Feathers (A Witch Central Morsel)

  Feathers

  (A Witch Central Morsel)

  by Debora Geary

  Copyright 2014 Debora Geary

  Fireweed Publishing Ltd

  Lauren looked up from her packing, contemplating how many pairs of shoes a person really needed for a week in the rainforest. She eyed the woman sitting peacefully at the head of her bed, Fuzzball snoring in her lap. “So how much did you have to do with this, exactly?”

  Nat raised an eyebrow. “With what?”

  “Our sudden journey into a rainforest in July.” Which, according to Google, was a fairly batshit-crazy time for wimpy tourists to be traveling to the Costa Rican jungle.

  Her best friend shrugged. “I talked with Téo a little, that’s all. This was Moira’s idea.”

  So everyone was claiming. Moira always had her reasons—but they could run the gamut from deeply serious to a sudden craving for fried plantains. Lauren laughed as her stomach growled. Apparently it approved of the trip.

  “Don’t overanalyze it.” Nat grinned. “Maybe Witch Central just needs some play time.”

  It was a key ingredient in the glue that held them together. Maybe it was just that simple. “So we’re going to Costa Rica in the middle of their stinking hot season for fried bananas and fun, huh?” She grinned at her best friend. “We couldn’t have just resorted to the usual water fights and ice cream?”

  “You sound just like Jamie.”

  Probably—they both tended to hang out in the back-row delinquent territory of Witch Central. “Kenna will love it.” Matt had promised a big bonfire, which would delight all the visitors with arsonist tendencies, but no one more than her small, fiery niece.

  “Benny too. Gramma Retha promised to teach him how to slide down a waterfall.” Nat reached into Lauren’s suitcase and pulled out a shoe. “I think you only packed one of these.”

  Good thing someone was keeping track. Lauren looked around for its mate. “Gramma Retha will probably have help with that lesson.” Which was a good thing. Benny was headlong reckless and tended to forget he couldn’t swim yet.

  “She promises me she hasn’t lost a grandchild yet.” Nat looked amused. “Although I’m pretty sure my crazy boy takes that as a bit of a dare.”

  Benny would be fine. He had a bevy of uncles who knew what it was to have feet miles faster than your brain. And two grandmothers—Helga had adopted him every bit as fast as Retha had. The family tree of Witch Central, mangled a little bit more.

  Moira had claimed him too, but she somehow convinced him to rock in her lap, a feat that only Nat replicated with any regularity.

  Lauren found the missing shoe. It would be fun. Even if she melted.

  Nat reached over and did some kind of fancy shoe origami that freed up an extra square foot of space in the suitcase.

  Lauren grinned. There wasn’t a limit on what porting spells could transport, but Devin, his things neatly packed in a duffle bag the size of a small watermelon, had snorted when she’d insisted that seven pairs of shoes could fit in her suitcase. Which she had somehow taken as a dare, complete with calling in the assistance of the best packer she knew.

  She contemplated the snorkel in her hand and a space next to one of her shoes that was more suited to a handkerchief, and did the deed anyhow. The suitcase bulged dangerously.

  She stuffed in a couple of bikinis and tried to yank the zipper closed with one hand. Devin was going to eat that snort.

  Nat chuckled quietly from the bed—and then fell over in full-blown giggles.

  Lauren raised a crooked eyebrow. “What? It’ll totally work—just help me get it zipped.”

  “You, um…” Nat let loose one more hiccupping giggle and swung back up to sitting. “You need a packing supervisor.”

  Lauren looked down at the protruding bits of swimwear she’d just stuffed in, perplexed. Two tops, no bottoms, and one stray sock. Oops. “Dev wouldn’t complain.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Nat’s eyes flashed mischief. “But Gramma Retha swears she’s going to get you sliding down a waterfall this time too.”

  Lauren snickered. That was a dare.

  And possibly grounds for a second suitcase.

  -o0o-

  It was like they were moving to Antarctica. A warm Antarctica. For years. Nell looked at the pile of accumulated important stuff in her living room and shook her head. The girls had insisted they were packing themselves for this trip. Which meant Aervyn had promptly followed suit.

  Letting them might rank as one of her dumber parenting decisions of this decade.

  Nathan walked into the room, carrying swim trunks and a baseball, and grinned. “Better tell Uncle Matt we need a bigger shack.”

  The medical clinic’s accommodations were rustic at best, and all her children adored them. But the huts were small, leaky, and prone to visits from monkeys who liked to borrow things. “I think we’d better take the circus tent.” Helga’s gift to the girls on their last birthday.

  Her oldest son rolled his eyes. And would be the first person to volunteer to set the tent up.

  She waved her fingers at his baseball and trunks. “That’s all you’re taking?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “Uncle Matt and Téo have lots of food.”

  Teenage-boy priorities.

  Nathan slung his form into a chair, the baseball tracing casual figure eights in the air.

  Nell smiled. Her son was getting very good at magic he wasn’t supposed to be able to do. She scanned his energy streams, just in case he’d grown a little air power overnight. Nope. Using water power and sheer will, just like Devin did on a broom.

