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

by Debora Geary

  “We done, girls?” Jamie collapsed to the ground and laid a streamer over his eyes. “It all looks good from here.”

  Mia surveyed the room. “I think we need more glitter.”

  “No way!” Jamie sat bolt upright in protest. “This is a boy party, remember?”

  “It’s red glitter.” Mia shrugged. “Besides, Aervyn loves shiny stuff.” She squinted. “Hey, can we make it float in the air? Kind of like snow?”

  Jamie’s eye roll was classic—and clearly giggle-inducing. “I’m a serious witch. I don’t do silly spells.”

  Sierra grinned. “I do.” Devin said she was supposed to have more fun. How could glitter snow not be fun? “Do you want it to swirl or anything?”

  Mia’s look was one of total hero worship. “You can do that?”

  Oh, yeah. Sierra thought for a moment and got started. She had an audience to impress. Picking up the huge bowl of red glitter, she ran a quick test on the top layer. Excellent. Enough metal in them to magnetize. It would be a tricky spell on that many individual pieces, though.

  They’ll love it. Jamie’s mental voice sounded resigned. Want some help?

  I thought you don’t do silly spells. Sierra was still getting used to talking inside her head and having other people hear.

  He chuckled and stood up, placing his hands on the other side of the bowl. “Who do you think taught them everything they know?”

  She felt his incoming power stream and started magnetizing the top layers of red glitter. As they built up charge, tiny pieces started to float up, pushed away by those underneath. She eased off a little—they wanted the glitter floating in the air, not plastered to the walls. The girls were watching with rapt attention.

  Ha. Not just them, sent Jamie. The entire room’s watching.

  We are. Lauren sounded highly amused. Is this a friendly shower or a red-glitter menace you’re building?

  Sierra grinned. It was like a whole family inside her head. The menace is tempting, but the decorating committee might be mad.

  Oh, I think you underestimate my girls, sent Nell dryly.

  Not to break up your conversation or anything, but I think you’ve got most of the glitter floating now. Jamie tried to shoo some away from his face.

  Sierra laughed. Coat yourself in a negative ion charge, and it’ll leave you alone. They’d positively charged the glitter.

  Jamie blinked, and then wove a quick spell. Hot damn. A glitter repeller. He waved his arm in the air, and glitter flew away. He turned toward his nieces, glee in his eyes. “Behold, the glitter menace.” He grabbed a fork, positively charged it, and advanced on them with his tiny, glittery spear.

  Only to have Nell jump in front, glitter-covered plate in her hands. “Back off, Sir Forkus. These girls are mine.” Jamie’s fork flew out of his hands and thunked onto her plate.

  The triplets knew a good thing when they saw it and ran to arm themselves. Sierra watched in giggly astonishment as the room broke out in an impromptu glitter fight. It didn’t take long for the triplets to be smack in the middle of things. And judging from their weaponry, Ginia’s earth magic wasn’t having any trouble magnetizing stuff.

  Lauren tugged on Sierra’s sleeve, tape measure in her hand. “Save us!” Devin grinned from behind her, both of them covered in wet, goopy glitter. “Apparently water magic is no match for floaty red stuff.”

  Sierra’s laughter broke free. “You’re not supposed to drown it, silly.” She magnetized Lauren’s tape measure and winked at Devin. “She’s armed. You’re hopeless. Stay close.”

  He snickered as Lauren swept her weapon through the air. “Been in any swordfights lately?” And then grinned as she pulled it out to four feet long. “Never mind. I take it back.”

  Sierra watched them dive into battle, elbows linked, armed with their long and bendy sword, and marveled. Every person in this room carried big responsibilities. And every person in this room had jumped into an all-out glitter fight, badly armed—just to have some fun. Devin was right—you could be a serious witch and a playful one.

  Grinning, she reached behind her and grabbed the ladder. There was a lot of glitter in the upper two feet of the room—and it was all hers. The red menace was about to attack from above.

  ~ ~ ~

  Breathe in, breathe out. Nat concentrated on the familiar flow of air and energy, and waited for the quiet of meditation to soak into her soul.

  She was afraid.

