To Love A Witch (A Novel Nibbles title) (6 page)

Jolie had dragged Romy into the kitchen and
presented her with a very homemade cookie. Jake grinned. She could
be the poster child for why the Witch Sentinel System mattered.

She looked up at Romy. “He’s going to try to
kiss you later. I think kissing is yucky.”

Jake walked over and plunked a big kiss on
Jolie’s cheek. “My kisses are never yucky, Miss Troublemaker.”

“Do you remember what we talked about, sweetie?”
Molly asked.

Jolie rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’m not supposed to
tell somebody about their future unless they want to know.” She
looked over at Romy. “So, do you want to know whether he kisses
you, or not?”

Romy shook her head. “Nope. I already know the
answer to that.”

Jolie looked interested. “Can you see the
future, too?”

Romy shook her head again and finished off the
last of her cookie.

Little girls could be persistent. “So what kind
of witch are you?”

“How do you know I’m a witch?”

Jolie looked confused. “Well, you work with
Jake, don’t you? Oh, wait.” She looked chastened. “Sorry, I think
that’s a future something, not a now something. I get confused
sometimes.”

“I don’t work with Jake,” said Romy. “I’m just
his friend, and he wanted me to meet you. Can I have another
cookie?”

Well now, thought Jake, putting his hand out for
another cookie, too. That was an interesting tidbit to tuck into
the back of his mind. Plenty of Sentinel monitors worked in pairs.
He would be more than happy to spend a little more time with his
redhead.

Romy grumbled as she lurched up a sad excuse for
a trail. No one had bothered to mention that there was a mile-long
hike to get onto Tabletop Rock, and most of it was uphill.

Kids who spent their formative years in juvie
tended to either love or hate being in the outdoors. Give her a
good theater any day. She appreciated wide-open spaces, she just
preferred to navigate them with motorized assistance.

Or a cute guy and his flying bike… She hushed
her traitorous mind. Jake was a lot of the reason she was hiking up
some forsaken rock in the wee hours of the morning to throw around
fireballs.

The trail suddenly leveled, and she could see
Carla waving. “Good morning, did you enjoy your hike?”

Romy tried to sound more cheerful than she felt.
“Nice view. I didn’t see you on the trail; how long have you been
up here?”

Carla laughed and handed her a bagel. “Oh, I
didn’t hike up. Jake flew me in just a few minutes ago. I have
coffee to go with these bagels; it should still be hot.”

“He flew you?” Romy spluttered. “How come I had
to walk up—what is this, witch boot camp?”

“I’m sorry, mia cara, but he said you weren’t
comfortable on his bike right now.”

Romy tried not to whine, and then gave up. “If
it was a choice between that and a crack-of-dawn hike, I might have
chosen the flying.”

Carla looked up at the mid-morning sun and
handed her a coffee. “Not a morning person, I’m guessing.”

True, but she wasn’t usually an uber-grump
either. “Sorry, this whole magic thing has me nervy.”

“You’ve spent your entire life trying to make
the magic go away. You’ll see how much easier it is to work
with
what’s inside you, instead of against it.”

Romy pictured weeks of early morning hikes and
groaned. “And how long will that take?”

Carla shrugged and patted the rock beside her,
motioning for Romy to sit. “Oh, an hour or two. No more than that
unless you’re outrageously stubborn, but even then, we’ll be out of
here in time for lunch.”

For the first time in her life, that whole
jaw-dropping-to-the-floor thing made literal sense. “You can teach
me how to control my magic in a couple of hours?”

“It’s not really teaching,” Carla said, looking
sad. “It’s just helping you to access what you already know. That’s
part of why Jake is so angry about what happened to you. It would
have taken so little help to prevent it.”

“I know he’s angry so many kids were abandoned.”
It was easier to think of Jake’s temper kicking on behalf of
someone else. Lots of someone elses.

“Oh, they all make him mad. But Jake isn’t one
of those people who tends to rail against the system on principle.
This is personal for him. You made it personal.”

Romy opted for naked honesty. “I don’t really
know how to feel about that.”

“I know, mia cara. And that’s just one of many
things we need to fix. But first things first. I don’t want you
sending my boy up in flames the next time he flies you in a loop or
tries to kiss you.”

There had been far too many people talking about
her kissing Jake lately. And her still traitorous head thought it
sounded like a fine idea. Sure, let’s kiss the sexy witch—there
were so many ways that could end badly.

Since they’d somehow drifted onto the one topic
that made her more uncomfortable than magic, Romy headed back to
safer ground. “So, where do I find my inner instruction manual that
knows how to tame these fireballs?”

Carla tossed a ball of light from palm to palm.
“That depends how much you trust me.”

“To feed me, entirely. Beyond that, you need to
explain what you have in mind.”

“A skeptical witch, are you? Good.” Carla sent
her ball of light upward and turned it into fireworks. “There are
two ways we can do this. Kind of like teaching a child to tie their
shoes. You can sit and talk them through it, but that’s confusing,
and requires lots of trial and error. Or you can put your hands
over the child’s hands, and guide. Faster, easier, but it requires
some trust.”

Cute, but shoes weren’t fireballs. “That just
seems like a good way to get us both scorched.”

Carla’s eyes flashed. “You don’t think I can
handle your fire?” She stood up and backed away several steps. “Go
ahead, hit me with whatever you have.”

