by Debora Geary
Nell’s fingers stirred on her daughter’s head. It had been their warrior witch’s power that had sent Nat into a deep sleep of recovery. She was clearly considering exactly the same treatment for her child.
Moira was quite sure she would discover that no longer worked. Their youngest healer had crossed into new lands today.
Silence, as green goo did its job and the room contemplated what came next.
And then Ginia sat bolt upright. “Mama. I need to scan you.”
“No.” Sophie was already moving to intercept. “That was deep and tricky work—you’re not nearly ready to do that again.”
“I don’t need to.” Their girl’s eyes held shining singularity of purpose. “I just need to check one quick thing, I promise. I think I can read it from the outside now.”
It wasn’t permission she was asking for—her hands were already moving. Nell held still, asking a very pointed question with her eyes. Moira shook her head, mystified. She had no idea, but whatever it was had electricity zinging from Ginia’s every pore.
“Do you see it, Sophie?” Breathless words. Excited ones.
Sophie met Moira’s eyes. “No, lovey. Tell me what you see.”
“Mama’s got one too. Kind of like an echo.” A young forehead furrowed, unhappy with that explanation. “Or maybe more like a fossil.”
Moira hid a smile at the choice of words.
Sophie was nodding. “You mean you can see the space that something used to occupy. Mike says that happens with the deep rock magics—they leave this kind of negative space for a while after they’re gone.”
Ginia was nodding almost frantically. “Exactly. It’s like a magical umbilical cord. There’s just a tiny little bit left of this one now.”
Of course. Moira felt the deep patterns of the universe shift and rise up truth. Umbilical cords. Mothers, protecting their babies. “It connects to Aervyn.”
Ginia dropped out of trance and charged for the corner. To a tattered box and the treasure that lay within. “Great-gran talked about that. About the special stuff she did when a mama had a baby with power in her belly.”
Moira frowned, pulling up the words of her beloved gran in her mind’s eye. “She treated them with wintergreen and ginger. To keep the babe’s powers quiet.” They didn’t do that any longer—it increased the risks of post-birth hemorrhage too much. And Kenna and Aervyn had both had more power in the womb than any pregnancy Great-gran had ever known.
“I remember one mama. Siobhan.” Ginia was flipping pages as quickly as their delicate, old nature would allow. “She had a little boy with water magic. And she couldn’t ever have another baby.”
Sophie was leaning in now. “I remember that one. They even tried a calling at Beltaine.”
More things modern witches weren’t brave enough or reverent enough to do. Although if Moira remembered rightly, even Beltaine rituals hadn’t helped Siobhan overmuch.
“Great-gran thought maybe Siobhan didn’t have enough magic to make her womb ready again.” Ginia looked straight up at Nell. “Mama, did you ever try to have another baby?”
“No. Five of you were enough.” Nell blinked and wrapped her arms around her belly. And then connected the dots. “You think maybe it wouldn’t have worked?”
Ginia folded into a pose matching her mama. “It might. Your umbilical cord is only there a little bit now.”
Moira smiled, quite sure Nell was finished having babies. And then the deeper import of their youngest healer’s words struck. If it took magic to undo the umbilical cord…
Sophie and Ginia are way ahead of you, sent Lauren tersely. Nat doesn’t have any magic at all.
Oh, my. Moira took the new idea, lifted from the pages of Doonan history, and held it gently in the palm of her heart. And wondered what it meant for the small boy whose image lived on magical life support.
All around the room, soul after soul stilled, wondering exactly the same thing.
Ginia’s hands were moving over Nell’s belly again. “Mama’s is different, I think.” She looked over at Sophie. “It’s hooked into her magic, not her heart.”
Odd fingers of dread squeezed between Moira’s ribs.
“You figured it out first,” said Ginia, eyes on an old witch now. “It’s exactly what you told me to do when I was scanning Nat. To anchor myself in her heart and she would keep me safe.”
A mother, keeping her baby safe. And Nat, like Siobhan so long ago, had figured out how to do it—without enough magic to undo it again.
