An Unlikely Witch

by Debora Geary

  “Magic and I aren’t on speaking terms at the moment.” Said in the clipped tones of a healer who was ready to toss her skills out into the deep waters. With a concrete anchor attached.

  An old Irish witch had been there once or twice. “Mmm. Is that why you’re up here throwing half my beach into the ocean?”

  Irritation snapped in the air. “I need a better reason?”

  Moira sighed. Sometimes no answer was the worst answer of all. She shifted, seeking better footing in the wet pebbles underfoot. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped you would find something.”

  A long, disturbing pause. “I didn’t. Nothing concrete.”

  That was unexpected. And ominous. “What did you see?”

  “I don’t know.” Frustration—great, looming waves of it. “Maybe it was nothing. Hints of a shadow just beyond what I could reach. Maybe it wasn’t there at all and I just want so very badly to help this patient that I’m making things up.”

  Sophie was the strongest and most skilled healer Moira had ever known. And the least prone to wishful imaginings, no matter how much she might want them. Her scientific heart would never permit it. “I don’t believe that for a moment. You’ve good instincts. What do they tell you?”

  A handful of pebbles arched gracefully out to sea, soundless, their landing swallowed in the crashing winter waves. Their thrower turned, eyes resolute and sad and weary. “I think I’ve found the thing that matters. And I have no idea what it is and I can’t see well enough to do anything about it.”

  Now the temper made sense. Moira laid a hand on the younger woman’s arm. “Perhaps another look in a day or two when you’re fresh.”

  Sophie tossed off the connection and the easy out. “I was fresh enough.”

  A woman with excellent knowledge of her own skills. A healer who had done everything she could. An old Irish witch tried to make peace with the end of a road. “We can only do what we’ve the skill and talent to do.” Useless, throwaway words.

  A head tipped downward in defeat. And then rose in something else. “I could maybe do more. With Ginia’s help.”

  Creeping dread touched Moira’s heart.

  “Nat’s ready to fight, just as I’ve run out of options.” said Sophie flatly. “Except one. Ginia scans energies better than anyone, including me. And she’s the most creative healer we’ve got.”

  “She’s just a child.” And those, too, were useless, throwaway words.

  “Yes.” Sophie’s voice hitched. “And that’s why I’m out here throwing half your beach into the ocean.”

  Moira bent down and picked up a handful of rocks.

  And hurled them as far out into the foaming sea as an old lady’s fear and anger could take them.

  Chapter 14

  Somehow, she hadn’t expected this.

  Nat stood in her studio, feet on the warm, familiar bamboo. And that’s where comfort ended. Everything else was strange. Jamie’s gym shorts, held on by an ingenious assortment of hairpins and bungee cords. The gauze wrapped around her knuckles. The odd smell of three-day-old sweat already permeating the room.

  She liked it. And all they’d done so far was warm up. Which had involved zero breathing exercises and a lot of bouncing.

  Trinity held up an old, grungy padded square that she’d gotten from somewhere far dirtier than the studio had ever been. It tugged on something in Nat’s belly. Tickled the insane, barely banked urge to hit something. The need to give the bubbling rage in her belly a name and somewhere to go.

  “Better.” Trinity nodded sharply. “Get your head in the game. None of that Zen yoga gig you do so well. You try to punch someone with that look in your eyes and they’ll squish you like a week-old banana.”

  That was a lovely image. Nat set her feet and hoped the bungee cord was up to its task. “Anything else I need to know?” The need to hit the pad in Trinity’s hands wasn’t going to wait much longer. Her body, seeking new knowledge.

  “Yeah. Fix your thumb. Hold it like that and you’ll break something.”

  Nat molded her fist to look like the one Trinity held out. Minus the lines and calloused knuckles that said their hands had lived very different lives.

  “Hey.” Dark eyes held way too much understanding. “If I can sit on my butt and contemplate some weird stream-of-light shit in my gut, you can learn how to hit some dude hard enough to break his nose.” Her teacher smirked. “Although that’s not where I suggest you aim.”

  Nat didn’t direct violence at bugs, never mind human beings. “It’s not a guy I’m mad at.”

