A Lost Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 7)

by Geary, Debora

  And in this case, it might be a gift.

  Hannah stared. “Would it work?”

  “It will separate you from your magic.” Moira swallowed, seventy years of wisdom deserting her. “But the spell was made to protect power, not the feeble creatures who held it. I don’t know what it will do to you, child. It could easily be fatal.”

  A choice you only gave a patient who had already chosen death.

  She waited. Their weaving witch was brave enough to find the next question and ask it.

  Hannah’s eyes never wavered. “Is it dangerous for anyone else?”

  It would hurt all their hearts terribly—but they would live. “With a strong circle, it won’t be any riskier than many other spells we do.”

  There was a long, fraught silence. And then a single word.

  “Please.”

  Chapter 22

  Hannah had gotten used to coming downstairs in the morning and finding people in her living room. But this time, it wasn’t a witch.

  Dr. Max sat in the green chair in the corner, uncharacteristically quiet, staring at a painting on the wall.

  Hannah was pretty sure it wasn’t Caro’s artwork he saw. “Good morning.”

  “Hey.” His smile was warm and his face had lost some of the tension of the previous day. “How are you feeling?”

  Like someone who had just agreed to magical amputation. “Nervous.”

  “Yeah.” His breath puffed out. “You’re not the only one.”

  They had taken a lot of risks together over the years. This was the first one she was taking alone. “I can’t go back there. Not if there’s another way.”

  His eyes were sad and proud. “I know.”

  She sat down and grabbed the bull they both feared most by the horns. “But if I do end up there—if something goes wrong with the magic—”

  He started to protest, and then stopped. No bullshit—it had always been their rule. “They’re really smart people.”

  And skilled and generous and all the other things you wanted when someone was trying to cut out part of your brain. He had taught her that. “It’s no different than some of those experimental drugs we tried. Those could have turned me into a vegetable too.”

  But that was before she had a taste of what her grown-up life could be like. It wasn’t the risk making the waiting so much harder. It was the hope. “Promise me one thing.”

  He nodded. “Anything.”

  He meant it—and Dr. Max delivered on his promises. Hannah scrunched her eyes shut. “If I come back, and I can’t speak for myself anymore…” The nightmare they had both lived with for twelve years. She hitched a breath and got the rest of it out. “Don’t let them feed me oatmeal.”

  “Dammit.” It was the first time in twelve years she had seen his cheeks wet. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She looked at the man who had stood at her side for every one of those days.

  The man who knew it would kill her to go back.

  And smiled through her tears. “Yes. I do.”

  -o0o-

  There had been an awful lot of scared Sullivans lately. Retha looked around the gathered clan and worried for her children. It was in their DNA to do something silly at this point, and she was a little concerned she might lead the charge.

  If not her, it would be Devin, sitting so unnaturally still. Getting a deep, hard lesson this week in loving someone fearless, or at least someone willing to fake it. He hadn’t left Lauren’s side for twenty-four hours.

  His wife sat beside him on the couch, chatting easily with Sophie. Lauren might be quaking in her boots, but if she was, there wasn’t the tiniest crack in sight.

  Moira landed in Nell’s living room, the last of those they waited for. And kissed Daniel, head of transport control, on the cheek. “Your children are all safe with Aaron and Elorie.”

  Good. They’d had enough bravery from the next generation of Sullivans for one day. Ginia’s passionate call for finding a way was still shaking every person who shared her blood, and a bunch who didn’t.

  Nell sat down on her husband’s lap and convened the meeting. “Okay. What do we need to do this banishing thing?”

  All heads turned to Moira. She nodded Sophie’s direction. “I had young eyes look over the old texts as well. The core of the banishing spell is the unshakeable belief of the circle that Hannah is not worthy of magic. The words are only gloss on the circle’s faith. If that wavers, this will not work.”

  “Not worthy—” Jamie leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Do we need to condemn her, or only be firm in the belief that Hannah and her magic need to be separated?”

  “We are witches, not lawyers.” Moira’s hands stroked the folds of her summer skirt. “But it seems to me that the power of the spell has two pieces. One is the separation, and the second is the condemnation of the vessel it lives in.”

  Jamie winced. “Vessel?”

  “It’s ugly magic.” Sophie’s distaste permeated every word. “But the judgment is clear and absolute. We ask the universe to find her unworthy. Undeserving of magic.”

  Jamie’s hands clenched. “They did this to young children?”

  “Yes.” Moira’s voice carried the full weight of witch matriarchy. “But remember this. We have never been simple people. As healers, as parents, as friends, as witches. No act needs to have only one purpose. This spell has been used to save small children. It was born from ugliness—but it has not always been used that way.”

  Retha heard something deep and resonant coming behind the words. They’d figured something out.

  “The inner circle will condemn.” Sophie smiled—and not a sane person on earth would have tangled with her in that moment. “And the outer circle, which the old spells ignored, will welcome.”

  Moira’s voice rose to the rafters and pulled them all up with it. “And what we witches of the inner circle do when the spell is done is entirely up to us.”

  It had a symmetry and a beauty and a rejection of the ugly that Retha utterly adored. She smiled. “That’s a needle well and truly threaded.”

