by Debora Geary
Assessing the room, Nell saw Moira watching her steadily and sighed. She knew that look. Handoff. There was no way this meeting was going to stay calm, but they could start off that way.
She held up a hand for silence. “Okay, all. We have ourselves a bit of a situation. I know we each touched different pieces of the drama yesterday, so maybe we can hear from everyone before we start trying to fix anything.”
Jamie rolled his eyes as she borrowed a tool straight out of Mom’s family meeting handbook—let everyone have a say before you laid down the law. Nell wished someone could actually walk in and straighten this one out. Some parts of being a kid were kind of handy.
Trying to start with one of the less volatile minds in the room, Nell tipped her chin at Sophie. “You want to kick us off?”
Typical of an earth witch, Sophie took a moment to contemplate before she answered. “I saw a whole lot of witches who pushed the edges of their personal safety. Aervyn’s mostly emotional distress. The rest of you ran yourselves pretty dry.”
“Not much choice,” said Devin quietly. “It was either that or cook a witch. You don’t put down a spell like that.”
Sophie raised her hands. “I’m not arguing with that. But it’s a rare day we have that many drained witches.”
Jamie nodded slowly. “We’re good at scrambling whatever resources we have in an emergency. We scrambled Sierra, knowing she’s got big power and some serious training holes.” He sighed. “At some level, what happened after that is on us.”
“What, are you channeling TJ now?” Govin shook his head. “He said the same thing this morning. We’re used to working together with a team. She’s not. We’re very lucky she didn’t cook someone’s channels.”
Nell felt the dread in her heart rising again. One of those “someones” had been her baby boy. “Realm makes scrambling a team a lot easier. We need to add some thinking steps.”
Jamie looked guilty. “Ones like not putting four-year-olds on the crisis-response team?”
Much as she wished the answer to that could be yes, she knew she couldn’t keep Aervyn in a box forever. “Not necessarily.” She smiled wryly at her brother. “But you might consider skipping the supersonic helicopter magic next time.”
Every man in the room looked totally mystified. Nell sighed. “Southern California has plenty of Internet access, and more than one witch. You could have beamed through Realm to get closer.”
If things hadn’t been quite so serious, the look on Jamie’s face would have been high comedy, at least for the two seconds it lasted. Then he looked horrified. “Shit. I didn’t even think of that.”
Nell relented. “Me neither. It hit me about six o’clock last night.” About eight hours too late.
Govin’s hands looked like they were trying to find something to break. “Those are details. Important ones, but let’s get to them later. We have a loose cannon. She’s dangerous. There could have been people on those beaches yesterday.”
“Her dangerous, combined with our stupid.” Jamie looked at Nell, abject guilt on his face. “There was more than one bad decision yesterday, and Sierra didn’t make all of them.”
Just for a moment, Nell wished she’d never come up with the damn fetching spell.
“You’re smart witches.” Moira’s voice was balm to the stress-filled room. “We’ll figure things out. Govin’s right. Today our job is to figure out how to help our loose cannon use her magic more safely. One step at a time. She’ll need training, and quickly.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be fast.” Govin was pacing. “We can teach her basic safety precautions, and after yesterday, she might even understand the need for them. But her magical judgment stinks.” He scanned the group. “That’s really what we teach to our witchlings with all the practice and magic tricks and games. We teach them to use magic wisely. Amelia taught Sierra the games, but none of the judgment.”
“Amelia didn’t have the judgment.” Moira looked as distraught as Nell had ever seen her. “We tried for years. If Sierra’s head is as hard as her mother’s…”
Jamie shifted restlessly in his chair, nodding. “She added groundlines when we asked her to, but she couldn’t see why. And she blasted us all nearly to the ground yesterday, but she has no idea. Even if she’s less resistant than Amelia was, we’ll be trying to undo the way she’s used magic for years.”
Nell debated, and then added her biggest concern to the top of the pile. “It’s a lot more than that. Magic is her strongest connection to Amelia. The way she currently does magic is her mother’s legacy, and it’s one Sierra treasures.”
