A Reckless Witch

CHAPTER 6



Jamie pulled into the parking lot at Ocean’s Reach and turned to his team. “Remember, guys—we want to see what Sierra can do, but we don’t want to make her nervous. We’re just going to try some test weather spells for encoding into the WitchNet library.”

Devin met his eye, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to—skepticism was written all over his face.

Aervyn was more easily convinced. “How come we came here? Are we trying to make really big spells for Elorie?”

Jamie grinned. Elorie was finding it a challenge to convince certain witchlings that she wanted mostly small, everyday spells for WitchNet. “We’ll start with some little ones, but maybe we’ll try a couple of bigger ones, too.”

His nephew’s eyes gleamed. “Can we make a storm? Pretty please? Govin says I’m almost safe enough now to make him happy.”

“That’s good to hear, hot stuff.” Devin rolled his eyes at Jamie and spoke in an undertone. “I bet a four-year-old weather witch is the answer to all Govin’s dreams.”

“Not exactly.” Govin—for good reason—found it extremely hard to balance Aervyn’s natural exuberance and need to play with the very real possibility that if he sneezed mid-spell, a tsunami could hit a beach in India. Weather patterns were seriously tricky, and any witch who could affect them kept Govin up at night.

Especially four-year-olds, even ones with superlative training.

Govin waved as he pulled into the parking lot, Sierra sitting in the seat beside him. Nell had hoped the drive up might give them time to get to know each other a little. Judging from the body language, that hadn’t happened yet.

Jamie hoped his sister knew what she was doing, matching up a thirty-something math geek with an eighteen-year-old kid who liked to play Hot Potato. Govin was an awesome guy, but teenage girls were way outside his normal world.

Aervyn headed across the parking lot and grabbed Sierra’s hand, dragging her in the direction of the path to the valley where they typically worked.

Jamie smiled at Govin in welcome as the rest of the crew followed. “TJ stayed home?”

Govin reached into his pocket and pulled out a gizmo. “Yup, but he sent a monitoring device so we can record the energy readings.”

TJ funded their partnership’s more magical work by doing some fancy weather modeling for government agencies. Watching energy shifts during spellwork gave him insights into weather patterns that agency types paid big money for. He and his gadgets were often present during training sessions.

It didn’t take them long to get to the valley of Ocean’s Reach, one of Jamie’s favorite places for group magic lessons. Even fairly weak witches could access decent power here, and the group today wasn’t weak. He felt the familiar thrum of anticipation and grinned at his brother. “Ready to play with some weather?”

“Do we get to make a really big storm?” Devin was an excellent mimic, sounding exactly like his young nephew.

Aervyn laughed. Sierra just looked excited—and Jamie could feel the concern building in Govin’s mind. It wasn’t good when the trainer was tense. Start small, Gov. And if it gets out of hand, you have lots of talent available. Use us.

Govin grinned ruefully. “Is that a nice way of calling me a scaredy-witch?”

Jamie tried to look innocent. Since even Aervyn was giggling, he clearly wasn’t doing a very good job. Time to point the conversation somewhere else. “So, what’s our first test spell?”

Govin consulted a list. “A warm-air current.”

Aervyn’s face scrunched up in disappointment. “That’s it?”

Govin crouched down. “Most weather happens when warm air and cooler air hit. So if a witch sets off a warm-air-current spell in just the right place, what do you think happens?”

Superboy’s eyes gleamed. “A storm?”

“Right. And we want this to be a safe spell for people to use, so we need to do a couple of tricky things.”

“Keep it small.” Superboy knew his weather rules.

“Right.” Govin nodded. “And we need to make it smart enough to pick the right temperature to be. We want it to be about ten degrees cooler than whatever air it ends up next to—otherwise you might get snow in July, or something crazy like that.”

Aervyn obviously thought summer snow was a fairly cool possibility, but he nodded solemnly. Then his forehead wrinkled. “How exactly do we do that? Air’s not very smart.”

Jamie grinned. That was one of Govin’s favorite lines.

The guy in question tapped his temple. “We need to think hard. I want everyone to try their own spell first, so we see how many different ways we can think of to try to make our air smarter. Then we’ll pick the best couple to work on together.”

Not bad for a guy who didn’t usually do much training. Aervyn had all kinds of power, but sorting out the best way to build a spell was a work-in-progress. This was a way for him to develop that skill, and learn from others, without making the coaching obvious.

