Feathers (A Witch Central Morsel) (2 page)

Or in this case, taking her with them.

Costa Rica was a wonderful place, full of thick air and bright sounds and friendly faces.  A lovely destination for a water witch, even if it was a stitch warm at times.  She considered, and added a pair of whimsical shoes to her pile.  The young ones would run barefoot, and an old Irish granny probably would too—but sometimes old feet appreciated a little tender loving care at the end of a day.

Costa Rica’s air was full of water and magic.  The kind of place where people got called to walk the pathways of their souls and to fill their bellies.  She’d be delighted with either or both—a smart witch took both sustenance and learning where she found it.

She patted the pile of clothes and shoes.  Good enough.  Time for her healing kit now, which was a bit trickier.  And probably unnecessary—Ginia had likely packed half her apothecary, and what she brought would be stronger by half than anything from Moira’s garden.

But healers never retired.  And she might get a chance to sit down with the delightful Téo and chat about potions and bottles and plants.  Matt’s young man might claim to be a medical doctor, but he had a deep affinity for things green and mysterious.

She made her way to the healing closet that served as her mobile stash of herbs and potions.  The greater part of what she made lived at Sophie’s cottage, but the essentials were always good to have close at hand.

She reached first for her standard remedies for bumps and bruises of the physical kind.  Matt and Téo would have those covered as well, but they’d be disappointed if she showed up empty-handed.  Her favorite sunburn salve for those who stayed a little too long in the water playing.  She added her usual teas for comfort, sleep, and bruised hearts, too.  Good companions for journeying, and most of these were lovely iced as well.

Ginia would have remedies for overworked channels and other small magical mishaps, and her young skill had surpassed Moira on those long ago.

She sniffed a jar of lemon verbena and dropped it in her case.  Good for fevers and upset tummies.  One never knew.

That would do for now.  A nice bouquet of flowers from her garden, and she’d be ready to go.

-o0o-

Jamie looked at the top of his wife’s head, just peeking out over the mountain of stuff in her arms, and grinned.  “I remember when we used to go places with a backpack.”  And often with a whole lot less than that.

The mountain chuckled and headed in the general direction of the couch.  “Not done yet.  Kenna says all the fire trucks need to come, and Benny is negotiating for his push bike.”

The push bike was Uncle Devin’s latest attempt to topple them over the edge into insanity.  A mini two-wheeler without pedals, designed to teach cute, very independent toddlers how to ride a bicycle at manageable speeds.

Benny had spent two hours learning how to balance and then taken it to the top of the biggest hill he could find and lifted up his feet.  “There aren’t a whole lot of hills in the rainforest.”

Nat raised an eyebrow.  “But there are waterfalls.”

Gods.  “We could make Dev supervise.”  Karmic retribution.

Nat dumped her pile and held up a coil of rope.  “I promised Benny we’d rig a swing over the swimming hole instead.  Matt says the old rope seems to have disappeared.”

Probably stolen by monkeys.  They’d watched, totally fascinated, when Jamie had ported into the trees last visit to set it up.  “Okay, fire trucks, push bike—what else do we need?”

Calm eyes did a quick check of the twin mountains on the couch.  “Whatever it is, we’ll come back for it.”

Jamie grinned.
 He’d
be coming back for it.  Nat didn’t know it yet, but she, Lauren, and Nell were taking a side trip for the afternoon to visit Téo’s sister and her tiny eco-spa in the clouds.   The menfolk were handling the moving in.  Which was why piles were being made on furniture—Daniel had decided the couches could just come too.  Less unpacking that way, and lots of good seating.

There was probably a flaw in that plan somewhere, but they’d figure it out later.

His phone suddenly growled in Darth Vader tones.  Jamie chuckled.  “I think we’re about to be picked up.”  The kids were already in Costa Rica, courtesy of Gramma Retha and Grandpa Michael.  He blew his wife a kiss—Daniel would send her to the spa directly—and prepared to land in a different world.

