby bird and the awful hurt in a little boy’s eyes.
He’d been right. It was her fault.
Her magic wasn’t safe. Even playing with the dolphins wasn’t safe, and she’d been doing that her whole life. How many other baby birds had she killed and not even known it?
And why had Momma let her do it? Why didn’t she know how to do magic properly?
She peeled around a corner, heading straight for the ocean. She needed the water. And then she needed to leave. Anywhere far away from Aervyn and the awful truth in his eyes.
Catching the tang of saltier air, she let out the throttle a little more—and then screamed as everything in front of her went blank.
Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her in. “Sorry. Shh. Sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay. We’ve got you.”
Nell. Sierra desperately tried to suck air into her lungs, oxygen walled off by the terror layered over the aching hurt. Nell just rubbed her back and held on.
“Sorry about that.” A new set of hands, a new voice. Jamie. “Porting at speed is a bit tricky. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her brain tried to turn on—and all that came was a flood of anguish.
“Shh now.” Nell’s voice was warm and soft and wrapped her up like Momma’s once had. “You need to rest, sweet girl. I’m going to use a small spell to help you sleep. We’ll figure things out in the morning.”
She hadn’t planned to be there in the morning. God. They wouldn’t even let her run away.
No, we won’t. You’re ours now.
The words reverberated in her head as the fog of the sleep spell hit. You’re ours now.
~ ~ ~
Devin pulled his bike up outside Nell’s house. She’d called for backup—and in the tone of voice that would have had him coming on the dead run no matter where on the planet he was.
With both Aervyn and Sierra under her roof, it wasn’t hard to imagine why she needed help. Although besides making his world-famous pancakes, he didn’t have a clue how he was going to do that.
Walking in the door, he ran into the first problem. Aervyn sat just inside the entrance, hat pulled down over his ears and sad-looking blankie in his hand. Devin was pretty sure the blankie hadn’t been out of its storage box in over a year. “Hey, bud.” He squatted down beside his nephew. “Having a rough morning?”
“I was waiting for you. Mama said I could, and maybe you can help my heart feel better.”
Oh, sure. Leave him with the easy job. “I can try. Are you still sad about the bird?”
Aervyn
snuggled in and nodded. “I bet its mama is sad too.”
Baby birds born out of season often got abandoned by their mamas, but this wasn’t the time for a nature lesson. “Sometimes really bad things happen. It’s okay to be sad.”
Aervyn just cuddled for a bit, thinking. “Is Sierra a bad witch?”
She’s a witch who knows all too well how an abandoned baby bird feels, thought Devin, but he didn’t say that, either. “No. She’s a really strong witch, like you are. But you know how Uncle Jamie teaches you all kinds of stuff about how to be careful and safe?”
Aervyn nodded, eyes still drenched in sadness.
“Well, nobody taught Sierra those things. So she did some magic yesterday, and something bad happened, but she didn’t mean to.”
A long, long silence. And then a big sigh. “So she’s probably really sad too.”
That was a heck of a piece of growing up for a four-year-old. “Yup. She’s really sad too. We need to teach her how to be a safer witch, but maybe we can help her feel a little better first. You can’t learn magic when you’re all sad inside.”
Aervyn thought a bit longer, and then took his hat off. “’Kay.”
He turned and walked down the hall, small boy on a mission. Devin followed and hoped he hadn’t committed a big uncle screw-up.
Sierra sat in the kitchen with Nell, a plate of untouched waffles in front of her. So much for the pancake idea. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes haunted—and when she saw Aervyn, she practically stopped breathing.
Devin held up a hand as Nell moved to intercept her son. It was a gamble, but he didn’t make half-assed bets.
Aervyn went and stood at Sierra’s side. He tilted his head sideways, waiting until she looked at him. “Can I sit on your lap?”
Sierra just stared—so Aervyn climbed on up.
He looked right into her eyes. “I’m sad too.” He held out his ratty old blankie. “If I cuddle this, it helps me feel better. Maybe we can both hold it for a while.”
Sierra sat frozen for a long moment. Then she wrapped her arms around witchling and blankie and they began to rock, sharing sounds of incoherent sadness.
Nell turned away, tears flooding her eyes. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
Devin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they stood together, watching as two hearts grieved and healed a little.
~ ~ ~
Jamie reached for a wrench, ready to re-attach the bumper to his moped. He’d ported Sierra into Nell’s backyard with as gentle a landing as he could manage on four hours of sleep. The moped hadn’t been so lucky. Not that it was any stranger to bumps and bruises.
Although to the best of his recollection, it had never been used in an attempt to run away. He’d have to ask Mom. And then ask her to give Sierra the same “wear your helmet or get shackled to my leg for the rest of your life” speech she’d once given Devin. It had been extremely effective.
She had always seemed to know how to keep Dev just this side of insanity, even through their rather eventful teenage years.
He was beginning to think he needed to sit Mom down, get her talking, and take notes. The little girl cozying in Nat’s belly was showing her own brand of Sullivan charm already. And with magic on board, they were likely to have a fairly interesting ride. Starting day one.
He felt Nat’s presence before he heard her. Her mind was like a soft breeze on his cheeks—it always had him turning, seeking more. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” Banging the dent out of the bumper probably hadn’t been the best of ideas while she was still sleeping.
“It’s 10 a.m. Hunger woke me up.” She dropped down on the grass beside him and handed over half her bagel. “Should have had some breakfast before I went back to bed.”
