by Debora Geary
“I hit him with a sleep spell.” Nell grinned. “He never does see those coming.”
Good. One less patient to worry about. Sophie reached up as Nat handed over a bowl. “It’s a crazy day when the woman who’s about to give birth is taking care of the rest of us.”
Nat smiled. “It’s better than being the watched pot, trust me.”
She had a point. And the soup tasted even better than it smelled. French onion, heavy on the onions and topped with strands of melty cheese. Pausing to savor the first few spoonfuls, Sophie breathed deeply—and then turned her mind back to their main problem. “So, Sierra knows how her mom died. She dreams it.”
Nell sucked in air. “What? I thought she was reliving the helicopter flight. We got vague images of chasing big waves before I managed to get a decent wall up.”
Devin shook his head and looked at Lauren. “Can you project the face of the woman on the island?”
She managed half a grin. “Can I have more soup after?”
Sophie frowned. Mind-projection was pretty basic—clearly Lauren had pushed awfully close to the edge upstairs. In an emergency, a witch did what she had to do—but this had only been a dream.
Lauren shook her head, meeting Sophie’s eyes. Not just a dream. Watch.
It was only ten seconds of replay. And if Sophie had possessed mind power, she’d have ripped the nightmare out of the fabric of time and tossed it into the depths of hell.
She looked at Lauren and tried to clear the horror from her mind. “I’m a healer sworn, and I don’t know if I’d have had the guts you did. It was right to leave the dream in her head—we don’t know what it’s attached to, or how much of it she remembers.”
“Thanks.” Lauren’s voice was raspy. “I needed to hear that.”
Sophie had known it was more than channel shock rocking her latest patient. Sometimes the very hardest choices involved having the magic—and still doing nothing.
Devin looked at his sister. “That was Amelia, right?”
Nell nodded slowly, eyes glistening. “But how could Sierra have seen it? Maybe it’s just a nightmare, pieced together from other experiences?”
Lauren shook her head. “No. Or at least, I don’t think so. Most dreams feel a bit unreal. This one reads like a memory. The imprint’s really deep.”
Nell frowned. “But how’s that possible? Amelia was out alone in the middle of the ocean.”
A few months in Fisher’s Cove, where a long-dead five-year-old boy still cast a big shadow, and Sophie knew the answer. “She might have traveled.”
Devin turned white, but shook his head. “She’s been on her own for six years, Soph. No way an astral traveler lives that long without proper anchors. She’d have just drifted away.”
“Some people only travel in times of enormous stress or fear.” And watching your mother die had to top the fear charts.
“Sometimes it’s hereditary. We should ask Moira if Amelia ever traveled.” Nell cuddled a knitted pillow to her chest. “But it could also just be a dream. Sierra’s had a lot to deal with in the last six years. This might be one way her mind has tried to help her cope.”
“No way.” Devin’s voice was almost as raspy as Lauren’s. “It tears her apart. There’s no way that’s a healing dream.”
It could be. Sophie knew well that sometimes healing hurt. “Her subconscious might prefer it to not knowing.” A mother killed by a big wave might be better than believing she’d walked away and left you alone.
Lauren shook her head, as if trying to clear cobwebs. “Wait. Our two choices here are a dream that feels very real, but isn’t, or a twelve-year-old girl who got pulled out of her body because her mother was in danger?”
Sophie nodded. At a different time, she might have been amused—astral travel was always good for freaking out newbie witches. “Pretty much. At some level, I’m not sure it matters. It’s still a horrible thing for Sierra to have stuck in her mind.”
“The dream’s bad.” Devin’s eyes were darkly intent. “But it told us something really important.”
He had the attention of every witch in the room—and Lauren, at his shoulder, was nodding in quiet approval.
Devin looked at his brother. “Can you fetch Moira and Govin? I have something to say.” He put an arm around Lauren’s shoulder. “We have something to say.”
