Witches on Parole: Unlocked

Chapter 6
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To: [email protected]

From: Jennie Adams <[email protected]>

Subject: One tired witch.

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Dear Vero,

I’ve checked in with my witch spy network. Reports are quite consistent.

Lizard is running herself into the ground—Melvin is right to be concerned. She was one of the first to recover from the flu that hit all of us, and spent the next several days feeding Witch Central. Now she’s back at work and at school, and if my sources are correct (and they usually are), she’s not sleeping, barely eating, and doing an excellent imitation of a workaholic.

This from a girl who used to randomly disappear instead of showing up for work.

I’m not entirely sure how to intervene yet. There is a water-balloon fight in a couple of hours. We shall see what happens when our workaholic is presented with a bit of mindless fun. And since I’m on her team, she’d better show up.

Elsie would be a workaholic if we gave her enough to do, but we’re quite intentionally trying to keep her plate clear of obligations. She needs some time to explore who she is. At the moment, she’s chief organizer of Jamie’s water-balloon team—and given his general cockiness on the subject, she’s either doing a marvelous job or a hopeless one (my nephew has been known to bluff on occasion). He’s currently running pretty bad odds in the betting pool, so most assume he’s bluffing. I’m not so sure—and not willing to bet against my student just yet.

And you will no doubt be unsurprised to hear that Elsie has been floating on a musical cloud since her lesson today. We will see if it lasts through getting soaking wet.

Off to beg, borrow, or bribe a waterproofing spell.

I will come to see you soon,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

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To: [email protected]

From: Vero Liantro <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: One tired witch.

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Jennie, my heart,

It’s Melvin again. I remember a certain young witch who became fascinated with a camera. I do believe I had to pry your hands off the darkroom table and feed you a time or two.

That’s not to say that Lizard’s current obsessions are healthy. But a driven heart can be a gift, and it’s only very recently that our girl has found something to be passionate about. It sounds to me like she wants to succeed, and that should be celebrated, along with making sure she doesn’t topple over from lack of food or sleep.

Balance matters—and so does a purpose in life. There might be some bumps as Lizard gets herself pointed straight down the road, but it’s a lovely thing indeed to see her driving. The biggest chain on that delightful girl’s soul is a lack of belief the world will adore her. She’s giving us a chance to do just that right now, and I hope she trusts the answer that comes.

As for Elsie, of course she is singing. It was a wonderful thing I did earlier today, sitting in the parlor just outside the music room and listening to their voices soar together. Elsie is not the only one who has had a song in her heart since—my Vero has been puttering in the kitchen, singing arias as she bakes cookies. She believes her voice has ceased to carry its old magic, so she sings less than she once did.

She is so very wrong.

Students are a gift, my love—don’t ever forget it.

Stay dry this afternoon,

Melvin

~ ~ ~

“Where do you think we should make our stand?” Elsie stood beside Jamie, nervously surveying Nell’s back yard.

“Right in the middle.” Jamie grinned. “That’ll psych out the other teams the most.”

“Don’t we maybe want to defend one of our flanks?” Elsie had spent half the night reading military strategy websites. Rather sinister, but surprisingly useful. The other two teams had at least one well-protected side. The mind-witch team—Lizard, Lauren, Jennie, and Caro—were set up against the fence. Ginia and Aervyn, along with pretty much all the air and water witches in town, including their powerhouse older brother Nathan, were perched on top of the play structure, a huge tree at their backs.

“We have enough people to man four sides—that should be enough.” Jamie measured with his eyes. “And it will give us the shortest distance to the home base for the other two teams.”

“Doesn’t that mean we’re just going to be easier to hit?”

Jamie chuckled. “I think your brilliant idea’s going to put a large dent in that problem.”

It was a pretty clever plan. And probably a dry one—unless you were on one of the capture squads. Elsie had somehow become Nat’s partner on the suicide mission to capture Team Lizard’s base. She was going to drown. However, they had to try—winning required control of all three home bases. And the military websites had assured her that the best generals led from the front.