  Afraid of the building energy in her belly, carrying the beat of a very different drummer.

  Afraid of the whispers and careful eyes of the witching community and what they meant about the girl nestled beneath her heart.

  Afraid of all the faith in Natalia Sullivan’s ability to breathe through anything, move with serenity in the midst of a storm.

  What if they were wrong?

  Because there was a storm coming. She could feel it. And the drummer in her belly reveled in anticipation.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  And then, gently, Nat pushed beyond. Beyond the fear, beyond known and unknown. Beyond herself.

  She wasn’t alone anymore. The strength of Natalia Sullivan no longer needed to come entirely from inside her own soul. Jamie loved her with a fierceness she was only beginning to comprehend—and he would stand, as man and as witch, for her and for their little girl.

  And oh-so-many would stand beside him.

  So why was she really afraid?

  With the automatic bravery of years of practice, Nat swam toward the roots of fear deep in her soul. And found her mother.

  Her mother—faced with a child she didn’t understand. Two souls, so very different. And so much damage done trying to mold the child in the mother’s image.

  Nat let sorrow flow on the waves of her breath. She was not her mother. But she, too, awaited a child who was very different.

  And that was okay.

  Be who you need to be, child of mine.

  She let the words settle into her heart—and trusted that the mindreader in her belly would hear them too. Be who you need to be, small girl.

  Slowly, the fear ebbed. It usually did, if you could just find the root. Nat released one last breath and opened her eyes.

  It was almost time. And her baby girl wasn’t going to come easy into this world.

  She rubbed her belly. It’s okay, little one. You come any way you have to. We’ll be right here waiting.

  ~ ~ ~

  Devin settled into the new couch in his brother’s basement. It wasn’t The Monster, but it would have to do. He looked over at Jamie and prepared to start a difficult conversation. “You got room for one more on the Realm team?”

  Jamie stopped digging through his snack cupboard. “What?”

  “Seems like you’re pretty busy right now, so I thought I might stick around for a while and help out. You got any Doritos in there?”

  “You want to help with Realm?” Jamie tossed over a bag, grabbed one for himself, and then plopped down in the overstuffed chair next to the couch.

  They matched. It was disturbing—man caves weren’t supposed to match. “Pretty much.”

  “Your coding skills are kind of rusty, dude.”

  Sadly. And they’d never held a candle to Jamie and Nell’s anyway. “You’ve got plenty of coders. Not so many organizers, from what I’ve seen.”

  “Devin Sullivan, organizer.” Jamie pretended to think for a second, then snorted. “Okay, what’s really going on here?”

  They’d hit the difficult part faster than he’d hoped. “I have some reasons for wanting to be here. That little girl of yours, for starters. I figured while I was here, I should make myself useful.” That sounded weak, even to his own ears.

  Jamie stared. Then he busted up laughing. “Damn you, Dev. I owe my wife a whole month of hip-openers classes, thanks to you.”

  Devin wasn’t entirely sure what hip openers were. He didn’t plan to find out, either. “What’s Nat got to do with this?”

  His broth
er’s eyes gleamed. “I bet you’d stick to your itinerant-bachelor ways until the New Year. Figured it was a sure thing.”

  Crap. Nothing got past Nat. Now they were neck-deep in difficult-conversation territory. Devin fought the urge to squirm. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Yeah.” Jamie’s eyes danced with mirth. “You stick with that story. It might even work, at least until Mom gets here tomorrow.”

  Damn, damn, damn. Devin tried to look desperate. It wasn’t hard. “I was hoping you really could use some help with Realm. Give me a little cover.”

  “Oh, we totally need the help.” Jamie was a hairsbreadth from collapsing in laughter again. “With the new WitchNet stuff and Net magic on the prowl in Realm, there’s plenty to do, and I’m gonna be kind of busy for a while.” He sobered a little. “What about the clinic?”

  That was one of the few easy parts of this decision. “Mom, Dad, and Matt can easily run the place without me. I was useful when we were setting up, but I’m no healer, and Dad does great with all the back-room stuff.”

