A Reckless Witch

CHAPTER 7



Her new life rocked. Magic tricks in the morning and cool computer games after lunch. Sierra clicked a few more keys, compiling the spellcode like Ginia had shown her. Realm was way different than when she’d played six years ago. “Okay, I think I have this storm spell set.”

Ginia grinned. “Awesome. Gandalf will never know what hit him.”

Apparently some old-fart gamer dude had raided Ginia’s spell stash, and she wanted revenge. Sierra was more than happy to help, especially since it would gain her access to level four in Realm. Still three to go to get to the top level where all the real fun happened, but adding unique spells to the library was a fast way to move up. This one was a voice-triggered class-two storm. When Ginia set it off, targeted on her missing spellcubes, anyone standing within ten feet of a stolen spell would end up extremely wet.

Sierra looked up at her partner in crime. “Do you need some way to amplify your voice, too?”

“Sure. That way I don’t have to blow game points to do it.” Ginia squinted at the spellcode, and then started giggling. “It’s gonna rain purple dye? Too awesome. How long will it take to wear off?”

“Dunno. But it should be long enough for you to find the spell thieves. A few hours, at least.” Sierra proofread her code one more time. Bad spells cost a lot of game points, and she didn’t have a lot to spend yet.

An icon started flashing on her screen. “I sent you the controls for one of my minion avatars,” Ginia said. “That way, you can be in level seven with me.”

Jeepers. Minions blew more game points than she earned in a year. “You don’t need me—the spell should be pretty easy to set off.”

Ginia grinned. “Are you kidding me? We’re going to make it rain purple in Realm. You gotta watch from the inside—Gandalf’s gonna totally lose it.”

Sierra logged in to the avatar’s controls. A whole hour in level seven. It was like Christmas. “Ready.”

They landed their avatars on a high perch of rock. Ginia didn’t like hanging out in her castles—apparently Gandalf had a bad habit of locking her in towers. While Sierra would have had serious fun in a castle, the view from the rock was definitely cool. They could see pretty much all of Realm.

Ginia unloaded a huge stockpile of spells out of her backpack. This was serious business. Once they identified Gandalf’s raiders, they had to deal with them. Sierra wasn’t entirely sure what that meant—Ginia didn’t have much of an army for a level-seven player. She mostly relied on magic, stealth, and alliances.

Moving carefully, Ginia laid out her spellcubes and then pulled out the spellshape Sierra had coded. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed Sierra’s hand. “On three?”

Oh, yeah. Sierra pulled out the amplifying spell, ready to broadcast Ginia’s voice all over Realm. It was a standard air-transmission spell with a small twist that should carry sound through walls. They didn’t want anyone to miss this.

She could see Ginia count down from three on her fingers. At “go,” they both triggered their spells. And stood together on a pointy rock giggling like maniacs as Warrior Girl’s voice rang out through Realm. “GANDALF! Spell thief and miserable excuse for a warrior. SHOW YOURSELF! Fight like a witch! You have ten seconds to fly a pink flag from your main castle keep, or I will have no recourse but to TAKE REVENGE. Ten seconds, Gandalf. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!”

Sierra was pretty sure ten seconds was just long enough for everyone else in Realm to hear and find a good place to watch the action. She hoped they were under cover. Things were going to get a little wet.

Exactly ten seconds after the ringing pronouncement ended, storm clouds formed all over Realm. Not what they’d expected at all—where was the stolen cache?

Ginia’s eyes opened wide, and she started counting. “Holy crap—he’s stashed my spells all over the place. No wonder I could never find them all.” She squinted. “Where’s he hiding them, exactly?”

That was something a level-three spell could solve. Sierra pulled up her spell menu and activated a pair of magical binoculars. She focused on the areas directly under the biggest clouds. Each one hung over a small building with a door, tucked out the back of houses and castles. Some kind of storage shed? She grinned as thunder began to reverberate throughout Realm. Almost time for purple rain.

The rain started—and nothing happened. Well, lots of purple water falling, but no guards, no mad Gandalf—nothing. Crap. Maybe they’d goofed the spell somehow.