Aervyn looked thoughtful. Devin waited with breezy confidence. And Sierra was already in motion.

“I call on Air, friend to me

Split a layer, one times three,

Each slower than the one inside

Cooler air giving warm a ride.

I call on Fire, sister of mine

Heat the core, one plus nine

Subtract two layers on word from me

As I will, so mote it be."

She looked up at the group, grinning, a spellshape on her palm. “This should work.”

Jamie gaped. Holy shit. If he’d followed her spellsetting right, she’d come up with a smart design that split air layers from the existing air currents, solving the relative-temperature challenge Govin had posed. It had a built-in trigger, which he hadn’t even asked for. And she’d done it all with less than ten seconds of thought.

Aervyn was still trying to catch up, and Devin was all kinds of impressed. With good reason—it was a heck of a spell on short notice.

It was also a spell that spoke of deep familiarity with air currents. And that would be why Govin’s mind was spewing uneasiness.

Jamie hadn’t been made Aervyn’s trainer because he was afraid to take a risk. He glanced at Govin, doubled his own groundline, mind-messaged Aervyn and Devin to do the same, and then nodded to Sierra. “Let it loose.”

A quick finger wave, and a category-three storm broke loose—in a perfect circle ringing their small group. Another finger wave, and it turned off.

Well, hell. Jamie looked grimly at Govin. The spell, and the way Sierra had made it dance, confirmed they had a weather witch with serious power and mad skills.

It had also confirmed that she did major magic with no net—even with a small child standing two feet away. She’d done no grounding, no training circle, no layering, no failsafes. Backlash from a storm that size could easily have killed Aervyn if he weren’t taking his own precautions.

And the witch who’d caused it all stood looking at them with an expectant grin on her face.

~ ~ ~

It was so cool to do magic and not have to hide on the beach to do it. Sierra looked down at Aervyn, who watched her, puzzled. Maybe the spell had been too complicated for him to follow. She crouched down. “Wanna try it? I can do it slower so you can see all the parts.”

That’s how Momma had taught her.

He frowned. “How come you don’t use a groundline?”

A what? She looked toward at the others for explanation—and realized no one was smiling. Govin was looking at her like she had a booger dripping out of her nose or something. The other two just looked worried. Really worried. Cripes. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be teaching anyone magic. She stood up, feeling the last echoes of the energy streams she’d called for the baby storm leaking away.

First day of her new job, and she’d somehow already screwed up. Nice one, Sierra.

Jamie’s eyes looked the friendliest, so she focused on him. “Sorry. Whatever I did wrong, just tell me, so I don’t do it again.” Rules, she could live with. Most of the time. Rules she didn’t know about sucked.

He just stared at her, not saying anything.

She jumped as a small hand slid into hers. “Don’t be mad, Uncle Jamie. Maybe she doesn’t know how to use a groundline. I can teach her.”

It felt good to have someone on her team, even if he was only three-and-a-half feet tall.

Devin nodded and ruffled Aervyn’s hair. “You’re totally right, buddy.” He turned to Sierra. “Most witches use an extra line when they cast a spell—one that they tie off somewhere safe. Kind of like an overflow valve, in case there’s backlash or you pull more power than you expected.”

Sierra had no idea what he was talking about. “Isn’t it better just to pull the right amount in the first place?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but with your kind of power, if you judge wrong, a groundline gives you a safety net. So you don’t hurt yourself or anyone around you.”

Now she was really confused. “But that was just a baby spell. How could I hurt anyone with that?”

Devin blinked twice. Hard. “That was a baby spell for you?”

Aervyn grinned. “You must be a super-awesome weather witch.”

She nodded slowly, more worried about what she saw in Devin’s eyes. “That was just a class-three storm. It wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Especially not while she was standing right there.

Govin’s sharp intake of breath had everyone’s head turning. His eyes lasered in on hers. “How big a storm can you build?”

She had no idea. “I made a little hurricane once, but Momma said not to make a bigger one.” She smiled at the memory. “We had fun dancing in the funnel, though.”

Aervyn’s eyes were as big as plates. “You danced with a hurricane?”

She was about to offer to take him funnel dancing, and then she looked at the faces around her again. Maybe not. “Only once. Mostly we just played in smaller funnels. No bigger than a house.” Maybe that would get her out of whatever mess she’d stepped in. Maybe witches in California didn’t like to play.

