A Reckless Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 3) Read online

  Damn. Was Lauren actually blushing?

  Moira’s eyes sparkled. “You’d make beautiful babies together.”

  Lauren’s laughter bounced off the walls of Realm. “I think there are enough babies in the works at the moment, don’t you?”

  Something odd tripped in Nell, just for a moment. Whatever it was got interrupted by Ginia’s call. “Mama, I think Auntie Nat’s baby is playing with fire again—can you come check?”

  That was interesting—the baby had been very quiet lately, and her daughter didn’t have fire talent. “How can you tell?”

  Ginia shook her head. “I don’t know, exactly. It just feels like something is shifting, kind of.”

  That got everyone’s attention. Sophie moved over to sit beside Nat as well, laying her hands gently beside Ginia’s. A moment later, she looked up, frowning. “I can feel it too, but I don’t know what it is.” She looked at their apprentice healer with respect. “It’s really subtle—I’m impressed your scan is picking that up.”

  Nell and Moira both moved in. Nat looked up at Lauren and grinned. “You might as well come too. My belly has plenty of real estate these days.” It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to position five set of hands on one baby, but they managed.

  Nell shook her head first. “I don’t feel anything.” She laughed as the belly under her hands rippled. “Well, besides the kicks. Whatever it is, she’s not playing with elemental magics.”

  Moira tilted her head. “I don’t feel it either, but my healing scans aren’t nearly as strong as Sophie’s.” She patted Ginia’s hand. “Or yours either, apparently. You do me very proud, sweet girl.”

  The glow on her daughter’s face made Nell’s heart tilt a little.

  Lauren’s breath of awe shifted all their attention. “She’s mindreading. I can hear your feelings echoed in her mind.” She frowned. “I’ve never noticed that before. And her head hurts, a lot.”

  “Emergence headache.” Sophie leaned forward again, eyes intent. “That’s what you were feeling, Ginia. Help me clear her channels.”

  Nell took her hands off Nat’s belly. Time to let the trained healers fix things. She spoke very quietly to Lauren. “The baby’s got mind powers?” Even Aervyn hadn’t come into mind magics that young.

  “I think so.” Lauren nodded slowly. “And she’s picking up a lot. Too much, I think—my head would hurt if I was taking in so many other thoughts and feelings. Nat’s mind is most prominent, and that’s really soothing for her, but…”

  Moira nodded. “You’ll need to teach her to barrier, then.”

  Lauren frowned. “Nat?”

  “No, sweetheart. Our newest little mind witch.”

  “I’m supposed to give magic lessons to an unborn baby?”

  Nell tried to stifle her giggles—Lauren looked totally gobsmacked. “Ask Jamie for ideas. He worked with Aervyn on some basic control over his elemental powers before he was born.” Not that it had worked all that well…

  “We should have her channels cleared now.” Sophie looked up at Nat. “Ginia will be able to take care of that for you moving forward, and Jamie could probably do it in an emergency. It would be good to do at least once a day, at least until she’s born.” She grinned. “Or until Lauren teaches her how to barrier.”

  Nat laughed and looked at her best friend. “I guess you’re starting your aunt duties early.”

  Lauren still looked dazed. Nell snickered and leaned over toward Moira. “I guess that means we know at least one member of the birthing circle, then.”

  Moira nodded sagely. “It’s a wise choice.” She patted Lauren’s hand. “You’ll do very well, my dear.”

  Now Lauren looked utterly panicked. “Me? That’s insane. I’ve never had a baby. I’ve never even seen a baby born.”

  Nat took her hand, highly amused. “Breathe deeply. I hear it’s supposed to help.”

  ~ ~ ~

  It was always the same dream. Sierra yanked on power lines, fought the thick-as-water air that slowed her down. Faster. Her heart slammed in terror and the exertion of trying to move faster than the wind.

  Fear. Awful, tearing fear. She wouldn’t get there in time. Hurtling over the ocean, skimming the swells, every cell in her body straining to reach the small rock in the middle of the water.

  The tiny magical rock island where her mother stood, arms in the air, reveling in the storm building over her head. Playing with the lines of water and air, dancing in the heart of power unleashed.

