Witches in Flight (11 page)

“I can look farther than anyone.”
 
Aervyn sat up straight in Jamie’s lap, his blankie sliding
to the floor.

“Nope.”
 
Jamie’s
voice carried quiet command.
 
“Sometimes big people go places that aren’t good for little witches to
see.
 
You can sit here with me, but
you can’t look for her.”

Aervyn’s eyes were big and round.
 
“Okay, I won’t.”
 
He held out his index finger.
 
“Superhero swear.”

Jennie watched, amused, as Jamie held out his own finger and
zapped lightning at his nephew.
 
For most witches, the energy flying between their fingers would
constitute a major spell, not a small-boy promise.
 
It was obviously something Aervyn took very seriously,
however.
 
He ported his blankie
back into his arms and cuddled into Jamie’s chest, content now to just wait.

“She’s coming back.”

Jennie looked at Nat, astonished.
 
Jamie’s wife was astute and intuitive, but neither of those
should beat mind powers in this particular scenario.

Nat held up her phone and smiled.
 
“Text from Lauren.
 
She doesn’t know where Elsie’s been, but apparently she’s on her way
home.”
 
She cast a quiet glance
Aervyn’s direction.
 
“It sounds
like she’s had quite a bit of fun.”

Her husband got the message and stood up, a small-boy package in
his arms.
 
“We’ve found Elsie,
superboy.
 
Time to get you back to
bed.”
 

Aervyn grinned.
 
“Her mind feels all bubbly.
 
She must have had lots of fun.”
 
He yawned, clearly satisfied by whatever he’d picked up from their
errant witch’s mind.

Jamie rolled his eyes.
 
“Time to go, munchkin.
 
Goodnight, all.”
 
A nod at
the room, and he winked out.

Jennie glanced at Caro, pretty sure no one else had Elsie in
range yet.
 
Aervyn’s reach was
monumental, and growing every day.
 
Caro shook her head.

“Had a little too much to drink, has she?”
 
Vero didn’t look terribly upset at the
thought.

“Ugh.”
 
Lizard
shuddered.
 
“That means Ginia’s
going to send us more of that vile green stuff.
 
Tell her to deliver it straight to Elsie’s room this
time—I don’t want to have to smell it.”

Jennie had some sympathy for that position.
 
And a residual sense of dread.
 
It seemed unlikely their pendants had
awakened them just to witness the prelude to a hangover.
 
She looked over at Caro, who had the
best range in town after superboy.
 
Can you sense her yet?

No.
 
Caro’s response was terse and carried
the same sense of foreboding creeping into Jennie’s chest.
 
Damn.

And then she could feel Elsie.
 
Bubbly, happy, and totally sloshed.
 
Jennie caught thought edges of dark
curls, dancing, and a man in a silver shirt—and then got the heck out of
Elsie’s mind.
 
A midsummer night’s
fling deserved a little privacy.

She smiled, thinking about how far the new Elsie had come.
 
If the pendants hadn’t woken them all
up in the dead of night, it would have been cause for uncomplicated
celebration.

Elsie woke up, the taste of raspberry Cosmopolitan still tickling
her tongue.
 
Her head felt
wonderful, thanks to dreams of Anton’s strong arms and a middle-of-the-night
dose of Ginia’s putrid goo.

It was worth it to have only happy memories of her glorious,
jazz-filled night.

It had taken Anton most of the evening to work up the courage to
ask her to dance.
 
No, that wasn’t
right.
 
There was nothing shy about
him—just a calm and infinite patience that had drawn her in.

He was the kind of utterly unsuitable man her mother had always
warned her about.
 

Elsie grinned and rolled out of bed.
 
She refused to blame the late-night activities of a grown
woman on her mother, and dancing to the sounds of old-time jazz with a sexy man
was probably tame by most people’s standards.

Then again, maybe not.
 
Anton wasn’t tame, even with his patient eyes and warm hands.
 
No man who loved the fluid passion that
was jazz could possibly be tame.

The knowledge that she’d spent several hours with a man who
would have scared her silly just weeks ago made Elsie’s heart tap out a beat of
morning joy.
 
She was
changing.
 
Growing.
 
A much different woman than she’d
been—and now it was more than just sandboxes and sparkly bicycles.

Finding her inner child was all well and good—but Elsie
Giannotto also needed an inner woman.
 
Anton was one big step in the direction of finding her.

Elsie stretched her arms overhead, delighted with herself and
the early-morning sun that had called her to waking.
 
It was going to be a glorious day.

“Do you have to be so freaking happy this early in the
morning?
 
It’s illegal to be happy
the morning after a bender, anyhow.”
 
Lizard stumbled past the open bedroom door, muttering something about
coffee.
 

Coffee sounded appealing.
 
Elsie grabbed her new silky red robe off a chair and followed her
roommate down the hall.
 
“Ginia’s
concoction worked very nicely.
 
And
Anton promised me the drink wasn’t all that strong—just enough to give me
a nice buzz.”

