by Debora Geary
Didn’t I tell you to wait until she was settled before you asked questions like that? Nell sent to her son.
I did, Mama. I gave her cookies, and ported her bag, and everything. Besides, you want to know, too. Everybody does.
Her son might need a refresher on mind-witch manners, but he was right. Nell did want to know.
Elorie met Nell’s eyes for a moment, and then she looked down at Aervyn. “When I was little like you, I wanted to be a witch more than anything. But I grew up and found out I’m not a witch. That used to make me a little sad, but now I know it’s just who I’m supposed to be.”
“Nuh, uh.” Aervyn blew off her answer with the confidence of a four-year-old who knew he was right. “You melted a computer, and Uncle Jamie and I can’t do that. You must be a witch, just like Superman.”
Oh, crap. Nell was pretty sure Elorie’s confused face meant no one had actually told her about the melted computer. She linked elbows with their visitor and pulled out the best distraction she could think of. “So, do you think my daughters have found your backpack full of jewelry yet?”
Elorie turned a little pale. Nell reached into the tin and gave her a cookie.
~ ~ ~
Jamie walked up to the door of Nell’s house, holding the hand of his lovely wife and wishing he didn’t feel like he was about to lose yet another argument. “It just seems like we should be extra careful with our girl in there.”
Nat snorted. “Babies are supposed to bounce around a little. That’s why they live inside a nice water cushion.”
A personal water balloon didn’t seem like nearly enough to keep a baby safe. “I just don’t see a lot of pregnant women doing handstands.” Watching Nat do yoga used to give his hormones a good kick. Now it just scared the crap out of him. He kept expecting her to land in a big belly flop on the floor.
She touched his face. “She’s more protected in my belly, even upside-down, than she’ll be the whole rest of her life. Relax, Daddy—she’ll be fine.”
Nell opened the door as Jamie tried to marshal his rebuttal. Maybe she’d be on his side. “Hey, sister mine. Did you ever do handstands when you were pregnant?”
“Do you honestly think I’m dumb enough to answer that question? Come on in.”
Nat hugged her sister-in-law. “Feel free to tell him the truth.”
“I don’t do handstands ever, so no. But we were in the middle of a new Realm release when I was four months pregnant with the girls. I coded sixteen hours a day and lived on Doritos and peanut butter. They turned out fine.”
Jamie remembered. He’d never been able to eat Doritos again after watching Nell dip handfuls of them straight into the peanut butter jar.
Nat’s face brightened. “Hey, do you have any Doritos? Those sound totally yummy.”
Nell laughed. “Sorry, no. I can’t even look at them anymore.”
His wife wanted to eat Doritos? The woman who made him eat vegetables and tofu for dinner? He’d Googled everything he could find on what to expect during pregnancy. When this was all over, he was going to create a new website for expectant fathers—one that told the truth. Nobody warned you about Doritos and handstands.
Both women were looking at him expectantly. He’d clearly missed something. “What?”
Nell shook her head in dismay. “Doritos, brother mine. Your job is to procure whatever weird things the mother of your child wants to eat, at whatever weird time of day she wants to eat them.”
He took mental notes for his new website. Fortunately, Doritos were easy. Closing his eyes for a moment, Jamie mentally raided the cupboard in his basement. Nell might not eat them anymore, but her three girls were all Dorito fiends, so he kept a large supply on hand.
Nat dove into the teleported bag like a teenage boy. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Drawn by Dorito fumes, several sets of feet came thudding down the stairs. “Uncle Jamie, Auntie Nat!”
A little slower than the triplets, Elorie smiled and waved in welcome.
Oh, crap. Not again. Even as he felt himself being pulled under, Jamie was aware enough to hold onto something other than his pregnant wife. He grabbed his sister instead and felt visions of the future roll over him.
When he snapped back into the present, he was sitting against the wall, Nat crouched at his feet, and way too many sets of eyes peering at him.
Once she’d decided he was okay, Nat smiled and spoke very quietly. “Are you going to have precog episodes every time you see a pretty girl?”