  “It will be when it’s done.” Moira looked around the room. “But in the moment of the circle, we must condemn. We must believe, and so must Hannah. And that will terribly hurt all our hearts.”

  “Not all.” Devin’s spring uncoiled. “We can put the kids in the outer circle. With a sound barrier so they don’t have to hear the words. They just need to know that we’re making Hannah safe.”

  There was more than one needle being threaded this night. Retha squeezed his hand. “Sierra could do that. She has Nell’s three-layer air spell down cold.”

  “Will we need her for the circle?” Jamie looked at Moira. “How strong do the trios need to be?”

  “Strong of heart, not strong of magic. It is conviction that will matter. And the willingness to cause pain. It is no place for our young hearts.”

  Nell was already nodding. “Marcus and Devin, Mike and me. Hard-asses, all of us. We’ll head the trios.” She looked hard at Jamie. “You and Mom are going to go hang out in the outer circle and eat cookies.”

  He blinked. “Why?”

  “Because we’re blasting precog to the outer rings of hell.” Nell nearly spit out every single word. “And we’re not taking any chances that the spell isn’t all that picky.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be all that unhappy about letting it go.”

  “And all your other magic too?”

  Retha was very grateful her children had such clear, logical minds. The stubborn heads were their father’s fault. “We have no reason to think the spell would do that.”

  “We have no reason to think it wouldn’t.” Her daughter’s face was set in stone. “This is mean, ugly magic. Witches being bullies. I’m not letting it gang up on any more people I love.”

  Retha opened her mouth to protest one more time—and then looked around the room and shut it. She was way, way outvoted.

  And she and Jamie had anothe
r job they could do. It would not only be Sierra guarding the outer circle. Warriors fought from all kinds of positions.

  Jamie picked up her thought and grinned.

  Moira dipped her head slightly. Two crones who understood each other.

  All that was left was to pick the circle’s leader. The one to speak the banishment spell. And Retha was quite certain that detail hadn’t been left to the end by accident.

  She was also very certain it wasn’t going to play out the way the oldest witch in the room intended. There were far too many Sullivans standing in the way.

  It was Jamie, utterly casual, who began the offensive. “And who will speak the banishing spell?”

  “That belongs to me.” Moira looked terribly sad—and as immovable as Mount Everest. “It falls to the coven leader, she who has taught the magic and the history.”

  She held up a hand as protest began. “It requires no magic. Only conviction. I may no longer hold much power, but the universe knows me as a shepherd of magic and those who carry it. It will recognize me as leader of this coven.”

  It was a mighty speech. And it didn’t stand a chance.

  Nell waded in first, eyebrows raised. “You think the powers that be will finally think you’ve gone off your rocker, huh?”

  Moira gaped.

  “What she said.” Dev was copying Jamie’s casual slouch. “You’ve spent a lifetime accepting witches. Welcoming every kind of magic. The universe is going to call bullshit in about three seconds.” He sat up a little straighter. “I’ll do it. I can be pretty convincingly ruthless.”

  Nell glared at him. “It attacked my child.”

  Retha watched the standoff, loving her children who would do battle to keep each other out of harm’s way. And waited, full of sorrow, for the one whose job it truly was to volunteer.

  “It should be me.” Four quiet words—and the room utterly silenced.

  Devin looked at his wife, stress exploding from every fiber of his being. “You’ve done enough.”

  Well beyond enough—but it would not matter on this day. Retha stood and moved to sit at her daughter-in-law’s side. “Tell them why.”

  “Because Hannah trusts me.” Lauren met the eyes of each person in the room. “And because I stood in front of her magic once.”

  Retha touched her daughter-in-law’s hand, for a moment just honoring her deeply human courage. “Which makes you and Hannah the two people on earth who want her magic gone the most.”

  Moira finally nodded, eyes full of pain. “And the two people the magic is most likely to respect.”

  It was Sophie who added the last piece. Healers, understanding what it would take to keep the patient safe. “And the two most likely to hold together while the magic leaves.”

  It will cost Lauren dearly. Retha pushed one final thought into every mind in the room. Don’t make her fight this battle too.

  It was the last that finally swayed them. One by one, her children stood down.

  “God.” Devin pulled his wife into his arms, heedless of inanimate objects and siblings in his way. “When this is done, we’re going to Tahiti.”

  Retha stuffed her shaking hands under her legs. She was pretty sure the Tahiti transport beam was going to be awfully crowded.

  -o0o-

  Moira sat down at her kitchen table, the weight of years riding heavy on her shoulders, and nestled her tea cup in her hands, breathing in the calming aromas of chamomile and lavender. “Silly old woman. It’s not the years that make you tired today.”

  She’d seen several generations of witches grow up, trained them in the beauty, strength, and responsibility of their magic. Healed and scolded and nurtured those who had been born with talent in their veins.

  But she knew of magic’s dark side. Not the evil wizardry of fable and fairy tale, but the very real shadows that came with power.

  For some, the cost was so breathtakingly high. Evan—and the twin he’d left behind. Sierra and Morgan and the mothers they’d lost. The multitudes who watched over Kenna and Aervyn and feared, every day, for their lives.

