An Imperfect Witch (9 page)

Ah, the fickle allegiances of youth.  Not that Lauren minded—if magic had joined the fight, superboy was a good dude to have on your side.

And probably the reason Devin had tickled her toes in the first place.  Sullivan family rules were big on fair fights, along with immaturity and lots of burping.

She mindlinked with the monster at her side—no point letting the big guy know they were coming.  And then looked at the grin on her husband’s face.  It wasn’t going to matter.

Five minutes, one accidentally uprooted potted plant, and two near misses of the new reading light later, the three of them piled onto the area rug in the middle of the living room, an occasional giggle still squirting out of their smallest member.

Devin set the plant apologetically back in its container.  “I’ll take it to Ginia.  She’ll fix it.”

It wasn’t the first time their resident eleven-year-old healer had repaired the consequences of Sullivan family roughhousing. 

“I can do it.”  Aervyn held up a finger, already streaming with power.  “I can make it into a tree if you want.”

“No way, little dude.”  Dev hid the plant and tackled his nephew, eliciting another tidal wave of giggles.  “No trees inside my house.  Darth says.”

“’Kay.”  Aervyn squirmed out of the tackle—and then froze as the crystal ball in the corner crackled.

Fuzzball, who had slept unconcerned through three acts of MonsterZilla, arched up and hissed.

The crystal ball crackled again.

This time, Fuzzball was joined by a roaring monster.  Lauren had to grin—they were a pretty cute team of defenders.

Devin reached for her hand, eyes still on the orb.  “Think it wants you to chat again.”

Duh.  “Not going to.”  First rule of negotiation—round hunks of glass didn’t get everything they wanted.  Not with magical six-year-olds in the house.

The swirling colors in the ball settled, and her feline sentry went back to sleep.  Battle over.

The six-year-old was less easily deterred.  Aervyn studied the crystal ball respectfully from a distance.  “Is that how you know about Lizard’s ghost?”

Damnation.  Lauren knelt in front of him, needing the well-trained witchling for a minute, not the rampaging monster.  “Remember how we talked about hearing things in people’s minds sometimes?”  No mind witch could avoid it, especially one of superboy’s caliber.

He nodded solemnly.  “Big-people stuff.”

“Yup.”  She ran a hand over his curls.  “We’re not really sure about this ghost just yet, but that’s something for the big people to worry about.  Your job is to be the best MonsterZilla ever.”

He didn’t budge.  “But I really love Lizard.”

Lauren sighed.  Sometimes the line between taking his feelings seriously and overburdening a boy who had a right to his childhood was as murky as hell.  “I know, cutie.”

His eyes brightened.  “But you love her too.  Really, really a lot, right?”

Ooph.  “Yeah, I sure do.”

“Okay.”  He gazed at her with the kind of little-boy trust that made her heart melt and puke all at the same time.  “Then you take good care of her, and if the ghost is being bad, you can tell me, and I’ll use my most awesome roar and scare it away.  And you can bring your plant, too, after Ginie fixes it.”

That sounded like a heck of a deal.  She grinned at his awesome self and let out her best burp.  And reveled in the giggles that rocked the cottage.

Take that, stupid ghost.  She had MonsterZilla sleeping over.

-o0o-

Two could hear.

The orb sat in quiet shock, processing the new information.

The forces were very interested in the child.  And the child could hear the forces.  There had not been such a one for centuries.

The orb, the boy heard only very dimly—but even that was an earthshaking event.  Two in one century.  A richness of listeners.

Or perhaps not.  The forces were very clear.  They had other plans for the small one.  Other needs.

It discomfited the orb—some kind of atavistic protective reaction on behalf of those younger.  Or perhaps something simpler than that.  The boy’s mindtouch had been kind.

-o0o-

Shit.  Lizard froze in the door of her apartment, aware, seconds too late, that she wasn’t alone.

Josh, sprawling in her decidedly lumpy armchair, looked up from his laptop.  “Hey.  Welcome back.”