Elsie looked around one more time and couldn’t come up with a better place to locate their crew. She hadn’t been this nervous since defending her PhD thesis. Heck, she was probably wearing the same clothes—her wardrobe didn’t run to backyard shenanigans.

The quick ring of flames Jamie sent up to outline their team turf in the grass didn’t help settle the turmoil in her belly any. “Isn’t Nell going to care about crop circles in her lawn?”

Jamie laughed and waved the flames off. “That’s why we have earth witches. They’ll fix it after we’re done.”

“It doesn’t seem fair for them to do all the cleanup.” Especially since earth-witch magic apparently wasn’t very useful in a water-balloon fight.

“Hardly.” Jamie snickered. “Once we get ourselves dried out, we’ll need all the fire witches to deal with the pond we’ve made in Nell’s back yard.” He pointed. “Ah, excellent. Here come reinforcements.”

Nat, and Nell’s husband, Daniel, were making their way across the lawn with a hose and a box of balloons. Non-witches, both of them. Elsie was well aware the other two teams were staring—they’d kept their list of recruits very, very quiet.

Aervyn giggled from his perch at the top of the slide. “Don’t you need some more witches, Uncle Jamie? We can give you some.”

Ginia clapped her hand over his mouth. “No way.” She surveyed their team. “How are you going to throw the water balloons without magic?”

Jamie curled his biceps. “I have arms, niece of mine.”

She grinned at him. “You can’t throw this far. You guys are so toast.” She switched tactics. “Auntie Nat, it’s going to be a lot drier up here. Sure you don’t want to switch?”

Nat simply smiled and peeled off her tank top, revealing the swimsuit underneath.

Elsie was watching the other two teams’ reactions very carefully. Almost everyone seemed to agree with Ginia. The two notable exceptions were Jennie and Nell. Maybe Nell knew about her husband’s MVP pitching trophies in college.

Jamie grinned. See, I told you they’d totally underestimate him.

Elsie still didn’t really understand why a guy who could throw a ball at ninety miles per hour wasn’t seen as a water-balloon fight threat, but she could see with her own eyes it was true. Jamie said victory tended to hinge on the witch talents on the team.

Which was a bit nerve-wracking given the rest of their team members.

Ginia held up an arm. “Are we ready to start?”

“Not quite.” Jamie walked over to the deck and grabbed four plastic chairs. “We have a few more team members to add.” He grinned at Elsie and raised his voice. “Okay, you guys can come in now.”

Elsie had never seen anything quite so funny as the reactions of Teams Lizard and Ginia as the rest of Team Jamie walked slowly in the back gate.

Helga hooked her arm through Marion’s elbow and waved at Caro. “How come you never invite us to do anything like this? Sounds like almost as much fun as knitting.”

Melvin, his hand on Vero’s arm, chortled. “Indeed. We old folks couldn’t even get a decent invitation, could we, my dear?”

Help me get them settled before the shock value wears off. Jamie’s mental voice was full of glee. We’ve got this one in the bag.

Elsie still wasn’t convinced—but the other two teams did look rather off their game.

Off their game? You’ve just masterminded the biggest shocker in Witch Central balloon-fight history. Jamie took Melvin’s hand and helped him to the chair facing the mind-witch team. “Jennie and Lizard are straight ahead,” he said quietly.

Melvin’s eyes gleamed. “I can keep those two under control.”

Elsie helped Helga sit facing the play structure where Team Ginia watched in confusion. And prayed she was right that nobody would soak a little old lady. Helga pulled out her knitting—and lifted it up high enough that Elsie could see the water pistol hidden underneath. “Don’t you worry, my dear. They won’t get past me.”

Marion and Vero positioned themselves in the other two chairs. Team Jamie’s home base was now defended by four people over the age of seventy.

And looking at the faces on the other two teams, Elsie could finally taste the possibility of victory.

~ ~ ~

Frack. Lizard had plenty of practice figuring out when to fight and when to run. This was rapidly turning into a run scenario.

She turned to her team. “Okay, this changes things.”

