A Hidden Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 2) (32 page)

Jamie grinned. “Looks like we’re ready to go,
then. Do your troops have their emergency ready for us?”

Elorie rolled her eyes. “They’ve been ready
since dawn.” Nothing could have pleased Lizzie and the twins more
than being asked to cause trouble on purpose.

She leaned out the window to activate their
pre-arranged “go” signal. Uncle Marcus, lying in the hammock,
raised his hand to the sky, and an ear-piercing whistle blasted
through the air. Good grief. Aervyn wasn’t the only witch who
needed a lesson in volume control.

Moments later, Lizzie screamed, right on cue.
Elorie looked over at her computer. “Emergency in progress.”

Ginia grinned. “Excellent. I’m ready to
rock.”

Elorie walked outside to monitor in person.
Uncle Marcus was still lying in the hammock. “Aren’t you supposed
to be keeping an eye on them, so Sean doesn’t actually float out to
sea?”

He tapped his head. “I’m mindlinked with Kevin.
Not a problem. Lizzie’s father has his boat out. Sean’s not going
anywhere.”

Elorie shook her head. She knew all too well how
much trouble Sean could get into even when you were watching
him.

Halfway down to the beach, she spotted Sean in
his inner tube, floating happily out in the waves. When he spied
her, he screamed and yelled “Shark! Help!” She had to laugh. The
last shark attack in Nova Scotia had been exactly never.

Kevin and Lizzie were on the beach, acting as
the rescuers. Kevin had his iPhone out, shooting video so Ginia
could see the problem. Smart boy. They hadn’t discussed how best to
communicate with the Net witch on call, and video was a lot faster
than texting or talking.

Moments later, Lizzie, phone in her hand,
started swaying slightly. She only did that when she worked with
power. Elorie reached for her pendant, activating the fancy new
visualizing spell that let her view elemental power streams.

Jeebers. Ginia had pushed a mess of spellshapes
to Lizzie. Lots of air power, which made sense—that would be the
easiest way to bring Sean back toward shore. But what on earth was
the fire power for? There was also a third, more complex spellshape
she didn’t recognize.

Lizzie, all three-and-a-half feet of her, worked
with the novel power streams like she’d been born to them. The
spellshape containing most of the air power morphed out toward Sean
and began blowing him back to shore. Routine rescue. Excellent.

Halfway back, Lizzie grinned and waved her left
hand. Suddenly Sean was headed back out to sea, and at a fast clip.
Then his inner tube flipped over. Elorie could tell from Lizzie’s
face—the change of direction had been on purpose, but the flip had
been an accident.

It wasn’t quite a real emergency yet. Sean was
an excellent swimmer, and Lizzie’s dad wasn’t far away with his
boat. But their carefully planned drill was now officially off the
rails.

She converged on Lizzie at the same time as
Kevin did. A quick hand stopped them in their tracks. They both
knew better than to interfere with a witch holding a boatload of
spellpower in her hands.

Lizzie took the spellshape Elorie didn’t
recognize and gently activated it. Suddenly the air was alive with
a strange kind of music. Kevin listened in rapt attention, and then
grinned. “Dolphins. She’s calling the dolphins. Look!”

He pointed out to sea. Sure enough, a formation
of three dolphins swam in from the north, heading straight for
Sean.

Lizzie danced with delight, but never let go of
the spell. The strange music changed slightly as the dolphins
reached Sean.

Elorie watched in awe as Sean grabbed two dorsal
fins and hung on for dear life. She could hear his maniacal
laughter even over the crashing waves. The smallest of the three
dolphins jumped into the air and landed with a splash. Elorie
laughed. Another young one who didn’t know emergencies weren’t
supposed to be fun.

Lizzie spun in a circle, just once, and the
music changed a third time. The dolphins pulled Sean in a big
circle, and then dropped him off about twenty feet from shore.

Sean treaded water for a moment, and then threw
his hands up in the air.

Kevin leaned over to Lizzie. “Aren’t you going
to save him?”

Lizzie shrugged. “He can swim.”

“Yeah, but we’re supposed to be practicing,
remember? What if he couldn’t swim?”

Lizzie scowled. “Fine.”