~ ~ ~
Lauren sat quietly, waiting for everyone to get settled. Govin was already sitting in the corner, chatting with Jamie. Nell handed Moira a cup of tea and turned around, perching on the arm of a chair. “Okay, you two. We’re all here. Talk.”
You wanna be the good cop, or the bad cop?
Devin’s question startled Lauren. She hadn’t realized her mind connections were that open. And then realized they weren’t—to anyone except for him. Leftovers from handling Sierra’s nightmare. You start. I’m a better deal closer.
He put his hands on his knees and surveyed the room. “We’ve really screwed up, and Sierra’s paying the price. She’s Amelia’s daughter, and therefore, we’ve assumed she’s like Amelia. She’s not. Not even a little.” He waited a beat. “Sierra Brighton’s not reckless, and we have to stop treating her like she is.”
Lauren could feel the stark confusion coming from everyone. Except Nat. That figured.
“She’s dangerous, Dev. We’ve seen it.” Govin was the most agitated witch in the room. “She’s got enough power in those fingers to let loose a disaster.”
“Do you really think she’s ever going to do that again?” Devin’s quiet question hammered into every mind in the room. “Look around your fear, Gov. Heck, it’s our fear that’s the whole problem here.”
He turned to his sister. “You’re scared she’s going to put Aervyn at risk again. Or that she represents what he might become if we can’t keep him hooked into community.”
Bull’s-eye. Lauren felt Nell’s mind quake.
Next, his brother. “You’re scared for Aervyn—and more scared that the girl in your wife’s belly might be the next Amelia Brighton.”
Three for three. That fear resonated even for Nat.
Devin turned to Moira, and didn’t say a word.
She met his gaze for a long time, and then looked down at her tea. “I’d be scared that our Sierra has her mother’s blood in her veins. The sins of the mother, living on in the child. It’s not right, and I’m sorry for it.”
“It’s okay to be scared.” Devin reached for Moira’s hand, speaking quietly. “It’s not okay to dive-bomb Sierra because of our fear. Our last meeting, we laid out a plan of attack. It’s time to stop attacking.”
Nell’s face was white. “She’s still dangerous, Dev.”
Lauren leaned forward. Her turn. “No. She’s not.”
Every head swiveled to look at her, most of them still wildly skeptical.
Govin spoke first, frustration lacing every word. “How big a wave does she need to make to convince you?”
Lauren dug for words—and then decided in this case, a picture was worth thousands of them. Reaching into her memory banks, she found the image of Sierra, staring at the dead bird in Aervyn’s hands—and projected it to everyone in the room, complete with the abject, horrified guilt that had been in the girl’s mind. Then she hit them with Sierra’s dreaming anguish as a magically caused, killing wave chased down her mother.
Man. You fight dirty. Devin winced—and nodded in approval. They’ll see it now.
You’re the only one who’s never been at all scared of her, Lauren sent softly. You’ve always known.
Yeah. Which means I screwed up the most. His mental voice was bleak. I didn’t fight hard enough for her.
Cut yourself a break, Sullivan. It’s been less than a week since she arrived. And you’re fighting for her now. Let’s get the job done.
Together, they faced the room. And waited.
Moira breathed out and sipped her tea, hands shaking. “She’s really not Amelia, is she?”
“I never knew her mot
her.” Lauren smiled as Sophie’s hands gently settled over Moira’s, offering more than one kind of love. “But you’ve all been worried that, like Amelia, Sierra is going to be hard to teach. Hard to convince.”
“You think a dead bird will make that much difference?” Jamie rubbed a hand absently on his wife’s shoulder. “We tried to show her groundlines a few days ago, and she didn’t seem all that convinced. Even tried to show us what she could do, before Aervyn shut her down.”
Lauren blinked. That was news to her.
“Think, bro.” Devin leaned forward. “All we had was words. It’s like when Mom used to tell us we were going to fall out of the oak tree in the front yard if we kept climbing that high.”
Jamie found half a grin. “She wasn’t all that persuasive until Matt fell out.”
“Exactly,” Devin said. “And Matt’s not the reckless Sullivan.”