Nell’s “witch AWOL” page had woken them both up in the wee hours of the morning. He’d crawled back into bed after the rescue long enough to snuggle Nat back asleep, and then fixed himself breakfast. Tracking and porting a fleeing witch had used up a lot of energy, and he couldn’t sleep with a gas tank clanging on empty.
Nat reached out and touched his cheek. “How’s Sierra?”
“Still in Berkeley, and eating her waffles.” He and Nell had kicked themselves three ways to Sunday for leaving her sleeping alone after such a traumatic day, but all they could do now was try to repair the damage. “Nell says Dev’s working his usual magic.”
“He would understand her.” Nat took a bite out of his bagel. Their baby girl must be hungry.
“Yup. He’s the original reckless witch.” He handed back the rest of the bagel. “Or maybe that honor belonged to Sierra’s mom.”
Nat laughed. “I’d guess Moira could give you a long list down through history. I doubt the reckless gene got started in the last generation.”
She had a point. He laid a hand on her belly, and got a good swift kick for his troubles. “Think we’ve got the next generation of reckless in here?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “It feels strange to slot her into a box before we even look into her eyes.”
Maybe. But Nat hadn’t felt their little girl’s hands reaching for power. “Are we ready if she is?”
Her smile was gentle. “No. But at least she won’t be able to drive a moped for a few years yet.”
Jamie remembered the look on his mom’s face the day Devin had first straddled the moped. And finally understood the terror in her eyes. He gulped. “Maybe she’ll prefer walking."
Nat’s laughter rang in his ears long after she headed back inside for another bagel.
~ ~ ~
A hand slapped down on Govin’s desk. “Five more minutes to sulk, and then you gotta snap out of it.” TJ walked back toward the kitchen. “I’ll even cook us some breakfast.”
That got Govin moving. TJ was an abysmal cook. “I’ll do it. What do you want?”
“I got some of that sausage stuff you like, and fresh eggs, and rolls from Caro.”
Govin stopped dead. “You went to see Caro?” The last time those two had been in a room, actual sparks had flown—and not the happy kind.
TJ’s head was buried in the fridge. “She makes good rolls.”
This from a guy who ate potato chips that had been sitting in a bowl for a week. Govin reached for the eggs, absurdly touched. “Thanks. After all the magic yesterday, I’m pretty hungry.”
“So what the hell happened yesterday, anyhow? I got readings that will confuse my models for a year.”
Explaining complex magic to a ruthlessly logical mathematical genius was never easy. Govin tried the short version. “Sierra sucked the energy out of the rogue waves. She pulled it into herself and passed it back out through the rest of us, down our groundlines.”
He could see TJ’s brain doing the calculations. Then his eyes got scared. “That’s insane.”
Govin just nodded. “Yeah.”
“Dude.” TJ frowned, and then cracked a grin. “If I’d known that, I’d have gotten you more sausage.”
Govin snorted, amused. TJ had always used humor to diffuse the frequently life-and-death stress of their jobs. And it almost always worked. “Let’s just say I’m not lining up to do it again anytime soon.”
“Better do a good job of training her, then.”
“Yeah.” Just one of the issues he’d been moping about. Sometimes it sucked to be right. “Any ideas on that?”
TJ sat down with a bowl of chips big enough to ruin any other man’s breakfast. “You’re the witch, dude. I’m the data geek. Does she like data?”
Since only about three people on the planet liked data as much as TJ, the odds weren’t high. And in his limited experience with eighteen-year-old girls, bubbly, outgoing Sierra didn’t strike him as having a big dose of inner geek. However, smart mathematicians played the long odds.
Govin poured the egg mixture into the frying pan, happy with the crackle and smell of frying butter. “Feel free to show her your models. Maybe she’ll love them.”
“What’s not to love?” TJ leaned back and
grinned. “Can I show her my aliens stuff?”
Govin laughed. “I think you have to tweak your aliens model some to take our rogue witch out of the picture.” Sierra was the likely source of a number of the weather anomalies TJ had tagged as “of alien origin” over the years.
“She’s not rogue, Gov.” TJ’s face was suddenly dead serious. “She’s dangerously ignorant, but think about what she did yesterday.”
He shrugged, irritated. “Blasted the hell out of every witch in the chopper?”
“No, not that part.” TJ tapped the table. “She used your groundlines. To reroute the energy.”
“Yeah.” Govin could tell he was missing something.
TJ rolled his eyes. “Didn’t she just learn about groundlines like two days ago?”
Govin froze, spatula in mid-air.
TJ nodded, obviously six steps ahead as usual. “She did huge magic, under serious pressure, and not only did she remember grounding, she used it to solve a very big problem.”
“She didn’t need to do so much.” Govin wasn’t sure why he was fighting this. “The beaches were clear—she put five witches at risk for a few birds.”
TJ’s eyes were back to serious. “When’s last time she worked with four other witches?”
Crap. Never. Govin shook his head, realizing just how difficult a task Sierra had faced. And how little credit he’d given her for what she had done.
“Don’t think so hard.” A tossed banana thudded off his chest. “Train her. Maybe she’s not the hardcase you think she is. And don’t burn my breakfast. I stood in line at the farmers’ market at six freaking a.m. for those eggs.”
~ ~ ~
Nell looked around the Witches’ Lounge and took a deep breath. Even her pretty feeble mind powers could sense the buzz of unhappiness, uncertainty, and fear in the room.
It had been a very rough twenty-four hours. And while they’d managed to pull everybody back from the brink, there were very few days she could remember when Witch Central had been in this much turmoil. She was pretty sure it was going to get worse before it got better.
