An Unlikely Witch (22 page)

“Shh.”  The words came with an Irish lilt this time, and slightly warm tea, smelling of woods and mushrooms, poured gently down her throat.  “Kenna’s absolutely fine.  As are you.”

She had been breathing for two.  “Ginia?”

Moira chuckled.  “Raiding Marcus’s cookie stash.”

Nat found enough energy and sheer obstinate determination to open her eyes.  “She found something.”

“Yes.”  Sophie offered up a little more of the tea, the smell more pungent now.  “We can talk about that in a bit.  Right now you need to drink as much of this as you can stomach—it will help soak up any lingering traces of the scanning energies.”

Nat grimaced—the tea had a nasty bitter kick.  And probably a sleep potion, which she darn well wasn’t going to drink until she got some answers.  She handed the shaking cup to Jamie.  “Tell me.  Please.”

“You’ve some spunk left.  Good.”  Moira nodded approvingly.  And then gave the younger healer a look.

“I’m not sure there’s a short version for this, but I’ll try.”  Sophie sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, sheets rustling as she settled.   “When a child comes into power, their body changes.  Channels form to help them manage the new energies.”

“Which usually happens years after they’re born.”  Moira took the tea from Jamie and offered it up again with green flint in her eyes. “Drink.  Your aura is still hazy.”

Her aura wasn’t the only thing.  Her brain felt cotton-stuffed.  “Kenna had magic long before that.”  She’d spent a good part of her third trimester with lights dancing over her belly.  “Aervyn, too.”  It had been a comfort, knowing she wasn’t the only one who had walked that path.

“Yes.”  Sophie nodded.  “But Nell’s a witch.  She has energy channels of her own, able to handle the power Aervyn was calling.  You don’t.  It seems you came up with something impossible instead.”

This was the most insane conversation ever.  Nat just stared, gripping her husband’s hand, waiting for them to make sense. 

“I’m sorry.”  Guilt flitted across Sophie’s face.  “I’ll try to make it simple.  We know that Kenna pulled enormous energy down into her body, and into yours.  The kind that easily could have killed you.”

Jamie sucked in a harsh, contorted breath.

Sophie nodded without looking at him.  “We had so many witches trying to help with that, we missed what you’d done yourself.  You created an anchor for her, much the same way as you did for Ginia.  And you somehow did it without a stitch of magic of your own.”

It seemed very simple to Nat.  She’d done it from love.

Moira leaned forward, eyes intent.  “Your body found a way to keep the two of you safe.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Sophie quietly.  “It’s almost like you became a weather vane for power.  And some of that connection still lives.”

Kenna.  Still joined.  Nat smiled.  She’d always known that.

And then the rest of it sank in.  A new baby in her belly.  Trying to grow in the lightning rod of Kenna’s power.  She looked at the healers, every part of her soul skittering in fear.  “What would happen to another baby near that weather vane?”

“We don’t know for sure,” said Sophie quietly. 

Nat breathed, even as Jamie’s arms wrapped around her.  She knew.  Her body had always been the very wisest part of her.  And on this, it had already chosen.  “That’s why I haven’t gotten pregnant again.”

Sophie nodded very slowly. 

The answer in the deep dark.  Nat held the clattering tea cup in her hands, the wafting smell of mushrooms accent to the shaking.  The foundational earthquake beginning.

Deep green eyes were glued to her face.  Intent.  Gauging.  “If you feel well enough to walk, Ginia has something you need to hear.”

Nat stared.  It wasn’t hope those eyes offered.  Not quite.  Carefully, feeling like fragile glass, she moved her legs to the side of the bed.

Jamie moved to pick her up, but she stopped his hands as gently as she knew how.  Some steps needed to be
walked
.

She would come.  Her throat constricted.  And she would listen. 

For her little boy with the bright smile.

-o0o-

He didn’t like this.