Ginia scowled. “What are those dumb little buildings, anyways? Maybe it’s an illusion spell and they’re really concrete bunkers or something.”

Sierra itched for just one decent air power stream. “Too bad we can’t do real magic. Just one little tornado, and I bet we could get some of those buildings out of the way.”

“Yes!” Ginia danced in place. “Build me one. In real life—I can use Net power to suck it in-game. Can you keep it under class three? The safeguards won’t let it in otherwise.”

Sierra leaned back in her chair and grabbed enough power for a big, bad, baby tornado. Then she split the power stream into ten parts, attaching one to each of her fingers and thumbs. Carefully, she set them to whirling. Then she realized she had a small problem.

Giggling, she glanced over the top of her screen to where Ginia sat on the other side of the table. “I don’t have any fingers left for my trackpad. Can you pull them from here?” She held up her hands.

Ginia’s eyes bugged as she looked at the tiny spinning tornadoes. “How many did you make?”

“Ten.” Sierra grinned. “And they’re gonna get a lot bigger in about thirty seconds.”

“What?” Ginia squealed and dove for her keys. “Mama will kill us if we make a huge mess in her kitchen. Hang on, and I’ll pull them in.”

As soon as a couple of fingers were free, Sierra touched her trackpad and dove back into the action. She grabbed her binoculars again and looked out over Realm. The little buildings were no match for her tornadoes.

And O. M. G. There were mad purple people dancing where each of the buildings had stood, pants around their ankles. Ginia doubled over, gales of laughter rolling out over Realm. “Unbelievable. He hid my spells in outhouses. No warriors guarding them—just poop. Gandalf, you’re such a GEEK!” This last yelled out into the wind.

Sierra had a serious case of the giggles. This was what happened in the exalted top levels of Realm? “So how do we get your spells back?” She totally drew the line at digging through poop.

Still watching the action below, she winced as one of her tornadoes knocked over the wing of a castle. “Oops. Maybe that one had a little too much juice.”

Ginia’s giggles died beside her, eyes wide as she looked at the crumbled tower. “Uh, oh. I still have four more I need to put somewhere. I can’t leave them in Mama’s kitchen.”

Sierra tweaked her power streams, mildly disappointed. “It’s okay. I turned those ones off.”

“You can do that?” Ginia’s eyes got even bigger. “What did you do with the backlash?” And then squealed as the Realm tornadoes doubled in size. “Never mind—I see it!”

Sierra reached out to gentle the tornado, and then remembered real-life magic didn’t work in-game. She covered her eyes as the biggest one headed straight for the Enchanter’s castle—and then uncovered them as Realm went completely silent.

Ginia sat down hard. “Admin override.” She sucked in a deep breath, looking at the devastation below. “Man. My sisters are gonna kill me when they have to clean all this up.”

An admin message pinged onto both their screens. You splatter purple poop all over Realm, YOU get to clean it up. Love, Uncle Jamie. P.S. You might want to go pick up your spells—the tornadoes spread them out all over Realm, too.

Sierra let out one last errant giggle. “I’ll help.”

Ginia groaned. “You can’t. Your minion won’t last much longer.”

A new message popped up. Oh, yes it will. Admin override for purposes of poop removal.

Ginia looked up at Sierra and rolled her eyes. “Know any good cleaning spells?”

Sierra let one last giggle loose. Maybe her new life wasn’t so glamorous after all.

~ ~ ~

Lauren frowned at Nat’s belly. “She threw me out again, little punk.” She looked up. “Now what?”

Nat grinned. “Don’t look at me. I’m just the vessel.”

Too true. Nat’s mind was at the other end of the spectrum from the tantruming creature in her belly. “Yeah. Where’s Jamie when I really need somewhere to lay blame?”

Nell laughed. “Blame the Sullivan genes. Always a handy scapegoat.”

Moira chortled. “That blood runs in your veins, too, my dear.”

“True.” Nell reached for an apple. “But I take after Mom.” She grinned at Nat. “I think your girl takes after Devin.”

“Are Devin and Jamie really that different?” Lauren reached out with a gentle mindlink and felt the baby’s mental kick. She was one annoyed witchling.

