Feathers (A Witch Central Morsel) (4 page)

“I’m pretty sure your cousins have both those colors in stock.”  Lauren grinned at the small girl and then turned around slowly, attention caught by something totally different.

Moira watched as mind-witch heads swiveled.  Something was up, even if short old ladies couldn’t see it yet.

Ginia,
sent Lauren succinctly. 
Incoming temper tantrum.

A soggy eleven-year-old stomped into the clearing, glaring at her big brother and then at the gathering in general.  “Girls can too be as strong as boys.”

Devin, right behind them, winced and mindsent two words everyone heard. 
Food.  Now.

Moira loaded two plates as fast as she could move.  She knew well the signs of witchlings who had done too much morning magic while playing in the river, even when it was two who usually controlled both their tempers and their power expenditures very nicely.

And realized she wasn’t moving fast enough.  Ginia’s sisters had lined up at her shoulders, glaring at their older brother in mute, fierce solidarity.

Uh, oh.

Moira saw several adults move on an intervention path, but it was Matt who got there first, with two forks in his hands.  “Eat.  And then I bet I know how we settle this.”

Eyebrows flew up all over the clearing.

Matt looked over at his partner and flashed a quick grin.  “Can we borrow your bow and arrows?”

The request surprised more than a few of his listeners, including Téo. 

An old witch merely smiled.  She had no idea what he had up his sleeve—Matt Sullivan rarely stepped into the limelight of his family.  But when he did, it was always worth the price of admission.

Time for some fried plantains.

-o0o-

Lauren stared at the really big tree and the really big, pockmarked board attached to its trunk.  And then eyed the Sullivan brother standing in front of a very curious audience holding the world’s biggest bow.  “I think I signed up for the wrong summer camp.”

Dev laughed.  “I didn’t.”

This probably wasn’t a good time to be in the front row, but there didn’t seem to be any inconspicuous way to relocate.  Several heads, including Aervyn’s and Helga’s, were already clustered in a tight circle, examining the feathered works of art that were presumably the arrows for the behemoth bow. 

Lauren looked up again at the guy responsible for this madness, hoping he knew what he was doing.  Matt wasn’t usually the Sullivan causing trouble. 

Téo, standing just behind Matt’s right shoulder, looked supremely unconcerned.  And then some kind of quiet signal passed, and Téo reached for the bow.  “We’re going to have a contest,” said Matt into the sudden quiet.  “We’re going to see how many people can land an arrow in that target.”  He winked at his nieces.  “Boys
and
girls.”

Lauren eyed the bow.  As much as she might want to put a point in the “girls” column, the darned thing was huge.  Devin might manage it, but no one else in this group would.  She slid back a couple of feet and worked her way to a seat on a log beside her husband, prepared to vehemently defend her right to be a spectator.

Have a little faith,
said Téo’s mind as he lined up in front of her to aim at the target.  And, man of few words, promptly sent three arrows in a row straight to the middle of its well-abused surface.

Even Devin blinked. 
Wow.  Somebody’s got a whole lot of skills he’s kept hidden.

Lauren rolled her eyes, knowing a dare had just been laid down—and how unlikely her husband was to let it pass by.

Téo laid the bow in Dev’s hands and murmured a few words to help with positioning and notching.  And watched in approval as the arrows flew straight and true—and almost hit the target.

Dev laughed, totally unfazed.  “Oops.  I guess I’m supposed to watch where they’re going, huh?”

“Maybe.”  Téo shrugged.  “For some, the joy is in finding strength and balance, not where the arrow lands.”

Now it was Lauren blinking—that was her husband in a nutshell.  What was this, the bow-and-arrow version of yoga?  She had the sudden feeling this afternoon was going to start moving a lot faster.  That would teach her to misplace her cup of pure Costa Rican gold.

I will find you more coffee when we get back. 
Téo smiled, his thoughts coming through as clear as day as he took a seat at the edge of the crowd. 
Sometimes the spirits lead.

Any spirits who put weapons in Sullivan hands were slightly crazy. 

Daniel stepped forward, eyes intrigued.  “I don’t have Devin’s muscles.”

Matt’s eyes twinkled.  “Me neither.  Breathe deep, fire fast.”