“We have to fight memories of a dead woman?” Govin rested his forehead against the wall for a moment. Nell felt his frustration and fear. If they couldn’t adjust the way Sierra used magic, and quickly, he’d be on the front lines of trying to keep the damage contained.
Then she swallowed against her own dose of fear. If it got really messy, there was only one witch capable of shutting her down. And he was currently asleep in his bed with his old blankie.
~ ~ ~
Lauren had seen it happen in big real estate negotiations. Fear would leak in one corner and infect the whole room, like a nasty oil slick. She’d just never seen it happen in Witch Central. Some of the most capable people she’d ever known were trying to psyche themselves into losing a war.
And an eighteen-year-old girl was going to be the casualty.
Somebody needed to be on cleanup. Two somebodies. There was only one other witch in the room who wasn’t swimming in fear. And after watching him croon to a girl in the throes of heartbreak, she was pretty sure Sierra couldn’t ask for a better defender.
A really smart negotiator knew when to act—and when to work behind the scenes. Swiftly, she reached out to Devin’s mind, knocking lightly. You’re the only one who’s not scared.
He didn’t even blink at the mind contact. Yeah. You wanna lead off, or should I?
Jeebers. How the heck had he figured out how she was feeling? What, is my poker face losing its touch?
Yup. His mindvoice carried a touch of humor, and more than a touch of respect. You look like Electra ready to bust some heads.
Nine months of hanging out with wonderboy, and Lauren was totally up on her superhero references. Not every woman would think that was a compliment.
You’re not every woman. Devin looked around the room. Can you pipe me a mind feed? This’ll go a lot easier if I don’t have to guess how everyone’s feeling.
That wasn’t precisely ethical. However, it was right. Lauren set up the feed and settled back. She was pretty sure this was going to be impressive.
Devin stood up—and the moment he did, he owned the room. He looked around, meeting every set of eyes. “She’s an eighteen-year-old girl. An orphan. Since when does that make Witch Central cower in fear?”
It had been right to have him go first. Only someone raised in their midst could have said something that harsh and gotten everyone listening.
Lauren felt him check in with the mind feed—and then double down. “We fear her power.” He held up a hand as Govin started to protest. “I get it, dude. I really do. We’ve had two hurricanes hit Costa Rica in the last year. I’ve cleaned up the bodies.”
Govin winced. “We tempered the first one a little. The second, we couldn’t touch.”
“I know.” Devin’s eyes held on to those of his old friend. “And I know the pain you feel for every life you can’t save. But I also held the hand of the little girl who looked for her mama after the first storm—and found her, right on the edge of the flood zone.” He paused. “Alive, Gov. The lives you save mean something too.”
Govin scraped his hands through his hair. “So how do we deal with a witch who might put more faces up on my mental dead board?”
Devin’s mind was part friend, part avenging angel. He looked over at Moira. “We follow the advice of one of the wisest witches I know. We love her. It has been, and always will be, love that keeps a r
eckless soul safe.”
It was then that Lauren realized how thoroughly she’d underestimated Devin Sullivan. In three sentences, he’d sucked half the fear out of the room.
Moira nodded in quiet acknowledgment. “We talked about that in our last meeting. If anything, this makes welcome blankets and painting parties all the more important.”
Only witches would carry paint chips into battle.
“We all need some time to recover, anyhow.” Sophie was wearing her healer glare again. “None of you, Sierra included, needs to be doing any magic for the next day or two.”
Lauren could feel Govin’s impatience. And his dread. She piped both through to Devin. He’s not convinced.
He stepped up to Govin’s shoulder. I know. And I don’t blame him. He’s got the most to lose if we’re wrong. But sometimes, you have to relax in the eye of the storm, or you don’t make it out the other side.
That wasn’t exactly comforting.
Chapter 11
“How’s our Sierra doing?”
