by Debora Geary
Aervyn grinned and nipped in to touch her shoulder. “Tag. You’re it!”
He zoomed off, dipping and weaving like a drunken hummingbird. Sierra did her level best to follow him while not running into rocks or other witches. In two minutes, she’d mastered double loops. In five, they could do a corkscrew holding hands.
And Sierra’s heart ached with the joy of magic shared. She clutched the orange frog hanging around her neck. Momma would have adored broomstick flying.
It took cookies to finally lure them out of the air. Nutella cookies. Lots of them.
Sierra skidded to a halt at Devin’s feet, her heart still somewhere up in the sky. He handed her a fistful of cookies. “Eat. Then we’ll try the second lesson.”
She crammed a cookie in her mouth. “Wass’ that?”
He grinned. “I’ll tell you once we’re back in the air. Aervyn, can you hook us up with a group mindlink?”
Wonderboy, mouth full of cookies, just nodded and grinned.
Sierra felt an incoming nudge on her head and realized she could still hear Devin talking—even though his mouth wasn’t moving. If you’ve got a mind witch handy, this is pretty useful for group magic on the fly. If it gets too distracting, just let Aervyn know, and he can turn it off for you.
Voices in her head. That was so cool. Sierra grinned. What’s lesson number two?
Devin laughed. Hit the air—keep it to second gear. Then you’ll find out.
Sierra launched and headed forward at a sedate pace. Aervyn pulled up on one side of her, Jamie on the other. Sierra blinked—wonderboy was flying on air power now, instead of his usual earth power. Cool trick. Devin slid in front of them, flying backward. Lesson number two. Fly in formation. Sierra, you’re the lead. Think about what your team can handle.
She looked over at Jamie, thinking hard. Can you port yourself out of the way of a rock?
Gee, thanks a lot. He rolled his eyes, but answered. At this speed, yeah.
Well then, they sure as heck weren’t going any faster than this. Carefully she led her team of three through a couple of simple formations, and then flew them over to where Devin was still meandering backward on his broom.
He just shook his head. Do-over. This time, find your team’s edge. Get close, but don’t go over it.
No way. She landed them all on the ground. She wasn’t having a serious conversation with a witch flying backward. “That’s not safe.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You did corkscrews with Aervyn.”
“Sure, but he flies at least as well as I do. So if I could do something, so could he.” She looked at Jamie, trying not to be rude. “I think maybe he can’t do all that stuff.”
Jamie snorted, looking amused. “You think?”
“You’re exactly right.” Devin waited until she looked at him. “You’re a strong witch, Sierra. So you’re often going to be working with people who can’t match you. Find Jamie’s edge, but don’t break him.”
She frowned. Lesson two wasn’t sounding like much fun. “Why?”
His eyes were very serious. “Because the next time there’s a big wave heading at an island, you want to know what it feels like to have a teammate reach their edge.”
Her broom clattered to the ground as her legs turned to jelly. “I didn’t do that. I wasn’t careful.” She’d done the magic she’d needed to do—and assumed they could all keep up.
She felt Devin’s fingers under her chin. “You didn’t know. Had you ever worked with a team before?”
No. Only Momma.
“You did the best you could with what you knew.” He stooped to pick up her broom and held it out. “Time to learn a little more.”
The realization she’d put her team at risk was still poking huge, bleeding holes in her heart. “Maybe somebody else can lead.”
“They could.”
And she would still be dangerous the next time she worked with a team. Sierra closed her eyes for a moment, wound a bandage around her heart to stop the bleeding, and looked over at Jamie. “I think you’d better borrow Govin’s cape. Maybe the kneepads, too.”
As they launched into the sky, she tried to figure out how to keep three separate witches safe. Watching Jamie wobble as she moved to third gear, she knew she’d better come up with a plan fast. Pink capes only kept you safe in fairy tales.
Ignoring Aervyn, she swung into a simple loop—and cursed as Jamie stalled out at the top. Panic beating in her heart, she shoved his broom from behind, pushing him around the loop. He grinned and waved, looking totally unconcerned, and her heart slowed down a little.