It was her house, dammit.  “What are you doing here?”

His eyebrows flew up at her tone.  “Waiting for you.”

“Nobody asked you to wait.”  She was picking a fight, and she had no idea how to stop it.

His eyes traveled, taking in information.  A guy looking for a way out.  “What’s up with the duds?”  He tried a smile.  “New choice of Halloween costume?”

It wasn’t that long ago that dirty jeans and scruffy boots had been as familiar as her own skin.  And now Trinity was kicking her off the streets.  “They’re my clothes.  You have a problem with that?”

She felt his annoyance morph to anger—and then just as fast, to something else.  Deep concern.  His hands reached out, moving gently up and down the tats on her bare arms.  “You’ve got your armor on tonight.  What’s going on?”

He saw way too much.  “I went for a walk.  That’s all.”

“Okay.  And now you’re back.” 

Somehow she was being herded to the couch.  “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

His mind suddenly got very careful.  “Is that a problem?  I’m sorry—I know your space really matters to you.  If I’m invading it, just say so.”

Gods.  Most days she loved having him here.  Lizard wedged herself behind a convenient pillow and tried to man up.  “I went to do something hard, okay?”  She swiped a hand at her tattered jeans.  “Something that reminds me about all this.”

A skin she needed some time to shed when she got home.

“I wish you hadn’t done that alone.”  His fingers traced the lines of the bracelet on her arm.

She felt like a shapeshifter caught mid-shift.  She might be too soft for Trinity’s streets, but she wasn’t soft enough for Josh Hennessey.  Maybe it was time he learned that.  “I had stuff to do.  You would have just slowed me down.”

Lizard jumped off the couch, way too frenetic and worried and mad to sit still.  And caught a sideswipe from his gentle, hurt eyes.

Frack.  She slammed the door behind her on the way out and stuffed the damn bracelet into her backpack.  She didn’t wear shackles. 

If he wanted the apartment, he could damn well have it.  She had a runaway to find.

Chapter 8

Lauren looked up from her desk and tried not to blink.  The young woman walking in the door was dirty, covered in tats, and radiating enough attitude to melt a city block.

Oddly reminiscent of a certain visitor, a couple of years back, who had turned into a pretty kick-ass associate realtor.  She stood up, making her way around the desk and the innards of the new property-tax amendment.  “Hi.  I’m Lauren—welcome to Berkeley Realty.”

The new arrival froze, staring at the outstretched hand like it held a bomb.

Lauren had learned something from the last turn on this particular merry-go-round.  She kept her hand out and her face easy.

Nobody moved for a good ten seconds.  And then the young woman held out her own grubby hand and shook, mind radiating surprise and face saying absolutely nothing.  “Hey.  Trinity.”

It was highly tempting to stick out her antennae to collect at least a few surface thoughts.  Lauren leaned back against her desk and tried the old-fashioned approach instead.  “How can we help you?”

Trinity smirked.  “I don’t think you work with people like me.”

That stung—Berkeley Realty damn well served everyone.  “We help anyone who’s looking for a home.”

The jolt of pain in her visitor was fierce, deep, and almost instantly gone.

Shit.  Lauren put together the pain with the visible signs of homelessness.  Phenomenally bad choice of words.  She met Trinity’s gaze with fierceness of her own, and as much respect as she dared push out. “Anyone.  Really.” 

“Nah.  I got a place.”  Something different shone in the young woman’s eyes now.  “But you’re okay.”

Lauren knew high praise when she heard it.  And still had no idea what was going on.  So she circled back to the beginning.  “How can we help you?”

“I’m looking for Lizard.”

That was all kinds of interesting, and still confusing as hell.  “She’s with a client right now.  Can I get a message to her for you?”

A fast and furious inner debate happened in Trinity’s eyes.  And then she held out a grungy scrap of paper.  “Yeah.  Tell her this is the intel she was looking for.”