God, he really, really hoped not. Meeting Nat had triggered the mother of all precogs, but this one had been pretty loaded, too. And not one he really wanted to discuss while sitting on the floor surrounded by inquiring minds.
He struggled to his feet and faced Nell’s new houseguest. “Hi, Elorie. Welcome to insanity, and sorry about almost passing out on you.”
Jamie was just contemplating whether he could skirt the whole issue of his precog episode when Aervyn’s voice piped up from the crowd. “See, Elorie—I knowed you were a witch.”
Aervyn! Jamie had just enough energy left to halt his nephew before he let anything else out of the bag.
Fortunately, Nell, who was very used to directing chaos, caught the edge of his mental blast. “Aervyn, can you and your sisters go get snacks and drinks for everyone from the kitchen?”
She herded the adults into the living room and raised an eyebrow at her brother. What the heck’s going on?
In answer, Jamie sent back a snapshot from his precog—Elorie, belly enormous, standing at Ginia’s right shoulder in the magical light of a full circle at peak power.
What is up with you and precog and pregnant women?
He shrugged helplessly. Now what the hell do we do? No one was better thinking on the fly than his sister.
Nell looked at him for a moment. Leave it be, for now. Precog isn’t a guarantee, so we really don’t know anything more than we knew before. One step at a time, brother mine. Let’s see if we can learn more about our maybe-witch via some slightly more scientific methods.
Damn, he hated precog.
~ ~ ~
Moira: Hello, Nell—do you have our Elorie?
Nell: We do. She’s settling into her room now, which really means she has my three daughters urging her to pull out every last piece of jewelry and show it off.
Moira: She makes truly splendid things. I have a new pendant she made for me with some lovely blue glass in it.
Nell: I hope she brought enough with her. I think half the witch population of California plans to visit her at the Art Fair.
Moira: I do appreciate that, Nell. She was a little nervous about bringing her designs to such a fancy exhibition. It’s a bit different than selling it in a few shops like she does here.
Nell: We support our own, you know that. And witch or not, Elorie is one of our own.
Sophie: Do me a favor and snag me a couple of things if you go, Nell. Something green, maybe.
Moira: And good evening to you, Sophie. I didn’t see you come in.
Nell: She’s a sneaky witch, our Sophie.
Sophie: Ha. I was brewing a couple of potions on the stove—sorry I’m a little late.
Nell: Can we switch to video chat? I spent a lot of time coding today, and my fingers are tired.
Moira: I’m not entirely sure how to do that on this new computer of mine. It doesn’t have one of those wee cameras sitting on top.
Nell: If it’s new, it likely has the camera built in—try clicking on the video chat button and see what happens.
Just like magic, Moira thought as she watched Nell and Sophie come to life on her screen. “Isn’t that lovely, now.”
“I’m envious of your new computer,” Sophie said. “Mine feels like a clunker, even though it’s only two years old.”
Nell snickered. “The witchlings in my basement are having fun melting laptop hard drives. If you want to donate yours to the cause, just let me know.”
Hard drive. Moira tried to get her
creaky brain working. That had been one of the words Marcus used when he tried to explain what had happened to her old computer. “And why would you be melting computers?”
The guilty look on Nell’s face was timeless.
“Nell Aria Walker, what kind of trouble are you getting into?”
Sophie burst out laughing. “Aunt Moira, you do that very well, but Nell’s a grown woman. I’m guessing it won’t be quite as effective on her as it is on witchlings.”
Nell rolled her eyes. “It might. That was pretty good—I might have you give me lessons when I bring my crew out this summer.”
An old witch could still be embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Nell, forgive me—I’ve been a wee bit unsettled lately. This has something to do with Elorie, doesn’t it? Marcus is convinced she’s the one who caused my old computer to stop working.”
“It’s more than that,” Nell said, looking serious. “Someone utterly melted the insides of your laptop. That’s no easy feat, even with witch power. Aervyn couldn’t do it, even with an assist from Jamie.”