She shifted the team’s speed up another gear. Going slow wasn’t always safest. She pulled up into another loop, glued to Jamie’s side—and grinned as he stepped on the gas at the top. Good. He learned fast.
A bit more practice, and they managed a couple of jerky double loops. But no way were Jamie and his broom going to make it through a corkscrew in one piece. Or whatever that thing was called where she and Aervyn buzzed each other in the sky.
Her team had reached its limit.
No. Her team had reached Jamie’s limit.
Sierra clutched her broom, thinking hard. And then grinned. Sending out air power right and left, she extended an invitation. If they were flying on one power stream, Jamie would no longer be the weak link.
Trust the magic. Devin’s words from the weather pond bubbled to the surface as she hooked her team onto a shared air flow.
Trust the magic. Sierra double-checked all the links—and then stepped on the gas.
Aervyn’s glee as they streaked through the sky in formation was no match for his uncle’s. She heard Jamie’s exultant war whoop as they fired into a corkscrew and threw the air net a little wider—just in case he let go.
Then she leaned into the wind and prodded Aervyn’s power stream. More.
Chapter 18
Nat looked over at Sophie. “How did two totally pregnant women get roped into helping with this kind of subterfuge?”
Sophie held up a bag full of baby clothes. “Officially, we were just out shopping for more newborn stuff.” She sniffed. “Do I still smell like linguine?” They’d picked up two take-out helpings of Roman’s insanely good signature dish at the request of some very determined triplets—and had been obliged to sit down and consume two more plates while they were at it. No one in their right mind sent hungry pregnant women to pick up takeout.
Nat leaned over and sniffed. “Maybe. But Jamie swears I can smell cookies coming out of Moira’s oven five thousand miles away.”
Sophie giggled. “Pregnancy will do that. Elorie can’t stand the smell of onions, or basil, or fifteen other things. Poor Aaron has suffered trying to cook everything without half the ingredients he normally uses.”
Nat looked down at her belly. “I’m pretty sure our guys get the easy end of this deal.”
“You have no idea.” Sophie contemplated whether or not to change the subject. Most women about to experience labor for the first time didn’t want to hear any more stories. Nat was as centered as anyone on the planet, but pushing a baby out into the world was life-changing. And sitting on the cusp of life-changing wasn’t all that comfortable.
Nat paused, leaning against a wall, and Sophie’s eyes sharpened. “Braxton Hicks again?” The small, mostly painless contractions helped prepare a woman’s body for what was to come. They could also be really annoying, keep you awake at night, and totally punish an already tortured bladder. She reached out a hand in healing comfort.
Nat caught her wrist and started walking again. “It’s okay. Let them happen.” She smiled wryly. “Feel free to come fix the ones at 3 a.m., though.”
Sophie was pretty sure Nat wasn’t going to be pregnant for many more middle-of-the-night stretches. And a good night’s sleep now would make the birthing far easier. “Have Jamie use a small sleep spell on you and the baby tonight.”
She grinned as Nat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “It’s safe to do that? Now you te
ll me.”
“It’s not a good idea to do it too often—we try not to mess much with a baby’s natural rhythms—but it will be fine for one night.” And now it was really time to stop talking about babies. Nat’s mind needed to spend some time elsewhere. “So, what do you think the girls are up to?” Sophie had her theories.
“What do you think?” Nat grinned. “They’re meddling.”
Yeah, that was pretty much her theory. “And how do you feel about that?”
The look Nat gave her was pure mischief. “Know any good eavesdropping spells?”
“We’ve totally corrupted you, haven’t we?” Sophie hooked elbows with her friend, laughing. “Sadly, none that work through walls.”
~ ~ ~
It was time to make a witch squirm. Moira sat in her favorite chair in the Witches’ Lounge and waited for Lauren to arrive.
Nell grinned. “Be gentle. Remember, she didn’t grow up with all the hocus-pocus.”
Moira snorted. “Show a little more reverence for your roots, my dear. Lauren may not know any better, but you do.”