“You think?” Caro snorted. “We can use illusions on Team Ginia like we planned, but that’s not going to get us past Helga and Marion. Those ladies are tough.”

Jennie frowned. “Do they know you’re a witch?”

Lauren laughed as Aervyn teleported himself over to Melvin’s lap for a hug. “They do now.”

Focus, people. Lizard’s brain was so damn tired. “How do we deal with Team Jamie’s senior-citizen defense?”

Lauren spun around as Ginia yelled, “Game on!” I think we have bigger things to worry about for the moment.

Lizard giggled as Jamie ported Aervyn back to his team—carrying a large water balloon that detonated on impact. And it gave her an idea. How much mind control can we use?

Jennie’s mental two-by-four pretty much answered that question. Not much, apparently.

You guys might want to stop worrying about Team Ginia for a moment. Lauren sounded distracted. We’re about to be invaded.

Elsie and Nat were flanking them, one up each side, well armed with filled balloons. Daniel and Jamie were headed for the play structure. Damn. With old people defending their turf, the rest of Team Jamie was on the total offensive.

Jennie grabbed some water balloons and Caro’s arm. “We’ll go see if we can get by the blind man and the knitters. The rest of you see if you can take out these two.” She grinned and pitched her voice louder. “Aim high—I don’t think Elsie’s going to like getting wet.”

Lizard felt Elsie’s scorn hit—just before all the water balloons in Jennie’s arms exploded.

It didn’t take a mind witch to interpret Elsie’s war whoop of victory. Crap—when had her roommate gotten competitive?

Explosions from the other side of the back yard suggested Team Ginia’s balloons were meeting the same end. Someone had figured out how to use fire power at a water fight.

And Elsie wasn’t Team Jamie’s only fire witch. Lizard spun toward her team’s balloon stash and cursed as the one Lauren had picked up exploded in their eyes, rapidly followed by balloons to the backs of their heads.

Lauren started to laugh as she tried in vain to wipe the water off her face. “Crap—that was Nat. Did I mention she can throw?”

Great. Old people and pitching arms suddenly sounded like game-winning tactics. Lizard swiped at her own face and tried to think. First things first. Without weapons, they would be in deep trouble. Caro, can you block Elsie’s fire magic from trashing our balloons?

Maybe. Delicate business, though—I could make them explode just as easy as anything else.

Well, try. Focus on saving the ones we’re throwing at her. No, wait. Lizard tried to fight the slow motion of her brain. Let one bust over her head. She can’t explode what she can’t see. And Jennie was right—Elsie wasn’t going to like getting wet.

Jennie took the balloon out of Lauren’s hand. “You throw like a girl. I’ll toss at Elsie—you go stand over by Nat and give us some cover.”

They were almost organized—and then the music started. Vero, standing on her chair and singing some crazy, fierce song about barricades and dying to be free. What the hell’s that?

Have you no culture, child? Jennie sounded amused. It’s the song the revolutionaries sing in Les Miserables, up on the barricades. Pretty good fighting anthem.

Caro snorted. Vero could sing the phone book and make it sound like a fighting anthem. She’s a warrior, that one.

Getting wet here, sent Lauren, taking a pelting from Nat. You guys actually going to do something anytime soon?

Jeebers. They were getting creamed by the senior citizen brigade, a pregnant woman, and a fire witch who’d never been in a fight before. It was time to shift tactics. Cut and run, guys. Let’s get out of here and go see if we can sneak in the back door of Team Ginia while they’re being distracted on the front lines.

Her team didn’t budge. So much for their faith in her leadership. Lizard tried to explain. We need all three bases to win, right? Well, so do they. We can give up this one and come back for it later if we’re still standing. She nodded her head in the direction of the whooping witchlings on top of the play structure. Look at them. They’re all aiming straight for Jamie. And Daniel’s just standing there doing nothing.

Daniel’s no slouch, Jennie warned. He’s a hacker—he specializes in backdoor attacks.

Good point. Fine. Jennie, you create a distraction. Something that will keep his attention off the rest of us.

Like what exactly? Jennie asked dryly.