It was good to know there were things beyond Aervyn’s power just yet. Small boys needed some limits. However, the rest of what Nell was saying seemed like nonsense. “Then why do you believe Elorie was involved? Things don’t seem to be very well made these days, so perhaps my little machine just broke.”
Nell shook her head. “I’ve seen pretty much every way a computer can break, and I’ve never seen anything like this. With three witches in the room when it happened, it’s not a big leap to believe power was involved.”
It wasn’t often she lost her temper, so Moira struggled for calm. “Unless we had a small child under the table, there were only two witches in the room. I’m sorry, Nell, but I just can’t take the word of your scanning program over everything I know to be true. Marcus scanned Elorie as well. I even—” she ground to a halt for a moment, ashamed to go on.
There should be no secrets amongst witches. Speaking quietly, she continued. “I asked my scrying bowl to look into her future. It wouldn’t speak to me. I even tried Great Gran’s crystal ball. If Elorie was a witch, surely the portents would foretell.”
Sophie smiled sadly. “You love her so very much, Aunt Moira. And that crystal ball’s never worked, you know that.”
Tears threatened, and Moira tried to fight them off. “I know it. But I had to try. I’d be the very first in the line of happiness if my beloved girl were a witch, and I know you’d be right behind me. But this isn’t right, and we need to stop. It’s tearing her apart. Your scan must simply be wrong, Nell.”
“It’s not just scans now.” Nell shrugged helplessly. “This isn’t really mine to tell, but Jamie had a flash of precog when he first saw Elorie earlier today.”
Moira felt her heart clench. “And what did he see of my girl’s future?”
“Remember, precog isn’t certain,” Nell said, her eyes pleading.
“I know that.” Moira reached gently for the screen. “Tell me, Nell. It’s better that I know.”
“I didn’t have time to talk with him, but he mindsent at least part of what he saw. My girl and yours, in the magic light of a working full circle.”
Now the tears came, a great well of them. “My Elorie, she does magic?”
“It’s only a possibility,” Sophie whispered, her face a tangle of emotions.
In her head, Moira knew what Sophie said to be true. In her Irish heart, she felt the agony of hope.
Precognition was an age-old way of witch knowing—unpredictable at times, and fickle at others, like many magics—but her blood heard and trusted, in a way it never could with Nell’s gadgets and machines. If Jamie saw magic in her girl, then they must seek to unveil it.
“Well, then,” she said, her voice a wee bit quavery. “We need to find out, don’t we? An untrained witch is a dangerous witch.”
Chapter 6
Elorie put her hand on the mouse and watched in confused frustration as once again, the readout she’d dubbed the Power-O-Meter spiked happily. That screen was becoming her own personal definition of hell.
She’d been working with Jamie and Ginia for almost an hour as they tweaked and re-tweaked the scanning code for more precise readings. Even her renowned patience was becoming very thin.
She’d been raised to serve the witching community in any way she could, so when Jamie had asked for an hour, she agreed.
Now it was time for this insanity to end. Elorie Shaw was not a witch, and she was very tired of trying to prove it. “It still says I’m a witch. I don’t feel like we’re making a whole lot of progress here.”
Nell walked into the room with a tray of milk and cookies and a big bowl of strawberries. Elorie’s heart tightened in momentary homesickness as she remembered the going-away bucket of blueberries her witchlings had picked. Jamie glanced at her in brief sympathy, a reminder that her brain was clearly still very leaky where mind witches were concerned.
He tapped Ginia’s shoulder, and she looked up from her code. “Okay, group huddle. Nell, can you brainstorm with us for a few minutes?”
Elorie got up to leave, but Jamie motioned her back to the table.
“I’m not a coder, Jamie. I don’t think I can contribute to this conversation.” And I think it’s better you work on this without me.
He met her eyes for a moment. “You’re a thinker, and a student of witch history. Brainstorming works best when there are lots of different ideas at the table.”
Elorie tried to fight off a lifetime of good manners, and lost. She sat.
Nell handed her a cookie, the witch fix-all. “So bring me up to speed, daughter mine. What have you tried so far?”