Govin’s eyes were still glued to hers. “You made a hurricane without any groundlines?”

Sierra’s temper suddenly flared. It was time for all these people to stop dissing her magic. “I do magic exactly the way Momma taught me.” She grabbed for power, ready to show them exactly what she could do with it. And ran into a brick wall.

One with a very determined four-year-old holding the reins. “You can’t do that, Sierra. It’s dangerous. Just lemme show you a groundline, please? You’re a good witch—I bet it’s totally easy for you.”

Holy cats. He’d stopped her magic in its tracks.

Jamie smiled grimly. “He can stop mine cold too, if that makes you feel any better.”

Aervyn nodded solemnly. “That’s why they call me superboy.”

He was so danged cute. Sierra crouched down again, temper leaving as easily as it had come. “So show me how to be supergirl, then. What’s this grounding stuff?”

Two minutes later, she looked up at the trio of guys watching. Grounding was dirt easy. “That’s it?”

Jamie nodded. “It’s not hard. It’s usually one of the first things I teach my trainees. But it’s important—it keeps everyone safer.”

That was the part she really didn’t get. “But I’ve never been seriously hurt by my magic.” Banged up a little, but she’d been hurt worse riding her bike.

Govin spoke softly, but with a force that nearly knocked her to her knees. “That little storm you just made had enough power to kill a small child if it wasn’t handled properly.”

It had just been a plaything. Not even a funnel. “I’d never hurt anyone. I know how to control my magic.”

His eyes sparked. “No one can control their magic all the time. What happens when you screw up, or the energy lines aren’t clean, or you catch a bad bounce?”

That happened to weather witches all the time. “You catch it. You clean it up.” She wasn’t stupid.

“And if you fail?” The words came hard, almost mean. Just like her foster brother, only more grown up. Sierra fought back the tears.

“Cut her a break, Gov.” Devin stepped forward, touching her shoulder. “Grounding matters—can you just trust us that far for now? It keeps us all safer, and it’s a pretty easy thing to add to all your spells.”

It was like he’d taken this huge ball of tension and made it vanish. Sierra took a deep breath, thankful the squeezing pressure on her ribs had stopped. She liked Devin. “I can do that—I promise.” She’d done way dumber things in her life to keep people happy.

“Good.” Then he grinned, and it reminded her so much of Momma, just before something really fun happened. “Now let’s go build a funnel. You can show us all how to dance with one.”

~ ~ ~

Devin crashed into a seat at his brother’s table. He’d had one of the most fun mornings of his entire life, and he was hungry enough to eat the table. Unfortunately, breakfast was waiting on the other guest of honor.

Nat grinned at him. “Lauren’s on her way, honest. And I’ll even let you into the food line before me.” She patted her belly. “Our girl here doesn’t let me eat much anymore.”

“My brother would beat me up if I didn’t let his pregnant wife eat first.”

She winked. “You can take him.”

Devin had been fairly skeptical that Nat was the paragon of perfectness for Jamie that everyone had claimed. Their wedding hadn’t done a whole lot to dispel that—probably because weddings in general made him twitchy.

His skepticism hadn’t made it two hours in the same house with Nat. She was every kind of awesome.

He stretched out and tried to convince his ravenous belly to take a quick nap or something. “Not after this morning. Funnel riding is the coolest thing I’ve done in a really long time, but we didn’t carb-load enough before we left.” He rolled his eyes. “I thought we were making little weather spells for Elorie’s library. I should have known better.”

Jamie came around the corner from the kitchen and laughed. “Don’t blame that one on me—you’re the one who wanted funnel-riding lessons.”

Devin grinned. “Yeah. Govin nearly blew a gasket. But they were properly grounded, all seven of them.” It had been better than the Zero-G rotor ride at the state fair. Way better, and that had been their favorite ride ever since they’d been the required four feet tall to ride it.

Nat shook her head, highly amused. “I can’t believe you took a small boy spinning in a hurricane.”

He snorted. “The small boy made at least three of them. And they weren’t big enough funnels to be a hurricane.” He thought. Govin was the weather expert.

Jamie grinned. “You can help our nephew with his latest brainstorm. He wants to spellcode a small funnel for Realm so he can take Moira for a ride.”

