A Modern Witch

Chapter 16

Nell stood outside Lauren’s bedroom Thursday morning bearing a pint of ice cream and three spoons. She hoped it was adequate price of entry to the conversation inside.
She knocked, and Nat answered the door.
“Nell’s here bearing gifts,” Nat said, stepping aside to let her in.
“Do moms believe in ice cream before lunch?” Lauren asked.
Nell handed out spoons. “I have three daughters—there’s no bad time for chocolate ice cream. There’s another pint in the freezer downstairs. It’s safe; I hid it under some peas.”
Lauren eyed her. “You must want something.”
More than one something. “I wanted to check up on you. How are you doing after the circle yesterday? It wasn’t exactly normal first-week witch training.”
Lauren contemplated her spoon for a long moment. “It’s still overwhelming. A couple of weeks ago, I was showing nice condos to newlyweds. Now, I’m flying around in the sky powered by a four-year-old on elemental power steroids.”
Nell nodded. “That was overwhelming for all of us.” She paused. “I didn’t expect you to be Aervyn’s channeler, but it looks like you may be. I’d like to tell you the ride will calm down some, but it probably won’t. Not if you’re that connected with him.”
Lauren frowned. “I thought Jennie said something about him working with other channelers, as well.”
“She did, and he will. It’s possible he’ll work as effectively with someone else, but honestly—after what happened yesterday—not all that likely. Most spellcasters prefer to work with one channeler.”
Lauren looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Nell debated whether to go on. The mother in her won. Newbie witch or not, if Lauren was going to be her son’s channeler, there were things she needed to know.
“Spellcasters rely on channelers to keep the power flow steady, and that’s no small responsibility. If you’d faltered yesterday, we might have fallen out of the sky, and Aervyn’s channels could have been seriously damaged, or worse.”
Lauren turned white, but that was nothing compared to Nat’s fury. “I thought it was a training circle. What the hell were you all doing?”
Nell had some mad of her own. “My baby was at risk. You think I would have done that on purpose? Ever agreed to that? We had no idea, Nat—none.” It had been a miraculous experience, but also one that would give her nightmares for weeks.
She took a deep breath and tried to explain. “Aervyn added power to the circle, which is supposed to be impossible. It meant the three of us —Jennie, Jamie, and I—weren’t really in control of how much power was flowing.”
She turned to Lauren. “The two of you were new to your roles, so you had no idea we were riding a dragon. Those of us who knew could only hold steady and go along for the ride. Interrupting the spell would have been riskier than letting it go on.”
And dammit, her boy had twisted that spell around his little finger and made it sing. Pride made her almost defiant. “Aervyn had it totally under control. Jamie and I have spellcast for hundreds of circles. We would have known if he was losing the spell.”
She ground to a halt. Where had the sob in her breath come from? “He never even came close. He’s my little guy, but what he did yesterday was the most impressive display of spellcasting I’ve ever seen.”
Nat sat beside Nell on the bed and hugged her shoulders. “You must be so proud of him.”
Nell leaned in for a hug. “And scared as hell.”
She looked at Lauren. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I thought you needed to know. If you are Aervyn’s channeling partner, it will come with immense responsibility for his safety, and that of others. You need to practice your craft and practice it well. There are many who will help you, but the commitment can only be yours.”
Lauren looked incredibly frustrated. “Nell, how can I do that? I live in Chicago. My life is in Chicago. I’ll come here for training when I can, but I’m barely getting my mind-witch powers under control. Who the hell would put a new witch in a position of that kind of responsibility?”
Nell debated and went with honesty. “It’s not the choice I would have made, but it wasn’t mine to make.”
Lauren had an impressive temper when she got rolling. “It sure wasn’t mine. I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know.” Nell took a deep breath. “I’m sorry; I didn’t come here to scratch at you. You did exactly right by Aervyn yesterday, and with no preparation.”
“You came to warn me.”
“I came because I thought you needed to know. Most channelers would find this a huge honor.”
“Nell, I’ve only known I can channel for a couple of days. And exactly one-half of my channeling experience involves cute Cat Woman illusions at the dinner table. I’m not ready for this.”
Nell handed Lauren the ice cream. “I’m not trying to panic you. I don’t mean you need to learn everything by next week. We know you have a life elsewhere, and we’ll respect that as well as we can. Come when you can, train when and how you can. Training takes time, and no one will ask you to do what you’re not ready to do.”
Lauren’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really?”
