A Modern Witch

Chapter 2

“Mama, Aervyn ported me again. Make him stop!”
“Tell him to put you back.”
“But Mama!” It wasn’t normal for Ginia to sound that mad at her little brother, even when he decided to use her for teleporting practice. Nell backed out of the fridge and took a look at her middle triplet. Then she promptly stuck her head back in the fridge, trying very hard, and not very successfully, to muffle her laughter.
“Mama. It’s not funny!”
“I’m sorry, honey.” Nell tried to look appropriately sympathetic. Her normally mellow daughter was not only steaming mad, she was soaking wet and naked, unless you counted all the soapy bubbles. “Let me guess. You were having a shower?”
“Yes! Aervyn ported me to the back yard. Without any clothes on, and Nathan and Jake were there. Mama, boys saw me naked. You have to make him stop.”
Nell sighed. How did they change so fast? Last summer, Ginia had happily run naked through the backyard sprinkler. “He’s getting better, Ginia. At least now he usually puts people back where he got them from. Go jump in the shower again and rinse off. I’ll talk to Aervyn.”
“You can’t; he ported himself to Uncle Jamie’s.” Ginia flounced off, as only a mad eight-year-old can. She shot a look back over her shoulder. “He stuck out his tongue at me, too.”
Nell wondered what you could get for a four-year-old witchling if you sold him on eBay. Cute curls, adorable green eyes, and occasionally misbehaved magical talents—for sale cheap.
A child with power was nothing new in Nell’s family. Witch blood ran deep and strong down both sides of her family tree. Nathan, her oldest, was already a skilled and powerful witch at thirteen. He’d embraced his talents, well mentored by a bevy of proud aunts, uncles, and grandparents.
Her middle three, her astonishing triplets, hadn’t shown any signs of magic. It was early yet; plenty of witches didn’t find their power until the turbulent teenage years, even in a family well familiar with the signs of emerging witchhood.
With Aervyn, however, there was no question he would be a witch of immense power, the strongest seen in her family for several generations. She’d known it when he still swam inside her belly, his playful tugs on currents of power coming long before she’d felt his first kicks.
You’d think that after triplets, giving birth to one child would have been a piece of cake, but Aervyn had arrived like a tornado. It had taken every witch in her family to hold the birthing circle whole and welcome him safely into the world. The awe in the room had been palpable.
Nell had worked very hard since then to keep Aervyn’s life as normal as possible. Powerful witchling or not, he was a small boy, and he had every right to be a small boy before he shouldered the responsibilities that would come with his gifts.
This month, that had meant calling in Uncle Jamie, the only other person in the family with teleportation skills, to quietly return stray puppies, kids, and Mercedes to their rightful owners. She had plenty of reason to be grateful they lived in Berkeley, where nothing weird attracted attention for long.
Nell heard Ginia singing in the shower. Current crisis over. She juggled a glass of root beer and a bagel with peanut butter, weaving her way over to what the family called Nell Central.
Two monitors dominated the desk, one with gaming code and one with her online grocery order half done. She fixed a typo in a line of code, picked two kinds of shredded cheese, and sent Jamie an instant message to keep Aervyn for a while.
Then she toggled over to A Modern Witch to see if Sophie had managed to get Moira into the chat room yet. A glance at the blank screen told her that was still a work in progress. Nothing sadder than sitting in a chat room by yourself, she thought, taking a bite of bagel as she toggled back to finish her grocery order.
…

Heat blasted Lauren as she opened the door to Spirit Yoga’s class space. The hundred-degree temperatures of a hot yoga class were always a shock. Nat offered more hot yoga classes in the long, dark months of midwinter—something to do with ridding the body of old and toxic energies before the renewal of spring. Which was a fancy way of saying, time to sweat your butt off.
Lauren unrolled her mat at the back of the room and laid out the rest of her paraphernalia. Taking a deep breath, she settled quietly onto her mat and felt the calm begin to seep in.