That little speech had no effect at all on Nell’s amusement. “Is this what my girls have been all whispery and giggly about lately?”
An old witch never told. “Aren’t all nine-year-old girls giggly?”
Nell’s sharp look was interrupted by Lauren’s arrival—holding her crystal ball, as instructed. And a glass pitcher of something vaguely yellow. “What’s that, my lovely? Some sort of potion?”
Lauren looked mildly horrified. “It’s eggnog. It’s been popular in my office lately, so I brought some to share.”
Yummy. “Did you know that eggnog started as an old witch remedy? It’s easily digested for those weak or ailing, and the spices can cover a wide array of noxious tastes.”
Lauren cuddled the pitcher to her chest. “No spiking my eggnog.”
Moira tried a stern look. “Do your magic like a grown-up witch, and I won’t have to.” Both members of her audience cracked up laughing. Ah, well. It had been worth a try.
“I brought the crystal ball.” Lauren set it down gently on the couch and started pouring eggnog. “Is it really the best way to do this?”
“We won’t know until we try now, will we?” The old magics could be powerful, but they were a tad unpredictable, especially in the hands of a still-somewhat-skeptical witch.
Nell shrugged. “Jake came up blank. He has records of some unusual energy spikes about that time, but Amelia probably wasn’t the only witch at Mardi Gras.”
Moira took a sip of her eggnog. It was truly delicious. “Is it your young Lizard that made this?” She’d developed a strong fondness for Lauren’s assistant.
“It is.” Lauren grinned. “We had one guy buying a house yesterday who asked for lifetime rights to drop by for eggnog as part of his deal.”
Nell laughed. “Did he get it?”
“Of course.” Lauren sat down on the couch and grinned. “We aim to please.”
Such a creative, enterprising woman. No wonder Great-gran’s crystal ball had chosen her. Moira smiled. “Have you figured out the question you’re going to ask yet?”
Lauren scowled at the innocuous glass ball on the couch beside her. “No. It never answers the first thing I ask it anyhow.”
“It’s Irish, child. We like to lead into a conversation slowly.” The crystal ball was old and not used to the forthright ways of modern witches.
“Well, I’m not Irish. If it chose me, it’ll have to get used to not beating around the bush.” Lauren picked up the ball and peered into its depths. “Tell me what happened to Amelia Brighton.”
It surprised Moira mightily when the ball hazed a bit. She’d have expected it to entirely ignore such a question. Lauren had more power than she knew.
“See?” Lauren shrugged. “It’s got a mind of its own.”
Nell looked over at a picture on the wall, clearly stifling giggles. Moira wasn’t having an easy time containing her own. “You might try a different question, dear. In general, crystal balls like to express their opinions. It rather bores them to just be asked for a quick fact or two.” Or at least, so Great-gran had said.
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Why do I get the witch tool that’s temperamental?”
“They’re all temperamental, child.” Moira chortled in delight. “Why do you think witches end up with white hair?”
Now Nell’s laughter rolled through the room. “Oh, a witchling or two is enough to do that. No tools needed.” She grinned at Lauren and motioned at the ball in her lap. “Pretend it’s Aervyn, and you’ll do just fine.”
An odd look crossed Lauren’s face. “That’s actually helpful, I think.” She studied the ball a moment longer, and then spoke quietly. “Show me the most important thing I need to know about Sierra’s mother.”
The surface of the ball misted instantly, swirling with a strange light. Lauren looked up, eyebrows raised, and motioned to them. “Come on over. It wants to speak to all of us.”
Moira’s heart caught. For over seventy years she’d asked questions of her family heirloom, and not once had it ever so much as acknowledged she existed. She reached for Nell’s helping hand up out of her chair, not taking her eyes off the crystal ball.
Sitting down beside Lauren, she reached a trembling hand to the stirring globe. And squeezed her eyes shut as a river of images started flowing in her head. Too fast at first to make out, and then the flow slowed, and Moira began to pick out faces she knew.
There was Great-gran, sitting in the ancient family rocking chair, holding two babes to her breast.
