by Debora Geary
Moira closed her eyes, suddenly hit by the full import of the moment. She had always been matriarch of the witching community. Her granddaughter Elorie had stepped into a large part of those shoes—organizing training and service and generally gluing the community together. But she’d never had a true heir for her meddling talents.
Until now.
~ ~ ~
Jamie grimaced as Sierra’s intricate air streams tangled and blew up, collapsing her spell. And then winced as, eyes fierce, she pulled on power to begin the whole thing over again.
Devin stepped back, shaking his head. “She’s going to kill herself working this hard.”
Or kill her trainers. They’d been out at Govin’s place for four hours, and Sierra had been doing magic almost non-stop. Jamie was tired just from watching. And judging from the amount of food Govin and Dev had consumed in the last hour, they were flagging as well.
Hungry bellies, they could fix. Solving Sierra wasn’t going to be as easy. “Kind of the opposite of reckless now, huh?”
“Can you blame her? We all ganged up on her, trying to convince her she was a danger to humankind. Then ganged up on her again, telling her she has to use her magic.” Devin’s voice carried judgment Jamie wasn’t used to hearing.
He frowned. “Well, both those things are pretty much true.”
Devin snorted. “If she keeps going at this pace, she’s going to be the safest, most overworked witch in the west by Winter Solstice.”
Which was in two days. Point taken. “You think we’re pushing too hard?”
“Not anymore. She’s doing all the pushing now.” Devin paused, sadness in his eyes. “We all assumed she’d be hard to convince.”
Jamie picked up the thought his brother didn’t voice. They’d all assumed she was like her mother. And they’d steamrolled her because of it.
He let out a sigh. Time to try to unflatten a witch.
Jamie focused once more as Sierra’s latest attempt hit crux—and this time, nothing tangled. He watched, with impressed respect, as she threaded the narrowest of air currents through 169 lit candles and blew out the one exactly at the center of the square—without so much as a flicker in any of the other flames.
With almost thirty years of practice, he could only handle a 9x9 square of candles. And he was one of the most talented air witches on the west coast. Sierra had just mastered a 13x13 square.
She looked over at Govin. “Add another row.”
Crap, thought Jamie, reading exactly the same reaction on Govin’s face. He stepped forward, cookie in hand. “I hereby name you Queen of the Candles. Take a break, wonderwitch.”
She took the cookie but shook her head. “It still took four tries. I can do better.”
“I can’t.” Govin’s voice was quietly commanding. “There’s no such thing as perfection in magic, Sierra. Not one of us here can do what you just did. It’s enough.”
“The more I practice, the safer I’ll be.” It was obvious she had no intention of stopping until she fell over from exhaustion.
Jamie looked at his brother. Your turn, dude. If anyone understood extremes, it was Dev.
He breathed a sigh of relief as Devin slid over to Sierra. And blinked in shock at his brother’s mental tone.
“You’re wrong.” Devin’s voice was hard, unyielding. “You keep practicing like this, you’ll be as dangerous as you were.”
Jamie shook his head as Govin started to move. He had no idea where his brother was headed—but no way was he beating up Sierra for sport.
Sierra’s eyes blazed. “I’m using groundlines, training circles, doubled spell barriers, protective layers, failsafes, and I have better control than any witch here.” She hurled each word at Devin. “What more do you want from me?”
“Forgiveness.” Devin’s one quiet word carried deep apology. He reached for Sierra’s hands. “When you came here, we looked at you and saw the lacking in your magic. We’ve yet to truly acknowledge your biggest gift.”
Nobody moved.
“You know how to partner with your magic, little sister. To ride with it and to trust.”
Sierra nodded slowly, still lost. “Momma taught me that.”
“Yes, she did.” Devin grimaced. “And because she left out a few of the usual safety features, we missed the strength of what she did teach you. Don’t make us live to regret that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you listen too carefully to us and abandon what your mom taught you, you’ll still be dangerous, but in a different way.” He pointed at the candles. “You know your limits. Deep inside, you know. Can you do another row?”
It was a long moment before Sierra shook her head. “No. I barely made it at thirteen.”