  And blind to the killing wave barreling in behind her.

  Sierra raced the wave. She pleaded and begged and offered the wave her life in trade.

  And she lost. She always lost.

  Oh, Momma. I’m so sorry.

  Chapter 5

  Sierra stared out the window, exhausted and numb, as the train chugged through the outlying areas of San Francisco. It had been a really long day of traveling after a short and crappy night’s sleep. She’d woken up hiding under the bed again, and like always, she couldn’t remember why—just a dragging tiredness, and the sense she’d been crying.

  She hated waking up under the bed. And she’d learned to do it quietly, so her creep of a younger foster brother didn’t tease her for being a weenie crybaby who missed her momma.

  Then she’d had to say good-bye to her foster parents and pretend it mattered. Saying good-bye to her favorite librarian had been harder. Her placement family had been decent, but they’d been taking in kids for long enough to avoid getting too attached. Not that she’d been looking for attachments. It had been a place to sleep and almost enough to eat.

  Her caseworker had driven her to the bus station, proud of her graduate. In the files, Sierra knew she was a success story. Finished high school, stayed out of trouble, rode off to a rosy future employed and not yet pregnant.

  The bar for success was set pretty low.

  She’d waited for this day for six years. It didn’t feel like she’d always thought it would. She’d imagined it would be like riding a funnel—full of joy and speed and freedom. Instead, she was tired, cranky, and missing Momma.

  Missing her beach a little, too. She wouldn’t miss much from Oregon—but the beach had kept her sane.

  Maybe it was the train ride. She and Momma had ridden a lot of trains together, always looking out the window in excitement as they arrived at a new place, a new adventure.

  Sierra looked out the window and tried to get a sense of her new home. Lots of fog—it reminded her of Momma’s ghost stories of Londinium and the friendly beings who lived in the fog and helped you find your way. These days, when Sierra wandered on a foggy beach, she hoped Momma was there, reaching out to touch her face or tickle her toes. Or maybe one of the ghosts of Londinium, traveled across the sea to the wilds of the New World. There had been lots of stories of the New World on the trains as well.

  In another time, Momma would have been one of those storytellers that sat by the fire at night, telling long tales of lifetimes past. Or maybe a bard—she’d been a pretty good singer, too.

  And then the next morning, she would have strapped on her sword and rucksack and gone off on another big adventure. Momma could never sit still for very long.

  Sierra remembered a set of shiny silver swords she’d gotten for her eighth birthday. She and Momma had strapped them on and danced around on a castle drawbridge in Ireland, laughing as all the tourists took their pictures.

  She’d give anything to have a couple of those pictures now.

  The fog was clearing a bit as they came into the downtown train station. People started shuffling around, getting their belongings together. A small boy dashed down the aisle, clearly ready to be off the train. He tripped over the corner of someone’s bag, and Sierra caught him just before his nose crashed into the arm of her seat.

  “Thanks!” he said. “My name’s Joey, and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but if you catched me, maybe you’re not a stranger.”

  Sierra had always thought that was
a really dumb rule. How boring would life be if you never talked to anyone new? She remembered many happy train rides talking to her fellow passengers. “Have you ever been to San Francisco before?”

  Joey shook his head, eyes gleaming. “Nope. Mommy says we’re gonna go see a big bridge and ride a streetcar and everything!”

  She grinned. Riding the streetcar had always been one of her favorites too. “If you stick your head out just a little bit, you’ll be able to feel the wind fairies playing in your hair.”

  His eyes were huge. “There’s fairies in the wind?”

  “Of course. Who else do you think does all that blowing?” She pulled just the lightest touch of air magic and tickled his curls.

  Joey giggled and ran back down the aisle. “Mommy! We hafta go play with the wind fairies!”

  Sierra danced the tiny wind through her own hair. The fairies and ghosts would be there to keep her company, just like always. Time for a new adventure.

  ~ ~ ~

  Nell drove up to the house, trying to page her youngest. Or her brother. Or any mind witch in the vicinity. She had an exhausted and shell-shocked passenger—not what they’d been expecting—and she wanted the party waiting inside to calm to a dull roar.

