Witches in Flight (35 page)

Something ugly and victorious flared in his eyes.
 
“Stay right here.
 
I’ll go fetch one of those Cosmos you
love.”

Elsie stayed in character—right up until the police
crashed through the door.

With the witch brigade hot on their heels.

~ ~ ~

Jennie held open the door for her nephew, watching the ferocious
light in his eyes die down to a simmer.
 
Anyone who thought Jamie Sullivan was an easy-going guy hadn’t ever seen
him truly riled.
 
“Get him?”

“Not me.”
 
Jamie
headed straight for the table, two-fisting cookies as he went.
 
“Lizard and Elsie did.
 
Nailed the bastard in about two
minutes, had all the relevant details for the cops in about two more.”

Jennie winced.
 
There were only a couple of ways to extract information that fast, and
none of them were remotely ethical.

“And relax.
 
Other
than a little fudging for the cops, we were all very good witches.”
  
Jamie’s grin would have done a
hungry vampire proud.
 
“I’ll say
this—I don’t ever want either of them mad at me.”

Dammit.
 
She’d been
left holding down the fort when Elsie had flown down the street, Lizard hot on
her heels—and Melvin had collapsed, clutching his pendant.

Jamie reached out his hand.
 
“Melvin?”

“He’s fine.”
 
The
silly old man had turned up the volume on his pendant and nearly had a heart
attack, but he was currently upstairs being spoon-fed Ginia’s spiked chicken
soup.
 
And his very subdued pendant
had been read the riot act by one seriously annoyed healer.

Nat had volunteered for the spoon-feeding, which was good,
because otherwise Jennie might have had to tie her to the wall to keep her out
of harm’s way.
 
Just one more woman
you didn’t want mad at you.
 
She
focused back on her nephew.
 
“Lizard and Elsie—what did they do?”

The last thing she expected was the amusement in his eyes.
 
“They used their wiles.
 
Elsie walked in, batting her eyelashes
and gushing about how sorry she was, and maybe she’d take that drink after
all.
 
Lizard added a little
conviction to the performance.
 
We
had cops in the door the instant the vial hit her drink.”
 
He reached for Jennie’s hands.
 
“It didn’t take much from
Lizard—Elsie did an excellent job, and Anton saw what he wanted to see.”

It wasn’t Anton Jennie was worried about.
 
That kind of mind push required
connection first.
 
“Is Lizard
okay?”

“She’s touched sleaze before,” said Jamie softly.
 
“And she just kicked him in the balls
hard enough he won’t get up for a while.
 
She’s fine.”

Jennie hoped the ball kicking was metaphorical.
 
Or maybe she didn’t.
 
“And Elsie?”

The answer took longer to come this time.
 
“She’s safe.
 
Fine might take a while.”
 

--------------------------------------

To:
[email protected]

From:
Jennie Adams <
[email protected]
>

Subject:
How is Melvin?

--------------------------------------

Dear
Vero,

Ginia assures me Melvin made it home safe and sound, and none
the worse for wear.
 
I’ll be by
later to see for myself.
 
First I
have to go eavesdrop a little on my students.

I tell myself they should be a mess, but that’s probably more a
reflection of my head than anyone else’s.
 
I don’t want to know that kind of evil can target those I love.
 
And I don’t want to know that I’m old
enough to be left behind while the next generation does all the work.

I wanted to storm the barricades with my fearless girls.

And it occurs to me that Melvin’s condition is a result of
exactly the same wish.

They did wonderfully well, and Jamie assures me the police now
have enough to lock up Anton for the rest of his natural life and then some.

I’ve been apologizing to my pendant this morning, and I have to
tell you, the rock seems oddly optimistic.

I’ll
be there soon,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

Elsie hid in the corner, hoping none of their workshop students
wanted to talk today.
 
She wasn’t
in the mood.
 
Or feeling very
competent.
 
Nobody with a life as
messed up as hers should be interfering in anyone else’s journey.

She’d considered staying under her covers—but even
incompetent witches had promises they needed to keep.

She groaned as Kathy angled over to her corner, and tried to
find some remaining vestige of professionalism.
 
It wasn’t Kathy’s fault Elsie had the judgment of a toddler
in an ice-cream store.

“I need to show you something.”
 
Kathy slid to a halt, her face a picture of bemused
humor.
 
She pulled out her
phone.
 
“This is what my living
room looks like this morning.”

Even in two inches square, it was obvious chaos reigned.

Kathy tapped her phone, scrolling through more pictures.
 
“And my kitchen, and my sons’ bedroom,
and this last lovely one is what happens when you turn your dining room table
into a fort.”

Elsie remembered her last fort escapade all too well.
 
“It looks like you had fun.”

“I did.”
 
Kathy’s
eyes gleamed, tears suddenly threatening.
 
“My husband was away with work for three days, and I decided to parent
with my eyes closed.
 
