A Hidden Witch

Chapter 22

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.
~ ~ ~

Sean looked around the beach. “We gotta find the prisoner, matey. No one is allowed to escape the great pirate Darth Vader and live to tell about it.”
Kevin waved his new light saber in the air. “We’ll find her, Captain. And we’ll make her walk the plank when we do. Right after the great swordfight of doom. She doesn’t stand a chance.”
Sean cast out with mind power, trying to find their prisoner. His brother elbowed him in the ribs. “That’s cheating, Sean—no mindseeking.”
“We’re pirates. We’re supposed to cheat. Besides, Lizzie’s using magic, or we’d be able to find her.” The girl could make herself invisible anywhere near water, which is probably why she’d insisted they play on the beach. She might be small and kind of annoying sometimes, but she wasn’t dumb.
“We could use stealth, Captain.”
Sean sighed. Stealth wasn’t nearly as much fun as swordfights, but when you were playing with a girl, you couldn’t fight all the time or they complained it was boring. “What your plan, matey?” He growled for good measure. If he had to be a boring pirate, at least he could sound good.
Kevin grinned. “Mom sent chocolate cake for snack.”
That would totally work. Lizzie was a sucker for cake. “Fetch the supplies, and let’s have ourselves a pirate lunch.”
“What about the prisoner?” Kevin spoke in a normal voice, but mindbroadcast just enough that Lizzie would hear.
“Har,” roared Sean and waved his light saber. “No chocolate cake for the prisoners. Let them eat sand.” He thought that was a pretty inventive line for a pirate.
Lizzie’s head popped up from behind some driftwood. “I’m not eating sand. You hafta share; it’s a rule.”
Sadly, she was right, but Mom had probably sent enough cake for three. She was pretty smart that way. He waved his light saber at Lizzie. No point letting her off easy.
She just rolled her eyes at him. “Pirates don’t use light sabers, silly.”
“They do so. We’re modern pirates.”
Kevin held up two pieces of cake. “Eat. Fight later.”
Lizzie reached for her cake, then sat down, clutching her head. “Ow. My head hurts.”
Sean could feel her pain beating against his own mind. She wasn’t kidding—it felt like someone had poked her with a light saber. A real one. He looked at Kevin. “Go get Elorie, quick!”
~ ~ ~

The sudden pain in her head had Moira stumbling off the path and into one of her flower beds. She lowered to the ground as quickly as she could, heedless for once of the plants she crushed.
Fear. Rolling waves of it mixing with the pain. This was very bad.
She reached for power and struggled to drop into healing trance. It hurt. Oh, her head hurt. Fighting through the pain, she tried to scan her own head. Feeble old witch. All she could see was the roiling red of pain. She tried to move her scan in closer and got washed away like a pebble hit by a rogue wave.
Her brain was fighting. And it was dying.
You can’t fix this, old woman.
She could feel her hold on consciousness slipping. The pain slipped away as well, replaced by a numbness that was far from comforting. Time seemed to slow and she could hear the gentle breezes, feel the flower petals under her fingers.
The flowers. Her flowers. She’d spent a lifetime filling her garden with the magics of healing. With the very last of her power, Moira reached out.
Plants of life, plants of giving,
Hold me here, amongst the living.
What I’ve shared, give back to me.
As I will, so mote it be.
Gentle healing seeped in from the flowers under her fingertips. The frightening numbness eased, replaced by waves of pain that told her she was still alive. She lay very still, nestled in her flowers, and waited, and fought.
She wasn’t ready to die yet. She had grandbabies to rock; Lauren had seen it in Great Gran’s crystal ball. Please, let it be so.
~ ~ ~

Elorie didn’t fly down to the beach quite as quickly as Kevin. The two little beans in her belly required more care, and the rocks down to the beach could be tricky to navigate. Kevin was clearly frightened, but she could see Lizzie sitting up and talking to Sean.
Sometimes the distinction between urgent and emergency wasn’t terribly clear to a ten-year-old. She made a mental note—they probably needed to build that distinction into WitchNet as well.
She kept an eye on Lizzie as she hurried down the beach. No blood, but she was holding her head, and her slice of chocolate cake looked untouched. That qualified as serious.
Then Sean looked up, and Elorie’s stomach knotted. He looked worried. Sean never looked worried.
She ran the last few steps and crouched down beside Lizzie. “What’s the matter, sweetling?”
Lizzie cuddled into her lap. “My head hurts, and my eyes can’t see very well. It’s all fuzzy.”
That sounded almost like a migraine. Those weren’t infrequent in witchlings with a new power emerging. Elorie let out a deep breath. Migraines they could deal with—they just needed to take Lizzie to Gran. “Is it getting any worse, sweetheart?”
Lizzie shook her head. “No. But it’s getting cold. I don’t like the cold—it wants to take me away.”
Elorie sucked a breath back in. That didn’t sound at all like an emergence migraine.
Lizzie shrank into her lap. “Don’t let it get me, Elorie!”
Was something external affecting her? Elorie looked at Kevin. Sean was the stronger mind witch, but Kevin had better control. “Can you barrier her? Make it so her mind is shielded?”
Kevin nodded and took Lizzie’s hand. As soon as he did, Lizzie lifted her head and beamed. “You made it stop!”
Elorie let out her breath a second time. Okay, immediate crisis averted. Now they needed expert advice. She took Lizzie’s hand. “Let’s go find Gran. Maybe she knows a story about that nasty cold you were feeling.”
Sean danced up the path ahead of them, waving his light saber and fighting off the great cold menace. Elorie wished it were that easy. Some of the symptoms of emerging power were terribly frightening for witchlings. Some were terrifying for the adults as well.
It didn’t sound like fire magic, and that was a good thing. But the cold worried her. If memory served, that was one of the possible signs of astral travel. She held Lizzie’s hand more tightly.
Suddenly, up ahead, Sean’s light saber went crashing to the rocks. He turned around, ghost white. “It’s Gran, Elorie. She’s in awful pain.”
For one terrible moment, no one moved. Then the earth tilted, and Elorie took off after Sean at a dead run. As she rounded the corner to Gran’s garden, she saw Uncle Marcus flying out the door of the inn, face constricted in terror.
Then they heard Sean’s scream.
Gran. Oh, God. Gran.