Ginia squared her shoulders. “We know that the computer is reading power traces for Elorie, and Uncle Jamie can’t pick them up in a regular scan done at the same time.”
“Okay.” Nell swiped the cookie Jamie was trying to grab. “And have we checked anyone else for this power source yet?”
Jamie nodded. “Yup. When you passed on Marcus’s idea, we headed to Realm and scanned everyone we could find in the witch-only levels. That’s why we’re trying to refine the scans, to see if we can find a common element in their readings and Elorie’s.”
Elorie frowned. This was a lot more information than she’d been given up until now. “What idea of Uncle Marcus’s?”
“He thinks,” Ginia said, “that maybe you aren’t the only one with this new kind of power.”
Since when had Uncle Marcus stopped being a hermit and started making up wild theories about new kinds of magic?
Nell touched Elorie’s hand. “It’s only a theory right now, but Marcus thinks you may be accessing a form of power that only registers in Internet space. He also thinks it might not be just you.”
Three exhausting days were catching up with Elorie. “Let me get this straight. Uncle Marcus thinks there are a bunch of witches running around the Internet with some kind of invisible magic?”
Nell shrugged. “Okay, it sounds a little hocus-pocus when you put it that way. But it’s a good idea. He thinks people like Ginia, who are good at spellcoding, might share your mysterious talent.”
Why was it so stinking hard for everyone to believe she wasn’t a witch? Elorie shoved in the last of her cookie. They could sit in dark basements and theorize all they wanted. She was done.
Ginia finished her milk as Elorie stood up. “We tried scanning me, but nothing showed up.”
Nell was silent for a moment. “What were you doing when you got scanned?”
“Holding the mouse, just like Elorie does…” Ginia slid to a halt, her eyes opening wide.
Jamie snapped his fingers. “Nell, you’re brilliant. Elorie, two more minutes. Please.”
Elorie stood and watched the sudden flurry of activity in the basement, utterly confused. In moments, there was a new computer setup at the table, and Ginia was typing madly into her keyboard. Elorie could see the graphics for Enchanter’s Realm on her screen.
“Keep it
simple,” Jamie said. “We just need a basic spell to do the test.”
Ginia nodded. “I’m coding an easy three-step spell. That way, you’ll have three chances to get a reading.”
Jamie nodded, watching over her shoulder. “Good thinking, cutie.”
If she had to stand here, the least they could do was explain why. Elorie leaned over toward Nell. “I’m so confused. What’s going on?”
“We’re trying to figure out if Marcus is right, and witches who can spellcode share your talent. You test for it even with passive readings, but it’s trickier in witches with multiple magics. We’re thinking that if Ginia has what you have, it might be easier to read when she’s actively spellcoding.”
That much made sense. Active magic was a lot more visible—even she could sense the power flows sometimes when one of her witchlings was doing a more complicated spell.
Ginia looked up, all nine-year-old seriousness. “Ready.”
“Ready here, too.” Jamie intently watched his screen.
Elorie watched. Absolutely nothing happened.
Suddenly a familiar voice spoke out of Ginia’s computer. “You called, Warrior Girl?”
Ginia giggled. “Hi, Gandalf. We’re doing a test to see if I have the same power as Elorie. I needed to code a spell to get the reading. I hope you like your new costume.”
Nell leaned over to look at the screen and clapped a hand to her mouth, snickering. She motioned Elorie to look.
Marcus’s gruff voice boomed out again. “It’s not funny, Nell. I’ll be the laughingstock of Realm.” Elorie moved in and got an eyeful of Marcus dressed in Xena splendor.
Ginia grinned. “Nah. That will happen tomorrow. I wrote this one in a hurry, so it probably won’t take you too long to reverse it.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “What happens tomorrow?”
“I hate to interrupt,” Jamie said dryly, “but is anyone interested in the results of the scan while Ginia was spellcoding?”
Every head in the room swiveled, including Marcus’s onscreen. Jamie looked around and grinned. “Whatever magic you’ve got, Elorie—Ginia has it, too. We got a very nice spike of the same unknown power during step two of that spell.”