Their resident hacker held out his hands, testing the bow.  Lauren could feel the audience debating.  No one doubted Daniel’s skills—but that was a really monster bow.  If they’d been betting, the pool would have been about even.

Carefully, the man in question lined up his feet, just like a batter at the plate.  And then, with the swift, efficient motions of a pitcher, drew, notched, and fired.  Barely.  No one missed the strain on his face—or the wobbles of the arrow as it landed far short of the target.

Matt grinned.  And something in Daniel’s wink back didn’t ring right for Lauren.

Dammit.  The quiet ones were headed somewhere, and she had no idea where.

And then Nat stood up and calmly walked over to Daniel’s side.  “I’ll try next.”

Lauren stared—and knew she wasn’t alone.  Nathan raised an eyebrow and spoke the words a whole bunch of people were thinking.  “No way you can do that.”  He blushed, suddenly aware he’d spoken out loud.  “Sorry, Auntie Nat.  It’s not because you’re a girl—I only said that before because I was hungry and dumb.  It’s just that—”

She smiled at him.  “The bow is huge and I’m not?”

He shrugged, still embarrassed.  “Yeah.  Kinda.”

Nat juggled an arrow in her hand and then sized him up, eyes full of mischief.  “If I get the arrow to the target, you watch Benny this evening so I can learn to fire dance.”

It wasn’t the stakes of the bet that mattered—Benny never had a lack of willing babysitters.  It was the utter confidence in Nat’s voice that had everyone captivated.

Including her mind-witch best friend.  Their 110-pound yogini absolutely believed she could do this.  Everyone else was thinking one word. 
Impossible.

And then Nat started backing up. 
Away
from the target, nothing in her hand but the arrow.

Lauren watched, stupefied—and then something in the way Nat’s feet were moving sparked a memory.  Of their college track team’s star javelin thrower.

Hot damn.

She grinned as Nat started the efficient, nimble approach that had earned her top collegiate honors four years running.  And felt the absolute awe in the audience as the arrow flew, one graceful, streamlined arc right at the tree.

Téo was cheering before it hit.

Pretty much everyone else had their jaw on the ground.

Nat winked at Nathan.  “I think you earned babysitting duty.”

A whole lot of teenagers would have cried foul.  This one stared a moment longer and then started to laugh.  “You’re so cool.” 

“Yeah.”  Nat blew imaginary dust off her fingers.  “And I’m the only one besides Téo who’s hit the target so far.”

Holy shit.
  Lauren pinged a laughing mind connection at her best friend, who had just laid down a dare worthy of the Sullivans.

Yup.
  Nat’s eyes sparkled back. 
Consider it a personal one.

Whatever. 
Lauren rolled her eyes. 
I don’t have hidden college athletic skills up my sleeve.

Nat turned around and found a seat on a log.  But her mind was oddly serious. 
Use what you have.

Lauren frowned, caught by the sudden intensity.  And then felt it radiating out of a second mind.

Helga.  Determined to work her way around the impossible.

Dammit, she was not getting upstaged by a woman fifty years her senior.  Lauren resisted kicking a stray log—barely.  And then her brain kicked into gear instead, and she knew exactly how she could do it.  On a carefully controlled mind channel, she piped a suggestion to their snazzy octogenarian.  And grinned when she felt the mental fist pump in reply.

When Helga stood up, barely recovering jaws hit the ground again.  But the loudest reaction of all came from the minds of three eleven-year-old girls.  The triplets adored the feisty old lady—and, just like her, wanted very badly to be able to rise up to Auntie Nat’s dare.

Is that so? 
Helga grinned and turned, walking straight back to the girls.  She held out her hands in front of Mia’s face.  “Blow.  For good luck.”

Mystified, Mia blew.

Helga’s eyes gleamed as she held her palms out to Ginia.  “Now spit.”

“Eww.”  Ginia giggled and spit anyhow.

Shay was last and rubbed Helga’s palms together as instructed, highly amused.

Lauren watched, bemused.  The quiet ones had a not-so-quiet helper.

Helga’s performance didn’t disappoint.  Even knowing what was coming next didn’t dampen it any.  The old lady reached for the bow in Matt’s hand, eyes fierce.  “Old arms know how to get things done in this world.”

His lips twitched.  “I never doubted it.”

