A Reckless Witch

CHAPTER 12



Lauren walked into Nell’s living room and laughed. “Didn’t any of you go home?” It was pretty much the same crew who had been there after the Channel Islands emergency.

Jamie grinned. “Shopping exhaustion. And we were hungry. A little bird said Caro was bringing over food again.”

Nell rolled her eyes. “Dev and Jamie came over to do a magic lesson with Aervyn, but he’s napping.” Her face softened. “He asked Sierra to come tuck him in, and when I went upstairs, they were both curled up together.”

The two of them had bonded deeply in the last twenty-four hours. Aervyn’s capacity to forgive was humbling.

“Done.” Sophie put down her needles, with what was presumably a swatch for Sierra’s blanket. “Napping’s good for people with channel shock.” She looked pointedly at Jamie. “You’re still tired—you could use some extra rest too.”

He was tired. She could feel it. Lauren stood up. Witches who refused to take naps could at least eat. Nell’s kitchen always had cookies.

She made it about halfway out of her chair before her head exploded, pounding with the incoming flood of desperation and sadness and incoming death. Oh, holy God. Not in the eye of the storm anymore. She fought for control—and then she heard Aervyn beginning to panic, overwhelmed by the trauma hitting his sleeping mind.

First things first. Jamie! Get Aervyn out of there. Then get him barriered.

She could feel Jamie’s fear, even as they both bolted for the stairs. Don’t know if I can. Once I port him, I won’t have much left.

On it. Caro’s mental voice from just outside the house stopped them both in their tracks. Consider it done. You move him, Jamie—I have his head.

Jamie nodded. Moved. He was sheet white again.

Lauren squeezed her eyes shut in relief. Caro was a strong mind witch—Aervyn would be safe. She took one more moment to send an order to Nell. Barrier Jamie, or get him out of the house. He was almost empty.

Sophie touched her arm, and then reached for Jamie, who was clutching the newel post, swaying. “I’ve got him. Go.”

Thank goodness witches flocked to food.

Lauren charged up the stairs and heard footsteps at her heels. She whirled on Devin. “Stay out—I can’t protect your mind and deal with her too.” Closer now, she was picking up Sierra’s dream—hurtling waves as big as a mountain, bearing down on a tiny island. “She’s reliving what happened.”

“I’m mind-deaf, Lauren.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Whatever’s happening, it’s not hurting me.”

She had no idea how anyone could be deaf to the tsunami of feeling coming from the bedroom where Sierra slept, but there was no time to argue. Yanking open the door to the room, she froze, barriering spell crashing to a halt.

The poor girl was off the bed, trying to squeeze into the tiny space between the mattress and the floor, mewing like a tortured kitten. Her mind was one keening wail of pain.

“Can I touch her?” Devin’s voice was an ocean of calm. “Is it okay to pick her up?”

Lauren clung to his steadiness, fighting for control against Sierra’s devastation. “I don’t know. Move slowly—I’ll let you know if it gets worse.”

Carefully he moved in beside Sierra, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Shh, sweet girl. Shh, now.”

Lauren motioned for him to keep going—and then realized he’d do a lot better job if he wasn’t flying totally blind. She connected into his mind and sent a tiny fraction of what Sierra was feeling down the pipe.

He nodded in thanks and slowly picked Sierra up, settling her in his lap like a small child. The pain in her mind dialed down a notch, and the awful mewing stopped.

Lauren closed her eyes, trying to figure out what to do next.

Can you hear me? His voice surprised her, but probably shouldn’t have. He’d been joined at the hip to a mind witch his whole life.

Yeah. I’m going to try to dampen her emotions a little.

No. His mind was very decisive. Not yet.

She’s in agony, Devin. Lauren turned up the volume a bit so he could see for himself.

He winced. Stop that, damn it. I’m not a stupid witch—I can see how bad it is just looking at your face. You’re whiter than Jamie.

She dialed the volume back down, suddenly ashamed.

And don’t freaking apologize, either. There’s no way this is all about a dead bird. You’re empath and telepath both, right? Focus on her dream—we need to know what’s hurting her like this.

Lauren froze as his words sank in. He was right. She’d seen waves, but no birds at all. If Sierra was reliving the past few days, the bird would have been all over her dream. She swung around mentally and tried to pull dreaming images out of the flood.

Hey! Devin had a hell of a kick for a guy who wasn’t a mind witch. Hook me in. Don’t you dare go into a dream alone.