A long, slow silence. And then a quiet, lurching, hope-filled breath from their youngest. “I can maybe fix this.”
It was the desire of all their hearts. And the fear.
Nell leaned forward, eyes only for her daughter. “What are you thinking, girl of mine?”
“Umbilical cords dry up and fall off. The real ones.” Ginia had sunk deep into her own head. Examining. Thinking. “But sometimes they stick around for a really long time. Mine came off in two days, but Gramma Retha says Uncle Devin’s didn’t fall off for nearly a month.”
Moira smiled, despite the tangled mess of hope and fear in her heart. Probably the only time Devin had been last at anything.
Sophie nodded, eyes intent. “You think the magical umbilical cords might be the same. That some take a long time to go away, even if the babies don’t need them anymore.”
“Maybe.” Ginia met the gaze of her teacher, eyes wide with anguished hope. “And maybe Nat just needs a little magic to help do that for hers.”
“Think it through,” said Sophie quietly. “Close your eyes and imagine how you’d do it.”
Moira took a shaky breath. They were moving so very quickly. The wee boy and his snowman virtually shimmered in the air over their heads.
Sophie’s eyes met hers over Ginia’s curls. The words didn’t need to be said. Sometimes healers had to move at the speed demanded of them. The scanning map in their girl’s mind wouldn’t stay clear enough to try this next step for long. They had to know now. And if necessary, they had to act now.
The child’s eyes closed. Studying. Readying. And when they opened again, everyone in the room knew. She thought she could do it.
Moira rejoiced for the healer who had found a possibility. A choice to offer. And sorrowed, knowing well exactly how fragile that possibility was.
Magic of a kind no one had ever done before. Had ever conceived of before.
She took the hand of the girl who had the power to shine a light into the darkest of darks. And squeezed. Ginia had earned the right to talk to Nat when she woke. To offer her tiny sliver of hope.
Even if it might hurt both of them beyond all justice.
-o0o-
It was so very fuzzy. And Nat wasn’t at all sure she wanted the haze to clear.
“She’s coming around,” said a quiet voice near her head.
Sophie. Of course.
And then Nat remembered the end. The thing that had come flowing up the channel of her breath. “Kenna.”
Jamie’s fingers squeezed hers. Wordless reassurance. She clung to his warm, steadfast strength, so very glad he was here.
Always, came his instant reply.
“Shh.” The words came with an Irish lilt this time, and slightly warm tea, smelling of woods and mushrooms, poured gently down her throat. “Kenna’s absolutely fine. As are you.”
She had been breathing for two. “Ginia?”
Moira chuckled. “Raiding Marcus’s cookie stash.”
Nat found enough energy and sheer obstinate determination to open her eyes. “She found something.”
“Yes.” Sophie offered up a little more of the tea, the smell more pungent now. “We can talk about that in a bit. Right now you need to drink as much of this as you can stomach—it will help soak up any lingering traces of the scanning energies.”
Nat grimaced—the tea had a nasty bitter kick. And probably a sleep potion, which she darn well wasn’t going to drink until she got some answers. She handed the shakin
g cup to Jamie. “Tell me. Please.”
“You’ve some spunk left. Good.” Moira nodded approvingly. And then gave the younger healer a look.
“I’m not sure there’s a short version for this, but I’ll try.” Sophie sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, sheets rustling as she settled. “When a child comes into power, their body changes. Channels form to help them manage the new energies.”
“Which usually happens years after they’re born.” Moira took the tea from Jamie and offered it up again with green flint in her eyes. “Drink. Your aura is still hazy.”
Her aura wasn’t the only thing. Her brain felt cotton-stuffed. “Kenna had magic long before that.” She’d spent a good part of her third trimester with lights dancing over her belly. “Aervyn, too.” It had been a comfort, knowing she wasn’t the only one who had walked that path.
“Yes.” Sophie nodded. “But Nell’s a witch. She has energy channels of her own, able to handle the power Aervyn was calling. You don’t. It seems you came up with something impossible instead.”