“A ride on what?” Lauren walked into the room, bearing a huge basket of strawberries. “Sorry I’m late. Clients who couldn’t make up their minds.”

“No prob.” Nat reached for the strawberries. “Especially when you bring fresh berries in December. Aervyn wants to take Moira for a ride on a hurricane funnel.”

Lauren laughed. Then she stared at Jamie. “For real?”

He nodded. “Yup. Sierra showed him how. I bet you can have a ride if you want one, too.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Exactly how far off the ground would my feet get?”

Jamie and Devin looked at each other and shrugged. That was one of those unanswerable “mom” questions. Heck, their feet hadn’t even been pointing down the whole time. Devin grinned, remembering one particularly funny moment when the funnel had peeled Aervyn’s pants off as he whirled upside down.

Nat laughed and handed Lauren a plate. “I’m guessing that if you have to ask, you probably don’t want a ride.”

“We’ll see.” Lauren’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll wait and see if Moira looks green after she’s done.”

Devin grabbed the platter of waffles. “Somebody should warn Aervyn that if he makes Moira puke, she has some devilish ways of getting even.” And scrubbing her cauldron was the least of it.

“Idiot.” Jamie shook his head. “Do you really think it’s the four-year-old who will get in trouble if Moira gets sick on his funnel ride?”

“Point.” But it would be worth it. The Sullivan name would carry on in infamy—even if his nephew wasn’t technically a Sullivan.

~ ~ ~

Lauren poured maple syrup over her waffle and listened to the two Sullivan brothers, amused. Identical faces, but such different minds.

Well, not entirely different. They shared family loyalty and an easy generosity toward everyone who swam into their pond. But after that… Jamie was the cool gamer, patient trainer, devoted husband. Devin was the guy you’d want at your back in a gunfight.

Nat laughed as Devin reached over to wipe a smudge of whipped cream off her belly, making a much bigger mess in the process. “I don’t think you’re helping.”

He grinned. “I’d be doing better if my niece in there wasn’t kicking from the other side.”

It was an easy goofiness Lauren was really happy to see. Devin had been fairly skeptical of Nat the first time he’d seen her. Then again, that had been the day she’d been getting married to his brother, and weddings seemed to give Devin mental hives. Still. Anyone who dissed her best friend, even in his head, started off on Lauren’s bad side.

“So, Aervyn wants to come cliff jumping with you.” Jamie waved a bite of waffle at his brother. “Next time you send pictures, it would be good if you showed the landing-in-water part.”

“Come again?” Devin raised an eyebrow.

“You sent pictures of the cliffs, and the nice waterfall, and the leaping into the air like a nut. But you didn’t send any that show you landing in the water.”

Lauren was as confused as Devin. “What does superboy think you land in?”

“He doesn’t much care,” said Jamie dryly. “This is the kid who can teleport, remember? Nell, on the other hand, would rather he didn’t go jumping off too many dry cliffs, just in case he misses on the porting spell.”

“He wouldn’t seriously try that, would he?” Devin’s mental devil-may-care attitude vanished hard enough that it rocked Lauren’s head.

“Relax, bro.” Jamie handed over more waffles. “This is the kid who wants to be a superhero. I told him long ago that one of the rules of being a little Sullivan is that he has to ask a grown-up Sullivan before he goes leaping off tall buildings. I just told him the same rules apply to cliffs and pretty waterfalls.”

“Smart.” Devin snagged the bowl of berries, looking totally relaxed. Lauren wondered if anyone else could see the caped man jumping off buildings running through his mind.

That would be the other really big difference between Jamie and his brother. Devin still thought most of Aervyn’s harebrained ideas sounded like fun.

Nat rubbed her belly. “It was a really pretty waterfall. Maybe we can come visit one day soon.” She grinned at Lauren. “With an aunt in tow to babysit while I go cliff jumping.”

Lauren snorted. “Or not.” After ten years, it wasn’t hard to spot one of Nat’s attempts to add a little spice to her life. She wasn’t chicken—she just preferred to have both feet firmly planted on the ground. The risks she took were the calculated kind, not the kind that left you splattered all over some hard surface.

Devin grinned. “There’s a baby pool you can jump in. That cliff’s only fifteen feet or so.”

Oh, God. That was a two-story building. “How high is the big one?”

Jamie clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “A little bigger.”

~ ~ ~

Devin sat quietly, wondering how any woman as timid as Lauren managed to channel for his nephew.