I dunno. An illusion of his wife dancing naked on top of the slide?

Jennie’s mental voice spluttered with laughter. I expect that would work exceedingly well, but this is a family-friendly balloon fight.

Whatever. Come up with something. Lizard winced as water ran down her eyes again. See if you can distract Nat while you’re at it. Lauren, Caro, you’re with me.

Lizard headed out, her eyes already focused on the play structure. She was an expert in reading volatile situations quickly. See—they’re out of balloons. The only real weapons they have up there are Nathan and Aervyn. Air witches weren’t any use once the balloons were gone.

Those two are a fairly sizable threat. Caro sounded like she was sitting in a chair knitting, with all the time in the world.

One of them’s only four. And no way were they getting punked by a kid who couldn’t throw to save his life. Lizard tapped lightly into his outer mind—all that was allowed. And heard the rhyming. Wait—he does rhymes for his spells?

Sure, said Lauren, confused. Most witches do. He’s strong enough that he doesn’t have to say them out loud. Nathan either—that family has mad spellcasting skills.

Finally, Lizard smelled a route to victory. She dug into her mind for some family-friendly vocabulary and grinned. Okay, team. I’m going to shout stuff. I want you to shout it back to me—voice and mind-broadcast. We’re going to distract the hell out of Aervyn and his older brother. Time to disrupt some spells.

She didn’t wait for replies. Looking straight at the tiny, mighty king of water, she started to bellow. “Roses are RED!”

Her team almost missed their cue. Apparently it was hard to yell when you were doubled over in laughter. “… are RED!”

“Violets are BLUE!”

Still laughing, but at least they managed recognizable words this time.

“My feet STINK and so do YOU!”

They might have won. If her entire team hadn’t been in hysterics, Nathan’s confusion and Aervyn’s flood of giggles would have given them the time they needed.

Instead, Lizard watched in disgust as Daniel grabbed the opportunity she’d created and stormed the play structure, throwing witchlings down the slide as he went. Not that it was a hard job—most of them had abandoned team allegiance and were happy to run around the backyard chanting, “My feet STINK and so do YOU!”

Yo, fearless leader. Jennie sounded busy. Aervyn’s not the only witch who rhymes. You’ve scrambled pretty much everyone’s magic with your stunt there—and guess which team has the most non-witches who can throw?

Frack. Lizard spun around, trying to get a read on the battle. And realized Team Jamie was an inch from winning. They had the play structure. Their senior-citizen defense team held at home base. And Jennie was all that stood between Nat’s throwing arm and Team Jamie’s total victory.

So Lizard did the only thing possible. She headed straight for Melvin and the home base he protected.

And discovered that a blind man had scary-good aim with a water pistol.

~ ~ ~

Jennie just shook her head as Jamie walked over, his quick-dry spell already causing her clothes to steam. His grin closely resembled a certain four-year-old’s. “I told you so. You’d have stayed a lot drier on my team.”

She eyed his still-dripping T-shirt. “I’m not sure you’re good advertising for that claim.”

“But check out my team.” His eyes were full of mischief. “Vero and Marion didn’t get a drop on them.”

“You’d put me on your team of old folks, would you?” Jennie raised an eyebrow. Besides, while half his team of senior-citizen defenders had stayed dry, the same could not be said for Melvin and Helga, who had pulled out water pistols to defend against Lizard’s final charge.

Jamie followed her gaze, chuckling. “I didn’t know they were armed. That Helga’s a handful.”

“You know you’re going to have to invite her back now.” Helga’s victory dance had been a sight to behold, a popped water balloon hanging off her knitting needles as she shimmied barefoot through the puddles.

“Of course.” Jamie looked rather proud of himself. “And she’ll make sure Elsie doesn’t chicken out the next time I need her, too.”

Jennie shook her head. Only her nephew could recruit a team full of non-witches and scared-of-a-little-water newbies and still emerge Water Balloon King. “It’s a little hard to believe she was the mastermind behind all this. Silliness isn’t exactly her forte.”

