A Hidden Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 2) (20 page)

“What’s a gathering?” Lauren asked.

Sophie grinned. “Prepare for an invasion, Nova
Scotia-style. I’ll go have the witchlings start spreading the
word.”

~ ~ ~

“Put me down, Aervyn Walker!”

Sophie spun around at Lizzie’s furious words and
spied her young charge floating four feet up in the air. “What’s
going on, kiddos?”

“He started it!” Lizzie was an only child and
getting a crash course in having a younger munchkin around. It
wasn’t all going smoothly.

Aervyn, well used to holding his own as the
youngest of five, just tried to look as innocent as possible. Since
he was soaking wet and Lizzie was their best water witch, Sophie
was pretty sure he wasn’t the only guilty party.

Mike appeared around the corner of the house,
grabbed Lizzie’s ankle, and pulled her to the ground. “Aaron’s
looking for some help picking strawberries. Anyone interested?”

Lizzie’s mad vanished. She grabbed Aervyn’s hand
and towed him toward the inn. “Come on. I’m a really good picker,
and Aaron always lets us eat as many as we want.”

Sophie laid her head on Mike’s shoulder, feeling
his arm wrap around her. “Saved by the berries. Thanks.”

“Still think you want a couple of your own one
day?”

“Ssh!” Sophie giggled even as she hushed him.
“If Aunt Moira hears you talking like that, she’ll be knitting baby
blankets by this afternoon.”

Mike’s eyes were suddenly intent. “Would that be
such a bad thing?”

Sometimes, life’s moments of decision snuck up
on you. Standing in Moira’s garden, mouth half open in shock,
Sophie met the gaze of the man she loved and did as he asked—opened
herself to possibility.

She felt her heart bloom. Decision made.

Glowing with certainty, she reached for his free
hand, palm to palm. Letting her power flow, here in this place of
her childhood roots, she made him a promise, silent and strong.
Time had often stopped for her in Moira’s garden. Now it stopped
for them both. And Sophie knew, whatever the future brought, it
would be for the two of them together.

“Uncle Mike, we hafta go!” They looked up at
Lizzie’s yell from the street, where Aaron’s van awaited.

“Sorry, I’m on strawberry-picking detail.” He
bent over and plucked three flowers for her. “I’ll try to save some
for you.”

As he jogged off, Sophie looked at the blooms in
her hands. A daffodil, a dahlia, and a daisy. In the language of
flowers, a message of new beginnings, joy, and forever love. A
promise.

Elorie walked over with two glasses of lemonade.
Her eyes widened as she looked at the flowers. Anyone raised around
Moira knew the language and lore of blooms. “Interesting
bouquet.”

“They’re from Mike.”

“Oh,
really.
Does he know what they
mean?”

Sophie stroked the daffodil’s soft petals. “He
does.”

She looked up to see tears glistening in the
eyes of her childhood friend. “I’m really happy for you, Sophie. He
seems like a wonderful man.”

Ah, this was the sister she had missed. So very
much. Words disappeared into feeling. She hugged her friend, held
her flowers, and sniffled, entirely happy.

After a moment of quiet bliss, Elorie grinned.
“Did you warn him that Gran will expect grandbabies?”

“He’s on her side on that one.”

“Well, I guess he knows what he’s getting into.
He seems really balanced, and he’s clearly got a good dose of
courage, going strawberry picking with the young ones.”

Sophie laughed. “I’m grateful. I think those two
have had about as much witch school as they can take for one
day.”

“Not everyone finds plants and herbs
fascinating.”

Sophie nodded over to where Ginia and Moira had
their heads together. “Some do, and that’s all we need—just one or
two to pass on the lore. Aunt Moira knows so much—I feel like I
can’t possibly hold it all. Ginia’s drinking it up, but the two
little ones were done.”

“They’re not the only ones. Nell was a tough
taskmistress for Net power training this morning.” Elorie yawned.
“Kevin’s fallen asleep on the couch, and I’m thinking about joining
him.”

“That sounds tempting. How is it going, being on
the trainee end of things?”

“I have a lot more empathy for how hard it is
now. I used to wonder why an hour of training usually had my
witchlings racing for the nearest exit.”

Sophie grinned, delighting in the comfortable
rekindling of sisterhood. “At least you don’t have to take witch
history.”