Shut up, bro. She’s a lot braver than you think. Dev caught the hint of something more serious in his brother’s mental voice.

Jamie raised an eyebrow at this wife. “You still sure he’s the one you want?”

Nat smiled, with a look in her eyes that had Devin’s belly flipping over. His Spidey senses were tingling. Something was up. A glance at Lauren told him two things. Her suspicions were up as well—and she didn’t know what was going on either. He’d played a lot of family poker—he never bet against the instincts of a good mind witch. Whatever this was, they were both involved.

A lifetime of practice told him the best strategy when trouble lurked was teammates. He passed Lauren the bowl of whipped cream. “Aim for his eyes. It makes it harder for him to retaliate.”

It took a second for her to understand—and then her laugh was pure, appreciative mirth. Which for some unknown reason, did nothing to settle his belly. “You want me to start a food fight with a witch who can teleport?”

Devin took a spoonful of the whipped cream and dropped it onto his waffle with a meaningful glance at his brother. “He can’t teleport what he can’t see. That’s why you have to hit his eyes first.” He shrugged. “It works better with the stuff you can squirt from a can, though.”

Lauren snickered. “I bet.”

“We’ll be sure,” said Nat dryly, “not to have any whipped cream at the birth.”

Devin froze, all food-fight tactical advice evaporating from his brain. Long experience in reading his brother’s eyes told him the serious topic for the day had just hit the table. Lauren caught on almost as quickly. Mindreading was a handy talent.

Jamie took Nat’s hand. “We’d like to ask the two of you to lead the birthing circle.”

Devin tried to get his jangling thoughts in line. “I appreciate the thought, but wouldn’t Matt be the better choice? He’s a doctor and all.”

“Hardly a qualification for leading the circle, Dev. And he might arrive late or leave early if duty calls back in Costa Rica.” His brother was serious enough to make him squirm. “Besides, you’re really the one we need. Nobody’s better under fire.”

Devin blanched. With his tiny fire-witchling niece on the way, that could be all too literal. “I guess a water witch makes sense.”

Lauren frowned. “What exactly does the birthing circle do?”

Jamie sighed. “Sorry—sometimes I forget you’re still new to all this.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “It’s a little bit like a full circle. Everyone gathered will be part of the outer circle, and then eleven witches form the inner circle.”

“Eleven?” Lauren still looked puzzled, but clearly she caught on fast—normally circles had fourteen.

Nat smiled softly. “The other three are Jamie and me and our baby.”

Lauren’s face melted into happiness. “You’ll be in the circle?”

Devin found himself strangely caught by the obvious depth of their bond. There were very few times a non-witch could be at the center of magic. Giving birth was one of those times. Jamie clearly wasn’t the only witch who would treasure the chance to share magic with Nat.

“The birthing circle is often more about ritual and love than anything else,” said Jamie, touching his wife’s belly. “It’s a way for the witching community to welcome the new arrival, and support the brave mamas and terrified dads.”

Devin snorted. At the most spectacular witchling birth of memory, it had been Daniel, non-witch and very brave man, who had held the circle together and kept Nell and Aervyn safe. There were few magics more powerful than the love of a father waiting to meet his child.

Lauren tilted her head. “This one isn’t just a ritual, is it.” It wasn’t a question.

Jamie shook his head. “No. The circle also keeps everyone safe. With a babe already playing with power flows, things can get fairly exciting.”

Lauren nodded slowly. “I’ve heard some of the stories of Aervyn’s birth.”

The stories couldn’t possibly touch the memory of the most insane few hours of Devin’s life. And he hadn’t been leading that particular circle.

Jamie shrugged. “Our baby’s been pretty quiet lately.” He kissed his wife. “If her mama has any influence, she might make a nice, mellow entrance.”

Nat laughed. “If she doesn’t, you can’t blame it on me.”

Jamie’s eyes were back to serious. “If she doesn’t, we want two of the people we trust most in the world working to keep her safe.” He looked at them both. “You’ll have a circle behind you, but it’s the two of you who will decide how best to handle whatever happens.”

Nat reached out for their hands. “It’s a big thing we’re asking of you. Take some time and think about it, if you want.”

Devin looked at Lauren and saw his answer mirrored in her eyes. They were both absolutely terrified. And they’d both do it. They loved far too much to do anything else.