Freaking bossy Sullivans. He was right, however. Lauren threw him a line, and then dove into Sierra’s mind torrent, seeking—and glad for the guy who had her back.

When she found the dream source, she backed off a step. Monitoring dreams was a tricky and dangerous business. Monitoring a nightmare…

I’ve got you. Devin’s mindvoice was rock solid.

Checking her mental anchors once more, Lauren grabbed hold of the roaring dream. And hissed as she suddenly found herself flying over the surface of the ocean at insane speeds. Holy God.

Sierra’s desperate fear had nothing to do with the flying, however. Lauren looked up—and saw a mountain of water racing front of her. Just beyond it, a tiny island in the middle of the ocean. And on the island, a woman, blonde hair streaming—her back to the killing wave.

She felt Devin’s harsh intake of breath. That’s Amelia. Oh, shit—Lauren, that’s Sierra’s mother.

It was all too clear what was about to happen. And no way in hell did Sierra need to go through it again. Not today.

Lauren reached for power, wrapping her own mind around Sierra’s. She grabbed the flow of the nightmare and folded it over, ripping out a large chunk of what came next.

It took practically everything she had. Devin was right—this was a dream sequence with a long history, and it deeply resisted the change she imposed on it. She fought the overwhelming urge to make it permanent.

Tying off the ends, she hit Sierra with the best sleep spell she could muster—and then reached for the floor as she felt the backlash hit.

~ ~ ~

Sophie cursed as Devin carried Lauren into the living room. “What now?”

Lauren lifted her head off his shoulder. “I just need a cookie. Or seven. I’ll be fine.”

“Sit.” Sophie glared at Devin and pointed at the couch. She’d had more than enough witch heroes in the last few days. Reaching out for Lauren’s hands, she started a basic healing scan. And had to laugh. “What, you thought I hadn’t had enough practice with channel shock? What happened up there? Jamie thought it was just a bad nightmare.”

“Beyond bad.” Devin spoke with a mouth full of cookie. “Sierra watches her mother die. Thanks to Lauren, she watched it one less time.”

Sophie frowned. “She sees it? She was there?”

“I don’t think so.” Lauren leaned back against the couch. “When she’s awake, she believes her mother’s dead, but she doesn’t know for sure. I don’t think she was there.”

Sophie wasn’t so sure. “Recurring dream?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lauren took the cookie Devin handed her. “Strong little bugger—I tried to loop out the worst part and just barely got it done.”

Nat and Nell walked in, bearing bowls full of soup. It smelled like heaven—Sophie was pretty sure even her toes drooled. “Where’s Jamie?”

“I hit him with a sleep spell.” Nell grinned. “He never does see those coming.”

Good. One less patient to worry about. Sophie reached up as Nat handed over a bowl. “It’s a crazy day when the woman who’s about to give birth is taking care of the rest of us.”

Nat smiled. “It’s better than being the watched pot, trust me.”

She had a point. And the soup tasted even better than it smelled. French onion, heavy on the onions and topped with strands of melty cheese. Pausing to savor the first few spoonfuls, Sophie breathed deeply—and then turned her mind back to their main problem. “So, Sierra knows how her mom died. She dreams it.”

Nell sucked in air. “What? I thought she was reliving the helicopter flight. We got vague images of chasing big waves before I managed to get a decent wall up.”

Devin shook his head and looked at Lauren. “Can you project the face of the woman on the island?”

She managed half a grin. “Can I have more soup after?”

Sophie frowned. Mind-projection was pretty basic—clearly Lauren had pushed awfully close to the edge upstairs. In an emergency, a witch did what she had to do—but this had only been a dream.

Lauren shook her head, meeting Sophie’s eyes. Not just a dream. Watch.

It was only ten seconds of replay. And if Sophie had possessed mind power, she’d have ripped the nightmare out of the fabric of time and tossed it into the depths of hell.

She looked at Lauren and tried to clear the horror from her mind. “I’m a healer sworn, and I don’t know if I’d have had the guts you did. It was right to leave the dream in her head—we don’t know what it’s attached to, or how much of it she remembers.”

“Thanks.” Lauren’s voice was raspy. “I needed to hear that.”

Sophie had known it was more than channel shock rocking her latest patient. Sometimes the very hardest choices involved having the magic—and still doing nothing.

Devin looked at his sister. “That was Amelia, right?”

Nell nodded slowly, eyes glistening. “But how could Sierra have seen it? Maybe it’s just a nightmare, pieced together from other experiences?”