“Don’t tell Gran,” whispered Elorie, “but I hope
I make it at least a little more exciting than she used to. Not
that Sean would agree, but he’s never had to sit through the
lectures we used to get.”

Sean. Uh, oh. Sophie scanned the garden.

Elorie obviously recognized the look. “Lost one,
did you? Try the beach—that’s usually where I find him when he’s
gone AWOL.”

Sophie frowned. “He’s supposed to be doing
mind-witch practice with Marcus this afternoon. Maybe they’re
working together.”

“I don’t think so. Uncle Marcus is asleep in the
hammock behind the inn.”

“What is this, siesta time?” Sophie finished her
lemonade. Time to go on a witchling hunt. “Ginia, Aunt Moira—have
you seen Sean lately?”

“Check the beach, dear,” Moira said without
looking up.

Elorie hooked her arm through Sophie’s. “They’re
in plant-magic stupor; they’re not going to be any use. I’ll help
you look.”

They wandered over to the back yard of the inn.
Sure enough, Marcus was snoring in the hammock. It brought back
sharp memories of an afternoon, long ago, and a rather memorable
witchling prank. Sophie grinned at Elorie. “Do you think we can
pull it off twice?”

Elorie’s eyes gleamed. “If you let me go get
Gran’s computer and Lauren, I bet we can pull off something even
more glamorous this time.”

The giggles struck as Sophie waited. It was like
being ten again and finding cranky old Marcus napping on the back
porch.

Elorie came back out, computer in hand.

Lauren trailed just behind her. “It’s usually
Aervyn getting me in trouble.”

Sophie winked. “It’s only trouble if we get
caught.” Corrupting innocent witchlings was a tried-and-true witch
school tradition. Time they got Lauren caught up on a little more
of what she’d missed growing up a non-witch.

Well, that might not be entirely accurate.
Elorie had grown up a non-witch, and she’d been involved in plenty
of witchling antics.

“So what’s the plan?” Lauren asked. “I owe
Marcus one.”

He did have a gift for rubbing people the wrong
way. “Well, last time we did this, we cast a princess illusion
spell and left him holding a bouquet of flowers. We need to step it
up for a repeat performance, though.”

Lauren snickered. “I can make him
think
he’s a princess—will that do? And I can visualize your mind for
Elorie so she can work with whatever nefarious spellwork you have
in mind.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Sophie grinned.
“I can grow him a bed of flowers that would make Sleeping Beauty
proud.”

Elorie started to speak, and then stopped. “Huh.
I don’t know what I can do. You guys don’t need me for your
spells.”

Newbie witch, thought Sophie fondly. She looked
at the computer in Elorie’s hands. “Oh, I think we can come up with
something.” She grabbed the laptop and logged quickly into her
private Realm costume stash. “Here. Princess gear. Can you pull
that out here and dress our dear Uncle Marcus? If you meld that
together with Lauren’s mind magic, and my floral décor, he’ll look
and feel rather convincingly royal. And girly.”

Sophie knew it was a heck of a challenge. Only
Ginia had tried blending more than two spells at once, and one of
these was in virtual reality.

Elorie looked at the screen and considered.
“Have you got a prince in there?”

Damn. Sophie eyed her with serious respect.
“That would be a tricky piece of magic, sister mine. Are you ready
to try something that fancy?”

Elorie’s eyes twinkled, but there was steel
behind the humor. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Some quick cut-and-paste coding, and Sophie had
a full set of princess gear and a handsome prince avatar all ready
to be ported to real life. From Lauren’s state of concentration,
she was readying whatever mind magic was needed to convince grumpy
old Marcus that he really was Sleeping Beauty.

Facing Elorie, Sophie pulled earth power,
activated the spellcode, and nodded. Ready. Today she would do
magic with her sister.

Elorie took a deep breath and laid her hand on
the mouse, focusing. Sophie could see nothing but her blooming
spell.

Sorry about that,
Lauren sent.
This is
a little tricky. Let me patch you in, too.

In moments, Sophie could see the challenge
Elorie faced. Three swirling spellshapes—and wow, mind magics
looked complicated. How the heck was she going to get all of those
to meld together? Real remorse hit. This was supposed to be a joke,
not a big ding to the confidence of a new witch.

Have faith, girl. I think she can do this.
We were all new, once.