Jamie looked at the trio of healers sitting on Marcus’s couch and tried not to shudder.  Their minds were leaking all kinds of things that made him quake.  Nell and Lauren sat quietly to the side, staying out of the line of fire.

And Nat was settled in his arms, her gaze never leaving the three.

Her mind fought for a foothold in serenity.  And he was damn sure all that was about to get blown to smithereens.

Which would have caused him to port any other three people to the outer rings of Saturn, but he was very sure these particular three would only have asked this of his wife if it were absolutely necessary.  He put his meager mind powers to work one more time.  Ginia was contained, but her head leaked traces of excitement.  And of fear.  Sophie’s thoughts were more dampened and careful, but not all that different from her student.

And Moira was reciting the ingredients of something green and really nasty-looking.  She shot him a quick glance, almost amused.

He shook his head ruefully.  Tricky old witch, and one well used to keeping her thoughts away from mind scans when she chose. 
You only needed to say as much.  I have fairly decent manners these days.

Aye.
 She replied back to him, but her eyes were focused on his wife. 
But sometimes I’ve the need of comfort and repetition as well.  That’s the first potion Great-gran ever taught me to make.

He gave up trying not to quake.  Anything that made Moira reach for sturdy memories was going to shake the heck out of anyone else.  Which meant he had only one job to do—holding on to his wife.

Chapter 18

It was almost over.  Nat could feel it.  One way or the other, the journey would end this night.

She took a careful sip of the glass of something light and orange Sophie had settled into her hands to make her insides feel a little more solid.  The glass felt smooth under her fingers.  Cold.  Everything else in the room was too bright, too hot, too fast.

Her husband’s mind wrapped around hers, offering a barrier, a protective bubble between her and the world.

She pushed it away.  For their small boy.

And breathed into her heart.  Nat closed her eyes, knowing she was under the care of three extraordinary healers.  And let herself breathe into the edges of the pain.  They had something to say.

It wasn’t time to breathe.  Not yet.

“You’ve never lacked for courage.”  Respect, from an old witch who knew the faces of bravery well.  “But touch this slowly, sweet girl.”

Nat wasn’t sure that was possible.  “Tell me.  Please.”

Quietly, the words began.  She’d kept Kenna safe.  And the thing her body had built to protect her child still lived.  Connecting to her daughter’s magic.  Nat lacking the magic needed to help it fade.

She’d done something magical.  Something singular and unrepeatable.  Something permanent.

An eleven-year-old girl thought she could change that. 

Umbilical cords weren’t always necessary.

Her husband’s arms wrapped around her heart, the only solid thing in her existence.  Their boy might have a chance at life.  But only if they asked a sacrifice of his big sister.  Nat breathed.  Her husband would happily cut off a limb for any of his siblings.

I would.
  He spoke so very quietly.  And with utter fervor. 
But this isn’t an arm.  We don’t know what this is. 

“I wouldn’t hurt Kenna.”  Ginia’s eyes were deep-blue promises.  “I’d stop if it was going to hurt her.”

Jamie spoke into the stillness for both of them.  “Do you really think this umbilical cord isn’t necessary?  Now?  Aervyn’s a lot older than Kenna.”

“It’s possible.”  Nell spoke for the first time.  “Your girl is like me.  She’s feisty and opinionated and she likes change on her own terms.  We don’t give up our security blankets easily.”

Nat could feel her insides clenching. 

Jamie’s mind wrapped around hers.  Steadying.  Beaming light and faith.
 Ask what lives in you.

Nat closed her eyes, digging for truth as she knew it.  She thought of all the bodies that had come through her yoga studio.  Of the ones who had stayed, and the ones who hadn’t.  The ones who had found a comfortable place to be, and the ones who hadn’t.  And of the beautiful wisdom she saw in her daughter every single day.

Felt her husband’s affirming presence underneath it all.

And opened her eyes.  She knew the way to the end now.

She only had to work up the courage to walk.

