An Unlikely Witch (12 page)

-o0o-

Nat struggled up from her mat, legs wincing in protest.  She’d been doing way too much power yoga lately trying to work herself back into a state of sanity.

“You looked messed up.”

The voice from the back of the studio surprised her—but the words were oddly comforting.  Stark and honest.  “I’m dealing with some stuff right now.”  Which Trinity had probably heard.  Witch Central didn’t contain information very well.  It spilled over, along with the love.

“I heard.”  Shoulders shrugged in a way that seemed to heave at least some of the crap out of the way.  “Is it  gonna help you to have something new to do, or just stress you out worse?”

Nat leaned into a wall, stretching out her calves and feeling strangely better.  “I don’t know.  What did you have in mind?”

“Missy.” 

The teenager with the big eyes full of hero worship.  Nat was pretty sure that whatever was coming next, she didn’t have it in her to say no.  “How can I help?”

Trinity’s shrug was a lot more diffident this time.  “She wants to try that yoga stuff you do.”

An odd burst of pleasure ran up Nat’s spine.  “She’s totally welcome here.”  She scrolled through the class schedule in her mind.  “I have a beginner class on Wednesday nights with a couple of other girls from the high school.  Funky music, a bit of dancing thrown in.  She might like that one.”

“Okay.  I’ll let her know.”

There was more, and it was making her visitor squirm.  Nat kept talking and trusted it would arrive when it was ready.  “Tell her to come in comfortable clothes.  The studio has mats she can borrow.”

“She can’t afford to pay.  But we don’t take charity.”  The castle’s number-one rule.  “Can she clean up for you or something?”

There were always odd jobs that could be done.  Nat dug for one that would honor the girl who was seeking.  “She can help sort through inventory in the store.”  The small area where she sold yoga clothing was attractive and warm and full of pretty fabrics, all things the teenager would enjoy.  And at this time of year, it could definitely use a little organizing.

Suspicion blasted onto Trinity’s face and then left again, almost as quickly, replaced by something far less easy to read.  “Thanks.  That would be great.  She’ll like that a lot.”

The words sounded almost forced.  Nat raised an eyebrow.

“Damn.  Sorry.”  The younger woman shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants.  “Lizard says I have to stop being so ornery when people are trying to help.  But it’s hard, especially when you offer up something that nice.”  She turned and glared at herself in the mirror.  “I get in my own way, that’s one thing.  I get in Missy’s way, that’s just stupid.  She’ll love playing in your little store, and it will help her feel like part of what goes on here.  So thank you.  For real this time.”

The words slid in, a sneaky right hook that made it under Nat’s ribs and hit somewhere tender.  “It’s no problem.  I’ve been feeling pretty ornery the last couple of days too.”

Trinity’s lips quirked.  “I bet your ornery’s not nearly as mean as mine.”

“Maybe not.”  Nat met dark eyes in the mirror.  “But I haven’t gotten unstupid nearly as fast as you, either.”

“We’re all works in progress on that one.”  Boots, already beating a path to the door.  “I’ll tell Missy to get her tail in here on Wednesday.  She messes up, you let me know.”

There was no point in saying anything—the brief tornado in her studio was already gone.  But as Nat rolled up her mat, she knew that finding a gift for Trinity was going to be a lot harder than she’d thought.

So far, stuff kept flowing entirely the other way.

-o0o-

Hell hath no fury like a young girl left on the sidelines.

Moira looked on the visage of her newest arrival and tried not to wince.  Temper stormed over Ginia’s face, hot and fierce and insistent.  “Good afternoon, sweet girl.”

“Were you going to leave me out?”  Clear blue eyes snapped, making very clear what their owner thought of that.  “Does Auntie Nat need our help?”

It wasn’t the first time an old witch had faced down a trainee’s wrath—but it was a rare case when the fury was so tightly controlled.

And possibly, so well deserved.  Moira reached out to touch a rosy cheek and gave her student the honor of as much of the truth as she could.  “We aren’t sure yet, lovey.  And until we’ve done some looking, yes, we kept this from you, and from a dozen others who would also want to help.”