The first thing that penetrated the weird fog of porting was the heat, a sticky wall of it.  And then two cannonballs hit his legs, and he was suddenly airborne.

And then really, really wet.

Jamie swam to the top of whatever body of water he’d landed in, amused and looking for revenge.

Daniel grinned from a rock on the side of the swimming hole, phone in his hand.  “Oops.”

Aervyn and Mia surfaced a couple of feet away, giggling like demons.  Jamie eyed his best suspects for the cannonball duo.  “I don’t supposed you guys had any idea I was going to land on the edge of the pool, huh?”

“Sure we did.”  Mia grinned—Sullivans always owned up to their pranks.  “We’ve been practicing.  We got Nathan and Helga, but we missed Uncle Devin when he landed.”

The man in question whooped from the top of the waterfall slide.  “That’s cuz I’m faster than the average four-foot troublemaker.”

Great.  Apparently Jamie fell into the slow category, along with teenage boys and octogenarians.  “I hope Helga was holding your dessert and it’s all soggy now.”

“Nope.”  Aervyn swam in a happy circle.  “She was already wearing her swimsuit and everything.”

And had probably been tackled with a little less glee—although knowing Helga, the full treatment likely wouldn’t have fazed her any.

Ah, well.  He was already wet.  Jamie pulled magic and pushed a four-foot spout up under his nephew’s kicking feet.  And then sent the second chasing after Mia, who was smart enough to be heading away as fast as she could paddle. 

They both shot up into the air, squealing.

Jamie grinned—that would bring the troops running.  He prepped another spout and felt Devin’s magic join his.  Carefully, they took aim.

To Daniel’s credit, he was already diving into the fountain of water when it arrived.

And then Jamie felt himself shooting into the air—on a plume of water that was easily fifteen feet high and driven by magic that definitely wasn’t Devin’s.

He laughed like a maniac and rolled off, aiming into an open spot in the pool below.

Aervyn had apparently mastered the blowhole spell.

Nell grabbed Benny just as his chin disappeared under the water.  “Good paddling, dude.”

He grinned up at her, totally unconcerned.  “Me swim!”

Kinda.  He’d improved since the beginning of the afternoon.  Nell smiled and gave him a good shove back Devin’s direction.  Every single one of her kids had gotten into the water with Uncle Dev and come out a swimmer—these two wouldn’t be any different.

Assuming Kenna ever got in.  Currently she was sitting on a rock, watching the action and sending little sparks of discontent up into the air.

One fire witchling, not entirely happy with the idea of getting wet.

Nobody was pushing her—or rather, they all were.  Fun eventually enticed Kenna, every time.

This swimming party, however, was about to wind up.  Nell could see the bright flickers of a bonfire in the distance.  Dinnertime, and judging from the amount of food that had been hauled to the bonfire site, they’d all be lucky if they could manage to roll away later.

Nell swam the short distance over to her niece and levered out of the water.  “I think Uncle Téo’s got the fire started now, sweet pea.  Want to go see?”

Kenna’s sparks zoomed in excited circles.  “’Tay.  Me help wif fire.”

Nell was smart enough not to negotiate with a two-year-old terrorist—she’d leave that job to Téo.  The man managed difficult children the same way he handled noisy monkeys, landslides, and cranky patients.  With a smile and an iron will you didn’t see until it had long since moved you where you were supposed to go.

Benny and Devin had made it over to the edge of the pool, the last remnants of what had once been a much larger swimming-hole crowd.  Dev’s eyes were already on the column of fire in the distance.  “Téo’s not messing around.”

Nope.  And Nell was pretty sure there was more underway than some really charred hot dogs.  Coast Rica always had undertones of things secret and mysterious.  Witch heaven.  “It’s been tugging at my magic for an hour now.”  She scooped up Kenna, letting the girl scramble around for a piggyback ride.  Little monkey. 

Dev gave them all a nudge in the direction of fires burning.  “Come on—the bugs will be here soon.”

Costa Rica at dusk was one big wall of bugs.  Yet another reason for really big fires.