  “You can’t punch at ideas in your brain.” Trinity cocked her head. “Missy says you do all those visualization things. Picturing pretty flowers running around between your ears and stuff.”

  Nat tried not to laugh. “Something like that.”

  “This is kind of the same deal. Except it’s not flowers—it’s some mean dude who wants to wrap his hands around your neck.” She held up the pad. “And it’s not inside your gut or between your ears. He’s right here looking you in the eyes and calling you a wimp loud enough for everyone to hear.” Trinity nearly growled. “You gonna stand here and take that?”

  Nat’s fist hit the pad before her brain even connected all the words. And then the other hand, the reverberations backfiring all the way to the monster pacing in her gut.

  She lowered her head, ready to pummel the pad until her arms fell off.

  “Look up.” Trinity snapped out the words. “You hit that bastard hard and you look him dead in the eye while you do it. So he knows that you matter.”

  Nat punched again. Wild and swinging this time. Form didn’t matter. Only intent.

  Right. Left.

  She. Mattered.

  -o0o-

  Lauren looked up as the door to Berkeley Realty chimed and tried to dig out of her foul mood. Not too many clients for the next week or two, but these guys were welcome.

  Anything to take her mind off crystal balls and small, vanishing boys.

  Devin came in first, balancing approximately a hundred orders of takeout noodles in his arms. He didn’t know exactly why she hurt—but he knew she did, and that was enough.

  Josh followed, bearing beer and something that might be eggnog. Jamie closed the door behind them all, holding something that was very definitely chocolate under his right arm.

  “Hey, guys.” Lauren paged Lizard in the back room. Apparently they were having an impromptu dinner party. She reached for Jamie’s box. “You don’t want any of this, right?”

  Dev somehow managed to kiss her with his arms still full of takeout. “We’re all scared to eat it. The woman at the bakery said it’s better than an orgasm.”

  Lizard snorted from the hallway and then grinned at Josh.

  Lauren slammed her mind barriers down. No way she wanted to know what that was about.

  From the look on Jamie’s face, he hadn’t gotten his down quite fast enough. She took pity on his red cheeks. “Where’s Nat?”

  “Busy. We swung by the studio first, figuring everyone could use some noodles in advance of whatever Lizard has up her sleeve this evening.” His mind felt a little disconcerted. “Nat’s in there with Trinity.”

  Huh. “Nat’s been trying to sneak yoga in the door of the castle for a while. Maybe she’s finally found a way.”

  “They weren’t doing yoga.” Now Jamie looked entirely strange—and a little proud. “Nat was throwing punches.”

  That… “What?”

  “Trinity was holding up some kind of big pad thing. And Nat was wearing a pair of my gym shorts and pummeling the hell out of it.”

  Lauren wasn’t sure which part of that to gape about first. In the almost fifteen years they’d known each other, her best friend had gotten violent exactly never.

  “You guys have led way overprotected lives,” said Lizard dryly, picking up on things both said and unsaid. “Nat’s got a lot on her plate right now and sometimes hitting things makes you feel better. I don’t think it’s all that co
mplicated.”

  For anyone else in the universe, maybe. “Not Nat. She had lots of reasons to want to hit things growing up, but she never did. She’s all about surrender and breathing and waiting for a way to shift your stance or change the rules of the game.” A different kind of power.

  Jamie nodded. “It was kind of like walking in on the Dalai Lama in a bar fight.” He aimed a grin at Lizard. “Or you in your kitchen, wearing a frilly apron.”

  “Careful, pretty boy.” Their resident poet passed out takeout boxes. “Mention bare feet and you’ll discover that Trinity’s not the only one who knows how to throw a punch.”

  A year or two ago, that comment would have been more serious than not. Now Lizard sent a gooey grin Josh’s direction, along with something about bare feet and kitchens that Lauren hastily blocked. She rolled her eyes and left her mind barriers locked. It happened a lot around the newlyweds.

  Her associate’s mental snort blew right in. I’d apologize, but Devin’s thoughts aren’t exactly pure and innocent this evening either.