Nell looked over at where Moira sat, needles clicking, and tried not to curse her own knitting swatch. She was one of the few fire witches who really disliked knitting. Weird, but true—and heresy here at Caro’s house. “Settling down, I think. She’s been pretty quiet. Headed out to the beach this morning for a walk.”
Sophie, knitting next to Moira, frowned. “Is it a good idea for her to be out there alone?”
Nell shrugged. She’d tangled with exactly the same question watching Sierra walk out the door. “She’s not a child.”
“Still needs some mothering, though.” Moira smiled. “She’ll be fine. A walk on the beach will soothe her soul. We water witches need our time to commune with the sea. I often do exactly the same when my mind’s in turmoil.”
That was one of the things worrying Nell. “More numb than in turmoil at this point, I think.”
Sophie leaned forward, in healer mode. “Is she clearing the trauma, or bottling it?”
“I’m not sure.” Nell gestured toward Lauren. “I asked her to come visit later today. My mind-witch powers aren’t up to the task. You might give her some pointers on what to look for—she hasn’t been around a lot of traumatized witches yet.”
Sophie grinned. “I’ll do that in a bit. I think she’s rather busy at the moment.”
Nell looked over at Lauren’s frustrated face, sympathetic. Some people found knitting a twelve-inch swatch the work of a few minutes. Lesser knitters would take a few hours. Poor Lauren, who had never knit before, was probably going to be at it for days.
Ah, well. Moira had decreed that Sierra needed a welcoming blanket, so a welcoming blanket she would get. Nell glanced over at her son, sitting beside Caro, who was helping him with repairs on his swatch and sneaking in a row or two as she did it. There were some advantages to being four. Or almost five. “Are you guys coming for Aervyn’s birthday?”
“Of course.” Moira smiled. “Where else would we be?”
Nell grinned. “I don’t know. I thought you might have some other plans for Winter Solstice.”
“And that we do. But we’ll get them done and still make your wee boy’s party, and mayhap a birth as well.”
Nat sat over by Jamie, quietly knitting away on the swatch resting on her belly. “You think she’ll crash Aervyn’s birthday, do you?” That would figure. Babies had impeccable timing. Not that he would mind.
Moira’s voice got that eerie, otherworldly tinge it sometimes got. “Aye. That baby girl’s got the blood of ten-times-ten generations of witches running in her veins, and power already running through her fingers. Destiny will call to her this Solstice.”
Nell shivered. It was hard not to believe in destiny and portents when Moira used that tone. “I’ll make extra birthday cake.”
Sophie grinned and spoke in a stage whisper. “It’s so creepy when she does that, isn’t it?”
They giggled quietly together. Or rather, she and Sophie giggled. Moira positively cackled.
~ ~ ~
Lauren frowned over at Devin, her emergency knitting instructor. Apparently she was lacking in a key witch life skill—everyone else in Caro’s living room seemed to know what they were doing. “I have to make it how big?” The swatch hanging on her needles wasn’t growing very fast.
He grinned and glanced at Aervyn, tucked in by Caro’s side. “Dunno, but probably at least as big as his. And preferably with a few less holes.”
It was more than a little embarrassing to be out-knit by a four-year-old. “Does every witch learn how to knit?”
“The ones around here do.” Devin reached over and adjusted her yarn. “All fire witches learn as a way to channel their magic. And since Jamie’s a fire witch, Caro decided Matt and I needed lessons too.”
She eyed Caro’s flashing needles. Any woman who taught triplet boys how to knit deserved serious respect. “And when was the last time you picked up a ball of yarn?”
He laughed. “Probably the last time they wanted squares for a welcoming blanket, but it’s like bike riding. You don’t forget.”
Devin’s hands were quick and competent, and damn, if a man knitting wasn’t oddly sexy. Lauren checked her mental barriers. There were some thoughts you definitely didn’t want leaking. “It’s amazing how relaxed everyone is.”
“Eye of the storm.” Devin caught the ball of yarn that had rolled off Aervyn’s lap and tossed it back over to the couch where he sat. “Sierra’s not the first witch to make life interesting. If you don’t relax when you can, the stress builds, and that doesn’t do anyone any good.”