  You called? Lauren’s mental voice landed in her head.

  Yeah. Nell cast a worried glance at Sierra. I have a girl here who looks ready for food and bed, not a welcoming celebration. I thought having her ride the train down here would give her some time to transition, but maybe I should’ve just had Aervyn port her. See if you can simmer things down in there a bit?

  Oh, sure. Give me the easy jobs. Now Lauren sounded a tad worried too. I’ll see what I can do.

  Nell felt Sierra’s muddled surprise as they parked in front of the house and wondered what the girl found strange. Judging from the racket she could hear out the car window, a warning was in order. “There are a lot of people inside waiting to meet you. If it’s too much, just let me know, okay? The party can always wait until tomorrow.”

  The effect of the word “party” was astonishing. Sierra’s eyes sparkled, and she jumped out of the car with the eagerness of a small child. She beat Nell to the front door, nearly colliding with the herd of children who rushed out.

  Lauren followed close behind, apology on her face. Sorry—I don’t have your noise-management skills.

  Nell looked at Sierra and shrugged. She seems to be rolling with it.

  Lauren frowned. She’s got images of castles and people in evening gowns in her head. What gives?

  No idea. By now, the under-ten crowd had shepherded their new arrival into the house, and Nell followed at the back of the parade. In under two minutes, they had Sierra sitting in the middle of the couch, pink and glittery crown on her head, brownie in her hand, and one of Aunt Jennie’s purple-haired grandsons on her lap. Welcome to Witch Central, girl.

  Jamie slid up beside Nell, bearing extra brownies. “She doing okay?”

  She shrugged. “Seems to be now. She was running on fumes when I picked her up, but…” They both looked over at the mob of kids.

  Someone had started a game of Hot Potato with a brownie. Probably Leo of the purple hair—he finally had enough control over his earth magic to play, and it was his current favorite game. The kids were slowly backing up into a large circle. The adults were more quickly backing up out of the line of fire.

  Jamie laughed. “Wimps. I remember way messier choices for the hot potato than a brownie.”

  “You aren’t the one that usually got hit with them.” Nell was pretty convinced her spellcasting abilities had evolved as a consequence of losing one too many hot-potato matches with her brothers.

  He shrugged. “We had to do something with all that green slime Devin kept making.”

  “Just you wait. If there’s any karma in the world, your daughter’s going to be a supremely good mess-maker.”

  Jamie tried to look innocent and failed hopelessly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He turned back to the game. “Sierra’s holding her own.”

  Nell watched more carefully. He was right. Leo wasn’t much competition, but Aervyn was. And Ginia… “Holy crap. When did Ginia figure out how to arm her sisters?” Splitting power streams was complicated. Giving control over a power stream to a non-witch was even trickier. That Ginia could do both and still dodge the flying brownie was very impressive.

  “She’s not the only one.” Jamie spoke quietly, but he was intently focused on the game now. “Sierra’s splitting streams, too—she’s helping Leo out.”

  He was right. She was using primarily air power to push the brownie around herself, but she was feeding small amounts of fire magic to Leo to speed up his earth power flows. Which was probably good, because slow magics didn’t survive at Hot Potato for long.

  Sierra sent the brownie on a swift rolling loop, and then laughed and assisted as Leo tried to copy it. Nell snorted. “Who baked the brownies?”

  Jamie grinned. “Aunt Jennie. It’ll survive a while longer.”

  Yup. Aunt Jennie was a sweetheart, but her brownies were on the dense side. Nell kept watching, fascinated. It was one of the most complex games of Hot Potato she’d seen in a long time. Ginia feeding power to her sisters, Sierra helping Leo, and Aervyn doing… “What’s my punk witchling up to?”

  Jamie shook his head. “Not sure. Some kind of dividing spell.”

  Nell watched, mystified, and then grinned in pride as the brownie broke into four pieces. Not a big magic trick for her son, but good witchcraft was as much about brains as talent. Training a four-year-old with fairly unlimited power to use both wasn’t always easy.