  “Well, we’ll gladly take you in.” Jamie paused a beat. “You know Mom’s not going to believe it for one second.”

  He could always hope. “Leave me with my fantasies, will you?”

  His brother grinned. “If you’re really lucky, Nat will go into labor and provide a distraction for you.”

  Devin groaned. Retha Sullivan was about as distractible as a charging elephant.

  Jamie reached casually for the TV remote. “How does Lauren feel about this?”

  And that would be the next wave of difficult crashing over his head. “She doesn’t know yet.”

  To his relief, Jamie didn’t start laughing again. He just nodded. “She’s more cautious than you are.”

  Yeah. “Everyone’s more cautious than I am.”

  “On some things.” Jamie was quiet a moment. “But I stood in Lauren’s living room and told her she was a witch. Expected her to run like hell or drop-kick me out of her apartment.”

  Clearly she hadn’t done either. And Devin held tight to one other ray of hope. “She channels for Aervyn.”

  Jamie nodded. “Yeah. She’s not reckless. Not even a little. But she knows how to ride a tornado.”

  Devin hoped he was just a small funnel. Ah, screw that. He’d just have to hope Lauren liked the man he was. “Am I crazy?” He was pretty sure the answer to that was yes.

  “Yup.” Jamie grinned. “Crazier now than before? Nah. Lauren’s about as cool as they come.”

  And Nat’s best friend. “Anybody going to threaten me with a shotgun or ask my intentions?”

  “Not me. The woman’s a mind witch. If she wants, she could have you down on your knees begging in an instant.” Jamie propped his feet on the coffee table. “And I’ve seen her wield a tape measure.”

  It was probably bad that one of your favorite “date” memories with someone involved chasing three shrieking girls around with a glittery measuring tool. Devin sighed. “Is this what growing up feels like?”

  “Nat says you grew up a long time ago, and everyone but you knows it.” Jamie wedged himself more comfortably in the chair. “Basketball or women’s beach volleyball?”

  Devin stared, disconcerted. “You’re sure your wife isn’t a witch?”

  Jamie grinned. “She also says you’ll make a great uncle, and you should come to hip-openers class with me so she can keep an eye on you.” He pitched his chip bag into a corner garbage can. “And yeah—that’s pretty much my wife with a shotgun. Watch your step.”

  Devin sighed. That’d be a lot easier to do if he had any idea where the hell he was walking.

  ~ ~ ~

  Her black cohosh supply was running low. Sophie stacked the jar in the small pile of supplies to refill.

  “I don’t think our Nat will be needing the cohosh,” said Moira, rocking in a nearby chair. “Fire witchlings don’t usually need any help speeding things up.”

  “A wise midwife once taught me to be prepared for anything.” Sophie smiled, her fingers continuing to sort jars. “And the cohosh is good for hemorrhaging, too.”

  “Aye. Always a worry when the babe’s in a hurry.”

  Sophie looked at the resupply pile. None of it really needed refilling. She was restless and had hoped checking the contents of her bags would be soothing. “You’d think I’m the one giving birth, with all the nesting I’m doing.”

  Moira sipped her tea. “You think we’re going to have another Solstice babe?”

  Aervyn had been born on the Winter Solstice, five years ago tomorrow. Even modern witches took those kinds of portents fairly seriously. “Don’t you?”

  “Aye. She’s got a destiny to follow, this little one.”

  Sophie went to sit next to Moira. Her instincts had been jangling all day, and apparently she wasn’t alone. “Was it like this before Aervyn’s birth? Could you feel it?”

  Moira grinned. “Oh, my, could we. It wasn’t like now, where you can hop into Realm and hop out in California. I’d come to stay with them while we waited, and Nell was two weeks overdue. The energies had been swirling in that house for weeks. I think if Solstice had come and gone without a baby, every witch in ten miles would have gone stark raving mad.”

  “Well, this babe isn’t causing those kinds of disturbances. Maybe she’ll arrive more gently.” They could always hope.

  Moira chortled. “She’s just biding her time, this wee one. Don’t let her fool you.”

  “Any other advice?” Witchlings with power before birth were rare—Sophie had only attended the arrival of two others.