“Right. Groundlines and failsafes are there for the emergencies.” Dev waited until he had everyone’s complete attention. “They’re important, but the most important way to stay safe is to know what you can do—and be a good judge of what you can’t do.” He touched her cheek. “Just like your mom taught you. And just like you taught that little girl in Nat’s belly this morning.”
Jamie felt the band around Sierra’s chest loosening and wondered how his brother kept getting ten steps ahead of the rest of them.
And he wasn’t done. Devin leaned in one more time, tipping up Sierra’s chin. “You’re as safe as you need to be. Now we just build on what you already know. When you’re working with a team, you need to know everyone else’s limits too.” He grinned. “Except me. I’m invincible.”
Sierra’s smile was slow, but it came. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Jamie knew it was his turn. Time to trust their new witch—his brother was insisting on it. “Devin’s tough. I’m kinda fragile, though.” He grinned. “And you have to be really careful with Govin. Fire witches are kinda moody and unpredictable.”
Sierra laughed as the square of candles whooshed into a tail of flames that stopped an inch short of his belly. Jamie rolled his eyes at Govin. “Show-off.” And a message as well—no better proof of trust than not flinching when a guy tried to scorch your favorite T-shirt.
Sierra sobered. “It sounds complicated, working together like that.”
Devin grinned. “That’s because I suck with words. You just need a little practice. New magic lesson. Tomorrow. Eat a big breakfast and bring a broomstick.”
Jamie picked up enough of his brother’s thoughts to know where tomorrow was headed. He trusted Dev with his life—but he was still bringing a helmet.
Chapter 17
“Come on in!” Nell had two hands full of computer parts, and she hoped whoever was at the door wanted to help her reassemble Aervyn’s latest experiment. Superboy was awesome at the destruction part. So far he wasn’t showing any signs of genius at reconstruction.
It was hard to believe her Winter Solstice baby was going to be five soon. Two more days.
She sensed her sister-in-law’s presence before Nat came around the corner. And realized this wasn’t a casual visit. Nat’s mind felt… jostled. Uncomfortable.
Nell set down her tools. “Good morning. Jamie drop you off?”
“He did.” Nat smiled. “Apparently if I’m left alone for an hour or two, he’s afraid he’ll come home to me holding our baby girl.”
Not unless she was in a heck of a hurry. “Sorry, that’s kind of my fault. When I was pregnant with the girls, Nathan was driving me crazy, and I made Daniel take him out so I could have a nap. The girls weren’t due for weeks yet, so they went to the zoo.”
Nat grinned. “And you went into labor?”
“Yup. At four o’clock in the afternoon on the Friday of a holiday weekend. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper to get out of the city. It took him three hours to get home.”
“The girls were born in three hours?” Nat looked shocked.
She wished. They’d been fifteen hours of hard labor. “Heck, no. But Jamie got to sit with me while we waited for Daniel to get back. He was a tad stressed.” Truth be tol
d, she hadn’t been all that calm, either. “Moira arrived about an hour later, but I think Jamie had visions of having to deliver triplets by himself on my kitchen floor.”
Nat frowned. “How did Moira get there so fast?”
“She’d left Nova Scotia that morning. Said she just knew it was time.” Nell tapped her laptop with love. “You’re lucky. This pretty toy will let us fetch you a healer in just a few minutes.” Shuttling people through Realm was cool for many reasons, but getting a witch midwife to the right place on time was one of the coolest.
Nat was quiet for a moment. “Did you know it was time?”
In nine years, no one had ever asked her that. “You know, I suspect I did. That’s probably why I wanted a little time to myself.” Nell grinned. “I must’ve known I wouldn’t get a second’s rest after the triplets arrived.”
Then it occurred to her that Nat might have a pretty specific reason for asking. “How are you feeling?”
“Unsettled.” Nat stretched into a pose that Nell couldn’t have pulled off unpregnant. “I’ve been having weird dreams.”
Pregnancy dreams could be seriously wonky. “Any sexy hunks?” Nell remembered a very steamy dream during her last pregnancy, featuring Nathan Fillion. In triplicate. Firefly reruns had never been quite the same since.