  Damn. And she’d been fixated on Nat and a stupid orb. Lauren shot a quick look at her husband, who waggled his eyebrows her direction and handed her a fork. He grinned. “Eat, and I promise not to tell anyone about your apron collection.”

  She laughed. It felt really good. “The one numbering exactly zero?”

  Jamie sat down with fork and food of his own. “That could be fixed.”

  Lauren swung her head around. That was a threat—the kind the Sullivans deeply enjoyed acting on. “Do that, and I’ll teach Kenna how to send Dr. Seuss rhymes into your dreams.”

  He held up his hands in instant surrender as the rest of the room laughed. She soaked it in, not caring that half of it was aimed at her. She loved it when Witch Central pulled off this in-your-face stuff. Take that, freaking universe.

  Josh tugged Lizard onto his lap. “So—you can send stuff into my dreams, huh? Can I make requests?”

  She threatened him with a fork. Which would have been more effective if her cheeks weren’t pink and shaking with giggles.

  Lizard Monroe giggling. At least as much a brave new world as Nat Sullivan punching things. And Lizard had stood in Nat’s crystal-ball-tortured shoes not all that long ago.

  It worked out pretty well for her, sent Jamie quietly. Thanks. It’s a good reminder.

  Lauren wasn’t so sure. Her glass paperweight sure the hell didn’t seem to be promising happy endings this time. However, she could feel the general teasing goodwill in the room doing its work, and she had no intentions of being this day’s voice of doom.

  Timing. Instead, she picked up the conversational ball and gave laughter and light a helping hand. “So, who’s got their Solstice gift finished?”

  Besides Lizard. Who had apparently stepped up her plans for the sole purpose of forcing the Sullivans out of their funk.

  Lauren was smart enough not to bet against her.

  “Well, I thought mine was done.” Lizard made a face at Devin. “But apparently I need to go apron shopping.”

  Lauren knew only the vague outlines of what was happening tonight. Or more precisely, where it was happening. And that a whole lot of denizens of Witch Central thought it was epic, and that Devin was going to flip.

  Hopefully it was epic and non-frilly.

  Josh stole a bite of his wife’s linguine. “I’m done.” He smiled at Lauren. “I did that last thing this morning. We’re ready to roll.”

  He’d gotten Nell’s name and she had Daniel, so they’d joined forces.

  “You guys gonna dish yet?” Jamie looked mildly curious, albeit more interested in his eggnog.

  “Not a chance.” Lauren tightened her mind barriers, just in case, and grinned. “No Sullivan brothers get any details in advance.”

  “I have two spots to beta test Project Titan.” Jamie eyed Josh casually.

  Lauren had hung around on the outskirts of the gaming world long enough to know exactly how huge a bribe that was. She eyed the guy it was aimed at—he didn’t have quite as much experience with the Sullivan troublemakers as she did.

  “You have to be kidding.” Josh was making good headway into his wife’s noodles now. “First Lauren would turn my mind to slime, and then Nell would chop whatever was left into wood chips.”

  Lauren grinned. If her brothers pranked the getaway they’d planned, Nell would do worse than that. Forty-eight whole hours alone in a cabin with no Internet, a king-sized bed with a view up to the stars, and a kitchen stocked with offerings from one of California’s best chefs.

  The chef loved his new home in the hills—and had jumped at the idea of making two busy parents feel like newlyweds.

  All that Lauren had left to do was a quick trip to her favorite lingerie store. She winked at Josh. “You can help with the last thing on my list if you want.” And laughed as he turned purple.

  Dev reached for a second box of noodles, grinning. “I think I like this plan, whatever it is.”

  Lizard, who did know what they’d been working on, snickered. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  Lauren glared at her young associate. “Stick with your first idea.” Not that Dev would mind a delivery of aprons and lingerie. He was a flexible guy.

  The young poet only laughed. “Maybe I’ll have a chat with Mia instead.”

  The eleven-year-old had Lauren’s name. She fully expected something red and glittery. “No corrupting innocent children.”