This was the most insane conversation ever. Nat just stared, gripping her husband’s hand, waiting for them to make sense.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt flitted across Sophie’s face. “I’ll try to make it simple. We know that Kenna pulled enormous energy down into her body, and into yours. The kind that easily could have killed you.”
Jamie sucked in a harsh, contorted breath.
Sophie nodded without looking at him. “We had so many witches trying to help with that, we missed what you’d done yourself. You created an anchor for her, much the same way as you did for Ginia. And you somehow did it without a stitch of magic of your own.”
It seemed very simple to Nat. She’d done it from love.
Moira leaned forward, eyes intent. “Your body found a way to keep the two of you safe.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Sophie quietly. “It’s almost like you became a weather vane for power. And some of that connection still lives.”
Kenna. Still joined. Nat smiled. She’d always known that.
And then the rest of it sank in. A new baby in her belly. Trying to grow in the lightning rod of Kenna’s power. She looked at the healers, every part of her soul skittering in fear. “What would happen to another baby near that weather vane?”
“We don’t know for sure,” said Sophie quietly.
Nat breathed, even as Jamie’s arms wrapped around her. She knew. Her body had always been the very wisest part of her. And on this, it had already chosen. “That’s why I haven’t gotten pregnant again.”
Sophie nodded very slowly.
The answer in the deep dark. Nat held the clattering tea cup in her hands, the wafting smell of mushrooms accent to the shaking. The foundational earthquake beginning.
Deep green eyes were glued to her face. Intent. Gauging. “If you feel well enough to walk, Ginia has something you need to hear.”
Nat stared. It wasn’t hope those eyes offered. Not quite. Carefully, feeling like fragile glass, she moved her legs to the side of the bed.
Jamie moved to pick her up, but she stopped his hands as gently as she knew how. Some steps needed to be walked.
She would come. Her throat constricted. And she would listen.
For her little boy with the bright smile.
-o0o-
He didn’t like this.
Jamie looked at the trio of healers sitting on Marcus’s couch and tried not to shudder. Their minds were leaking all kinds of things that made him quake. Nell and Lauren sat quietly to the side, staying out of the line of fire.
And Nat was settled in his arms, her gaze never leaving the three.
Her mind fought for a foothold in serenity. And he was damn sure all that was about to get blown to smithereens.
Which would have caused him to port any other three people to the outer rings of Saturn, but he was very sure these particular three would only have asked this of his wife if it were absolutely necessary. He put his meager mind powers to work one more time. Ginia was contained, but her head leaked traces of excitement. And of fear. Sophie’s thoughts were more dampened and careful, but not all that different from her student.
And Moira was reciting the ingredients of something green and really nasty-looking. She shot him a quick glance, almost amused.
He shook his head ruefully. Tricky old witch, and one well used to keeping her thoughts away from mind scans when she chose. You only needed to say as much. I have fairly decent manners these days.
Aye. She replied back to him, but her eyes were focused on his wife. But sometimes I’ve the need of comfort and repetition as well. That’s the first potion Great-gran ever taught me to make.
He gave up trying not to quake. Anything that made Moira reach for sturdy memories was going to shake the heck out of anyone else. Which meant he had only one job to do—holding on to his wife.
Chapter 18
It was almost over. Nat could feel it. One way or the other, the journey would end this night.
She took a careful sip of the glass of something light and orange Sophie had settled into her hands to make her insides feel a little more solid. The glass felt smooth under her fingers. Cold. Everything else in the room was too bright, too hot, too fast.
Her husband’s mind wrapped around hers, offering a barrier, a protective bubble between her and the world.
She pushed it away. For their small boy.
And breathed into her heart. Nat closed her eyes, knowing she was under the care of three extraordinary healers. And let herself breathe into the edges of the pain. They had something to say.
It wasn’t time to breathe. Not yet.
“You’ve never lacked for courage.” Respect, from an old witch who knew the faces of bravery well. “But touch this slowly, sweet girl.”