Lizard snorted.
 
“You were totally sloshed last night.
 
If that was just one drink, it was a mean one.”

Hardly.
 
She was
simply inexperienced with hard alcohol.
 
And it had been a warm night, long after dinner.
 
Elsie shrugged her shoulders, trying to
toss off her suddenly defensive mood.
 
It was hardly her fault she didn’t have a raging headache after a night
out.
 
Maybe Lizard was just having
a rough start to her day.
 
“Can I
make you some breakfast?
 
I got
free-range eggs at the market yesterday, and Caro dropped off some rolls.
 
Fried-egg sandwiches?”
 
They were one of her better
breakfasts—she’d bribed the man at the diner for a lesson.

Lizard thumped onto a stool at the counter.
 
“‘Kay.
 
There are some tomatoes in the fridge somewhere—Ginia
sent them along with the green goo.”

Elsie grinned.
 
It
wasn’t long ago that her roommate would have avoided anything resembling vegetables
along with her grease.
 
Maybe they
were both growing up a little.

~ ~ ~

Lauren watched as her efficient assistant got everything ready
for her first official client meeting as lead realtor.
 
Josh had been an accident—this
time, Lauren was putting Lizard in charge on purpose.

And taking a cue from an old mentor, she’d picked a doozy of a
client.
 
She’d never actually met
the Jamesons, but reading between the lines of their introductory email, they
were going to be a large pain in the ass.
 
A huge laundry list of needs, an unreasonable budget, and the belief
that realtors were magicians.

If Lizard could handle the Jamesons, she could handle anything—and
Lauren intended to prove it.
 
Even
if it meant dropping an obnoxious client on her intern the day after a
late-night witch SOS.
 
Not part of
the plan, but in Witch Central, you learned to roll with the inconvenient.

When Claire Jameson walked in the front door, Lauren knew she’d
picked right.
 
The woman was
dressed in a stern gray suit in the middle of August and had a mind like a
steamroller.
 
Her husband was
irrelevant—both of their minds said so.

Claire marched over to Lauren and held out her hand.
 
“Hello.
 
You must be Lauren McCready.
 
We’re pleased to bring you our business—you come
highly recommended.”

Time to deliver a round-one punch.
 
“As I said in my email, my time is fully booked, but my
assistant will be delighted to work with you.
 
She’s got excellent skills and my complete support.”

She could feel Lizard’s mind giving her the evil eye, and tried
not to grin.
 
You do have my
full support.
 
Good luck.

And here I thought getting handed my first client was a
compliment.
 
Lizard eyed Claire.
 
What did I do wrong?

Lauren choked on a laugh.
 
It’s not a punishment—it’s a challenge.
 
One I think you’re more than capable of
handling.
 

Lizard stepped toward Claire, her face amazingly clear of the
black-belt mental scowl.
 
“It’s
nice to meet you.
 
Would you like
some coffee or pastries while we sit and discuss your needs?”

Claire frowned.
 
“I
didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Lizard Monroe.”

Lauren could hear the distaste in Claire’s mind—and
surprisingly, the small leak of humor in her husband’s.
 
Perhaps he wasn’t entirely
wallpaper.
 
His wife took a
half-step backward.
 
“That’s quite
an unusual name.”

And just like that, they were at a crux point, one of those key
moments that could make or break a real estate deal.
 
Lauren knew it—and the furious blonde fairy knew it.

Lizard’s mind danced through fifteen kinds of mad, an impressive
tantrum for the one other person in the room who could see it.
 
And then she held out her hand.
 
“You can call me Liz.”

Claire’s face smoothed as she reached into her bag, pulling out
paperwork that she dumped in Lizard’s outstretched hand.
 
“Here’s our list of needs, Liz, and what
we think is a reasonable budget.
 
I’m sure you’ll enjoy working with a well-prepared client.”

The interested look on Lizard’s face didn’t waver, even as her
mind sent a lance bolt of amused disgust Lauren’s direction.
 
This definitely qualifies as punishment.
 
Then she pulled out a seat for
Claire.
 
“Let’s talk about that
budget, shall we?
 
I think you’ll
find we can meet your needs more comfortably if you have some flexibility
there.”

Lauren watched a moment in appreciation as Lizard neatly
navigated the minefield that was Claire Jameson, and then backed out of the
room slowly.
 
She wasn’t needed
anymore.
 

And maybe, if she was very lucky, Lizard would start believing
that too.

~ ~ ~

Elsie grinned at the purple fairy-wing knocker on Jennie’s
door.
 
It was growing on her,
enough that she wondered if Caro would mind a little door redecorating at their
townhouse.

She was developing a fondness for the whimsical.
 
And the gaudy, and the passionate, and
the impractical… there was a long list of things Elsie Giannotto was fond of,
now.

Today, however, she was on an entirely practical mission.
 
The new Elsie could be practical and
focused and still smell the flowers—or appreciate a really cool door
knocker.