Nat had gone for a tropical feel in class today, with light scents of vanilla and mango, flickering candles, and streaming music that had a vaguely Caribbean feel. It wasn’t a beach in Jamaica, but it was nice. Lauren took a slow, deep breath, feeling the small muscles in her ribcage expand. Hold for a minute, let the breath go. Eyes drift closed. Another breath. Settling in to her rhythm, Lauren felt Nat’s centered presence enter the room, the light touch of welcome on her shoulder.
As Nat walked to the front of the room, Lauren let contentment slide over her. It was hard to feel anything else in Nat’s presence. She radiated a sense of rightness that had been irresistible to Lauren from the minute she’d walked into her college dorm room ten years ago and found Nat in a headstand on the narrow strip of carpet between the two beds.
If it hadn’t been for that initial upside-down introduction, Lauren might have joined the masses who totally blew their first impression of Nat. Natalia Elizabeth Eggerton Smythe came from wealth, class, and impeccable breeding. It took longer to see beyond to her artist’s soul, dancer’s need to move, and deep well of generosity.
Lauren had known by the end of the first week of college that her world would always be better with Nat in it. Life as a high-powered realtor could get fairly insane, but she’d always found time for Nat. Even if that meant sweating her butt off.
Lauren let the opening mantra wash over her and soaked in the last few moments of rest before Nat went after all those toxic energies with a vengeance.
…

Nell added four dozen eggs, a gallon of chocolate-swirl ice cream, and a case of granola bars to her online grocery cart and hit submit. $343.82. Yikes, and that would only hold her brood for a week or so. All kids ate like famine was imminent, but little witchlings were food vacuums. Aervyn had eaten six scrambled eggs after his last training session with Jamie, and then had dinner two hours later.
Taking the last bite of her bagel, Nell heard the ping she’d been waiting for and turned to the monitor behind her. Well, hallelujah—Sophie and Moira had finally made it into chat.
Sophie: Nell, are you there?
Nell: I’ve been here for days, girl.
Sophie: Sorry—it took a bit to show Aunt Moira how to work the login spell.
Moira: Haven’t I been working spells longer than you’ve been alive, Sophie? It’s not the spell that was the problem, it’s all this technology. Nell, this is an odd way to be having a conversation, but I’m so very delighted to have a chance to chat with you.
Nell: It’s been too long, Moira. One summer soon, I’ll bring my brood to visit you. Maybe you can convince Aervyn that not everyone wants to be teleported.
Moira: Oh my, he’s moving people around now, is he?
Nell: He is. And speaking of spells to move people around—Sophie, are you ready for me to turn on the fetching spell?
Sophie: Is it behaving now?
Nell: It is. Jamie and I finished debugging it earlier today. I tweaked it to pull in only one person at a time for a while. Thinking about Aervyn’s teleporting escapades, I realized how crazy it might get if we fetched a horde of witches all at once.
Sophie: Trust a mom to think of details like that. Sounds good, and thank you for all the work you’ve put in. Go ahead and turn it on.
Moira: While we wait, Nell, tell us about the rest of your brood. How are my sweet girls doing?
…

Crap, thought Lauren. She surveyed the pathetic contents of her fridge. She was always starving after yoga class—which hadn’t been a real problem until her New Year’s resolution to stop eating out so much and use the money to take some really nice vacations instead. The beaches and jungles of Puerto Rico beckoned.
Sighing, she pulled a can of clam chowder out of the cupboard. She hated clam chowder, which is why it was the last edible thing left to eat in her apartment.
Lauren dumped the soup into a pot, put the kettle on for tea, and dug out her laptop. Chloe from work swore by some online grocery site. Since she clearly wasn’t getting to the real grocery store often enough, maybe a virtual one would have to do.
She clicked on Chloe’s email link and looked around. It was grocery shopping for idiots. You set up a master grocery list on the first visit. After that, you checked items on your list to re-order and food showed up at your door twenty-four hours later. Sweet!
Figuring it made sense to add basic staples first, Lauren clicked on the link to Dairy, then to Ice Cream. They stocked all sixty-three flavors of Ben & Jerry’s. She was in love. Lauren checked off Phish Food, Karamel Sutra, and Mud Pie, and clicked ‘add to master grocery list’.