She had a point. “Well, not on purpose. One of the challenges of working with Aervyn is that he steps outside the limits of possible on a fairly regular basis.”
“And no one thinks that might happen again at full circle tomorrow night?”
Nell tried not to let her fear show. “It might.”
Lauren looked at her very seriously. “Then why are you—why is anyone—considering putting me in that circle tomorrow as channeler?”
Nell searched her heart. “Two reasons. One, the two of you made the best partnership I’ve ever seen, trained or not.” She paused. God, this was insanity to lay at the feet of a new witch.
Nat took her hand. “What’s the other reason, Nell? She needs to know.”
Nell gulped. “Because you love him. As his mama, I want Aervyn working with those who will give their utmost to keep him safe.” Please, God.
Lauren straightened up as if she’d heard Nell’s last thought. “The risk is biggest to him, isn’t it?”
“Yes. In history, a lot of our most talented witches led some of the shortest lives. If there’s anything I can do to prevent that, I’ll do it—even if it means scaring the shit out of a newbie witch.”
Lauren was silent for a moment. “I’ve been sitting here feeling sorry for myself. It’s good to remember I’m not the only one this hits pretty hard.” She took both of Nell’s hands. “I do love him. I’ll do the very best I can for him.”
It was so hard to share your children, but Aervyn had chosen well. Time to let Lauren out of the pressure cooker. “Thank you. For that, I’ll even share my other pint of ice cream.”
“I’ll get it.” Lauren stood up and grinned. “Don’t start the second portion of your program yet, though. I want to be here when you scare the shit out of Nat.”
Nat looked at Nell suspiciously. “What does she know that I don’t?”
Nell laughed. “Sucks not to be a mind reader sometimes, doesn’t it? How does it feel to have your best friend suddenly turning into a witch?”
“I’m guessing what you really want to know is how it feels to be falling in love with a witch.”
The girl has guts. “That serious?”
Nat nodded. “I think so. How do you feel about that?”
It was a day for hard truths. “I really like you, which is convenient. I really hate that you live in Chicago, since if I read Jamie’s precog correctly, he’ll eventually follow you there.”
Nat scraped the last of the ice cream from the first container. “We can’t be sure what will come to be.”
“But your yoga studio is there.”
“Yes, and that’s a big piece. Lauren’s there too.”
Nell watched Nat for a moment. She was no mind witch, but mama instincts were a pretty good substitute. It wasn’t Nat’s work that would keep her in Chicago. It was Lauren.
“She’s your family. I get that, and Jamie’s a big boy. Still, he’s my brother, and it’s hard to think of him far away.”
“You might appreciate it more than you think,” Lauren said from the doorway. She handed Nell a note.
Nice try, sister mine. And great ice cream—thanks!
Dammit, Nell thought. I was sure he hated peas.
…

Jennie pulled her car up in front of a squat concrete building with a beautiful mural painted on the side.
“This is your distraction?” Lauren asked.
“It is. With you leaving in a few days, we don’t have much time left for training. I thought this visit might do double duty—take your mind off tomorrow for a bit, and introduce you to another mind witch and the work she does.”
“Does it involve flying or any other high-risk activities I should know about?”
Jennie laughed. “I don’t think so. A friend of mine runs this center. She’s a skilled empath.”
Lauren studied the mural. It was fairly abstract, and full of color. “The mural—it gives me the feeling of a high swing on an early spring day. Did your friend paint it?”
“No, she didn’t, but she would absolutely love that description; it’s the artist’s depiction of hope. I have several of his paintings in my house. He has an amazing gift.”
“Is the artist an empath as well?”
“Yes,” Jennie said. “If you like, I can arrange to visit him too. I wanted you to see how other mind witches use their talents as part of their life and work. I know it troubles you, thinking about how all this will fit with who you are back in Chicago.”
Lauren shrugged. “It’s still all so new, and it seems like there aren’t any clear rules for when and how to use what I have. I’ve never been someone who wanted a complicated life.”
“It doesn’t need to be all that complicated, although it may take you a little while to find simple again. Come meet my friend Tabby, and see what her answers have been.”
“She works on Sundays?”
“Not usually, but some of her children need quiet, so she does special sessions with them outside of normal working hours.”
“What kind of center is this?”
“Tabby helps families—in particular, the families of children with special needs. When a child is born different, it can cause all kinds of cracks in how families love and communicate and function. She helps repair the cracks.”
“I guess witches would understand a little bit about being born different.”
Jennie hugged Lauren’s shoulders. “I guess we do.”