Lauren shook her head. “No. Or at least, I don’t think so. Most dreams feel a bit unreal. This one reads like a memory. The imprint’s really deep.”

Nell frowned. “But how’s that possible? Amelia was out alone in the middle of the ocean.”

A few months in Fisher’s Cove, where a long-dead five-year-old boy still cast a big shadow, and Sophie knew the answer. “She might have traveled.”

Devin turned white, but shook his head. “She’s been on her own for six years, Soph. No way an astral traveler lives that long without proper anchors. She’d have just drifted away.”

“Some people only travel in times of enormous stress or fear.” And watching your mother die had to top the fear charts.

“Sometimes it’s hereditary. We should ask Moira if Amelia ever traveled.” Nell cuddled a knitted pillow to her chest. “But it could also just be a dream. Sierra’s had a lot to deal with in the last six years. This might be one way her mind has tried to help her cope.”

“No way.” Devin’s voice was almost as raspy as Lauren’s. “It tears her apart. There’s no way that’s a healing dream.”

It could be. Sophie knew well that sometimes healing hurt. “Her subconscious might prefer it to not knowing.” A mother killed by a big wave might be better than believing she’d walked away and left you alone.

Lauren shook her head, as if trying to clear cobwebs. “Wait. Our two choices here are a dream that feels very real, but isn’t, or a twelve-year-old girl who got pulled out of her body because her mother was in danger?”

Sophie nodded. At a different time, she might have been amused—astral travel was always good for freaking out newbie witches. “Pretty much. At some level, I’m not sure it matters. It’s still a horrible thing for Sierra to have stuck in her mind.”

“The dream’s bad.” Devin’s eyes were darkly intent. “But it told us something really important.”

He had the attention of every witch in the room—and Lauren, at his shoulder, was nodding in quiet approval.

Devin looked at his brother. “Can you fetch Moira and Govin? I have something to say.” He put an arm around Lauren’s shoulder. “We have something to say.”

~ ~ ~

Lauren sat quietly, waiting for everyone to get settled. Govin was already sitting in the corner, chatting with Jamie. Nell handed Moira a cup of tea and turned around, perching on the arm of a chair. “Okay, you two. We’re all here. Talk.”

You wanna be the good cop, or the bad cop?

Devin’s question startled Lauren. She hadn’t realized her mind connections were that open. And then realized they weren’t—to anyone except for him. Leftovers from handling Sierra’s nightmare. You start. I’m a better deal closer.

He put his hands on his knees and surveyed the room. “We’ve really screwed up, and Sierra’s paying the price. She’s Amelia’s daughter, and therefore, we’ve assumed she’s like Amelia. She’s not. Not even a little.” He waited a beat. “Sierra Brighton’s not reckless, and we have to stop treating her like she is.”

Lauren could feel the stark confusion coming from everyone. Except Nat. That figured.

“She’s dangerous, Dev. We’ve seen it.” Govin was the most agitated witch in the room. “She’s got enough power in those fingers to let loose a disaster.”

“Do you really think she’s ever going to do that again?” Devin’s quiet question hammered into every mind in the room. “Look around your fear, Gov. Heck, it’s our fear that’s the whole problem here.”

He turned to his sister. “You’re scared she’s going to put Aervyn at risk again. Or that she represents what he might become if we can’t keep him hooked into community.”

Bull’s-eye. Lauren felt Nell’s mind quake.

Next, his brother. “You’re scared for Aervyn—and more scared that the girl in your wife’s belly might be the next Amelia Brighton.”

Three for three. That fear resonated even for Nat.

Devin turned to Moira, and didn’t say a word.

She met his gaze for a long time, and then looked down at her tea. “I’d be scared that our Sierra has her mother’s blood in her veins. The sins of the mother, living on in the child. It’s not right, and I’m sorry for it.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” Devin reached for Moira’s hand, speaking quietly. “It’s not okay to dive-bomb Sierra because of our fear. Our last meeting, we laid out a plan of attack. It’s time to stop attacking.”

Nell’s face was white. “She’s still dangerous, Dev.”

Lauren leaned forward. Her turn. “No. She’s not.”

Every head swiveled to look at her, most of them still wildly skeptical.

Govin spoke first, frustration lacing every word. “How big a wave does she need to make to convince you?”

Lauren dug for words—and then decided in this case, a picture was worth thousands of them. Reaching into her memory banks, she found the image of Sierra, staring at the dead bird in Aervyn’s hands—and projected it to everyone in the room, complete with the abject, horrified guilt that had been in the girl’s mind. Then she hit them with Sierra’s dreaming anguish as a magically caused, killing wave chased down her mother.

