Witches Under Way (3 page)

Subject: Re: Back on our feet.  Sort of.

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Lovely Jennie,

We’re delighted to hear you’re feeling better.  Melvin suspects Leo’s flu is one we had as younglings—they cycle back around every few decades.  Or so he says.  How he knows these things, I have no idea. 

By the way, he is truly delighted with the spellcoding program Jamie sent him, the one that will read the words on his computer screen.  He’s been chatting often with the Google these days, and has declared his intention to try to visit Enchanter’s Realm.

I tell him old men have no business playing computer games, but he pays me no attention.  I wonder if perhaps our young Lizard might be interested in chaperoning a blind man into online battle?  She seemed quite handy with her laptop, and Melvin could certainly use some supervision.  He’s also deeply taken with her—I think she reminds him of a certain particularly stubborn student from back in his younger days…

As for Elsie—your compass is still trying to find its way with her, Jennie my love.  You have never been a woman afraid of the world or the needs in your own soul.  For you, bravery has always been automatic, and the need to express yourself one that you never questioned.

You are absolutely right that Elsie needs to explore—but you’ve never been anything but the most intrepid of adventurers.  She’s a much different woman—but the passions in her soul are no less because of it.

And she won’t discover herself alone.  You’ve never needed the world to see who you are—for you, that has always been afterthought.  Some of us need the love of others to see ourselves clearly in the mirror.

Send Elsie to me.  Music will entice her out into the world—or light a fire under her behind.  And I’m happy to hold the match.  I’d like to see her at least once a week for lessons.  We never know just how much time we have left, and it seems I am getting the chance to give the gift of opera one more time.

I’ve been running my creaky old voice through some warm-ups so that I might properly teach her.  Melvin grins and tells me I sound like the young girl he married.  We old people can be very silly.

He also says your pendant is speaking clearly.  If the messages are mysterious, clean out your ears.  Don’t shoot—I am simply the messenger.

Feel better, and take your vitamins,

Vero

Chapter 3

Jennie considered the plate of bacon and eggs in front of her and hoped her stomach was up to this.  Meeting at the diner had been Lizard’s idea, and Jennie wasn’t convinced the motives were all pure.  Puking mentors were less likely to be looking over your shoulder.  She glanced across the table at her favorite delinquent.  “So, are you ready to start school today?”

A scowl was pretty much the answer she’d expected.  “I didn’t think I was going to have to start so soon.”

Jamie had wrangled Lizard permission to register late for the current round of summer school classes, and she clearly wasn’t thrilled.  Jennie forged ahead anyhow.  “What are you taking?”

“Intro to Computers and some class on dead poet dudes.”

The first was a Berkeley College requirement, and one that her student could ace in her sleep.  The second astonished Jennie.  “Dead poets?”

The embarrassed shrug communicated a lot more than Lizard probably intended.  “Had to take something.  That one looked less boring than most of the others.”

Big words.  Dead poets.  Kicking Jamie’s butt at rhyming word games.  Jennie mentally whacked herself for being so slow.   Her favorite delinquent was a poet.  A very well-disguised one—and clearly intending to keep it that way.  So Jennie did the smart thing and decided to totally change the subject.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough—and Elsie didn’t get the message.  “You like poetry?”

It was a polite, interested question.  Just the kind that would make Lizard dive for cover and never come back out.  Jennie could see the delinquent armor snapping on.  “It’s just a stupid course I have to pass.  No big.”

Jennie watched Elsie’s eyes and saw the hurt—and then, wonder of wonders, the empathy.  “If you need the house quiet so you can study, just let me know.”

Lizard stared.  And then she let go of her armor a little and grinned, mischief in her eyes.  “How do you feel about rap music?”

Elsie managed to curb her shudder, but her mind spewed distaste.  “It’s not my preferred musical genre.  Why?”

“It’s how I study best.”  Lizard scooped a forkful of eggs.  “Preferably really loud rap music.”

Don’t mess with her
, sent Jennie, amused.
 She’s trying to be nice.