Lauren watched, a little dazed, as Trinity marched out the door and down the street, brash as nails, daring anyone to so much as look at her.  And then looked down at the scrawled words on the cash-register stub.

The receipt was from Romano’s.  For ten orders of linguine.  And the address on the scrap of paper was one of their listings.

She texted Lizard.  And then she picked up her bag, her keys, and her cell phone.  Realtor armor.  She had a feeling she was going to need it.

-o0o-

An entire night of no sleep and freezing her ass off had not improved Lizard’s mood any.  She stomped up the street to Lauren’s latest listing, ready to blast one stupid teenager into space dust.

A desire not dampened any when Raven lit out for the back door the moment Lizard let herself in the front.  It was fairly sweet when the teenager figured out it was locked, though.  “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

Raven smirked.  “That’s debatable.” 

“I’m not the one facing multiple B&E charges.”

“Bullshit.”  Fear, but only a little.  “You’re not gonna call the cops.”

Lizard hauled hard on the weak strings reining in the temper that had started with the guy hanging out on her couch like he owned it, and stewed for twelve hours on Berkeley’s freezing streets.  “You can’t keep doing this.” 

“Why?  You gonna rat me out?”

It wasn’t like that.  “I have responsibilities and you’re messing with them, yeah.  But I’m not the only one who can figure out what food wrappers in the closet means.”

Raven flushed.  “I was sleeping.  Usually I’m out of the way before anyone gets upstairs.”

On guard, even in sleep.  Bile rose in Lizard’s throat—she’d lived there once.  “Look, let me help you find somewhere decent to live.  Anyone else finds you here, I’m in a shitload of trouble and you’re in juvie.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Frack.  She needed time to think.  Time to calm down and time to figure out how to fix this. 

Raven smirked—and then panic hit between her eyes.

Lizard spun around as the door opened behind her and then cursed in several languages she didn’t know. 

Lauren stood in the entryway.

Time was up.

Raven inched toward the back door, bolting written all over her slight frame.  For a moment, Lizard considered joining her.

And then she met the confused empathy in her boss’s eyes and remembered she wasn’t that scared kid anymore.  She stepped forward, one hand clamped firmly around Raven’s wrist.  “Hi.  I’m pretty sure this is our ghost.”

Not a whiff of surprise hit Lauren’s face, even though plenty skipped through her head.  She walked over to the stowaway’s side.  “Nice to meet you.”

Lizard hid a grin as Raven gaped.  Points for the boss.

Lauren raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t expect to find anyone here this morning.”

Raven’s mind spewed scared defiance.

Lizard had no idea how to tell her that neither was necessary.  “We were checking out the house.”  It was true.  Kind of.

“Okay.”  Lauren leaned against the wall and glanced casually at Raven.  “What do you think about the layout?”

The teenager was back to gaping.

“Bathroom upstairs needs some work, but I think this is one of those properties that could be awesome with a little imagination.”  Lauren wandered into the dining room.  “I keep hoping someone will knock out that wall over there and put in one of those funky kitchen islands with the bar stools.”

It was the kind of renovation that lots of people talked about and not enough ever did.  Lizard started to say so, and then bit her tongue.  They had a homeless teenager to handle, not a freaking kitchen reno.

I’m figuring that out,
mindsent Lauren dryly. 
Care to let me in on your plan?

She didn’t have a plan. 
We need to get her out of here.

Probably.  But not in the next two minutes. 
Lauren stared at Lizard’s fingers, still wrapped around Raven’s wrist. 
And you can’t hold her like that forever.

Like hell she couldn’t. 
She’ll leave if I don’t. 
One lesson, well learned.

Maybe.
 Lauren had on her negotiating face now—the one that scared smart realtors everywhere. 
Let’s give her a reason to stay, huh?

Lizard had exactly zero of those in her back pocket.

Same here.  So let’s make stuff up.
 Lauren surveyed the two of them.  “Well, you guys are kind of short for painters, but I guess we can get you a big ladder.”