Man. You fight dirty. Devin winced—and nodded in approval. They’ll see it now.

You’re the only one who’s never been at all scared of her, Lauren sent softly. You’ve always known.

Yeah. Which means I screwed up the most. His mental voice was bleak. I didn’t fight hard enough for her.

Cut yourself a break, Sullivan. It’s been less than a week since she arrived. And you’re fighting for her now. Let’s get the job done.

Together, they faced the room. And waited.

Moira breathed out and sipped her tea, hands shaking. “She’s really not Amelia, is she?”

“I never knew her mother.” Lauren smiled as Sophie’s hands gently settled over Moira’s, offering more than one kind of love. “But you’ve all been worried that, like Amelia, Sierra is going to be hard to teach. Hard to convince.”

“You think a dead bird will make that much difference?” Jamie rubbed a hand absently on his wife’s shoulder. “We tried to show her groundlines a few days ago, and she didn’t seem all that convinced. Even tried to show us what she could do, before Aervyn shut her down.”

Lauren blinked. That was news to her.

“Think, bro.” Devin leaned forward. “All we had was words. It’s like when Mom used to tell us we were going to fall out of the oak tree in the front yard if we kept climbing that high.”

Jamie found half a grin. “She wasn’t all that persuasive until Matt fell out.”

“Exactly,” Devin said. “And Matt’s not the reckless Sullivan.”

Nell snorted. “It only took one fall to convince you, Jamie. Dev was a harder sell.”

“Which is the whole problem here,” said Lauren. Her turn again, and Nell had given her a perfect opening. “You’ve all been assuming Sierra has a head as hard as Amelia’s.” She elbowed the guy beside her. “Or Devin’s here.”

The stress levels in the room settled substantially as everyone laughed at his wounded look. Good. Sometimes humor could drive home a point far better than fear ever would. Lauren paused, waiting for quiet—and hit them with the echoes of Sierra’s emotions one more time. “It seems to me that anyone that distraught over one baby bird isn’t going to be hard to teach.”

~ ~ ~

Oh, how proud these two made her. Moira wrapped her hands around her still-warm mug of tea and watched Devin and Lauren step up and call them all on the carpet.

They were a fierce duo. And they were a duo—Moira had seen enough mindconnected tag teams in her lifetime to recognize one in action.

She tried not to grin. It wouldn’t help the very important and serious point they were trying to make. Ah, such an excellent team they would be for the upcoming birth. And perhaps beyond. Her fingers ached for her scrying bowl.

Sophie touched her hand lightly. “Behave.”

Ah, she wasn’t the only one that saw possibilities here. “I am behaving. I haven’t selected them a wedding gift yet.”

Lauren looked over, eyebrow raised, as tea nearly squirted out Sophie’s nose. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Nope.” Sophie was turning shades of purple. “Sorry. Baby’s kicking my ribs.”

Which wasn’t precisely a lie. The baby had indeed started kicking in reaction to Sophie’s mirth.

Moira rode to the rescue before anyone dug deeper into Sophie’s thoughts. “So, we have a young girl who might not be so hard to train after all. What happens next, then?”

Jamie shrugged. “We still need to get some work done with her, and soon.”

Govin nodded. “Even if she’s going to be receptive, the safety layers on weather magics are tricky.” He folded his arms. “And I still think she needs to be made aware of the risks in what happened two days ago. Gently. But she needs to know.”

“Try coming in the back door with that.” Devin, relaxed now, looked nothing like the warrior who’d stormed the room five minutes earlier. “Teach her the right way to work with the excess energies and with a team. She’s a smart witch. Let her figure out why what we did in that helicopter was risky.”

“Aye.” Moira winked at him. “Even the most stubborn witches do better working things out for themselves.”

Devin just rolled his eyes.

Nell laughed. “I’m pretty sure that was one of Mom’s favorite lines.”

“She had plenty of practice, dear.” If Devin was going to offer himself up as an object lesson, Moira was happy to help. She had one small bit to add to the point he and Lauren had driven home. “Many parents raise a child in their image. Your mama was smart enough, and strong enough, to parent each of you the way you most needed.”

She paused a moment, waiting to see which of the smart witches in the room would understand her first.

It didn’t surprise her at all when it was Devin. “Sierra was raised reckless. She wasn’t born reckless. And we’ve been confusing the two.”

Moira knew when to give credit where credit was due. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to tell us all along?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think it is.”