Ginia’s eyes flamed even higher.  “They’re not healers.”

Indeed they weren’t.  “No, but they are people who match your love for Natalia Sullivan.”  Moira waited for the ears attached to the angry eyes to begin to listen.  “What the patient needs comes first.”

Hurt now, aching oceans of it, as a quick mind pieced together the clues.  “Auntie Nat asked you to keep it a secret?”  Ginia’s lip quivered.  “From me?”

Yes.  And inadvertently set big hearts on a collision course.  Moira wrapped an arm around tight shoulders and led her young fighter into the parlor.  Time for cuddles and a heart-to-heart chat.

Ginia fought the handling, arms crossed and face tangled in a wicked mess of feeling.

Moira let none of that stop her.  She settled the child in a corner of her couch and covered her in the same green blanket that had soothed Lauren.  And then lowered herself nearby and chose her words carefully.  The truth wasn’t hers to tell—but Nat would not want harm done either.  “Nat came to ask us a question.  We don’t know yet if it’s something healers can help with.”

“But why is it a secret?” asked Ginia, quiet, but persistent.  “Nobody keeps secrets in Witch Central.”

They did, far more than even the sharpest of their young minds knew.  But never without good reason.  “Perhaps a better way to think of it is that she’s not ready for it to be known just yet.”

Something cleared on the young healer’s face.  “Oh.  So kind of like when Lizard really loved Josh and wanted to get all old and crinkly with him, but she didn’t want everyone to know about it.”

Moira chuckled.  That had been one of the most poorly kept secrets in the history of witching.  “A little bit like that.  Sometimes we have a need to hold something close to our hearts for a while before we share it.” 

“Lizard had to get brave enough to look.”  Ginia squinted.  “Auntie Nat’s awfully brave, though.”

Wise words from a child who saw very well.  “She is.  But sometimes even our most courageous hearts need a little time, and maybe a little extra love to help them be strong and brave.”

“We already have some ideas about that.”  Blue eyes flashed, daring anyone to mess with
that
mission.  “Maybe we can steal Kenna for the weekend so Auntie Nat and Uncle Jamie can have lots of naps.”

Only by the narrowest of margins did Moira manage to avoid melting into a puddle of laughter.  A childless weekend might be exactly what was needed to put this whole thing to rights.

Especially if an old Irish healer sent over one of her fertility tea blends and a couple of Sophie’s bespelled candles.  Sometimes it was the small magics that worked the very best.

Moira hugged the child she adored. “You already have some plans underway, do you?”  It wasn’t a surprise—this one and her sisters read the currents of community as well as anyone.  They’d have seen the distress, even if they didn’t know the cause.

Ginia cuddled in for a minute, the relaxed snuggle of a body feeling much better.  And then looked up, face a mix of fierce and pleading.  “When it’s time for the healing part—if Auntie Nat needs our help—tell her I love her really a lot, okay?”

“She loves you so very much, sweet girl.”  Moira leaned her face down into bouncy golden curls.  And felt the uncanny certainty that those two big hearts were not done crashing into each other just yet.

Chapter 10

Moira had been expecting a visitor.  She’d seen Nat’s moss-green form slip into Sophie’s cottage earlier in the day and then depart later, a basket of lotions in her arms.

Two days of scanning.  Sophie would know more now, and she was gracious enough to still come and chat about her patients of an evening.  Unnecessary for the patients—but good for the soul of the old witch who got to keep plying her trade a little.  Moira rippled the waters of her pool, glad as always for the richness of her waning years.

A small splash and a lithe form slipped into warm waters.  Sophie sighed in pleasure and in welcome.  “This never grows old.”

Indeed, it didn’t.  “The best magics never do.”

The younger witch leaned her head back against a handy smooth rock. 

Moira took a careful look.  Lines of tiredness.  “Your cottage has been smelling of the holidays.”  Peppermint, cinnamon, vanilla—the villagers had been crossing the street for an extra whiff on their way about their business.