Nat wasn’t sure that was possible. “Tell me. Please.”
Quietly, the words began. She’d kept Kenna safe. And the thing her body had built to protect her child still lived. Connecting to her daughter’s magic. Nat lacking the magic needed to help it fade.
She’d done something magical. Something singular and unrepeatable. Something permanent.
An eleven-year-old girl thought she could change that.
Umbilical cords weren’t always necessary.
Her husband’s arms wrapped around her heart, the only solid thing in her existence. Their boy might have a chance at life. But only if they asked a sacrifice of his big sister. Nat breathed. Her husband would happily cut off a limb for any of his siblings.
I would. He spoke so very quietly. And with utter fervor. But this isn’t an arm. We don’t know what this is.
“I wouldn’t hurt Kenna.” Ginia’s eyes were deep-blue promises. “I’d stop if it was going to hurt her.”
Jamie spoke into the stillness for both of them. “Do you really think this umbilical cord isn’t necessary? Now? Aervyn’s a lot older than Kenna.”
“It’s possible.” Nell spoke for the first time. “Your girl is like me. She’s feisty and opinionated and she likes change on her own terms. We don’t give up our security blankets easily.”
Nat could feel her insides clenching.
Jamie’s mind wrapped around hers. Steadying. Beaming light and faith. Ask what lives in you.
Nat closed her eyes, digging for truth as she knew it. She thought of all the bodies that had come through her yoga studio. Of the ones who had stayed, and the ones who hadn’t. The ones who had found a comfortable place to be, and the ones who hadn’t. And of the beautiful wisdom she saw in her daughter every single day.
Felt her husband’s affirming presence underneath it all.
And opened her eyes. She knew the way to the end now.
She only had to work up the courage to walk.
-o0o-
Lauren hated everything about this. She hated the fading image in the crystal ball replaying over and over again in her head on dogged, unforgiving repeat.
She hated the
serenity on Nat’s face, and the wild, boiling doubts just underneath.
She hated the fear lurking in the shadows of Sophie and Moira’s easy competence.
And most of all, she hated the look in Ginia’s eyes. A girl, prepared to shed her childhood if it would help someone she loved.
Lauren, feeling every last dreg from each of them, tried not to puke.
That’s crap. Nell’s mindvoice was rock steady. Ginia’s demanding it. There’s a very big difference. Her eyes never left her girlchild. And she has two sisters who will insist she be a preteen girl, no matter what forces of the universe try to say otherwise. She’ll be okay.
Lauren bit her lip and tried to contain herself. The last thing they needed in this room was more spewing feelings.
Nat reached out for Ginia’s hands. “I love you very much.”
“I love you too.” And with those words, one small warrior stepped up to battle. “If I was hurt, you’d do everything on earth and all the way up to the stars to help me.”
Nat’s smile was awfully watery. “Yes, I would.”
“You think it might hurt me more if I help.” Blue eyes flashed dangerously. “You’re wrong. I’m not Kenna, and this isn’t a school bus.”
Lauren blinked. Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?
Nell shook her head slowly.
Ginia wasn’t done. She looked at Nat with an intensity that could have melted glass. “He’s a part of me, just like he’s a part of you. I love him, too.”
Lauren felt the punch all the way to the back of her gut, and it hadn’t even been aimed at her.
Nat squeezed two small hands, eyes full of sadness and gratitude. “He feels so very real to all of us.”
No one breathed for a moment. And then an old witch put her foot down. “He is real.” Moira waited for all eyes to come her direction. “We live with magic. We know better than anyone exactly how real he is. Your wee boy lives in the hearts and minds of so many of us, just as I will when I pass from this earth one day.” She looked at each of them in turn. “And when that day comes, don’t you dare sit around a fire and say that I’m not real.”
Nat and Jamie looked like they’d been run through their middles with a train. And then Jamie Sullivan sucked in air and let out a hitching laugh. “I had no idea how much I needed to hear someone say that.”