The door to the center opened, and a model-gorgeous woman came out. This must be Tabby. “Jennie, so good to see you! I felt you arrive.” She gave Jennie an enthusiastic hug and turned to clasp Lauren’s hands. “I’m Tabitha, and I’m so delighted to meet you. Please, come in. I’ve been guarding some chocolate donuts for us.”
They followed her into the center. They entered a large room, but instead of feeling like a warehouse, it more resembled a honeycomb. Furniture, plants, low walls, and shelves all combined to create a comforting warren of small spaces and child-sized play areas, feeding into a larger central space. A little boy spun happily in the center of the room.
“That’s Jacob,” Tabitha said. “Spinning is one of his favorite things.”
“Why?” Lauren asked.
Tabitha gestured toward some low pillows. “Why don’t you look and see?”
“Look in his head? Is that okay?”
“Yes. The parents and families we work with know we use unorthodox means to understand their children. In particular, they know I have some empathic skills. Children with special needs are often very difficult for their families to understand. If we can discover a little about what their child wants and needs and feels, it helps to build stronger connections.”
That made sense. Lauren looked over at the spinning boy and his parents sitting nearby. She dropped into her mind center and carefully reached out a light connection toward the boy.
She could feel his frenetic joy as he spun. The air on his fingers, the heaviness of his head, the blur of colors. When he stumbled and fell, his entire being soaked in the pleasure of firm attachment to the ground. As that sensation faded, he bounded up to spin again.
“It anchors him to the earth, the spinning,” she said.
Tabitha looked surprised. “Tell me more about that.”
“Well, when he spins, he likes the sensations it gives him—the wind and colors, the way the spinning pulls on his body.”
Tabitha nodded. “That matches what I pick up from him.”
“Then when he falls, he has this moment where he feels the ground under him really strongly. That’s his happiest moment. When that sensation of being anchored down starts to fade, he spins again.”
Tabitha looked surprised. “You’re a sensory telepath as well as empath?”
Jennie smiled. “She is, and very sensitive on both.”
“Well, she’s figured out something I couldn’t.” Tabitha turned to Lauren. “My mind talents are primarily empathy, so I can catch his feelings. I don’t have telepathic gifts, so I can’t see the images or words or sensations that go along with the feelings.”
Lauren tried to imagine what she’d get from the little boy’s mind if she could only read his feelings. “So you have to try to piece together the ‘why’ behind the feelings you pick up.”
Tabitha looked pleased. “Exactly. In this case, I can sense his pleasure peaking right after he falls, but I thought it was from the falling, and that’s why he gets up to spin again.”
“It could be.” Lauren shook her head slowly. “But I don’t think so. There’s this really clear moment, right after he falls, when he senses the ground under him. He gets up again when it fades—I think that’s why he spins. Does he spin a lot?”
“Almost the entire time he’s awake,” Tabitha said.
It was dizzying to even think about. Lauren looked at Jacob again. Suddenly what had seemed like fairly normal amusement for a small child took on new meaning.
As he tumbled over into his mother’s lap, and then evaded her hug to bounce up and spin again, Tabitha’s earlier words came back to Lauren. Special needs could wreak havoc on families. How could you talk to a child who spun all day, or feed or cuddle him?
Lauren slid one more time into Jacob’s mind and watched as he spun, fell, and got up again. This time she was even more sure.
“He spins to attach himself to the ground. Almost as if he feels too light to stick otherwise.”
Tabitha’s face lit up. “Too light. Bingo. Wait here.”
She jumped up and disappeared into a door Lauren hadn’t noticed before. In seconds, she was back, bearing what appeared to be a life jacket.
Since floating seemed like the opposite of what the boy needed, Lauren was puzzled. “Any idea what that is?” she asked Jennie.
“Not a one, but Tabby is a genius at this. You gave her an important clue, and I think she has an idea now about how to help Jacob.”
They both watched as Tabitha said a few words to Jacob’s parents. Then she knelt down and hugged the boy into her lap, sliding the jacket onto his shoulders and fastening the Velcro straps.
Fascinated, Lauren dropped into connection with Jacob again. He was agitated—he didn’t like being held still. She was just about to call out when Tabitha finished attaching the vest and released Jacob. He bounced up and began to spin.
Then Jacob stopped dead. Lauren felt his mind flood with wonder. He was attached. He was stuck to the ground. Slowly, he took small steps to see if the miracle would continue. It did. The joy in his mind was sunshine bright.