“The last orders ship in the morning.”  Sophie rolled her shoulders gently.  “And I’ll be glad for it.  I already had to dig out some joint compound for myself.”

The joint remedy was a boon to half of Fisher’s Cove this time of year.  “No one has your hand with potions, but you’ve only to ask if you need help.”  They’d find more hands.  Somewhere.

Sophie smiled.  “They’re more use in Aaron’s kitchen than in mine.”

The inn was busy this time of year too.  That was a new thing—Aaron’s cooking and Cassie’s fiddling were pulling them in a fine holiday audience.  Moira reached behind her for a plate.  “I saved some of his shortbread for us.”  A goodly dose of fat and sugar might put a little color back in a potion-maker’s cheeks.

And they smelled of butter and promises and little girls’ giggles.

They sat in harmonious silence for a while, munching on the delicious buttery cookies and soaking in the quiet of the early evening.  The wind crisped Moira’s cheeks a little, its bite only mild as it swirled over the pool’s waters.

  “It’s so hard to find patience on this one.”  Sophie brushed a few crumbs neatly into the sleeping flowers.  “Jamie and Nat have waited so very long for their little boy, and no matter how much I mutter the usual healer mantras about patience and things out of our reach, I feel like it should be in the power of my hands to fix this for them.”

It was the ghost that haunted all their best healers.  “You may have that joy yet.  Infertility is a tricky beast.”  Messy and complicated, with dozens of things that could be wrong, and they often tangled together worse than a yarn basket full of kittens. 

“Yes, but there’s usually some sign of where to start.  Hormone levels, blood flow, energy blockages—I checked them all.”  Sophie sighed.  “I even looked for magical trauma.”

Moira frowned.  That last one would be standard fare—if the woman in question were a witch.  “You think she’s been hurt by magic somehow?”

“Just casting at straws, mostly.  Kenna’s birth was pretty wild.”

And strong magics could leave strange echoes behind.  “It’s a fine thought.”

Sophie shrugged and shook her head.  “Nothing there, either.”

Moira didn’t question—the younger healer’s scanning skills were a marvel.  “Well then, you’d be left with following her through a cycle or two.”  A woman’s body wasn’t a stationary thing.  “Perhaps you’ll see something in the coming weeks.”

“Maybe.”  Not the sound of a convinced witch. 

Something gathering, and not just for two of their favorite people to the west.  “What troubles you, sweetheart?”

Sophie reached for another shortbread, eyes pensive.  “With most cases of infertility, there are things I can do.  Maybe not the most important things, but I can smooth energies.  Help channels to relax, calm the stress hormones.”

There were few failures more deeply personal than not being able to grow a little one in your own womb.  Often getting the negative emotions and energies out of the way helped greatly.  “I saw you sent her home with some lotions.”

“I had to do something.”  Sophie shrugged, shaking her head.  “But she doesn’t need them, not really.  She’s got the most disciplined aura I’ve ever seen in a patient, and she handles uncertainty with more grace and steadiness than anyone I know.”

It wasn’t the words that mattered now.  Their best healer’s instincts were humming.  And worried.  “Natalia is an amazing soul.”  Moira reached out her hands, trying to figure out what lay at the heart of the younger woman’s worry.  “But still a very human one.  What is it you don’t know how to say?”

Frustration now, and deep helplessness.  “She felt different today.  It isn’t serenity riding at her core anymore.  There’s something bubbling underneath it—a lot of somethings.” 

Not unexpected, even for the likes of their gorgeous yogini.  “Aye.  And part of your job will be to help her let that out.”  It wasn’t only bodies they healed.

Sophie looked down into the waters, quiet for a long time.  “That might be the one thing Nat Sullivan can’t do well.  Her discipline’s there for a reason.  She’s needed it.” 

Now they were in the land of pure instinct.  “You don’t think she knows how to let it go?”

“No, that’s not quite what I mean.”  The younger woman paused a moment, eyes intent.  Thinking.  “Imagine yourself without your flowers.” 

Moira frowned—the mere thought of it sent shivers up her spine.  “Don’t you be wishing ill to my blooms, now.  They’re just having a wee rest.”