Jamie grinned. “She shocked the hell out of me. She talked Helga and Marion into coming and recruited Vero and Melvin at her singing lesson this morning.”

Which they had both conveniently failed to mention. “Somehow, I don’t think that was a particularly difficult job.”

“For them, no.” Jamie was more serious now. “But when was the last time Elsie approached people with an idea that was purely about having fun?”

Jennie smiled, impressed with his instincts. No witch trainer ever truly took their mentoring hat off—even in the middle of a monster water fight. He’d given Elsie the role she really needed to play.

And it wasn’t the only lesson he’d snuck in for the day. Jennie looked around the back yard at the day’s heroes. Helga. Nat. Daniel. “A lot of pretty venerable non-witches on your team.” Another oft-repeated Witch Central lesson, and not a bad one for their weak fire witch to learn, either.

“Yup.” He looked entirely too innocent. “They throw and shoot pretty well, though.”

Jennie looked down at her still-damp clothes. “You don’t say.” She’d spent ten minutes foolishly trying to defend Team Lizard’s home base from Nat and Elsie’s purely non-magical assault. “Was that your idea or Elsie’s?”

He grinned. “Nat’s.”

That figured. Nat was no stranger to embedding life lessons in some innocent fun either.

It was time to get some food. Even the vanquished needed to eat. Jennie pointed her nephew in the direction of the loaded picnic table—and then froze, her pendant blazing. Lizard.

Jamie was three steps ahead of her, catching Lizard as her legs gave out. Jennie reached out with her mind, seeking, but there was very little to read—her student was out cold.

Worried bodies crowded around as Jennie knelt beside her blonde fairy’s head—and then gave way to one very bossy nine-year-old healer snapping out orders as she moved to her newest patient’s side. “Jennie or Lauren, set up a mind shield for her. Uncle Jamie, port my healing bag. Mama, we need cookies.”

Ginia dropped down by Lizard, placing one hand on her forehead, the other on her chest. Witch Central quieted, well used to healing scans and the need for relative silence. When Ginia’s eyes opened again, two things were clear. Whatever had happened to Lizard, it wasn’t all that serious. And somebody was in real trouble. Or a lot of somebodies.

“When’s the last time she ate?” Ginia glared at everyone in the immediate vicinity. “Or slept? She’s totally out of gas.”

Jennie winced. “She’s been pushing herself pretty hard.”

“And you let her?” Now Ginia’s anger had a target. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of her?”

Ouch. “She’s a grown woman, sweetie.”

“Even adults can be stupid sometimes.” Lizard began to stir under Ginia’s hands. “She’s waking up now. Uncle Jamie, pour her some of that disgusting green stuff in my bag.”

Aervyn skidded to a halt, cookie tin in his hands. “I have cookies. They’re a lot better than that yucky green stuff. Don’t make her drink it, Ginnie.”

“You’d get cookies because you’re little.” Ginia wasn’t bending an inch. “Stupid big people get the green stuff first.”

Jennie tried to hide her grin. She knew better than to mess with a healer on the rampage. And Ginia was right—most witches didn’t want to face the green stuff more than once. It tasted like a cross between moldy gym socks and three-week-old Chinese takeout. With a little horseradish thrown in.

Lizard took one sip and sat up protesting, looking a lot more lively. “That’s nasty! I’m fine. I just got a little too hot or something.”

Ginia’s eyes were fierce. “Drink.”

Lizard’s eyes flared. Jennie grabbed Lauren’s arm before she could intervene. Don’t worry—Ginia can hold her own.

Ha. I was going to rescue Lizard. Lauren’s mind was a little amused—and a boatload of guilty. I knew she was working too hard.

We all did. Jennie softened, watching the face-off between her thoroughly pissed delinquent and a nine-year-old healer. But Ginia’s got a point to make. We’ll be the second front and make sure it sticks tomorrow.

“We’re going to have help,” Lauren said softly. “Look at Elsie.”

Her other student was a picture of horrified guilt. Jennie nodded as Lizard, scowling, took another sip of the green goo. And worried. Elsie didn’t need any more projects.