  Jamie, who had somehow moved to the edge of the action, smiled a little sadly. And didn’t say what he was thinking, but she heard it anyhow. Witch Central kids didn’t always get to be innocent. Somehow, even the holiday gifting was threatening that. Aervyn had Jamie’s name, and Ginia had Nat’s. And between the two of them, they had big magic—and even bigger hearts. Nobody wanted to think about what was going to happen when they found out that Sophie was out of options.

  Tonight wasn’t just about distracting the grown-up Sullivans.

  Lauren forked in another bite of noodles. Kicking the universe in the knees worked best one carefully aimed blow at a time. So they’d eat and laugh and tug another smile or two out of Jamie. And then she’d take a piece of the chocolate orgasm and go see what shape Nat’s knuckles were in.

  And after that, she’d hold Lizard’s coat while her young associate took the next kick.

  Damn straight, sent their poet fighter, reaching for chocolate. And only idiots aim at knees.

  -o0o-

  Nell took one look at her two visitors and snapped a thought Daniel’s direction. Send the kids to Lauren and Dev’s. Now.

  He hit the transport spell, and all Walkers under sixteen winked out of the living room. And then, together, they stared at the two people who had just arrived. They both knew what Sophie and Moira had come to ask. They’d been waiting for a week.

  None of which made this moment any easier.

  It was the old Irish witch who finally broke the silence. “She’s needed.”

  Nell closed her eyes and cursed in every language she knew. “For Nat.”

  “Yes.” Sophie looked as ripped up as Nell felt. “But no one will understand better than us if you say no. We’re likely to fail, even with her help.”

  God. Nell could see the little boy in her head, standing beside his snowman, both of them pummeling at a thick, crusted pane of glass. Begging to be freed.

  “She’ll find out,” said Daniel quietly. “There’s no possible way to keep this hidden. Better we give her the chance to try.”

  Nell buried her face in his shoulder. “She’s so little.”

  “I know.” He wasn’t any steadier than she was. “But she has your warrior heart. And she’s been quietly fighting on the outskirts for days now.”

  Moira smiled, eyes aching with sad pride. “We’d no way to stop her.”

  They hadn’t, either. Her beautiful, stubborn girl. “You’ll have to ask Nat, too.” And that might possibly be the harder assent to win.

  Sophi
e nodded quietly. “We know.”

  Nell felt her shoulders squaring. If she was going to send her bright and sunny child into battle, it would damn well be with her parents a solid, confident wall behind her. “On one condition.”

  Three sets of eyes flew to hers, confused.

  The warrior took another look at the boy and his ball of snow behind the glass. Unfurled her best weapon. And wielded it on behalf of all of them. “Stop believing you’re likely to fail.”

  -o0o-

  It was a poet’s punch at the universe.

  Lauren stared at the crowd collected on their cliffs and marveled. Not at their numbers. At the sheer, defiant joy of them.

  I’m not the only one who knows how to fight. Lizard grinned from her position in the center of the crowd. “Come on over here, and then we’ll blindfold you and port you down.”

  “Down” was a bunch of sharp, pointy rocks and really cold water.

  Have a little faith.

  Lizard’s mind channel held more contained excitement than she probably knew—and it was that which got Lauren’s feet moving. Or possibly the tug from her husband, who was bouncing up and down harder than any of the witchlings currently trying not to fall off the cliff.

  Don’t worry, sent Nell, laughing. I have a barrier spell up. Nobody’s falling in unless I decide they should.

  That was mostly reassuring.

  And then, in an explosion of noise and excitement and magic, they were whisked over the edge.

  Lauren opened her eyes a fraction of a second after her husband. She knew that, because she felt his mind melt.

  For good reason. It wasn’t sharp rocks down here any longer—or not only that. Etched into the side of the cliff, looking like it had belonged for centuries, was a mammoth oval basin. And judging by the steam rising from the surface, the water it contained was anything but cold.

  Lizard looked proud and embarrassed and everything in between. “We figured it was time the West Coast had a soaking pool too.”

  Lauren couldn’t stop staring. It was a thing of glory and it totally fit the man, just like Moira’s pool fit the old, wise gardener. This one was more primal. Hanging on the edge of the world, full of barely banked power.