She fell in beside Devin.  Benny, already falling asleep, curled into his uncle’s chest. 

Nell smiled.  Wild didn’t tame—but sometimes it grew extra roots. 

-o0o-

Moira breathed deeply of the night air, so very happy to be exactly where she was.

The bonfire, aided by warm breezes and excited witchlings, rose high into the dark sky, sending its primal message far out into the jungle night.  Logs and chairs neatly ringed the fire, and for an old granny, even a cushioned hammock chair.  Plates of food were piled high on a rough table set in the edges of shadow, somehow protected from the very curious howler monkeys moving closer in the night.

Her ancestors had once sung and danced around fires such as this, ushering in the new seasons, bidding good riddance to the old.  Defying death or honoring it.  Soothing the wounds of war or readying for them.

That’s a cheery thought. 
Firelight danced on Lauren’s face and tinged her hair copper.

It wasn’t—but Moira didn’t apologize for it.  The Irish had always remembered war and death and the gritty hearts of humankind that found a path beyond.

A soft drumbeat rolled softly from the shadows to Moira’s left, mixing in with the sounds of the night jungle.  Téo, drum between his jean-clad knees, adding a heartbeat to the fire.

Her ancestors would approve.  As, she suspected, would his.  An old witch’s eyes didn’t miss the quiet signs of ritual.  A small woven bag hanging over the red T-shirt.  A single bright feather that matched the ones on the drum, braided into dark hair.

And the quiet focus that spoke of long discipline working with things unseen.

She smiled.  Their Téo was a shaman, then, or whatever word was used in this part of the world for such things.  A mystic.  One who walked in the sacred.

He denies it.
 Retha was also watching Matt’s partner, eyes full of fondness—and respect. 
Claims he’s got too much work to do patching broken bones and birthing babies.

Both of which he did very well.  Moira studied the young man who had chosen to make himself part of this family. 
And yet he unveils tonight.
 There wasn’t a soul present who would miss what that drumbeat was doing for much longer.

Calling power.

Tonight, Téo was offering his.

The drumbeat thundered.  The call of a leader.

Moira felt the energies around the circle move in surprise—and then shift.  Acceptance.  Love.  Not everyone had expected to go on a journey tonight, or to have Téo leading them.  But they would follow.

The drumbeat wavered the tiniest stitch, and Moira knew more than one message had just been sent.  A man who had not been quite sure how deep he lived in their hearts.

He knew now.

Matt’s guitar, bending sound around Shay’s flute, danced a little brighter.

Silly wiggles,
sent Retha fondly, on a signal aimed at Moira, but splattered broadly enough that anyone within a hundred feet would hear. 
You think by now they’d know.  Both of them. 

Indeed. 
Moira assumed her reply was spread just as widely.   The Sullivan family only knew one way to love.

Matt’s head dipped down to his guitar, hiding a somewhat soggy smile.

Téo was made of sterner stuff.  His drum picked up the beat again.  Calling.  Demanding.

And then it went entirely still. 

-o0o-

Well.  That had gotten everyone’s attention.

Lauren sat, Devin’s arm around her shoulders, and listened as the various minds of Witch Central processed what was happening.  Daniel, arm around his own wife, had found himself oddly pulled by the drumbeats.  Benny, nestled in Jamie’s arms, fought off sleep and watched the fire, eyes wide.  Matt sat without moving, proud as hell of his family and feeding support to his partner.  Aervyn sat straight and still, mimicking Téo’s posture, a quiet smile on his face.

Hearts and souls responding to the beat of the drum.  Lauren wondered if Téo had any idea what he’d called.

And then the man in question began to speak—and she no longer had any doubt at all.  Deep and resonant, his voice rose into the forest, speaking words none of them understood.  And all of them recognized.

An invocation. 

Said by one in complete attunement with the power he invoked.

Holy hell.  This was the guy who had been making hot-dog jokes with Mia five minutes ago and racing Benny in circles around the fire.