  “Just the same as always.”

  The long-familiar words slid easily off Sophie’s tongue. “Trust the mother, trust the baby, trust the magic.”

  “Aye. And this time in particular, trust the circle that holds you safe.”

  Sophie rubbed her belly. In her current condition, she felt a special empathy for the mama-to-be. “Nat’s got no idea what’s coming, and I don’t know how to prepare her.”

  “She’s heard the stories. It’s all you can do.” Moira reached out, her fingers warm and comforting. “No woman is truly ready her first time. And Natalia knows how to stay present in the moment as well as anyone I know. As do you.”

  It would have to be enough. Sophie resisted the urge to get up and check her supplies one more time. “I wonder how Aervyn will feel about sharing his birthday?”

  “He’s got a generous heart.” Moira tilted her head, thinking. “It will be harder for him to share Jamie, I think.”

  One of Aunt Moira’s strengths had always been her ability to see the places a witch might stumble. And then to clear the path, or make a soft landing, as need be. Sophie considered the feelings of a small boy for the very special man in his life—a man about to have a lot more demands on his time. “Well, he’ll just have to come visit us if he needs more cuddles.”

  “Indeed.” Moira rocked. “And he’ll help out with his young cousin—help her grow to be the witch she’s meant to be. It will do him good to have another young one sharing the spotlight.”

  Sophie heard an undertone in the words. “You don’t think she’ll be the talent he is?” Aervyn had the kind of power that hadn’t been seen in ten generations.

  The creak of the rocking chair was all the answer she got for a while. “I don’t know, my dear girl. But I feel it. One day they will stand side by side, and her magic will blaze as brightly as his.”

  Sophie shivered. Sometimes it was hard to remember precog wasn’t one of Aunt Moira’s talents. Her “feelings” were almost never wrong.

  She got up. Whatever supplies might be needed at the birth of a witchling to equal Aervyn, she planned to have them in her bag.

  Chapter 21

  The blaring klaxon of emergency alarms yanked Govin out of sleep. Moving quickly, he rolled out of bed, reaching for his phone to page TJ—and nearly got mowed down in the hallway. Damn. Wake up, dude. TJ was temporarily living down the hall.

  And
he moved fast. Slamming into a desk chair, TJ started banging keys like a frenzied drummer. “Shit. That depression off Indonesia has turned ugly.”

  Govin waited quietly. He wasn’t nearly as fast as TJ, and they needed a definition of “ugly.” ASAP. They’d tried some small adjustments to the storm yesterday—low probability—and clearly they hadn’t worked.

  It was a very bad sign when TJ stopped typing.

  Govin steeled himself. After ten years, he still hated this part. The moment before he found out he couldn’t do enough.

  “It’s bad. Really bad.” Then TJ’s hands slammed down on the keys again. “Get Sierra.”

  Govin winced. “Teej, she’s not ready to watch people die.”

  “Nobody’s ever ready.” His partner looked up, eyes fierce. “It’s big waves, heading at villages. Fifty thousand people, Gov. With her help, maybe we save some.”

  Heart hollow, Govin made the call to wake up the girl who had cried a bucket of tears over one dead bird. And then woke up a whole pile of other people. She’d need all the backup they could give her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Nell waited for a Realm shuttle to Govin’s place, Sierra at her side. His text had terrified her.

  Witches worked very hard to keep their youngest away from life-and-death situations. She knew that one day, Aervyn would be called. But not yet.

  Instead, they’d called on the girl who had nestled into all of their hearts. Devin might have been the first Sullivan to adopt Sierra—but he wasn’t the last. And dammit, she was too young for this.

  Nell felt the tug of a Realm transport spell—and then the odd disorientation as it spit them out the other side.

  The vibrating intensity in the room told her what she needed to know, but she asked anyway. Do you really need her, Gov? This is going to break her into a million pieces if you fail.

  She read the answer in his eyes. And the deep, deep sorrow. He expected them to fail.

  The mother in her wanted to grab Sierra and run. The witch knew he would never have asked unless many lives were at stake. Okay, then. Maybe they could change the odds. “How can we help?”