by Debora Geary
“She must have grown up some, having a baby.”
Moira certainly hoped so. Motherhood brought maturity and wisdom for some, but Amelia had shunned both most of her life. “I wish I knew. On the one hand, Sierra is a lovely girl. On the other…”
“Amelia left her daughter alone in a hotel room in New Orleans and went off and did something foolhardy.” The critical tone in Sophie’s voice was exceedingly rare.
“It’s easy to think that.” After seventy years, being honest shouldn’t still make you squirm. “But we don’t know it. Sometimes magic goes terribly wrong, and it’s no one’s fault. And sometimes parents walk away from their responsibilities.” Moira sighed. “But I can’t find an explanation that doesn’t hurt my heart and make me wonder one more time whether I could have done better by Amelia.”
“You’re a wonderful trainer. I can’t imagine you left anything undone.”
“On the training, no.” And this was the point she’d been thinking on ever since Devin and Lauren faced them all down in the Witches’ Lounge. “But perhaps I focused too much on the witch, and not enough on the girl. I’m not sure she found true acceptance here for who she was, for the adventurer’s heart beating inside her.”
“If that’s true, the fault lies with all of us.” Sophie laid her head back against a convenient rock. “But I doubt it. There have been plenty of witchlings through the years with a reckless streak, and I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion you love them best.”
Moira chortled. Love was never that simple, but it was true she had a soft spot for the troublemakers. “How can you not love a pregnant belly singing a wee pirate song?” Sean’s latest caper had nearly given Elorie heart failure.
“And that’s my point,” Sophie said softly, laying her hand on Moira’s. “You love, and when the witchling has a restless heart, you love perhaps even a little more.”
“It wasn’t enough for our Amelia.” And that still felt like failure.
Sophie plucked a tired and dying bloom off a nearby stalk and trickled magic into its petals. “Or maybe, like Uncle Marcus, she was just a slow learner, and life didn’t give her enough time to come back to us.”
Moira felt that thought sink into her soul and find root. Sometimes, the right words really could heal.
Maybe Amelia would have come back.
And with her daughter’s arrival, in a very real way, she had.
~ ~ ~
Sierra stopped in the hallway outside Nell’s kitchen. It had taken almost the whole day to paint her apartment. And the whole time, she’d watched the triplets.
Ginia had magic. Shay and Mia didn’t. They still did lots of the same stuff as their witch sister, and they had really cool jobs helping out with Realm.
And they weren’t dangerous.
Magic had always been her favorite toy—and in the last six years of foster care, it had kept her from going crazy. Momma had promised it would always be there for her, something to make her feel special.
But Momma had lied. Magic wasn’t a toy, it wasn’t simple, and it wasn’t something little girls should do just to have fun. It was complicated, and dangerous, and if you screwed up, people died. Or baby birds.
So she’d made a decision. And now she needed to go ask for a job. Because when little girls grew up, they had to pay the bills.
Sierra stepped into the kitchen and clutched at the strap of her bag. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Nell turned from the computer parts she had scattered all over the counter. “Sure. Want to give me a hand with this while we talk?”
It looked like the computer had puked its innards. “What are you doing?”
Nell held up a small silver part and laughed. “Trying to figure out where this goes. Aervyn took this machine apart and tried to put it back together, but he left a couple of parts out.”
Wow. “Does it run?”
“Nope.” Nell seemed awfully cheerful. “But it didn’t before he started, either, so no great loss.”
“Isn’t he kind of little to be doing this stuff?” Sierra realized that probably sounded critical and hurried to explain. “I don’t mean it’s bad or anything, but it doesn’t sound like something most four-year-olds do.” Not that she knew a lot of four-year-olds.
“My brothers were always taking stuff apart. Jamie swears it’s a boy thing.” Nell shrugged and held up the part again. “Maybe he can figure out where it goes.”
“Sorry, I guess I’m not much help.” And that was probably bad right before you asked for a job.
Nell looked up, suddenly alert—then turned to the fridge, voice very casual. “Want some ice cream?”