“Heck, yeah.” Nell snickered. “Jamie’s feet only move faster than his brain about half the time. With Devin, it’s a permanent condition. Matt’s the least insane of the three, but that’s not saying much.”

“You guys are so reassuring.” Nat wiggled, trying to find a more comfortable position, and shot Sophie, asleep on the couch, an envious gaze. “I nominate each and every one of you as babysitters.”

Lauren grinned. They’d be lining up for the chance, feisty witchling baby or not. “Babysitting I can handle—you just get her out here where I can see her. In the meantime, anyone have any bright ideas on teaching her how to barrier? I’m trying to layer over her mind channels like Aervyn does so I can show her what to do, but she keeps tossing me out.”

“Independent little witch, is she?” Moira stroked Sophie’s hair gently. “I’ve known one or two like that in my day.”

Moira had been training witches longer than Lauren had been alive. “So if I can’t tell her, and I can’t show her, what does that leave?”

Nat smiled softly and rubbed her belly. “Invitation.” She shifted again. “Right now, I’m trying to invite her to move her feet out from under my ribs.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “And how’s that working for you?”

Nat shook her head. “I think she’s mad.”

Nell snorted. “She’s such a Sullivan. Start blaming Jamie now, Nat. It’s all going to be his fault.” She reached for her glass of root beer, and then pulled out her phone as it began to beep. “Sorry. Jamie’s tagging me, and he’s got Aervyn with him.”

A couple of texts later, she started laughing. “Gotta go. Apparently there’s purple poop all over Realm.” A moment later, she winked out of the Witches’ Lounge.

Lauren looked at Nat and shook her head. Just another normal day at Witch Central.

~ ~ ~

Devin sat down at Moira’s kitchen table and sniffed appreciatively. “You didn’t have to bake for me.”

“I didn’t, my dear.” She set a cup of strong tea down in front of him. “Elorie’s husband Aaron is always sending me over lovely tidbits—I’m just warming them up a bit.”

He was eternally grateful. Much as he loved Costa Rica, they’d somehow managed to move there with all the Sullivans who couldn’t cook. His parents were terrible in the kitchen, and while Nell and Jamie had both become excellent cooks in self-defense, his and Matt’s skills had remained sadly primitive.

Moira finished puttering and sat down across from him. “So, my dear boy—tell me why you’ve come for a visit.”

He grinned. “To see if you’ll marry me, of course.” It was a standing joke. He’d been three the first time he asked her.

She chuckled and patted his hand. “I do believe the time for me to accept grows short. It won’t be long before you’ll offer those words to another woman, I’m thinking.”

His brain stuttered to a stop. “Have you been reading tea leaves again?”

“Not at all.” She stirred her tea, eyes twinkling wickedly. “But when a man gets to a certain age, it’s time for him to find the other half of his soul. Yours is finally getting ready for that matching, I think.”

Not if he could help it. And he didn’t believe for one moment she hadn’t been digging into his future. Then again, she’d always known precisely how to make him squirm.

Which was exactly why he’d come to visit. When you needed advice, there was no one wiser or less likely to tell you pretty nonsense. “All I’m trying to get ready for at the moment is the birth of my new niece.”

Moira leaned back, studying his face. “Aye. And it’s a very interesting choice they’ve made, asking you and Lauren to lead the circle.”

He knew she loved him dearly—and that she’d tell him the truth. “Did they make a mistake?”

One more long look, and then the smile that had prompted offers of matrimony over thirty years ago. “No, my boy. And the fact that you can ask that question only makes me more sure.” She got up to check on whatever gift to his stomach was currently warming in the oven. “You have a wonderful partner to work with.”

“She’s an awfully new witch.”

“That she is.” Moira pulled out muffins and blew a gentle cooling spell before dropping one on a plate for him. “But she’s as steady as they come, and she loves Natalia like a sister.”

He nodded. Pretty much what he’d already seen with his own eyes. “Neither of us knows anything about birthing.”

Her giggles sounded like those of his triplet nieces. “You weren’t picked to help deliver the placenta, my love.”