Nell: Then Ginia hid Aervyn’s favorite pajamas because he teleported her out of the shower, and now she can’t remember where she put them. Oh, the light’s blinking—the fetching spell is bringing someone in. Her name is… Lauren.
Sophie: Lauren—hello, and welcome to Witches’ Chat at amodernwitch.com. We’re delighted you could join us!
Lauren: Me? Where am I? Where did my master grocery list go?
Nell: We can send you back to your grocery shopping in a minute. That’s a great site, by the way; I use it to order groceries all the time. Beats loading twenty bags into my minivan.
Lauren: It was my first time there. Where am I now? What the heck is Witches’ Chat?
Sophie: It’s an online chat room for witches to gather and talk. I hope we can support and learn from each other as well. Nell, Moira, and I are the founding three. You’re the first new witch found by our fetching spell, so congratulations and welcome!
Lauren: You’re witches?? What’s a fetching spell?
Nell: We laid out a little online sniffer that would detect power and pull witches here. We didn’t want to invite everyone who thinks they’re a witch; that can get messy.
Lauren: I think your sniffer goofed. I’m not a witch. I’m guessing the online grocery people won’t be thrilled at you hacking their site, either.
Nell: If I’d meant to hack, they’d never know. The spell isn’t specific to that site, it just happens that I did my grocery shopping this morning, and you must have crossed over the spell trail I laid.
Lauren wondered if this was a good time to shut down her wireless connection and run a virus scan. However, that sounded like about as much fun as the square-footage calculations she was already trying to avoid. The sales guy at the Apple store had assured her Macbooks were almost impossible to hack.
A screaming kettle interrupted her train of thought. Time for tea, although she wasn’t sure a little chamomile tea was going to get her very strange evening back on track. Not that she minded a little strange, but witches? Were there seriously women in this century who thought they were witches?
Lauren considered and rejected the soup. It was bagel day at the office tomorrow; she could last until then.
She poured water into her favorite blue mug and set the tea ball in to steep. Looking at the whimsical and lopsided mug with affection, she suddenly found humor in the left turn her night had taken. Witches 2.0. Crazy, but probably harmless, and definitely entertaining. The fetching spell was a nice touch. If nothing else, it would be a great story to share with Nat over lunch tomorrow.
Carrying her mug back to the couch, Lauren settled in and prepared to have fun. She’d always been a sucker for the slightly loopy.
Lauren: Sorry, I had to go make my tea.
Moira: Ah good, we thought maybe we’d lost you, child. I have a cup of tea myself, although it’s morning tea for me.
Lauren: Morning?
Nell: She’s on vacation in Ireland. It’s 5 am there.
Lauren: Yeesh. I don’t do 5 am. Ever.
Nell: Me neither, but I’m in California and Sophie’s in Colorado, so it seemed like the best compromise on time for all of us. Tell us about yourself. Maybe you have some minor talents you’ve never thought of as witchcraft.
Lauren: I’m pretty good at selling real estate, and I make a mean pasta sauce. I think that’s about as special as my talents get.
Moira: Lauren, you must be a witch, love. Nell doesn’t often make mistakes with her spellcasting.
Nell: Gee, thanks, Moira. I think the spell’s fine. I tested it on my kids—Nathan and Aervyn got fetched, the triplets didn’t, although a few strange things happened for Ginia that make me wonder. Maybe she’ll grow into power yet.
Lauren: You have triplets??? Wait, I’m losing track of the—Moira, I’m definitely not a witch. No cauldrons or broomsticks or pointy hats anywhere.
Sophie: Aunt Moira might have a cauldron somewhere—she’s got a talent with herbs—but you won’t find a lot of modern witches with pointy hats, and very few of us can fly. That whole broomstick thing has always been pretty much a myth. Harry Potter didn’t help us out there.
Lauren: That’s too bad; I thought Harry was kind of cute. If you don’t fly, what do you do?
Sophie: My talents are with plants and a bit of healing. Nell is great with complex spells. Moira has a little bit of lots of things. She trained me. Do you happen to have a garden?
Lauren: I live on the fourth floor of a walk-up apartment building. The closest lettuce leaf is probably miles away. Scratch that; nothing grows in February in Chicago. Does that fail me on the ‘am I a witch’ test?