Nell snorted. “It only took one fall to convince you, Jamie. Dev was a harder sell.”
“Which is the whole problem here,” said Lauren. Her turn again, and Nell had given her a perfect opening. “You’ve all been assuming Sierra has a head as hard as Amelia’s.” She elbowed the guy beside her. “Or Devin’s here.”
The stress levels in the room settled substantially as everyone laughed at his wounded look. Good. Sometimes humor could drive home a point far better than fear ever would. Lauren paused, waiting for quiet—and hit them with the echoes of Sierra’s emotions one more time. “It seems to me that anyone that distraught over one baby bird isn’t going to be hard to teach.”
~ ~ ~
Oh, how proud these two made her. Moira wrapped her hands around her still-warm mug of tea and watched Devin and Lauren step up and call them all on the carpet.
They were a fierce duo. And they were a duo—Moira had seen enough mindconnected tag teams in her lifetime to recognize one in action.
She tried not to grin. It wouldn’t help the very important and serious point they were trying to make. Ah, such an excellent team they would be for the upcoming birth. And perhaps beyond. Her fingers ached for her scrying bowl.
Sophie touched her hand lightly. “Behave.”
Ah, she wasn’t the only one that saw possibilities here. “I am behaving. I haven’t selected them a wedding gift yet.”
Lauren looked over, eyebrow raised, as tea nearly squirted out Sophie’s nose. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
“Nope.” Sophie was turning shades of purple. “Sorry. Baby’s kicking my ribs.”
Which wasn’t precisely a lie. The baby had indeed started kicking in reaction to Sophie’s mirth.
Moira rode to the rescue before anyone dug deeper into Sophie’s thoughts. “So, we have a young girl who might not be so hard to train after all. What happens next, then?”
Jamie shrugged. “We still need to get some work done with her, and soon.”
Govin nodded. “Even if she’s going to be receptive, the safety layers on weather magics are tricky.” He folded his arms. “And I still think she needs to be made aware of the risks in what happened two days ago. Gently. But she needs to know.”
“Try coming in the back door with that.” Devin, relaxed now, looked nothing like the warrior who’d stormed the room five minutes earlier. “Teach her the right way to work with the excess energies and with a team. She’s a smart witch. Let her figure out why what we did in that helicopter was risky.”
“Aye.” Moira winked at him. “Even the most stubborn witches do better working things out for themselves.”
Devin just rolled his eyes.
Nell laughed. “I’m pretty sure that was one of Mom’s favorite lines.”
“She had plenty of practice, dear.” If Devin was going to offer himself up as an object lesson, Moira was happy to help. She had one small bit to add to the point he and Lauren had driven home. “Many parents raise a child in their image. Your mama was smart enough, and strong enough, to parent each of you the way you most needed.”
She paused a moment, waiting to see which of the smart witches in the room would understand her first.
It didn’t surprise her at all when it was Devin. “Sierra was raised reckless. She wasn’t born reckless. And we’ve been confusing the two.”
Moira knew when to give credit where credit was due. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to tell us all along?”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think it is.”
Chapter 13
Lauren looked up from her desk as her office door chimed, not at all surprised to see her best friend. “Hey. You hungry?” She’d been pondering a donut run.
Nat held up a box. “One step ahead of you.” She grinned. “Sophie said Sierra’s nightmare was pretty rough on you, and you could probably use some extra sugar.”
The witch line of duty had been hard on a lot of people recently. “I’m okay. I have a lot more respect for Sierra, though. She’s a sweet kid, but I don’t think I was really giving her enough credit for how she’s held her life together without much help.” Lauren met her friend’s eyes. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”
“There are good people who will love her now.”
There were. And none of that explained the determined look in Nat’s eyes. Alarm bells went off in Lauren’s mind as her visitor sat down in the comfy chair on the other side of the desk. “What’s up?”
“You and a certain Sullivan brother.” Nat patted the box of donuts. “If you talk willingly, you can have two apple fritters.”