Good thing, since he wasn’t precisely sure what that was. “I’m there to handle fire. In case our little girl comes out guns blazing.”

“No.” She shook her head, eyes back to serious. “You’ll do that and do it well, if need be. You were chosen because that baby has Sullivan genes. And while Jamie got the fire magic, you carry the full weight of the blood that runs through your veins.”

He grinned. “I’m reckless, am I?”

“That’s a fine word for it.” She handed him another muffin. “And a bit slower to grow up than some, but you’re making us very proud along the way.”

She’d always been genius at handing out a compliment and life advice in the same sentence. “So how do I keep a possibly reckless babe safe on her journey to be with us?”

“You already know the answer to that, sweet boy. Trust that huge heart of yours.” Moira leaned forward and patted his cheek. “Invite her into love. It has been, and always will be, love that keeps a reckless soul safe.”

~ ~ ~

Sierra lay down on her bed and fingered the ugly orange frog hanging on the chain around her neck. She’d always been able to fall asleep anywhere—on a train, in a strange room, or just curled up on Momma’s shoulder. And in foster care, she’d willed herself to sleep simply to make the days go by faster.

But here, with all these cool people, sleep only came after she’d wiggled around for an hour or two.

Weird. Maybe it was all the cookies they’d eaten during the Great Poop Cleanup.

She rolled over one more time—and was positive she heard giggling. Then her door squeaked open, followed by some loud bumps and more giggling.

Must be the triplets this time. Aervyn had snuck in several nights, but he just ported.

Sierra grinned and prepared a slime spell, layering it over her duvet cover. When the invaders hopped onto her bed, the squealing was loud enough to wake the dead. She giggled. “Shh. We’re supposed to be sleeping, remember?” She lit a small firelight.

“Ugh!” said Mia, in a loud whisper. “What is that stuff?”

“Witch goo. It keeps me warm while I sleep.”

“You sleep in slime?” Shay was trying to wiggle away from the goo, without much success. “That’s disgusting.”

“You two are such dorks.” Ginia held up a handful of slime closer to Sierra’s light. “Hey, can you show me how to make this stuff? I think it would be good for some of my healing salves.”

Mia snickered. “I want some for the next time Aervyn tries to borrow my iPod without asking.”

Sierra giggled and disappeared the slime. “It’s really fun to slide on. Momma used to take me hiking to find secret waterfalls and stuff, and then she’d make a goo slide on one of the rocks so we could slide into the water.” It had always made her feel like a big otter, shimmying around on her belly.

Shay snuggled closer. “You must miss her a lot.”

“Yeah.” Sierra touched her fingers to the frog.

“Is it true that she just disappeared?” Ginia cuddled into her other side. “We hear stuff.”

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Sierra tried to figure out how to tell a story she still didn’t truly understand. Maybe the short version was best. “We were in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. That’s like a big party they have down there. She left me at the hotel one night and didn’t come back.”

“You were all by yourself?” Mia’s eyes were as big as plates.

Sierra knew lots of people thought Momma had made a bad mistake leaving her alone. She tried to explain. “I was twelve and everything, so it was no big deal.”

Mia shook her head. “Our brother Nathan’s twelve, and Mama would never leave him alone in a big city.”

Shay elbowed her sister, and they all got very quiet.

Sierra tried not to feel the squeeze of pain. Why did everyone think it was Momma’s fault? “Nothing bad happened to me. It happened to Momma.”

“Did they look for her?”

“Yeah. But not very hard.” The police had been sure Momma had just walked away and left Sierra sitting in New Orleans all alone.

Ginia reached out a hand in comfort. “Maybe we can find her. We know lots of people who could help look.”

Sierra shook her head. For reasons she had never understood, she was very sure Momma was gone. “She’s dead.”

Ginia’s eyes were no longer nine years old. “Then maybe we can find out what happened. So at least you’d know.”

Sierra smiled sadly. They were sweet—but they were just kids. “Will you guys sleep with me tonight?” The nightmares didn’t come when she had company in her bed.

Mia rolled her eyes. “Duh.”