Sophie: Oh, no. Most witches can do a few of the same basic things, but our stronger talents often vary quite a bit. Some are good with growing plants or healing people, some can mindspeak or feel emotions. Some, like Nell’s son Aervyn, have more unusual talents—he can transport things. Moira has a cousin who is a very powerful elemental witch, particularly with air and water. He can make the biggest storms you’ve ever seen.
Lauren: Do you all have witches in your families? I can promise you, there are no witches in mine.
Nell: Some of us are overrun with them. About half the people in my family tree have at least small amounts of power. Similar story with Moira’s family, although I don’t think the power runs quite as strong in all branches of her family. We’d be hereditary witches, where the power is passed from generation to generation.
Sophie: And I’d be the other kind of witch, where power shows up with no obvious family connection. As far as I know, none of my close relatives are witches. It’s hard to know sometimes, though—not everyone is accepting of witches, so many people keep their talents fairly hidden.
Moira: Power calls to power, Sophie. You’d know by now if you had any family with talent, I’d think. Lauren, it sounds like you would be a non-hereditary witch, then. Back in the day, we used to track more of you down as youngsters, but it’s difficult now.
Lauren: Pretty sure I’m a hereditary non-witch. It doesn’t sound like my pasta sauce qualifies me.
Nell: You said you’re good at selling real estate. How does that work?
Lauren: I meet clients and try to match them with property for sale. Good research, good connections to stay ahead of the competition. No magic involved.
Nell: You’re good at it?
Lauren: Damn straight.
Nell: Hmmm. There are negotiations involved in closing a real estate deal. Perhaps you have some skills at mind reading?
Lauren: That would be amazingly handy, if somewhat unethical, but no, I’ve never heard the conversations in someone else’s head.
Nell: Do you pick up any feelings? Sorry for all the questions. Sometimes people use power without realizing they do. Just trying to take some guesses.
Moira: If only we could scan you in person, dear, wouldn’t it be so much easier to figure this out...
Lauren: Scan?
Sophie: People like Moira, who have experience training witches, can do a simple scan to read basic power levels. They can also conduct some simple tests to see where someone’s talents might lie.
Nell: Moira, that’s not a bad idea. Chicago’s a long trip for you, even if you weren’t in Ireland right now, but perhaps Jamie could go. Lauren, Jamie is my baby brother. He’s a talented witch and an experienced trainer—most in my family are, with all the witchlings around. Would you be open to meeting with him if he’s free to travel?
Lauren: Is he cute?
Nell: He’s my brother; don’t ask me that.
Sophie: He’s very cute.
Lauren: Sounds like the weirdest blind date ever.
Moira: He’s a very skilled witch, Lauren. You’d do well to trust him to test your powers.
Lauren: So guys can be witches? Sorry, still stuck on the pointed hats and broomsticks stuff, I guess.
Moira: Many of history’s most talented witches are men. The world fears a powerful woman most, so it’s women who have been most noticed, and most hunted.
Nell: Uh, oh. Don’t get Moira started. We’ll save the history of witching for a new day.
Sophie: Lauren, we hope you’ll be back. We’re planning to chat every Wednesday night.
Moira: How will she do the login spell then, if she can’t consciously tap her power?
Nell: For now, Lauren, if you want to join us, just go to your grocery site again next Wednesday. I’ll set up the spell to fetch you from there. Keep an eye out for Jamie; he should find you in the next couple of days.
Lauren was back at her master grocery list—Phish Food, Karamel Sutra, and Mud Pie ice cream all added. She shook her head. It had almost been like falling into an online role-playing game, without the visuals.
Three interesting but completely loopy women were going to send her a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. To test her for hidden witching powers. Yeah, that was going to happen.
It had the makings for a good virtual-reality game, though. They had been oddly amusing. Some people might think it would be fun to be a witch.
And that is why you shouldn’t skip dinner, girl. Lack of food causes serious detachment from reality. Lauren squinted at her computer and dared it to misbehave again.
Given the empty state of her cupboards, she had a grocery order to finish. Then she was going to stretch her self-imposed eating-out rules and hit the corner store for some kind of sustenance.