An Imperfect Witch (18 page)

He didn’t say anything.  Just moved to her side and enveloped her in his arms, flour sifter and all. 

She hung out there, in the warm bubble of hope and love and promise, for as long as the bacon on the stove and her own lingering tangles would allow.  And then backed away.  Gently.  With the fingers of her non-bacon hand still entwined in his.

His free hand brushed over the spikes and valleys of her bedhead.  “What are you up to today?”

Still, the temptation to hide.  To keep the grit and darkness of the alleys and streets away from his sunshine.  Lizard manhandled the bacon and her own stupid, and then reached for his coffee.  “I have to put together a few showing lists for clients.  And kick a couple of loan officers into a higher gear.”  It was like they didn’t want to make money or something. 

He slid back onto his stool and reclaimed his mug.  “Coffee thief.”

“And I need to drop off some groceries for Raven.”  Day off from painting, but the girl had to eat.

His mind suddenly got careful.  “Solo trip?”

Only if she was the biggest idiot between here and Jupiter.  “We’re only stopping by long enough to throw food in the door.  I don’t want her to think I’m checking up on her.”

“Even though you are.”  His smile took the sting out of the words.  “She’s that scared, huh?”

He wasn’t supposed to get that.  “She thinks she can take care of herself.  I don’t want to spook her again.”

“Maybe spooking is a good thing.”  Josh took the frying pan out of her hands and set it on a trivet she hadn’t known he owned.  “Sometimes I wonder if I’m too careful with you.”

This time, her scowl was real.  “I thought we were talking about Raven.”

“We are.”  His hand was back on her hair.  “We’ll pack up some of the bacon, and if you’re really nice, I’ll let you raid my special peanut butter stash.”

She rolled her eyes.  “You still have that stuff?”  Two years ago, he’d been the proud owner of enough cheap peanut butter and ramen noodles to feed a college dorm for a month.

She was pretty sure he still ate the ramen noodles on the sly.

He grinned and snagged a piece of bacon from the pan.  “You’re not always around to feed me.”

No, she wasn’t.  Sometimes for better reasons than others.  She leaned into his chest, offering up mute apology one more time.

When his arms settled around her, it morphed into something gentler.  Different.  And called out the words she hadn’t meant to say.  She reached up, tracing the lines of his chin with her thumb.  “Yeah.  Sometimes you’re too careful with me.  And I’m not careful enough with you.”

Josh Hennessey could break.  And she still had no idea what to do with that.

-o0o-

Nell smiled down at her phone.  Lizard, looking embarrassed, with Josh kissing her cheek.  And a message.

I could use some help.  We could.

Two sentences, both of which suggested brave new worlds for their resident poet.  And a picture that said Nell wasn’t going to have to read Dr. Seuss any longer.  She turned around to the masses eating pancakes at the table behind her.

There were about to be some really happy Sullivans and Walkers.

-o0o-

It was worth bringing Josh just to see Raven’s reaction when he walked in the door. 

The teenager gawked from her temporary digs in the corner of the living room.  “Who’s that?”

“Delivery guy.”  Josh held up two bags and then plunked them on the thing trying to pass as a breakfast bar.  “Hope you like peanut butter.”

“I have food.”  Every inch of Raven bristled.  “I’m not a charity case.”

“Noted.”  Josh started unpacking his wares.  “I have a hundred jars of peanut butter that expire in February.  It’s either you, or I start illicitly stuffing bird feeders.”

Raven raised an eyebrow.  “That’s probably a felony.”

“Exactly.”  He held up a biscuit.  “Want peanut butter on this or just bacon?”

She grabbed it out of his hand.  “You’re one of those weird guys who eats cheese balls and celery sticks, aren’t you?  Or that raw-fish crap.”

Lizard had developed a fondness for sushi in the last two years, but she still felt oddly protective of her guy.  “He has a hundred jars of peanut butter.  World’s most normal food.”  Weirdest form of street cred ever.

Raven picked up three jars off the counter.  “Ninety-seven.  Okay, you guys can get lost now.  I have painting to do.”

Huh?  “I have real-estate stuff to do.  Painting day of rest.”

“For softies, maybe.”  Raven shrugged.  “You’re slow and I want to get paid.”

It was really tempting to stuff a jar of peanut butter up a certain delinquent’s nose.  “Some of us have actual jobs that pay us actual money and interrupt the stupid painting.”