  The game had shifted sharply now. Four flying objects were three too many for most of the players, and they sat down, laughing. Ginia lasted a few seconds longer and then giggled and dove for the floor as brownie chunks dive-bombed each of her ears.

  Jamie leaned in as Sierra and Aervyn faced off, the only two left standing. “Now we’ll really see what she can do.”

  They weren’t the only ones paying attention, either. Govin watched intently from across the circle, his eyes entirely on Sierra.

  And no wonder. Aervyn had four separate energy streams directing four brownies. He jumped from one to the next, redirecting one chunk at a time. Sierra had a dancing whirlwind of air that was juggling all four chunks at once. Every time Aervyn pushed on one brownie piece, she tossed all three others at him.

  Her son was fast, precise, and strong. And he was barely holding on.

  Then Aervyn switched tactics, and Jamie grinned. “He’s learning. He’s trying to do what she’s doing.”

  With your average four-year-old, learning was a bit of a process. With her son, a couple of wobbly pushes and he was air-juggling brownies almost as well as Sierra. Nell saw their new arrival’s eyebrows wing up. “She’s just figured that out.”

  “Does she know she’s facing the baddest witchling in the west?”

  Nell snickered as two brownies collided in mid-air and crumbled. “She will now.” With only two chunks left in play, Aervyn’s four-year-old-boy disadvantages were going to evaporate.

  In a bet, she would have given Sierra thirty seconds, max. And been very impressed if the girl lasted that long.

  Two minutes later, Sierra was still standing and had earned the serious respect of everyone watching. He’s stronger, but not by much. And she’s got better control. Jamie was probably the most impressed witch in the room—he’d faced off with Aervyn in training more than everyone else combined.

  Nell watched as Sierra tugged and shaped power lines on the fly. Lots of witches could toss power around. To do it with that kind of precision took countless hours of practice. Maybe Amelia had trained her daughter more responsibly than they’d all assumed.

  In a lightning-quick move, Sierra grabbed a trickle of firepower and superheated her air currents, spinning them into a funnel. Nell winced—even Aunt Jennie’s brownies weren’t going to make it through a mini tornado. Aervyn a
nd Sierra busted up laughing as brownie crumbs flew everywhere.

  Most of the adults joined the mirth, well used to the messes that were the usual price to pay for witchling antics.

  Except for one. Govin’s face was awash with concern. And he’d lived through plenty of hot-potato messes—something else was up.

  ~ ~ ~

  Govin thunked into the Realm meeting room, grateful he landed on a couch. Even being a gamer for as long as he could remember, it was still a very odd sensation to actually land in-game.

  He laughed at the balloon-festooned sign hanging over his head. “What’s up with the new name?”

  Jamie grinned. “Our child-labor force has decided that ‘Realm meeting room’ isn’t a cool enough name for our hangout here. I vetoed several choices. Apparently this one is boring, but acceptable.”

  Govin wasn’t sure how “Witches’ Lounge” in gold-glittered letters qualified as boring, but he was definitely not the expert on nine-year-old girls. “Nell said to come at three o’clock—am I early?”

  “Not at all, dear boy,” said Moira, freshly landed on the couch beside him, cup of tea in her hand. Govin was impressed—no way was he comfortable transporting while holding hot liquids. He kissed her cheek and settled in, figuring Nell and Sophie weren’t far behind.

  They were three of his favorite women. And he was only beginning to understand the depths of the mess they’d thrown him in.

  Nell beamed in, a big plate in her hands. “Quesadillas—I know it’s dinner time for some of you.”

  “Seedling thanks you.” Sophie laughed, rubbing her belly.

  Jamie reached for the plate. “It’s never too early for dinner. Hang on, and I’ll ping Ginia to send us some drinks.”

  A tray materialized on the coffee table in front of him. Drinks, apples, and napkins. Nell grinned. “Do you really think I’d miss a detail like that?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “No cookies?”

  “Time-delayed transport.” Nell rolled her eyes. “Ginia’s brainstorm. She has this weird idea we should eat our veggies first.”