Lizard rolled her eyes, but her mind had loosened up considerably.  She eyed Jennie with a tongue-in-cheek version of her scowl.  “So, are you just being my truant officer today, or does this meeting have an agenda?”

It warmed Jennie’s heart when Elsie snickered.  Not too long ago, agendas had been very serious business for the more uptight of her students.  “Well, the first item for today is that I have good news for you, Elsie.  Vero is ready to start your singing lessons.”

The last thing she expected was overwhelmed tears.  Or for that matter, Lizard leaning forward, holding out a napkin. 

Jennie tried to sort out the tangled threads in Elsie’s outer mind.  “It seemed like you enjoyed singing with Vero.  Do you not want lessons?  She’s a very good teacher.”

“A good teacher?”  Elsie’s voice climbed an octave.  “Veronica Liantro could have students lined up around the block if she wanted—around the
state
.  Serious opera students, the kind who’ve been taking professional voice lessons for decades.  I’m just someone who liked to sing a little as a child.”

Jennie was still trying to find her way to the core of the problem, but that last bit she recognized as complete falsehood.  “You love music.  I imagine singing brings you great pleasure, even as an adult.”

Elsie looked down at her hands and sighed.  “I don’t truly know.  I haven’t sung for years.”  Her voice firmed.  “But Veronica Liantro is a legend.  She sings like a goddess.  I’m not remotely worthy to be her pupil.”

She had
two
students having a crisis of confidence this morning?  Jennie picked up a piece of bacon, hoping she had the energy to navigate the suddenly choppy waters, especially since she was fairly certain most of Elsie’s iceberg was still under water.  Layered under Elsie’s certainty that she wasn’t opera material was the glint of terrified desire.

For the moment, however, the deeper issues could wait—all she really needed to do today was to chase her student to Vero’s living room.  And then Jennie caught an edge of a thought and realized she wouldn’t have to do even that.

“Oh, bull.” Lizard stabbed an unsuspecting egg.  “She chose you.  That makes you plenty worthy.”  She scowled at her astonished roommate.  “Does this mean you’re going to have to play some of that screechy opera music in the house?”

Elsie’s mind snapped out of wallowing.  “Certainly.  It’s the only way to properly learn.”  Her eyes sparked in defense of her beloved music and the woman who would teach her.

Game, set, match.  Jennie sat back, chewing on her bacon, and mentally applauded Lizard. 
Well done, girl.  I couldn’t have done that nearly as quickly.

More scowls. 
Didn’t do anything.  Do I really have to listen to that opera crap?

Jennie knew better than to answer a question like that.  And she didn’t plan to stick around to see if Elsie figured out how neatly she had just been herded. 

Much to her surprise, her plate of bacon and eggs had managed to disappear without causing serious stomach upheaval.  A good morning’s work all around.  “I know you’ve both got things to do today, so I won’t keep you.”  Jennie reached into her bag.  “But I have a small gift for each of you before I go.”

She handed the first two pictures to Elsie.  One taken the day she’d arrived—professional, polished, and empty.  The second was from karaoke night, sitting in befuddled happiness with her knitting in her hands, flanked by Caro on one side, Nat on the other.
 Witch Enveloped.

It touched Jennie deeply when her student’s fingers reached toward the befuddled Elsie’s face.  They were indeed making progress.   She waited for Elsie to look up.  “These pictures are mileposts on your WitchLight journey so far, a visual record of the path you walk.  Your assignment for this week is to think about what the next picture looks like.”

A small smile teased Elsie’s face as she nodded, still touching the photo of the happy knitter.

The next two pictures were for Lizard.  The first was the tattooed blonde fairy the morning after she’d arrived, all tough exterior and sad eyes.  Jennie was well aware it was one of the best portraits she’d ever taken—but it was the next picture that truly delighted her.  The second captured the young and hip professional in strappy sandals, asymmetrical skirt, and shiny pendant—nose to nose with Ginia, rocking to some raucous karaoke rap song. 
Metamorphosis of a Delinquent.