Well, not
really closed, but to ignore the mess and the menu plan and all those other
things I do every day.”

Even an Elsie-sized idiot couldn’t miss the joy.
 
“You had fun.”
 
And for Kathy, that would be monumental.

“Yes.”
 
Kathy
sniffled, clutching her phone.
 
“We
played and built forts and climbed the tree in the back yard and had French
fries for breakfast.
 
And I don’t
think I’ve ever seen my kids quite so happy.”
 
She started to laugh.
 
“And my husband got home and thought he’d walked into the wrong house.”

Uh, oh.
 
Elsie sent
up a prayer, far too late, that he’d understood.

Love shone from Kathy’s face.
 
“He crawled under the table with the boys.
 
In his fancy suit.
 
They roasted pretend marshmallows over
his briefcase.”
 
She held out her
phone.
 
“I took pictures of that,
too.”

Even in two inches square, you could feel the little-boy—and
big boy—happiness.

Elsie smiled, totally undone.
 
“Did you roast a marshmallow too?”

“I did.”
 
Kathy’s
voice was barely a whisper, her eyes a puddle of tears.
 
“So thank you.”
  
Her arms wrapped around Elsie, a
strangle-hug of thanks.
 

And then she straightened her shoulders, hints of efficient
Kathy peeping through.
 
“I have to
go clean my house now.
 
My boys
will be home in an hour, and we have silly things to do.”
 
She grinned over her shoulder as she
headed for the door, feet barely attached to the ground.
 
“I think we might even make our own
jar.”

Elsie watched her go—and marveled.

Nat stepped up beside her, grinning.
 
“The Silly Jar rides again, does it?”

“Yes.”
 
Elsie
nodded, swept up in the simple joy of feeling helpful.
 
And then remembered where the Silly Jar
had led.
 
From silly had been born
daring—and from daring had been born Anton.
 
Reality crash-landed on her shoulders, and with it, a world
of doubt.
 
“She’s a
parent—maybe it’s a really dumb idea.”

“Doubting the power of what you just saw is a really dumb
idea.”
 
Nat’s words were soft,
their meaning not gentle at all.
 
“No one thing defines who you are, Elsie, or the value you can offer to
others.”

Anton was a pretty big thing.
 
“If my judgment is flawed, then how can I help anyone
else?”
 
It hurt even to ask.

Nat chuckled.
 
“I
have scorch marks on my living room ceiling.”

Elsie blinked at the total non-sequitur.
 
“What?”

“Scorch marks.
 
Aervyn and Jamie were doing some fancy fire-magic tricks this
morning.”
 

Elsie just continued to blink, waiting for the fog to lift.

Nat sighed.
 
“Sorry,
I’m not trying to be obscure.
 
My
husband is one of Witch Central’s best trainers.
 
I’d trust him with my life, and so would pretty much anyone
who knows him.”

Elsie nodded, still swimming at sea.
 
Jamie was wonderful, but she had no idea why he was suddenly
the focus of this conversation.

“He’s an amazing man,” said Nat softly.
 
“And this morning, he decided the couch
was a good place for a game of Fireblaster with the world’s strongest fire
witchling.”

Elsie had no idea what Fireblaster was, but clarity had finally
landed.
 
She connected the dots
easily enough.
 
“Not a smart idea.”

“Right.
 
Even the
best of us make dumb choices all the time.”
 
Nat’s eyes held empathy—and steel.
 
“This morning, you need to decide if
you’re going to make two in a row.
 
And in case I’m not being clear again—letting this define who you
are?
 
That would be really dumb.”

Elsie stared, even as her inner compass steadied.
 

And then felt her chest start to vibrate.
 
Apparently her pendant agreed with Nat.

~ ~ ~

Lizard peeled open an eyeball and squinted at the alarm
clock.
 
10 a.m.
 
Frack.
 
Class in an hour, and nobody cared that she’d played Cowboys
and Indians last night.
 
The other
eyeball unglued and the room swam in double for a minute, something odd and
yellow on the pillow beside her.

She scowled at the envelope.
 
Why couldn’t witches deliver stuff the normal way?

Cripes, her brain felt like it had swallowed several glugs of Elsie’s
drugged raspberry Cosmo.
 
Lizard
reached for the envelope, planning to stuff it into her backpack.
 
Whatever it was could damn well wait
until she’d had some breakfast.

And then she knew what it was.

Charlie’s pictures.

Brain wide awake now, Lizard sat up slowly.
 
And tried to figure out if she had the
guts necessary to open the envelope.
 
He’d said there would be truth inside.

Maybe she didn’t want truth.
 
Maybe facing down a fake-French slimeball was enough bravery
for twenty-four hours and Lizard Monroe should just stick her head back under
the pillow and sleep until life didn’t throw her a curveball every time she
opened her eyes.