Always. “Sure.” Sierra took a deep breath. “I have something to ask you.”
Nell set two pints down on the table. “Sure. Shoot.”
“I need a job.”
Nell blinked. “You have a job.”
Cripes, she wasn’t doing this very well. “I need a different job. I’d really like to keep working for Realm, and I’m a pretty good coder and everything, but I can’t help with the WitchNet library anymore.”
Nell nodded as if she heard confusing stuff like that every day. “Okay. Why not?”
It felt like half the air was suddenly missing from the room. “Because I have to do magic for that. I’m not going to use power anymore.”
Nell took another spoonful of ice cream. “That sounds pretty serious.”
“I’m dangerous—everybody says so. And they’re obviously right.” Sierra looked down at her hands. “So if I’m not a witch, then I can’t be dangerous anymore.”
“It’s not that easy, sweetie. You can’t just turn off the power switch.”
Yes, she could. “I’ve done it before. After Momma died, I didn’t do any magic for almost a year because it made me so sad.”
Nell frowned, eyes full of sorrow. “You’re a strong witch. That must have been incredibly hard.”
That whole year had been impossibly hard. But if she could survive that, she could do this. It wasn’t really something she wanted to talk about anymore. She just wanted to get it done. “So, can I have a job? A non-witch one?”
“Okay.” Nell nodded slowly and reached out to squeeze Sierra’s hand. “Done.”
Sierra breathed out. That had been so much easier than she’d expected. “Thanks.”
Nell licked off her spoon. “I’ll call a meeting.”
Huh? “Why?”
“So you can tell everybody else.” Nell shrugged. “It’ll be faster than telling them one at a time, don’t you think?”
Sierra stared, trying to figure out why her stomach had suddenly tied itself in a Chinese knot.
~ ~ ~
Nell sat down on the end of one of the Witches’ Lounge couches, waiting on her second impromptu meeting of the day. After a quick debate, she’d left her kiddos at home. None of them, witches or not, would understand choosing to walk away from your talents. And Sierra didn’t need any more little Walkers bruising her heart accidentally.
The grownups would probably handle that perfectly well.
There was one fairly immutable law in the witching world. With great power came great responsibility. And Sierra had great power. There was an abundance of support in learning to use that power, and every attempt made to let a witch grow into her talents slowly—but in the end, the hard truth was that a big piece of Sierra’s path had been sketched out the first moment she touched power.
They would not force her. It wasn’t the way of witches.
But they could throw their weight hard on one side of the scale. Nell trusted that those in attendance would understand their roles and rise to the occasion, since she hadn’t actually had time to tell anyone why she’d paged them all.
She looked over at Sierra, hands in her lap, sitting on the other end of the couch, and felt her heart beat with empathy. But she couldn’t let this one slide. Sierra’s decision might have sounded like teenager drama—unless you could feel the calm finality in he
r mind.
Devin and Jamie popped into the room. “Hey, sis.”
What’s up? Jamie slouched down into a chair, totally nonchalant. His mind was anything but.
Give the rest of the crew a couple of minutes. Let’s just say Devin and Lauren were right on the money.
He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Moments later, Sophie, Moira, Lauren, and Govin had all arrived and grabbed seats. Nell listened to the murmur of casual conversation, noticing with a quiet twinge of amusement that Devin couldn’t keep his eyes off Lauren. Something was going on there, and when she had a spare moment, she intended to find out exactly what.
Right now, she needed Lauren for something else. Hey—can you patch us all into Sierra’s outer mind? Gently? I don’t want to invade her privacy, but I don’t want to bruise her any more than necessary, either. Devin’s earlier speech was still riding heavy on her mind.
I thought we were trying to ratchet down the intensity for a while?
Nell rolled her eyes. No one gave Sierra that memo.
Lauren shook her head, amused, and a few seconds later, Nell felt the light thunk of an incoming mindlink. Reaching for a plate of cookies, she opened the meeting. “Hey, all. Sierra had something she wanted to share, and I thought it would be faster to get us all together.”