Elorie, nestled in the arms of her mama.
Her departed sister, with Marcus and Evan cuddled up at her feet.
An exhausted Amelia, floating on her back in the ocean, holding a naked, howling babe to her chest. The love flowing from mother to child was big enough to fill the sea that surrounded them.
Then came Nat, her bundle hard to see. Sophie. Sierra. The faces started flowing faster again. And then the river ceased.
Moira sat, her hand resting in awed thanks on the now-quiet crystal ball. Seventy years she had waited. And what an answer it had given. She opened her eyes, holding the magic tight to her heart. “Sierra was loved. That’s what it wanted us to know.” The most important thing. Amelia had loved her child with all the passion of the best mothers—past, present, future.
“Yeah.” Nell nodded slowly, sniffling. “Sorry. I’m sure that’s the important part.” She smiled. “But I saw my girls. They’re going to be mamas one day.”
Hmm. That was very interesting. Moira patted the crystal ball in approval. She hadn’t seen any of the triplets. It must have shown them all something different. “I saw my great-gran. And our Sierra.”
Lauren just stared at the ball in her lap. “I only saw Amelia.” She looked up sharply. “Did either of you see Nat?”
Moira smiled as she and Nell both nodded. It might be a bit of a wild ride to get there, but Nat would cuddle her babe. “They’ll be just fine.”
“Okay.” Lauren’s relief was palpable. Then she frowned. “But this doesn’t really answer what we wanted to know.” She frowned down at the ball. “Should I try again?”
Ah, these young ones who thought questions and answers were linear. “We got the answer we needed, sweet girl.” She patted Lauren’s hand. “We know that the love they shared while Amelia lived is far more important than how she died.”
Lauren nodded slowly. “Sierra already knows that.”
“Aye. She does.” Moira sat up straighter. “It was the rest of us who needed a reminder. Whatever happened to Amelia, it was not a lack of love that caused it.”
A musical ring scattered their attention. Lauren grabbed for her bag. “Sorry. Lizard’s still trying to finalize that deal, and I told her I’d stay available.” She glanced at the messages on her phone. “Gotta go.”
Waving goodbye, she carefully picked up the crystal ball. And ball in one hand, iPhone in the other, whisk
ed out of Realm.
Great-gran would have been highly amused.
Nell scooped up the pitcher of eggnog, refilling Moira’s glass. “I’ll take the rest of this back with me. It’ll be a good excuse to drop in on my three girls and see if I can find out what the heck they’re up to.”
Moira tried to look innocent, which was difficult. She was in this one up to her neck.
Nell laughed. “They came to the champion meddler for lessons, did they? I thought so.” She shook her head. “I just hope you thought things through a little more than they did.”
“A good witch always thinks.”
Nell was still laughing as she vanished.
Moira smiled, well satisfied. Somewhere in that river had been Lauren with a babe in arms. She was sure of it.
~ ~ ~
Devin frowned again at the message from Sierra on his phone. I need you to come to my place. 6 p.m. Bye!
Not exactly informative. But when a sister, of the real or honorary kind, paged him, he usually went. Part of the big-brother handbook. Didn’t mean he couldn’t give her a little grief, though.
Pulling open the door to her building, he grinned. Who was he kidding—he’d cut her a mile of slack tonight. The ride he’d taken on her corkscrew train, his broomstick wedged in line between Jamie and Aervyn, ranked as one of the coolest experiences of his life. And he’d have been a cinch for photographer of the year if he’d had a camera when the pink-caped Govin had been pulled through his first loop, clinging to his broom and laughing like a banshee.
They’d had fun today—and one teenage witch had been utterly generous with her magic. So if she wanted to be a little demanding tonight, he’d deal. That’s what brothers did.
He knocked on the door to Sierra’s apartment, and then turned at footsteps in the hallway.
“Hey!” Lauren waved, halfway down the hall. “How was broom flying?”
He grinned. “To quote Sierra, ‘awesome cool.’ You gotta try it.”
She laughed. “I’m in line right after Moira. I figure if she comes back in one piece, I might too.”