It was an excellent bribe. Unnecessary, but appreciated all the same. Lauren sighed. “What do you want to know?”
“He’s a good guy. What’s scaring you?”
Lauren laughed. “Got any easier questions I can start with?”
“Nope.” Nat patted her belly. “I could pop any minute. Or have to pee. I’ve learned to get right to the point.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly a new skill.” Nat had always zeroed in fast on the most important things. “I’m not sure he scares me, exactly. I’m just being careful.”
“Careful is fine.” Nat grinned. “But fast and spontaneous can sometimes be fun too.”
That idea shouldn’t be firing sparks in her belly. “Just because you had a whirlwind relationship with a witch doesn’t mean the rest of us should.” Lauren licked apple-fritter heaven off her fingers. “I’m pretty happy with my life the way it is. I don’t know that I need a guy in it.”
“Need, no. You never have. But it’s okay to want one.”
Lauren squirmed. Anyone who thought Nat was all soft and nice had never been on the receiving end of one of her inquisitions. “I want, okay? But he’s a tornado, Nat. Devin Sullivan doesn’t come into your life without turning it upside down. In another lifetime, he’d have been one of those Wild West gunslingers.”
“You ride tornados better than you think,” said Nat softly. “And Devin isn’t the Sullivan brother who created the biggest one in your life.”
Well, that was true. Jamie declaring her a witch had been pretty radically disruptive. “Don’t I deserve a nice, boring life for a while?”
“I ask myself that a lot these days.” Nat laid a hand on her belly. “And then I think about all I’d be missing if I’d chosen simple and safe.”
Trust Nat to hold her feet to the fire of honesty. “There’s a lot at stake here, including all the people we both love. I need to figure out what I want.”
“The people you love will be fine.” Nat smiled, eyes twinkling. “It’s not a real estate negotiation. You don’t have to figure it all out before you explore things a little.”
That sounded disturbingly like the little voice in her head. Lauren reached for her second apple fritter. “I don’t think Dev’s the kind of guy who explores. He dives in head-first and trusts himself to pick up the pieces later.”
“Yes.” Nat grinned. “Yes, he is.”
~ ~ ~
Moira settled into her hot pool with a sigh. The
bliss of the warm water on her old joints hadn’t dimmed in the six months since the circles had created her wondrous pool.
She heard a matching sigh as Sophie settled in beside her. Pregnant mamas had plenty of aches and pains of their own—and Sophie’s day had been a busy one.
She opened her eyes, reaching for the nearby cup of tea. “Something’s on your mind, my dear.”
“Mmmm.” Sophie stretched for her own teacup. “I’ve been thinking about Sierra.”
Moira waited. A nosey old witch knew when to keep quiet.
“She’s a convincing actress.” Sophie shrugged. “No, that’s not quite right. She’s not faking it, but she’s got depths that are hard to see. It took me an hour to see past the giggly young woman this morning.”
“Ah, and what did you see in the second hour, then?”
“I’m not sure, really.” Sophie reached over and pulled down a fragrant bloom to sniff, smiling. “It’s so lovely that flowers bloom year round this close to the pool.”
It was indeed lovely—and Moira knew an attempt at distraction when she saw it. “What are you pondering, dear girl?”
Sophie sighed. “Tell me about Amelia.”
That was a wide and painful topic. “Is there something in particular you want to know?”
Sophie nodded slowly. “Tell me why you think she spent so much time away, traveling.”
Ah. Tricky waters for a witch who had only very recently come home herself. “There are all kinds of reasons why people separate from their community. You did it to spare Elorie the pain of your presence, which was an act of great love. Marcus did it—well, for complicated reasons.”
“To escape.”
Moira smiled gently. “That’s how it seems, doesn’t it? But I often wonder if he stayed away for so long so we couldn’t help him heal.”
Sophie’s eyes were sad. “Because he blames himself for Evan’s death.”
“Aye.” And there was more work to do there yet, but Marcus wasn’t the topic of the moment. “And Amelia left to avoid growing up, I think—both as a woman and as a witch.”