Ball in Sierra’s court. Nell sat back and watched her squirm. It took every ounce of parenting instinct she had not to offer comfort.
Mindlink gave them all two seconds of warning that Sierra was going to come out of the gate fast and defiant. “I’m not a witch anymore. I’m not going to do magic. I asked Nell for a different job at Realm.”
Nell gave her serious props for looking a lot calmer than she felt. And one thing needed to be laid to rest right away. “The job is yours. No matter what.”
Jamie, eyeing his sister, was rapidly catching up. “You’re a good coder.” He grinned. “The more people like you I have around, the less work I have to do.”
Sierra cracked a smile, and they could all feel her tension ease a little. Nell suspected the relief would be short-lived, but at least the girl should be nervous for the right reasons. Worrying about a way to pay her rent wasn’t one of them.
Moira leaned forward. “To do magic or not is your choice, sweet girl. But you will always be a witch. The ability to touch power will always flow in your veins, and perhaps in your children as well.”
Nell hid her grin as Sierra’s mind radiated blank confusion at the mention of children. Clearly not on her agenda yet. “It might be there, but I don’t have to use it.”
She’s really serious about this. Jamie’s mindvoice was a lot more awake than his cookie-eating, lounge-lizard routine suggested.
Yup.
Lauren passed over the cookies. “Why?”
Now Sierra’s mind sparked. Anger—she was feeling cornered. “I’m dangerous.” She looked around the room. “You all tried to show me that, but I didn’t listen. This time a bird died. Next time it could be a person.”
Her eyes were bleak—and every heart in the room ached for her.
Nell sat and waited. Moira and Lauren were just the opening skirmish. She kept her eyes on Dev and Govin. Her bets were on the two of them as the final one-two tag team—Govin to remind Sierra of the responsibility that came with her power, Devin to remind her of the possibilities for joy.
It didn’t surprise her that Devin moved first. He got up and sat on the coffee table in front of Sierra. “You’re right. You are dangerous.”
Pain sliced through the girl’s heart. What the hell was Dev up to? He was supposed to be reminding her of the joy of magic.
No one gave him the script either, sent Jamie dryly.
Devin leaned forward and took Sierra’s hands. “But you’re also an incredibly capable, powerful witch. One who can make a difference in this world. I watch my brother save lives every day with his healing magic. You have that kind of power in you. What if the next wave isn’t one you made? And what if it’s not just a baby bird in the path of the storm? Will you sit and do nothing?”
Holy shit. Nell blinked, hard. It was extremely rare to see Devin this intense. Wasn’t he the one who’d told them all they needed to be gentler with the poor girl?
Sierra just stared, the calm finality in her mind shattered in an instant. “I have to. I’m not safe.” She closed her eyes, tears trickling out. “Maybe Momma didn’t have time to teach me all the lessons.”
Devin wiped her cheeks with his thumbs and waited until she opened her eyes. His voice was hardly above a whisper, but it drilled into every person there. “We can teach you. You don’t have to stay dangerous, sweetheart. And you don’t have to give up magic, either.”
Nobody breathed. He’d made the offer—and he’d made it with the kind of intensity no one else would have dared. Every heart in the room pleaded for her to take it.
Her anguished uncertainty was heartbreaking.
Then Govin stepped in, and Nell got her second serious shock of the hour. He sat down beside Sierra on the couch. “And you can teach us.” He grinned. “I know about a hundred witches who would like to take a ride in a funnel.”
Sierra’s mouth dropped open. “A funnel?”
“Sure.” He reached casually for a cookie, handing her half. “Magic isn’t serious all the time. Sometimes it needs to be fun, too.”
“Fun?”
Nell blinked along with Sierra. Govin was one of the best people she knew—but fun wasn’t usually a big part of his vocabulary.
He turned to face Sierra, eyes bright. “That feeling? When you ride on a funnel and joy shoots through your heart? I’ve been thinking about that a lot today.”
She nodded, dazed.