Whatever Raven’s reply might have been, it got cut off by six feet of casual guy stepping in the middle.  “I have nothing to do today.  I’ll help paint.”

Lizard gaped.  This was a quick in-and-out, drop-off-the-groceries stop.  Paint fumes were not part of the deal.  “You can’t do that.”

He grinned.  “Pretty sure the two of you together can’t stop me.”

Maybe blood actually did boil.  She aimed a look that should have cut his head off his shoulders.  He reached over and kissed her soundly.

Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to take the “being less careful” advice quite so literally—she could practically hear it ringing between his ears.  “Fine.  I have to go put those showing lists together.”  Clients got cranky when you didn’t have any homes for them to tour.

“I know.”  Josh eyed Raven.  “Don’t worry about us.”

The teenager bristled.  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Noted.”  He shrugged and picked up an angled paintbrush.  “You want to edge the top or the bottom?”

The list of reasons why Lizard loved Josh was long and complicated and silly and embarrassing as hell.  But looking at him standing there, all six foot three of him, asking the tiny Raven whether she wanted to paint stuff he could reach without even trying hard, Lizard found one more.

Raven smirked.  “You’d have to belly crawl to edge the bottom.”

And the teenager was just ornery enough to make him do it.  Lizard stepped forward, armed with a paint stick and a prickly temper—and then saw the message in his eyes.

My fight.  My way.

She froze and linked into his mind. 
She’ll screw with you.

Probably. 
He sounded vaguely amused. 
Also pretty sure I’ll have zero cred with her until I grovel a little.  Or until she discovers she’s not the fastest paintbrush in town.

Lizard frowned.  This was the guy who couldn’t cook and had needed help figuring out the grass end of his lawn mower.  He also wasn’t a guy who made empty boasts. 
You paint?

Yeah.  Four summers during college, twelve hours a day.

Holy shit.  Lizard tried to imagine the scene that was about to go down and gave up.  Too many error messages.  One thing was for sure, though—she didn’t want to be standing anywhere near the paint can.  With a grin at Josh, she set down the stir stick.  Two could play the game of changing their plans with no warning.  “You guys paint.  I’ll go figure out if the kitchen works.”  Aervyn could probably be talked into teleporting over her laptop later.

Raven snorted.  “You cook?”

The world was going to be full of a lot of surprises today.  “Learned in juvie.  I’ve only poisoned a couple of people so far.”

She hoped the sound Josh manfully swallowed was laughter.  And ran two quick mental channels before she left the room—mind-witch version of a fly on the wall.  No way was she missing this.

-o0o-

Moira stood out on the beach and awaited her visitor.  No cozy kitchens or soaking pools this time—they needed to be more watchful than that.

She turned at the sound of feet on pebbles and smiled at the well-bundled woman walking her way.  “You’ve found your woolies, I see.”

Lauren’s eyes twinkled.  “Someone keeps making them for me.”

It was a pleasure to make gifts that would get good use.  “How are things with our Lizard?”

“She grew up.  A lot.”  Lauren looked out over the water.  “Just how much did you have to do with that, I wonder?”

No gardener could make an unwilling seed grow.  “I only offered a hug and a bit of solace where it was needed.”

Her visitor chuckled quietly, almost lost in the sounds of wind and wave.  “It was awfully well-aimed solace, then.”

When you had limited power, you learned to wield it with good timing.  “She opens.”  It pleased Moira greatly.

“In all the right ways.”

An old witch reached out her hand.  “For her, a moment of feeling the sun on her new leaves.  For you, one of diligence.  Keep watch—I don’t believe this journey is ending just yet.”

Lauren’s eyebrows slid up.  “You seem pretty sure about that.”

“Aye.”  Moira didn’t duck truth, or the reflecting of it.  It was a good season for a modern witch to begin to give more credence to things older.  “Samhain is a time of opening, where the old magics reach most strongly into our lives.” 

Lauren shrugged, uncomfortable.  “That’s only two days away.”

The powers of the universe had better aim than that.  “When you’re old and gray like me, you’ll feel the cycles in your bones.  This one has more yet to come.”  She patted a padded arm.  “Try to trust those feelings a little, much as they annoy you.”

“Shows, huh?”  Gloved hands reached down for a small handful of pebbles and, in a small show of petulance, tossed them out into the waves.