“Nope.” Nat blushed. “Those happened back at the beginning.”
Nell waited patiently. If friendly silence didn’t work soon, there was always chocolate ice cream.
“I’ve been dreaming about my little girl growing up. And turning into Amelia.”
Nell blinked. “Sierra’s mom?” That was a direction she hadn’t expected.
“Yeah.” Nat folded herself into a pregnant pretzel. “I’m sure it’s just my subconscious putting her face on my fears.”
Now they’d landed on the reason for the visit. Nell lowered onto the floor beside Nat. No way she was trying the pretzel. “And what’s scaring you?”
There was no answer for a bit as a careful yogini gathered her thoughts. “I’ve been wondering what must have driven Amelia—what kept her so far away from community, from everything she knew, from people who would love her.”
It was something a lot of hearts had been pondering. Nat’s answer was likely to be more insightful than most, even though she’d never met Amelia. “And what do you think?”
“Joy in seeing the world, maybe. And fear that coming back would mean limits—chains on her freedom. Some hearts can’t bear to be constrained.”
Nell frowned. Something more was going on here—that last sentence was practically imprinted on Nat’s brain. “You think she needed freedom that badly?”
Nat nodded slowly. “Why else would you leave a child alone—a child you loved immensely?”
For the first time since they’d fetched Sierra, Nell felt herself step into Amelia’s shoes. And find, at last, a tiny thread of empathy. “You can’t be a mother and be absolutely free.”
They sat quietly together for a bit. Then Nell looked up, asking the question that bothered her most. “Do you think she was coming back?”
“Yes.” Nat’s answer was quick and sure. “She wouldn’t have left Sierra in a hotel room if she was leaving for good.”
Nell nodded slowly, tugging on that slender thread of empathy for Amelia she’d finally been able to find. “She would have sent her back to us.”
“I think so.” Nat shrugged. “I didn’t know her, so I can only guess. But I know what it is to want to taste freedom from the realities of your life, even if it’s just for a few hours. Maybe that’s what Amelia tried to do while her daughter slept.”
Those were strange words from one of the most responsible people Nell knew. And where she could no longer feel any sympathy at all for Amelia. “She left a child alone in New Orleans, Nat. Why are you fighting so hard to find empathy for her?”
“I have to.” Nat’s face was intent. “That quest for freedom rides in the heart of my baby girl, too. And I don’t want her to grow up to be a woman who has to leave her child sleeping alone in a hotel room to get her own needs met.”
Anyone else and Nell would have brushed it off as the irrational fears of pregnancy. Anyone else. “She’s a fire witchling. They tend to be pretty restless. Maybe that’s what you’re feeling.”
Nat shook her head slowly. “It’s more than that.” She took a deep breath. “She’s not going to come out quietly. It’s going to be her first taste of freedom.”
It wasn’t in Nell to offer stupid platitudes. “Probably. Most babies with power make a pretty loud entrance.”
“We have to help her.” Nat’s eyes looked off far into the distance. “You tease Devin about his reckless gene.”
Nell was lost. “Devin isn’t Amelia.”
“No, he isn’t.” Nat’s hands folded under her belly. “But he could have been. He has a heart that seeks freedom. Amelia didn’t know how to find that without being reckless. Devin does. With him, the reckless part is just for fun.”
It was the best description of her brother Nell had ever heard.
“I need to help my little girl seek like Devin. To fly high, but with a rooted heart.”
Her sister-in-law was one cool chick. Nell reached out. “Nat, I can’t think of any two people on earth more likely to get that right than you and Jamie.” She grinned. “And if your baby girl comes out flying high, we’ll send Uncle Dev to catch her. Trust me. He’s earned it.”
Nat smiled, her mind sliding back toward its usual serene cool.
It was Nell’s head that was restless now, retracing some of their strange conversational turns. “How did you manage to figure my brother out so fast?”
“He loves my best friend.”
Nell tried to breathe. “You’re sure?” Dev was the brother who had always flown the highest—and the one she’d caught the most.