“Every witch needs that feeling.” His grin lit up half of Realm. “Some of us more than others.” He held out a hand. “We can learn from each other.”
It was a breathtaking offer, one that wrenched at Nell’s heart. Devin had offered hope. Govin offered a piece of his soul.
Sierra sat, motionless, staring at his outstretched hand. And then somewhere in her heart, a flame rekindled. The light in her eyes made the gleam in Govin’s look like a dim candle. “I’d like that.”
Nell let out her breath. Now the crisis was over. At least for the time being.
And she was pretty proud of her brother and her old roommate. Not bad work for a troublemaker and a mathematician. Witch Central might have needed a good swift kick to get moving in the right direction, but Sierra was in good hands now.
~ ~ ~
Jamie slid into the neighborhood bar and grinned. Total guy hangout. Just what he needed after a day of teenager drama and buying totally girly fabric to deface The Monster. His poor couch might never forgive him for its new, decidedly turquoise cover.
However, he trusted The Monster to do its job and remind one lost witch that she had a home now—a place of comfort and love, good food, sloth, and plenty of company whenever you wanted it.
Right now, he was in search of some of that himself. Waving at the bartender, he headed back to the pool tables, trusting that someone else had already taken care of the food-and-beer part of the evening. When he spied TJ’s huge head, he was sure of it. The man never took more than five minutes to surround himself with food—or cute girls sure they could cure his bad-boy biker ways.
The girls always seemed to vanish when they found out he was a mathematician.
Dev waved a pool cue, and Govin materialized out of some dark corner. Excellent. Game on. Jamie snagged a chicken wing and a beer, and plopped onto a stool. “We playing partners, or two at a time?”
“Partners.” Devin snickered. “I haven’t been away that long.” He waved his pool cue at TJ. “Nobody in their right mind wants to play this dude one-on-one.”
TJ crunched a nacho. “You guys cheating?”
“Hell, yeah,” said Jamie. “Anybody ever beat you without using magic?”
“Nope.” TJ stood up. “I’ll take the world trave
ler—his magic sucks for pool. You two can try that superheated-air thing again.” He smirked. “It’s not gonna work this time, either.”
Jamie rolled his eyes at Govin. “You’re a math geek too—how come we still always lose?”
Govin chuckled and racked the balls. “That, my friend, is a question for the ages.”
Which was geek-speak for “who the hell knows.”
Jamie set up to break. If you let TJ have that honor, he cleared the table before anybody else got to play. He lined up his cue and focused on the purple ball, weaving a quick air-current spell. Pool balls were notoriously difficult to steer, but he’d been practicing. Or at least he called it practice—Nell called it corrupting a four-year-old.
“You gonna be able to do this after that baby girl of yours shows up?” Devin chomped casually on a spicy wing.
Jamie growled. Devin’s distraction tactics were notorious. And effective. Dammit. He backed away from the table and glared at his brother. “That depends on whether she gets my version of the Sullivan genes, or yours.”
Dev grinned. “Could get Matt’s instead.”
Jamie snorted. No way his baby girl was going to be the careful, cautious variety of Sullivan. That much he could already tell.
TJ frowned. “Aren’t you guys identical triplets?”
Jamie leaned back over the pool table. “That’s what they tell us. But you’ve met Matt. Do you really think we’ve all got the same genes?”
TJ watched as the purple ball ran for the side pocket—and missed just left. “Nope. Matt’s way better at geometry than the two of you.” He shrugged. “Maybe he got grabbed by aliens. Smart aliens.”
“Must have been.” Govin grinned, long used to TJ’s wacky theories of alien abduction, and handed Dev a pool cue. “You’re up.”
Jamie waited. His brother was the weak link in TJ’s march to pool supremacy. He monitored Dev’s mind, looking for that moment when his brother’s brain fired the “go” signal to his hands, and pounced. So, what’s up with you and Lauren?
The ball Dev had been aiming at nearly landed in TJ’s nachos. “Out of my head, bro.” His scowl brought back some very good memories.
Jamie grinned. “Fine. What’s up with you and Lauren?”