  And now, a fascinating and courageous young lady whose magic demanded her very sanity—and the mind witch determined to free her.

  Moira relaxed her grip on her tea. And as she’d done so often as a healer, mourned the need to make hard choices, and gave thanks for having them to make at all.

  “I expected I’d find you here.”

  She looked up, not at all surprised to find this particular guest in her kitchen. As a boy and as a man, he’d made the trek as often as life and technology allowed. One of the deep pleasures of her old age was seeing Devin Sullivan more often. “I’ve fresh tea, and I think you’ll find a nibble or two in my cookie jar.” He made faces at her these days if she got up to fuss over him.

  He held out a fragrant bag. “I brought some of my own. Ginia’s new recipe, still warm.”

  Moira peered in, inhaling the aromas of chocolate, mint, and something lovely and nutty. Their young healer had been hounding Aaron for baking tricks lately. “She’s a fine cook in the making.”

  He sat down at the table and made no move at all toward the bag.

  So very hard for those who were required to stand on the sidelines. “How is Lauren?”

  “Playing Dungeons and Dragons with my nieces and losing really badly.” He smiled, eyes still sad. “Maybe she won’t see the visions again while she sleeps tonight.”

  So Moira had feared. “She hasn’t asked for more of the remedy that would dampen those memories.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Would you drink it?”

  No. She shook her head. “We old ladies hold tight to what little we can remember.”

  “She doesn’t duck.” He blew out hard, staring at his hands. “I grew up in a family where we knew what came with our magic.”

  Responsibility was a part of the Sullivan-family DNA. “She married you with eyes wide open.”

  “I know.” His smile wavered. “But mine weren’t. I thought I married a realtor with an ice-cream addiction who could read my mind and play a mean hand of poker.”

  He wasn’t nearly as blind as that. “Well, then. Welcome to marriage to an interesting woman.”

  He shook his head wryly and then bit into a cookie.

  He would be just fine—Retha raised very resilient children. Moira smiled. “Now tell me what you really came for.”

  He chewed his cookie and watched her steadily. “I came to find out what you didn’t say.”

  She contemplated her tea for a moment. “What makes you think I haven’t said it?”

  He said nothing. Only laid his hand on top of hers.

  It was so very tempting to share the weight with his broad, gentle shoulders. And given what it concerned, perhaps right, as well. “According to the words of history, there are two ways to separate a witch from their magic.”

  “Ah.” He sat, utterly still. Waiting.

  “It can be done with a full circle.” Moira breathed in tea and tradition and hoped dearly that she trod the right path. “Or it can be done by a witch alone.” And she’d spoken only of thirteen sharing the pain.

  It had been done from love. She had tried to step in front of the destiny calling Lauren—but Moira, too, had known who would volunteer.

  For what seemed like eternity, Devin Sullivan didn’t move. A statue, hewn from the wood of the chair he sat on, staring at his hands on the table. And when he finally looked up, his eyes were full of unshed tears. “Thank you.”

  She hadn’t known how much his blessing would matter, from this man who loved her so. Moira reached for his hand, feeling the tremors. His and hers both. “I’ve always taught you that knowledge is power.” Withholding it went against everything she believed in.

  Devin laid a quiet kiss on her knuckles. “She would have chosen to do it alone.”

  “Aye.” Lauren was a mind witch at the height of her powers, well capable of the awful act. “But this isn’t a thing to do alone.” Not when so many
were ready to stand with her.

  And sometimes the right to protect was absolute. “I won’t apologize for it. And I won’t rely on the close-minded witches of eons past to keep safe someone I love. We don’t know what this magic will do. There needs to be the whole of us behind it.”

  He reached out to cup her face. “You are one very tough old lady. Thank you for not letting her see.” He flashed a grin. “You’ll have to tell me how you do that. There was a herd of mind witches in that room.”

  She smiled, so very pleased with the man he was. “I thought very hard about the healing properties of Geranium ibericum.”

  “The what?” His forehead creased at the Latin—and then rippled into a smile. “Ha. They all run when you start on the herbal mumbo jumbo, do they?”

  When done carefully and well—but she’d let him work that part out for himself. “I didn’t fool you, apparently.”

  “Or Nat.” His smile was lopsided. “She’s already assembling the outer circle. Pretty sure they’re coming, invitation or not.”

  Natalia had a beautiful and very wise heart. “You are the two who love her best.”

  “No.” He reached out to touch her hands. “We are three.”

  -o0o-

  Nell cuddled into her designated spot on the couch, five pints of ice cream stacked in her hands. Girl time. Retha bookended the other side, with three surprisingly mellow girls tucked in between them.

  Three generations of Sullivan women.

  Fighters, all.

  Some of the time, anyhow. Nell nudged the child closest. “You guys are really quiet tonight. What’s up?” They’d been scarce all day.

  Shay lifted the lid off her ice cream. “We’ve been thinking some. About Aervyn and Hannah and Auntie Lauren.”

  That pretty much covered the heavy topics of the week. Nell dipped into her ice cream. One serious mama-daughter-gramma chat, coming up. “We’re trying really hard to keep them all safe.”