Two minutes later, Sean was on dry land and
nicely warmed by the third spell Ginia had thoughtfully
provided—now Elorie knew what the fire power had been for.

She wasn’t sure her trio had taken the exercise
seriously enough, but Ginia had shown creativity and forethought in
the spell bundle she’d pushed to Lizzie. That had been very well
done, and Elorie took careful mental notes. It would be her turn as
the on-call Net witch soon enough.

Sharing the spells of the everyday was really
the heart and soul of WitchNet, as their spell library project had
quickly been dubbed. But the ability to network witches like
this—with this, they would save lives.

Their emergency response team could use a lot
more practice first, however.

Elorie watched as the flower bud under her
fingers bloomed and grinned in delight. In theory, she and Gran
were testing a batch of plant spells Ginia had bottled for
WitchNet.

In reality, for one small part of a morning, she
was living a childhood dream. So many times Gran had said to her,
“One day, you’ll sit in my garden and we’ll work magic
together.”

It had been a very long wait, but that day was
today. They shared few words—just a love of tending, and the
knowing that their hands did the work of witch hands down through
the centuries.

For as long as she could remember, Gran’s place
had been her garden. Some of Elorie’s earliest memories rooted
here, along with her belief that magic was meant to be used for
healing, for doing, for creating.

And that small magics, done well and often, were
the true strength of a witch.

Moira stood up to stretch for a moment, and then
beckoned. “Come, child. This patch of chamomile could use a bit of
that potency spell Ginia sent.”

Elorie held her hands up, trying to separate the
potency spell out from the others she held. It was beginning to get
quite confusing, and a couple of the spellshapes were starting to
fade. That was one of the things they wanted to know—how long could
a witch hold a pushed spell before it degraded?

About twenty minutes, she figured as she
untangled what was hopefully the potency spell. Gently she touched
the top of the nearest chamomile plant. When it started to dance,
she had to laugh. “I’m guessing that’s not the right one.”

Moira chortled. “I don’t believe so, but it’s a
lovely spell, nonetheless.”

Feeling like a little girl on a summer’s day,
Elorie walked in a small circle, touching what flowers she could
reach. Soon an entire bevy of flowers danced, much to Gran’s
delight.

They stood for a moment, arm in arm, and watched
the flowers sway under the noon-day sun.

That was one of the other lessons she had
learned at Gran’s feet. Sometimes, magic was just meant to be
enjoyed.

~ ~ ~

Nell lay back on her blanket and enjoyed the
warmth of the morning sun soaking into her skin. Getting five kids
packed up and off on a picnic was easier than it used to be, but
she was still claiming the right to be lazy now.

Nat and Jamie could keep an eye on Aervyn. With
a fire witchling on the way, they could use the practice. Besides,
nothing bad ever happened at Ocean’s Reach; the magic of the place
had always felt protective to her.

She thought back to Aervyn’s first weeks as a
newborn and wondered if her brother was ready for what was coming.
It was very unusual for an unborn babe to be playing with power
streams, but if her son were to be believed, Nat’s little bean had
been doing so practically since she’d been conceived. They were in
for an interesting ride.

Cracking open an eye to check on her herd, she
realized Jamie wasn’t paying attention to Aervyn at all. His hand
was glued to Nat’s belly, and his face was a mix of wonder and
panic. “What’s up, brother mine?”

“I can feel her.” Jamie spoke in a hushed
whisper.

Nell frowned. Nat wasn’t far enough along yet
for him to be feeling the baby kick.

Nat touched his cheek. “It’s the power in this
place. Even I can feel it. She’s playing.” She reached out a hand
to Nell. “Lots of space on my belly, if you want to feel.”

She squiggled over and laid her hand on Nat’s
belly, just beginning to round. Fire was Nell’s strongest magic, a
talent shared with her niece-to-be. She closed her eyes and let the
power of Ocean’s Reach sweep through her.

She could see several power streams—Jamie’s
close by, and Aervyn and Ginia playing farther off. And just under
Jamie’s hand danced a little ball of fire. Nell reached for what
little mind power she had and shared with Nat. She was pretty sure
Jamie was going to find his daughter’s invitation irresistible.