Helga stood on the spot where Devin had fired, bow in one hand, arrow in the other.  Positioned herself carefully, arrow aimed straight at the target, elbows locked, eyes bright.  An ancient goddess of war.

And while not a soul truly believed she could do it—every last one of them wished mightily to be wrong.

Which made Lauren’s job ridiculously easy.  She gave them all a nudge.  Let them imagine Helga’s strong arm drawing back the string, letting the fingers go.

And then she called them all to fly.  Feel the joy, the limitless flight. 
Be
the arrow.

When eyes finally turned back to Helga, she stood as she had at the beginning, arrow still notched on her bow.  And then she lowered them both, face solemn, and touched her fingers briefly to her hot pink feather.  “Arrows can be anything I believe them to be.  And mine hit the target.”

The quiet words landed in absolute silence.

And somewhere in the stillness, “impossible” shattered.

Téo grinned from his seat on the edge of things. 
Pretty good on only one cup of coffee.
 

Lauren grinned back—that bit about the arrows had totally been Helga improv. 

Helga walked back to her seat, handing Matt the bow as she went. 

Lauren smiled at her partner in crime and held her silence.  They weren’t done yet.  What was coming next felt almost inevitable, even if she had no idea how they were going to pull it off.

The girls didn’t disappoint.

And this time, their audience was no longer willing to place their bets on “impossible.”

Three heads conferred, with frequent glances at the bow in Matt’s hand.

Lauren tried to think of ways around the challenge.  She and Helga had found one—Nat had found another.

Nell’s eyes gleamed as three heads suddenly stilled. 
Pretty sure my girls are going straight through.

That was nuts.  The three of them together didn’t weigh as much as Devin’s right arm.

Nope.
 Now their mama was laughing outright, at least inside her head.
 But they’re way smarter than my brothers.

Whatever their plan was, they kept it well under wraps.  Ginia took the bow out of her uncle’s hands, and Shay picked up a single arrow.  Mia just planted her feet and dared the universe to think they couldn’t do it.

Lauren hoped the universe wasn’t dumb enough to cross all three of them.

Ginia positioned the bow carefully, standing up with one end resting on the ground.  And then Mia lined up as archer, one hand notching the arrow, the other doing a strange modified version of managing to hold the bow string and arrow at the same time.

Dev’s head tipped almost sideways.  “What the heck?”

Téo smiled.  “Big bow, small hands.  She’s improvising.”

Lauren was all for making shit up as you went along, but the bow was taller than Mia.  At some point, this came down to brute strength.

And then two eighty-pound girls proved her wrong.  Ginia and Shay rolled four stumps into position—two on the sides of the bow, one each out the front and back.  A very skinny diamond.  And then sat down on the fore and aft ones and put their feet together.

Leverage.  Lauren wasn’t enough of a physicist to know if they could pull it off—but their plan was as ingenious as all hell.  She reached out to a whole bunch of heads, trying to get an advance read on whether this might work. 

Nobody knew.  Daniel was calculating the angles.  Jamie was adding a little magic to keep any errant arrows out of eleven-year-old heads.  Moira was muttering an Irish blessing that sounded like it belonged on a very bloody battlefield.  Nathan was cheering his sisters on louder than anyone.

But at the heart of it—nobody knew.

Even the three girls at the center of the action.

And then some silent signal passed, sister to sister.  Mia started to push her arms apart, her cheek butted up right beside the arrow.  Ginia leaned back on the front of the bow, Shay on the bow string, levering off their joined feet.  Doing as three what none of them could have begun to do alone.  Slowly, the bow creaked into firing position.

Not far enough.  Not yet.  They need another foot. 
Téo’s mind was like some frenzied play-by-play.

Perhaps the girls heard him.  Or maybe the universe found its sense of karmic justice.  Ginia and Shay leaned harder, the stumps they sat on tilting far back.  Utter commitment.

And then Mia, eyes warrior fierce, pushed with everything she had—and let go.

Lauren was vaguely aware of witches tossing enough spells to save a minor planet.  Ones to catch the girls and anything else flying through the air into a big, tumbled mess, and one to port the bow out of harm’s way.

But nobody missed the thunk.

The girls hadn’t hit the tree.  They hadn’t hit anything within fifty feet of the tree.  Their arrow quivered out of a tiny sapling about ten feet away that had been dumb enough to grow in the vicinity of a jungle target range.