The planet might be better off if a whole lot more people took that advice. “So we knit and wait for the rest of the storm to hit?”
Devin grinned. “And we eat. Don’t forget that part.”
Even a newbie witch knew that much. Witches and food were never far apart. And since she was probably going to be sitting here for the next three days finishing her swatch for Sierra, she might as well take care of another hole in her witch knowledge. “So, tell me about birthing circles. What exactly have we been volunteered for?”
“Well, I can tell you what they’re usually like.” He shrugged. “Or I can give you my best guess about what we’re in for.”
Why did she never get the easy witch stuff to do? “How many birthing circles have you led?”
His eyes flashed humor. “None.”
That’s what she’d been afraid of. “What kind of crazy people put two newbies in charge of a circle at a birth everyone seems to think is going to get a bit nuts?”
Devin’s eyes got suddenly serious. “You’re the mind witch. You know exactly why.”
Sigh. Yeah, she did. “Because they trust us.”
He nodded, his mind radiating the kind of sure strength you’d want beside you in an emergency. Or the birth of a fire witchling. Watching him in action with Sierra had been a pointed reminder that for all his goofing around, this Sullivan brother had a deep core of strength, just like Jamie. Nothing was going to go wrong on his watch.
Knowing they’d both go to the wall for the people they loved was comforting. She’d learned a lot about teamwork in the last few months, but this was for Nat. “How do we get ready?”
And just like that, his mind switched back to happy-go-lucky Devin. “Not much to get ready for. We just roll with whatever comes.”
Not a chance. In real estate, negotiations could get tricky, and Lauren knew how to fly by the seat of her pants. But preparation still made the difference in a lot of deals. She also knew better than to waste her breath trying to convince Devin of that. “Run me through a couple of what-ifs and how you’d roll with it.”
He just raised an eyebrow.
She held up her pathetic knitting swatch. “Humor me. I’m still new to this witching stuff. In the world I come from, a doctor comes out to the hospital waiting room and tells you everything’s fine and the baby’s a girl.”
“We already know she’s a girl.” He reached over for
her knitting. “You’re making holes again.”
Sometimes you had to pull out the big guns. Talk, or I’ll tell Nell who swiped her last batch of Nutella cookies.
He actually turned a little white. “Shit. I had that buried. You’re a damned good mind witch.”
Such flattery. “And only a mind witch. How will that impact the birthing circle? Nell said Aervyn won’t be in the inner circle, and he’s usually my connection to everyone else.” It was thoughts like that keeping her up at night.
“You really are new to this.” He looked up, his brain suddenly serious again. “It’s not like our normal full circles, although it can morph into that if needed. Part of the reason we were picked is because we have the primary talents they expect to need. Water magic in case our little girl comes out blazing. Mind magic to help the healers keep her calm and feeling safe. Birth is a pretty big transition, and some babies handle it better than others.”
Lauren was pretty sure her face was going white now. “That’s kind of a big responsibility for someone who’s never actually seen a birth before.”
“You can handle it.” He spoke casually, still fixing the holes in her knitting swatch, but she could feel his sincerity.
“Why are you so sure?” It was nice to be trusted, but they’d never worked magic together.
He handed back her neatly repaired square. “I’ve seen you in action. But more than that, you hold the power streams for Aervyn in full circle. If my sister and my brother trust you enough to do that, I’d trust you with my life.” And he meant it. Just that simple. Then his grin flashed. “Besides, no way I’m letting you abandon me to watch my sister-in-law give birth alone.”
He clearly meant that, too.
Nat was going to have a baby. That still rocked her to the core when she really thought about it.
Devin touched her shoulder. Back to the intent eyes again. “They’ll be awesome. Can you think of any two people you’d rather trust with a baby than Jamie and Nat?”
She grinned. He was right—they would be awesome. And maybe their backup wasn’t as shaky as she’d thought. However, she was going to sit Sophie down and grill her, first chance she got.