“A wee bit, still.”  And proof the paragon beside her was very human.  A witch who easily embraced the new—and struggled with the old and mysterious.  A very interesting choice Great-gran’s orb had made.  “The old magics picked you, which I expect is rather unsettling for both parties.”

Lauren looked over in surprise.  “You can sense what the crystal ball is feeling?  Or your gran could?”

Moira blinked—it had merely been a turn of phrase.  “No, not that I’m aware.”  She studied her visitor carefully.  “But you do.”  How completely fascinating.

Her companion nearly squirmed.

Ah, how twisted were the paths of life sometimes.  “You have magics my great-gran didn’t have—your mind can reach places those of my blood never could.  Perhaps the orb has more than one reason for having chosen you.”

Lauren’s eyes flashed in frustration.  “I don’t want to feel sorry for an oversized marble.”

Moira managed not to wince.  Barely.  The orb was a treasure beyond imagining.  And apparently feeling a mite miffed at its new station in life.  “Perhaps it needs you to.  I imagine it’s no more comfortable about this new arrangement than you are.”

Lauren groaned and laid her head on a warm, cloaked shoulder.  “Why are you telling me all this?”

Moira chuckled and stood strong, glad she was still able to offer a place to lean.  “Because a wise realtor once told me that it’s best to go into a deal with your eyes wide open.”

She didn’t miss the snorting laughter.  Or the quiet thoughtfulness underneath.

More than one witch on a journey this Samhain cycle.

-o0o-

Nat opened the gate of the house with the
For Sale
sign in the front yard, enjoying the cricks and creaks.  A place that needed a little work to become a home.  Lauren would find the right buyer—she always did.

She pushed the gate shut with her hip and hefted the paper bag in her hands.  Jamie’s tomato sauce and fresh spaghetti noodles—she didn’t know any sixteen-year-old on earth who could resist that combination. 

Word had gone out.  Lizard wanted help.  Quietly. 

Nat smiled.  There were Nell’s Nutella cookies under the noodles.  And a lopsided coffee mug made by three girls who believed glitter made everything more beautiful.  One of Aervyn’s best drawings and a hand-knit cardigan that had just come off Moira’s needles, rerouted to Raven with Sierra’s blessing.

Sierra knew what it was to need to feel welcome.

Nat had slid in a couple of pretty candles and the oldest iPod Jamie could dig up.

Quiet, Witch-Central style.

She knocked on the door—and then decided, based on the shaking of the windows, that no one would hear her.

Stepping inside was like porting onto a foreign planet.  Classic rock blasted from a device that didn’t look nearly big enough to be shattering eardrums.  Paint hit walls at a speed that defied imagination—and Nat was a pretty good painter.  And one dark-haired teenager shimmied to the music and threw out insults that would have cowed the average pro-basketball player.

Josh Hennessy just grinned.  “Yeah?  I bet your toes found your feet in a lake of mutant slug slime.”

Raven aimed her brush at his head.  “What are you, five?”

Nat tried not to laugh.  Immaturity was one of Witch Central’s best weapons, and apparently Josh was a better practitioner than she’d realized.

Lizard walked out of the kitchen, laptop in her hand and earphones hanging round her neck, and did something that brought the volume on the music device down to old-people levels.  “Yo, idiots.  We have company.”

Josh had his nose in Nat’s bag first.  “Awesome.  Bring anything good?”

“Probably more peanut butter.”  Raven was trying to find a tone somewhere between obnoxious and bored, and failing at both.

Nat smiled at the teenager.  One wooing, well underway.  “I brought you a few things.”

“Why?”  Suspicion, and more attitude.  And curiosity the girl couldn’t entirely hide.

“We like giving presents around here.”  Taking a quick, astute gamble, Nat reached into the bag and pulled out the handmade mug covered in five colors of glitter.  “My nieces made this.”

“That might be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”  Raven snorted, but her hands twitched the mug’s direction.

“Maybe.”  Lizard looked fierce.  “But if you hurt their feelings, I’ll glue you to a wall and let them glitterpaint your sorry ass.”

Whoa.  Nat glanced at Josh, long enough to catch his flash of pride.  And then watched, fascinated, as Raven readied an explosion.

“They’re eleven,” said Lizard softly.  “And they still think the whole world loves them.  Don’t mess with that.”