  “Mama.” His groan of disgusted protest came with a grin that said he wasn’t really all that put out. “I’m not a kid anymore. I scan myself, you know. You can stop checking up on me.”

  She was smarter than the average mom. “Mmm-hmm. And when’s the last time you scanned your sisters?”

  The baseball lurched a little. Nathan snagged it out of the air with a fast hand. “Yesterday. During water tag.” He looked at her, totally deadpan. “But they’re still kids.”

  She threw a pillow at his head, chuckling. And opened her mind a little more than usual. She knew what it was to be older sibling to a crazy trio. Nathan handled it much the way she had—with a little bossiness, a clear sense of who he was, and deep, patient love.

  All three of which he would probably deny. He was just their big brother.

  “I’m okay.” He cut her a quick look over his baseball’s new trick. “At least nobody’s filling my room with fireworks in the middle of the night these days.”

  She smiled—it was one of her very favorite memories. Aervyn had pumped out magic from the moment he’d been born. And one night, when he was about eight months old, his exhausted parents had woken up to absolute silence. No baby in their bed.

  They’d found him down the hall in Nathan’s instead, cooing happily and making fireworks. And a year and a half later, when Aervyn had learned to port, the first place he’d gone was his big brother’s bed.

  A baseball zoomed in front of her nose. Nathan grinned. “Lost in space, huh?”

  Lost in memories. She snagged the ball out of the air on its next pass. Daniel wasn’t the only parental Walker with fast hands. “Careful. If you break my nose, I won’t be able to cook lunch.”

  “My friend Chani broke his nose. You just stuff a hundred miles of gauze up it and then you’ll be fine.”

  That didn’t sound like much fun for Chani. “Thanks a lot.”

  He grinned, totally unrepentant. “I have better control than that. And Uncle Jamie would feed me if you couldn’t.”

  Probably. Her brothers had passing acquaintance with
the appetite of a teenage witch. “You’d get sick of spaghetti after a while and you’d come crawling back, totally heartsick about what you’d done to your poor mother’s nose.”

  “Nah.” The merriment in his eyes doubled. “Aunt Moira would have found you and made you drink some green stuff by then. You’d be fine. And I’d never get sick of spaghetti.”

  A new hand tagged Nathan’s floating baseball. Daniel tossed a small bag onto the pile. “Who are we trying to make grovel?”

  “Our eldest.” Nell knew when to add fuel to the fun in her life. “He thinks I’m old and decrepit and my baseball skills are in severe decline.”

  Nathan just snorted.

  Daniel raised an eyebrow. “And he still lives?”

  “Mmm.” Sometimes there was nothing in the world better than pure silliness. “I’m considering bread and water rations, though.”

  “That works.” Nathan had reclaimed his baseball. “Caro’s making a gazillion loaves today. I like the sourdough one with all the holes in it best.”

  “That’s for me.” Daniel returned his son’s pitch. “Inmates of the dungeon get the moldy crusts living under Aervyn’s bed.”

  Uh, oh. Nell winced. “Is he running science experiments again?”

  “Yup.” Daniel grinned and fielded the fastball from his eldest son. “He’s pretty sure the blue stuff is penicillin. Ginia’s quarantined the whole mess and they’re going to go visit Sophie after breakfast and meet us in Costa Rica later.”

  Sophie qualified as the witch most likely to be sympathetic to Aervyn’s mad-scientist tendencies. Even if skunky bread was involved.

  “You better check his luggage,” said Nathan darkly. “You never know what he might try to grow in the rainforest.”

  Good advice. And a little scary. “Whatever it is, we’ll feed it to the obnoxious teenagers in the dungeon.”

  “They’re long gone.” Nathan’s ball returns were almost as fierce as his father’s. “Some old, decrepit parent forgot to lock the door.”

  Nell whipped out an air-layering spell, snatched the ball out of Daniel’s fingertips, and blasted it to within a millimeter of her son’s nose. And then dusted her fingers on her shorts. “Watch who you’re calling old, punk boychild.”

  Her husband grinned at their son, who had only flinched a little. “She’d be the old, decrepit shortstop on my team.”

  Nell fired the baseball at Daniel’s nose, just for good measure.

  Game on.

  -o0o-

  Packing always had such loaded memories. Moira laid a light summer dress on her bed and looked at her ancient valise. Remembering.

  Once, a journey across the waters had seemed nigh impossible. Now she could lay a finger to her phone and be anywhere in the world. An old witch wondered if perhaps something got lost in the speed and beauty and ease of a teleporting app.

  Oh, she wouldn’t give it back for all the earth—her elder years were so deeply fertilized by all the hearts she got to be with far beyond the edges of Fisher’s Cove. But she knew what it was to journey long and hard. To have it be a full day’s walk merely to see the ocean or deliver a healing tea or borrow a book.

  Or to leave, and know you could never return.

  She shook her head ruefully and selected another dress. Traveling always brought out her cranky old curmudgeon. The young of this day would learn different lessons, perhaps—but they had not lost the capacity to learn. Eyes were as bright as they had ever been. And they did an old witch the honor of still coming to her doorstep for a lesson or two.

  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.”