Sophie shoveled her doubts aside as power
sparked and spells began to move. Elorie had the spellcode and
earth magic aligned with impressive speed, but adding the mind
magic looked like one of those impossible puzzle games. Maybe some
kinds of magic just weren’t made to fit together.

Suddenly Elorie pushed the simpler spellshapes
away and pulled the mind magic shape to the center. Sophie had no
idea what was going on, but Lauren’s mind felt highly
impressed.

Watch. She’s brilliant.

As Sophie gazed in fascination, Elorie created a
mirror shape from Net power, and then overlaid it on Lauren’s
spell. The two flared, and then merged, and then flared again as
she began manipulating the flow of the merged power streams.

Fascination turned to awe as Elorie formed a
final shape with two connection points obviously meant to interlock
the other spells. It was creative, precise, and unbelievably
beautiful—the magic of an artist.

Hold steady,
Lauren cautioned.
She’s
about to release it.
Light danced, and then the bright joy of
power unfurled.

Wow. Just. Wow.

Sophie let her dazzled delight loose as she
opened her eyes to the friend of her childhood. Her new sister in
magic. And then their shared awe dissolved in helpless mirth as
Marcus roared.

“Sean James O’Reilly, what foul magic is this?”
Marcus sprang from the hammock and pushed the prince furiously
away. Sophie held her ribs and tried to laugh quietly. Apparently
he didn’t appreciate being awakened by a gentle kiss of love. That
figured.

Sean came running over the lawn. “Whoa, Uncle
Marcus. Did you do that?” Then he skidded to a halt, hand over his
mouth. “Never mind, that was a really dumb question.”

Marcus looked down at the princess gown he was
wearing. “Indeed. However, my accusing you was equally dumb. You’d
need a circle to pull this off, and clearly you don’t have
one.”

“Nope. Wasn’t me.” Sean shook his head with glee
and looked around for the culprit.

His eyes got huge as he noticed the three of
them sitting on the porch. Uh, oh, Sophie thought. Busted. She
avoided looking at her companions in crime and tried to look
innocent. That was hard to do when you had a case of the
uncontrollable giggles.

“Elorie Shaw,” growled Marcus, “undo this spell
right now.”

His niece looked rather pained, in between
giggles. “I’m not sure I know how to do that yet.”

Sean snickered. “It often takes more power to
undo a spell than to cast it in the first place. Best you be
remembering that.” He was an excellent mimic—Sophie could almost
hear Aunt Moira talking.

Elorie blushed. “You’re exactly right.” Then she
looked at Marcus and fell over laughing again. “But it was so worth
it.”

Oh, boy, Sophie thought, watching the glee on
Sean’s face. This was going to throw a bit of a wrench into
witchling discipline.

~ ~ ~

There were few things better than chocolate in
bed, Elorie thought. Well, maybe one thing. She dunked a strawberry
in chocolate and fed it to Aaron, then leaned back to enjoy the
tangy summer breezes on her skin and the distant sound of ocean
waves. Their sleeping porch was one of her favorite places.

He snuggled her in a little closer. “Are we
finally done blowing off all that extra steam of yours?”

She blushed. “I think so. Sorry, I’m not usually
quite so demanding.” Obviously the rumors about some of the side
effects of magic were all too true.

He laughed. “Guy manual, page one. You never,
ever have to be sorry for that. Save your apologies for Marcus—I
think you’re going to need them.”

“He’ll live. At least we picked on someone our
size.” It wasn’t lost on her that her first big act of magic had
been one more suited to witchling troublemakers. She didn’t care.
It had felt… magnificent.

“I hardly expected you to start torturing small
children,” Aaron said dryly. “Although Lizzie would probably think
so if you dressed her up as a princess.”

“By rights, I should have done it to Sean, to
make up for that pirate stunt he pulled.”

Aaron stroked her hair. “I never did get to see
that. Maybe I can bribe him into a repeat performance.”

She elbowed him, mostly in jest. “He doesn’t
need any more encouragement. After today’s escapades, the
witchlings are going to be on the rampage.”

“Yes, they are. I’ve set up the picnic tables so
we can eat outside tomorrow.”

“Trying to keep them out of the inn, are you?”
Her husband was a smart man. Witchling practical jokes could be
really messy.

“Darn straight. And I expect some folks will
start arriving for the gathering, so that way it’s easier to feed
whoever shows up.”