“Same assignment for you—find the next picture.  And a second thing.”  Jennie tapped the photo of the confident, in-your-face rap singer and the unshakeable message on her face.  “When you go to school this morning, remember—it’s
this
girl who’s going.” 

Jennie waited for the predictable scowl.  And counted it a major victory when it didn’t come.

~ ~ ~

Lizard walked out of the diner and nearly tripped over Aervyn.  “Hey, little dude.  What are you doing here?  You hungry?”  Feeding small witches was probably a good excuse for being late to school.

“Nuh, uh.”  He took her hand.  “We came to walk you to school.”

Belatedly, Lizard realized he wasn’t alone.  Lauren stood right behind him, innocent look on her face.  “Seemed like a nice day for a walk.”

Yeah, right.  Apparently she had truant officers after all.  “There’s no hurry.  My first class doesn’t start for a while yet.”  Lizard looked at her small sidekick.  “Want to go to the park or something?”

“Nope.  We hafta get you school supplies and stuff.”

She patted her snazzy new bag.  “I have my laptop and a couple of pens.  I’m good to go.”

He looked alarmed.  “You can’t go to school like that!”  He carefully took off his small fire-engine-red backpack and undid the zipper.  “Here.  I brought you a snack and my best pencil crayons.”

Lizard looked at the handful of colorful pencils and the slightly squished cookies and swiped at her eyes in horror.  She
never
cried in public.  It was a rule, even when four-year-olds were being ridiculously sweet.  With solemn ceremony, she tucked the gifts into her bag—along with the heavy weight of his innocent expectations.  “Thanks, superboy.”

He grinned in approval and took her hand again.  “Which way do we go?”

She pointed down the street, resigned.  “This way.”  No way she could run off with his best pencil crayons.       

Lauren fell into step beside them, looking way too pleased with herself.  Lizard smelled a conspiracy. 
What, was that little pencil-crayon trick your idea?

Nope.  He came up with that one all by himself. 
Lauren grabbed Aervyn’s other hand and helped swing him down the sidewalk. 
I’m just admiring his ingenuity.

I was going to go.  Really. 
Lizard tried to sound as convincing as possible.  She was almost sure it was true.

Aervyn was practically floating, which wasn’t ideal when you were on Main Street in broad daylight.  Lizard pushed down on his head and he put his feet back on the ground, grinning.  “What are you gonna do on your first day?”

“No idea, dude.”  When you moved around as often as she had as a teenager, you got a lot of first days at new schools, and pretty much all of them had sucked.  “I’ll probably just get a lot of homework or something.”  And this time around, she might actually have to do it.

“There’s no homework in kindergarten.”  Aervyn looked oddly saddened by this.  “Maybe I can help with yours.”

She grinned.  “Know anything about dead poets?”

He considered for a moment, and then shook his head.  “Nope.  But if you need help, Mama’s really smart at homework.  What’s a ‘poet,’ anyhow?”

Cripes.  She should have had more coffee instead of the extra bacon.  Bacon didn’t help you think faster.  “Someone who puts words together into kind of a mini-story.  Like a song, but without any music.”

Aervyn tried to wrap his head around a tuneless song.  “What kind of words?  And how does a poet know how to put them together?”

“Well, they’re kind of like spells—sometimes they rhyme, and sometimes they just sound good next to each other.”

Superboy’s eyes brightened.  “Are poets witches?”

There was a question she wasn’t going to ask in class.  And she was way done talking about poetry, even with adorable witchlings who shared their pencil crayons.  Which seemed like a reasonable stance until Aervyn’s eyes clouded with hurt.  Damn—she kept freaking forgetting how powerful a mindreader he was.

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only mind witch on duty. 
You’re going to owe me for this.
  Lauren sent Lizard a brief glance and then looked down at their small sidekick.  “Some poets write about witches.  There was this one guy, Shakespeare, who wrote some pretty famous stuff.  This one’s from a play about a crazy king named Macbeth.”