Well there’s a shocker, thought Romy. The
Italian fire witch has a temper. “I can’t handle my fire—is it
really so shocking I don’t trust anyone else to, either?”

Carla stared for a second, and then sat back
down. “See that rock over there, the one that’s standing on
end?”

Romy saw it. The top of Tabletop was littered
with smaller rocks. This one was covered in long, black lines.

“If things head out of control, you just fire
away at that rock. It can take a few more scorch marks. I use it
for target practice all the time.”

“Target practice?”

“I’m Italian. I have a temper and a husband
who’s not perfect. When he pisses me off, I come beat up on the
rock.” Carla’s voice gentled. “You’re not the only witch who has a
hard time with her magic and strong emotions. You can borrow my
rock any time you need to. For now, I’m asking you to trust that
you can’t produce anything the rock and I can’t handle.”

Romy wasn’t sure during what part of bagels and
conversation she’d decided to let Carla help, but apparently she
had. “Okay. What do I do?”

“Close your eyes. I’ll cast a small spell to
help our magic connect. Then we’ll make a little ball of
light.”

Romy closed her eyes and hoped neither of them
lived to regret this.

“
I ask the power of fire and light,

Join we two in inner sight.

The magic inborn and its flows,

What her blood already knows,

Let willing heart and mind to see.

As I will, so mote it be.”

Romy felt a jerk inside, and then a gentle
warmth she somehow knew was Carla’s guiding hands. There were no
words, just a quiet murmur of sound.

And then there was a web glowing inside her
body, streaming lines of starbright power. Romy didn’t have to be
told she was seeing the magic that lived in her. Carla’s mental
hands over hers, Romy followed the streaming lines that ran to her
fingers.

A moment of fear—this is where the sparks lived.
A touch to reassure. Slowly, ever so slowly, she let the streaming
lines reach beyond her fingertips and asked them to curl
around.

When Romy opened her eyes, a small ball of light
sat in her palm.

“Your Gran would be proud,” Jake said.

Crap. Sparks flew in Romy’s hands, and she
grabbed desperately for control.

Carla turned around and sent a fireball blazing
into the ground a foot from Jake’s toes. “Do you not know any
better than to sneak up on a fire witch? Idiot man, have I taught
you nothing?”

She turned back to Romy. “I take it back. Feel
free to use him for target practice.”

Romy’s fingers clenched with the effort to hold
in her fire. The ball of light was gone, and her heart ached from
the one small moment of magic freed.

“Do it again,” Jake said, moving closer. “Do it
while you’re angry and fighting for control.”

“I can’t.” And she couldn’t hold it much longer,
either.

Jake crouched down and cradled her face in his
hands. “You can. Magic lives in you. Be with it; make it
yours.”

Romy wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes, but
it pushed on her to believe. Reaching her hands up over his, she
closed her eyes and tried to see the web. All she saw were sparking
ends, like someone had come and attacked her power lines with
boxcutters.

She felt Jake’s hands on her face. Magic lived
in them, just as it lived in her.

The magic was hers to embrace and command. He
believed it, and for a heartbeat, she did too. That was just long
enough.

Romy reached her hands to the sky and felt the
sparking ends snap back into place. Power poured up through her
arms and out her fingers. Just like before, she asked the magic to
curl and form a ball. This time when she opened her eyes, an orb
the size of a house hung over her head.

Her entire body vibrated with the zing of magic
unleashed and unafraid.

“Holy shit,” said Jake. “The newspaper’s going
to be printing stories about UFO sightings again.”

Romy went with her impulse. She leaned in and
kissed him.

Jake carried bowls of minestrone to the table.
One of the serious perks of hanging out with Romy was that Carla
seemed to think she was a starving orphan. He could handle a more
regular supply of Franco’s cooking.

Romy followed with some hunks of fresh bread.
“This smells like heaven. Everyone is bribing me with good food
lately; I could get used to that.”

“Carla figured you’d be hungry after playing
with fire up on the Rock, so she sent enough for you, me, and ten
friends.”

Romy grinned. “Maybe I’ll sneak a loaf of bread
into the kids later today. Center food is only a small step up from
sawdust.”

Jake had been pondering how to quietly help out
with Romy’s kids. “Will they let outside food in if we make a
formal request?”

“I doubt anyone’s ever asked.” She frowned.
“What do you have in mind?”

He shrugged, not sure how to play this. “I
figured some good food at rehearsals might be nice. Franco could
make pizza or something.”

He had her entire attention now. “You want to
feed my kids? Why?”

“You got something against Franco’s pizza?” She
just looked at him. Damn. He’d hoped to just slide this in under
the radar, but he needed her help navigating the Center’s paperwork
monster.

“Why do you do Delinquent Drama?”

She scowled. “What’s that got to do with
pizza?”

He swiped half her slice of bread, dunked it in
olive oil, and fed it back to her. He was about to compliment her
big time, and he wanted her mouth full enough she wouldn’t
interrupt. “I think you do it for two reasons. One, to give them
some reason to get through to the next day. I figure you know
exactly what it’s like to be marking time in there.”

She just nodded and chewed.

“And two,” he continued, “I think you want them
to get some practice pretending to be somebody different than a kid
from the hood. Maybe some of it sticks, and they have a chance to
step into a different life when they get back outside.”