-o0o-

Lauren hated everything about this.  She hated the fading image in the crystal ball replaying over and over again in her head on dogged, unforgiving repeat.

She hated the serenity on Nat’s face, and the wild, boiling doubts just underneath.

She hated the fear lurking in the shadows of Sophie and Moira’s easy competence.

And most of all, she hated the look in Ginia’s eyes.  A girl, prepared to shed her childhood if it would help someone she loved.

Lauren, feeling every last dreg from each of them, tried not to puke. 

That’s crap.
 Nell’s mindvoice was rock steady.
 Ginia’s demanding it.  There’s a very big difference. 
Her eyes never left her girlchild. 
And she has two sisters who will insist she be a preteen girl, no matter what forces of the universe try to say otherwise.  She’ll be okay.

Lauren bit her lip and tried to contain herself.  The last thing they needed in this room was more spewing feelings. 

Nat reached out for Ginia’s hands.  “I love you very much.”

“I love you too.”  And with those words, one small warrior stepped up to battle.  “If I was hurt, you’d do everything on earth and all the way up to the stars to help me.”

Nat’s smile was awfully watery.  “Yes, I would.”

“You think it might hurt me more if I help.”  Blue eyes flashed dangerously.  “You’re wrong.  I’m not Kenna, and this isn’t a school bus.”

Lauren blinked. 
Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?

Nell shook her head slowly.

Ginia wasn’t done.  She looked at Nat with an intensity that could have melted glass.  “He’s a part of me, just like he’s a part of you.  I love
him
, too.”

Lauren felt the punch all the way to the back of her gut, and it hadn’t even been aimed at her. 

Nat squeezed two small hands, eyes full of sadness and gratitude.  “He feels so very real to all of us.” 

No one breathed for a moment.  And then an old witch put her foot down.  “He is real.”  Moira waited for all eyes to come her direction.  “We live with magic.  We know better than anyone exactly how real he is.  Your wee boy lives in the hearts and minds of so many of us, just as I will when I pass from this earth one day.”  She looked at each of them in turn.  “And when that day comes, don’t you dare sit around a fire and say that I’m not real.”

Nat and Jamie looked like they’d been run through their middles with a train.  And then Jamie Sullivan sucked in air and let out a hitching laugh.  “I had no idea how much I needed to hear someone say that.”

Lauren hadn’t known either.

“We Irish find it a wee bit easier to believe in things unseen.”  Moira’s smile included the whole room.  “Or perhaps it’s something those of us standing with one foot inside the grave see a little more clearly.”

Jamie almost managed a grin.  “Pretend I’ve used some of those bad words that would earn me a seat in front of your cauldron with a scrub brush.”

That tugged smiles from his wife and his niece, too.  But it had unlocked something more powerful in Nat Sullivan.

Once again, the room waited.

Nat breathed.  Then she turned to their small, ferocious healer, tears running down her cheeks.  And when she finally spoke again, it wasn’t to a child.  “Will it be safe for Kenna?”

Lauren felt Sophie and Moira’s brains stutter.  And finally realized what it was about this whole crazy thing that was making her nuts.  Nat had found the question on which everything else hung—and nobody knew the answer.

She could feel the horrible uncertainty in Sophie and Moira’s minds.  And their terrible, unified choice to allow an eleven-year-old girl to do what she had to do to find the truth.

Lauren’s heart nearly caved.  She reached out to Moira, trying to keep herself under control. 
Is this really necessary?

We don’t know
.  The old witch’s words were steady—and grim. 
But she carries more talent than anyone we’ve ever trained.  She will be asked to make countless difficult choices in her life.  The only person who can answer this question is Ginia.  And the only way she’ll manage it is if she’s looking at Nat when she does it.

Training the heart and mind of a healer, not just her hands.  And it was killing them to do it.

Nat lifted Ginia’s hands, infinitely gentle.  “I want you to look again.  Really carefully.  And if you can’t figure out the answer, I want you to tell me that, too.”