Ever so gently, Jamie reached a tendril of power
toward the dancing fire and wove around the edges. Nell could feel
the love he sent, and the peace. The ball of fire nudged against
Jamie’s gentle web and then nestled in, dimming to a quiet glow.
Totally content baby.

Nell felt the tears spill down her cheeks. She
was pretty sure she wasn’t crying alone.

~ ~ ~

Marcus sat down in front of his laptop and
rubbed his hands together. Alone. Finally.

He might not be the best spellcoder in Realm, or
the strongest Net witch, but he had age, experience, and sheer
cantankerousness on his side. It was very obvious that Warrior
Girl’s world domination was only a matter of days away unless
someone stopped her.

That someone was going to be him. He had an
audacious plan, one that no one would ever expect.

He was going to make friends.

He’d been up half the night stockpiling a very
nice cache of spells. Worthy alliance-building gifts. Or bribes.
Whatever it took.

He planned to start small and stay under the
radar. In Realm, that meant heading to the beginner levels. None of
the top-tier witches bothered with the newbies—not enough of a
challenge.

However, in a middle-of-the-night moment of
clarity, he’d realized that the newest Realm arrivals had something
he needed. Net power. Lots and lots of Net power. Earning your way
to the higher Realm levels meant showing increasing proficiency
with spellcoding—only the most rudimentary spells were permitted by
the admin controls on the lower levels.

Most of the newest Realm players couldn’t
spellcode their way out of a paper bag yet, so they were still
locked into the first level. And most of them were green enough not
to realize what they could do with their Net power.

They needed a leader. An old, experienced,
cantankerous leader.

Marcus grinned and sent out a level-wide
invitation. He was about to turn the balance of power in Realm on
its head.

~ ~ ~

Sophie tried not to laugh as Mike fell over for
the third time in as many minutes. Post-run yoga was her way of
getting even for his idea of a “gentle” run. Gracefully she reached
behind her body, grasped her left foot with both hands, and arched
it up behind her head.

Mike ogled her from the floor. “How much longer
will you be able to keep doing stuff like that?”

“Nat says as long as I feel like it—my body will
tell me when to stop.” She grinned. “I just need to make sure that
if I start falling over, I don’t land on my belly.”

“It might mess with your sense of balance when
the baby gets bigger.” Mike looked pleased at the thought.

Sophie laughed. Maybe he wanted company in
falling over. “Nat says it helps with balance poses, actually. A
bigger center of gravity. Jamie says she still does handstands—it
totally freaks him out.”

He reached for her hand and tugged her over on
top of him, with an assist at the end for a very soft landing. “No
freaking me out, okay? I watched a labor video last night, and I’m
going to be scarred for life.”

He was watching labor videos? That was so very
sweet, but probably very misleading. “You know that witch births
don’t look very much like a typical hospital birth, right?” Some of
those YouTube birth videos would scare anyone.

He grimaced. “This
was
a witch
birth—mine, in fact. My mom emailed me the video.”

“Really?” She lifted her head off his shoulder.
“I so want to watch that. Or maybe I don’t—why was it scary?”

“Scary’s not the right word, exactly.” He
stroked her back. She wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying
to comfort. “My mom was amazing. They didn’t have a full circle
there, just my two aunts, but it was… let’s just say I’ve never
truly appreciated my mom enough.”

She was confused. “And that scarred you for
life?”

Mike shook his head. “Nope, not that.”

Sometimes earth witches could take far too long
to get to their point. She gently poked a finger in his ribs.

“It was the look on my dad’s face. I’ve never
seen him scared, Sophie—not like that. He was terrified. Mom was
awesome, but Dad was a mess. What if that’s me?”

She hadn’t met his father yet, but Sophie knew
her man. He’d hold steady to his last breath if that’s what she
needed. And according to Nell, birthing circles had evolved some in
the last thirty years—now they supported the fathers-to-be as
well.

“If anyone gets to be a mess, it’s me.” She laid
his hand on her belly. “But that’s a long time from now. Seedling’s
got a lot of growing to do first.” Mike’s breath slowed as he
dropped into light healing trance to check on their baby.

Sophie grinned as the slight cramping in her
left calf muscle disappeared as well. He really was a good guy to
have around.