Tabitha gently took his hand and guided him to his mother. His mama gathered him up and hugged him again, and this time, Jacob stayed. She rocked slowly and sang, tears streaming down her face.
Jacob felt the motions, and the murmured words, and the tears dripping on his head. Soft warm arms held him, and a quiet sound beat steadily under his ear.
When Tabitha walked back over to the pillows where Lauren and Jennie sat, she too had eyes full of tears.
She reached a hand out to Lauren. “Thank you.”
Lauren wiped her cheeks. “What is the vest you put on him? It worked like magic.”
Tabitha laughed and sniffled. “No magic involved. It’s called a weighted vest. It adds about ten pounds to his body weight. When you said he felt too light, I thought it would work. Some children with sensory issues seem to need the extra weight to feel gravity the way you and I do. It isn’t something we had thought to try with him because we focused on the spinning, not the falling down.”
“That is so cool. He’s feeling so content right now.”
Tabitha reached in her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose. “Girl, you have no idea. Are you just monitoring him right now?” At Lauren’s nod, she continued. “Can you split your scan and look into his mother’s mind as well?”
Lauren hadn’t tried exactly that before, but she could visualize how to do it. Dropping into mind center again, she branched a channel off her connection with the boy and reached out to his mom.
Oh. Jacob’s sun-bright joy was anemic shadow next to his mama’s. She had not held her little boy like this since he had learned to walk, and then to spin. Years and years of the pain of loving a child you could not hold, a child you couldn’t really reach. Time could freeze now, in this moment.
When Lauren gently pulled back from the minds of Jacob and his mom, her cheeks were wet again. Tabitha handed over a box of tissues. “She’s never been able to hold him?”
“It’s not that unusual. Jacob is autistic, and some children on the autism spectrum have great difficulty with physical affection. Many don’t and are full of cuddles and hugs, but not all. We’ve been trying to meet Jacob’s sensory needs in other ways so he could stop spinning and have a better chance to interact with his family, but progress has been quite slow.”
Tabitha blew her nose again. “I’ve been working with them for over a year. You’ve seen a small miracle today, Lauren. You helped create it. Jacob is well loved, but today he knows it.”
Lauren shook her head. “I did so little. Will the vest keep helping him?”
“Oh, yes. And we have weighted blankets for when he sleeps, and lap pillows that may work instead of the vest. There are also some therapies we can do that may decrease his need for the extra weighting.”
Lauren looked over toward Jacob and his mother. He had gotten up now, but not to spin. He was walking slowly around the room, touching toys and furniture as he walked.
“He’s exploring,” Tabitha said. “When he isn’t overwhelmed by the need to try to ground himself, he has the capacity to do other things, to learn and grow. The challenge with autistic children is that we have too many choices, too many possible therapies. Trial and error can take a long time. You’ve opened a big doorway for him.”
Jennie blew her nose too. “Well, that wasn’t the job-shadowing experience I had in mind, but I think it will do. Lauren, it’s a beautiful thing you’ve done for that boy and his family. Look at him now.”
Jacob and his father were sitting with a bin of blocks beside them. His father stacked three blocks, and then held one out to his son. Jacob watched, but didn’t move. His father added that block to the stack, and then held out another one. This time Jacob took the block, and added it to the top.
Tabitha made a quiet sound of pleasure. “Jacob’s father is a builder. He made a set of blocks when his wife was pregnant. He has been waiting for this moment since the day his son was born.”
She turned to Lauren. “It’s the everyday interactions that connect families. It’s not the blocks that matter; it’s the chance for a father to guide his son, to play with him and help him learn.”
By now Lauren was an old hand at feeling completely overwhelmed. “It sounds like you do wonderful work here and really make a difference. I’m glad I could help a little.”
Tabitha shook her head and laughed. “I’ve completely overdone it, haven’t I? I really apologize. I didn’t expect so much to come of you diving into Jacob’s head, or I would have eased you in a little more slowly.”
Jennie laughed. “You’ll note she would have done it anyway.”
Tabitha grinned. “You know me well. I bug you all the time to come in so you can help read my kids, and clearly Lauren here is a lot stronger telepath than you are.”
Jennie leaned over and spoke in a stage whisper. “Shh—she’s not supposed to figure that out for a while yet.”
The two of them were a really unlikely pair. Jennie looked like anyone’s grandma, and Tabitha was young and the kind of beautiful that made grown men stutter. Appearances were obviously deceiving, in both cases.
They were terrifying standards to live up to.