Nat nodded, eyes sympathetic. “For now, it’s just him. Lauren’s heart isn’t quite as quick.”
That wasn’t helping Nell’s airflow any. “Is she going to catch up?”
Nat’s face slowly bloomed in amusement. “That depends how good a negotiator your brother is.”
Dev and Lauren.
Nell leaned back, trying to picture it. And decided it wasn’t all that hard. If any woman could partner with her hurricane of a brother, she’d lay her bets on Lauren.
~ ~ ~
Sierra winced as Aervyn missed crashing into a huge boulder by about a broomstick bristle. “How does he do that?”
Devin grinned. “Absolute trust in his magic.”
Jamie snorted. “Absolute trust in his ability to port himself out of trouble.”
Aervyn wasn’t the only one who could teleport. Sierra looked at Jamie. “Can you grab him before he crashes?”
“Smart question.” Devin’s eyes held approval. “Aervyn’s been working magic with Jamie for a long time, so they know each other’s limits.”
Jamie shook his head. “He’s going too fast. If he were slower or closer, I could probably snag him.” He winked at her. “Remember that if you want me to rescue you before you hit a rock. Close and slow.”
Close and slow. Check. Sierra looked at the broom in her hands, trying to mute the war inside her head. Sierra Brighton, storm witch, could hardly wait to get her feet off the ground. Sierra Brighton, newly cautious and safe witch, was trying not to puke.
Devin laid a hand on her shoulder as Aervyn skidded to a halt two inches away. “We put up a big training circle, and we’re all grounded. It’s a safe place to play—have some fun.”
Govin, standing beside her, tried to hop into the air—and nosedived into the ground six inches away. Ouch.
Aervyn giggled. “You gotta go faster than that, or you won’t stay up in the air.”
“Now you tell me.” Govin looked up from the ground and winked. “Any other tips before I try again?”
Aervyn studied Govin’s outfit for a minute—helmet, padded vest, knee and elbow pads, shin protectors. “I think you
need a cape.”
Sierra couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled over. “You can borrow mine.”
“I have an extra.” Devin pulled a pink sparkly cape out of his backpack. “I raided the girls’ costume stash.”
Govin didn’t bat an eye. “If a cape will help me fly, I’ll wear a cape.” He stood up, donned the cape, checked his helmet, and nodded at Sierra. “Race you to the rock.”
It was hard to believe this was the same guy who spent half his life making baby weather on a pond. And then did math for fun. “Which rock?”
He laughed. “Any rock I can get to.”
“I can help.” Aervyn ran behind them. “I can give you a push off.”
Devin swooped him up. “No way, little dude. No assists. Every witch must fly for him or herself. House rules.”
Jamie hopped on his broom and lurched off into the air. “You guys are making me look really good,” he called back over his shoulder.
Sierra watched him fly for a minute, tracing his spell lines. Aervyn used primarily earth magic to propel himself, which she didn’t have. Devin used water. Water power she had, but Devin’s speed control was practically non-existent. Jamie, however, used air and fire, and that gave her the missing pieces she needed. Carefully, she levitated into the air, and then floated forward, mixing air currents under the front third of her broom to pull herself forward.
Jamie zoomed back around. “Nice. Now try going faster than my great-grandmother.”
The storm witch was rapidly winning the shouting match in her head. She could feel speed just a twitch of magic away. Doubling her groundlines, she shifted into second gear and felt the wind against her cheeks. It called to her. Heck, it was practically turning her inside out.
Let go. It’s okay to play sometimes. Jamie grinned at her as he shot by.
Tears stung her eyes—and then blew off her cheeks as she let her magic loose. Leaning forward on her broomstick, she shot through the winter sky, shrieking in joy.
And realized she was not alone. Aervyn was on her wing, eyes dancing. “Try this!” He swung up into a big loop, zooming upside down.
It was an irresistible offer. Pulling up on the front of her broomstick, she shot skyward, following him up into the clouds—and whooped as they came racing down toward the earth. Working quickly, she wove an air net to catch them, just in case.
