
Witches Under Way
by Debora Geary
Copyright 2012 Debora Geary
Fireweed Publishing
Kindle Edition
IMPORTANT NOTEfor readers ofmy main series ...
This trilogy takes place in the timeline between A Hidden Witch andA Reckless Witch. Without giving up anyspoilers, Devin & Kenna are notwith us yet ;-).So, mentally slide yourselves back in timesix months... and enjoy!
And two quick dedications. To the wildand unruly members of my Facebook page---I trust you will recognize the contentsof Elsie's Silly Jar. And to Ashley,who found Elsie's anthem.
Jennie slurped a couple of spoonfuls of soup, full of trepidation. If it stayed down---and she was rather skeptical about that---it would be the first food she'd successfully consumed in three days. However, she felt obliged to try. It had been sitting on her counter when she'd stumbled down to make some tea, along with an "Eat it. Don't argue." note written on hot-pink paper by one nine-year-old healer who was obviously up to her neck in grumpy, uncooperative patients.
It was hard to argue with a note---and the soup had smelled rather good. Her nose was one of the few parts of her body that hadn't been infected by whatever dastardly bug little Leo had picked up.
Her grandson had seemed fine at karaoke night---laughing and singing and crawling onto everyone's lap. Which had been very welcome until he woke up puking the next morning. And just like clockwork, two days later, pretty much all of Witch Central had followed in his footsteps. As her husband said, toddlers were germ-warfare machines in a cute package.
The young ones had recovered quickly, which was good---somebody needed to take care of all the cranky adult witches. Ginia's talents had been in high demand, and judging from the teleported and tasty soup, both Lizard and Aervyn had been commandeered to her nursing team.
Witch Central, shut down in the middle of summer by the flu. It was positively embarrassing.
Jennie picked up her spoon again. The soup wasn't causing anything too drastic to happen in her belly. Maybe she was on the road to recovery.
More likely, the soup was spiked. Oh, well. At least it didn't taste like medicine.
She fingered the pendant hanging around her neck. It was vibrating slightly, something it had been doing several times a day since karaoke night. Darned if she knew what it meant.
It was surely connected to the fact that her two students wore their pendants now. She'd expected to feel a light connection, and as a mind witch, that wouldn't have bothered her---she was well used to the felt presence of others taking up temporary residence in her brain. But this vibrating was a mystery, and as yet, she lacked the energy to do more than give it a passing thought.
Nor had she given her two students much attention. Nothing like issuing a bold, music-filled invitation to take the next big step on your life journey---and then climbing into bed for several days.
Jennie realized with some surprise that she'd finished her soup. Maybe she could actually get back on the mentoring horse soon. Just as soon as she felt a little bit more human.
In the meantime, Lizard would be just fine making soup for the sick. And according to the witch grapevine, Elsie was one of the hardest hit, so it was unlikely Ginia had let her out of bed yet.
She'd get back to the business of guiding witches. Right after her nap.
Jennie got up gingerly, carrying her bowl to the sink. And wondered, if she asked very nicely, if they would send a biscuit with the next delivery. Lizard's biscuits were delectable enough to tempt even queasy bellies back to full health.
Lizard looked up, more than a little shocked to see Elsie actually on her feet. "Hey, you're alive. Congrats. Want some soup?" She'd been dishing out bowls for sick people all morning with the help of her little-dude delivery service.
Elsie gripped her belly. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Try a little." Aervyn got off his barstool and carried a bowl toward the table, contents sloshing dangerously.
Lizard grinned and hoped the teleported deliveries had actually arrived with soup still in the bowls. She grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and delivered it to the table, remembering all too well the moment when her belly had first contemplated if it was capable of actual food. "The soup will help."
The soup was working miracles. Ginia had put stuff in it. Lizard had been smart enough not to ask what the "stuff" was.
Elsie picked up the spoon and dipped it into her bowl, nose wrinkling slightly. "What kind of soup is it?"
"Eye of newt and toe of smelly little boy." Aervyn giggled. "At least, that's what Mama said I should tell anyone who asks."
Only a four-year-old could be impossibly cute two days after he was at death's door. Elsie's grinned response made her look almost human. She took a careful spoonful of soup. "Yumm. Your toes must taste really good."
"Maybe right after my bath." Aervyn clambered into a chair beside Elsie. "I can put salt on them for you if you want to try a couple."
Elsie continued to smile, but her mind was oddly wistful. "I'm not a very adventurous eater."
Aervyn patted her hand, all small-boy comfort. "Maybe you just never learned how. We could be food 'splorers together. We can start with cookies---Mama makes about a hundred different kinds."
Lizard felt Caro's presence just before she spoke. "That boy is even better medicine than whatever's in the soup. Good to see her up and about." She looked at Lizard, assessing. "Have you eaten?"
The huge growl her belly let loose probably answered that question for both of them.
Caro shook her head. "The healers are going to be in worse shape than the patients soon. Take some soup with you and go sit."
"There are biscuits in the oven."
"I could smell that all the way from my place, girl." Caro's eyes twinkled as she turned toward the stove. "Why do you think I'm here?"
A week or two ago, Lizard might have believed it was for the food. By now, she was well aware their landlady's no-nonsense exterior covered a heart the size of California.
"Go on, sit down." Caro waved a spatula. "I even brought over some bacon---I'll just warm it up a little. I think some of our stomachs might be up for that now."
Lizard walked over to the table and sat, grateful. Bacon meant her life was getting back to normal---at least as normal as her new life got.
Aervyn looked over from coaxing Elsie through her bowl of soup. "Do you get to go to school soon, Lizard-Blizzard?"
She had to laugh. "I think you have to save the Blizzard thing for winter, dude."
"Nuh, uh. It just has to rhyme. Those are the rules. Know any other big words that rhyme with Lizard?"
That was a tough one, but she was learning that four-year-olds didn't actually want answers to their questions half the time. Anything interesting would do. "Nope. But did you know that 'masticate' is another word for chew?" She stood up again---maybe helping Caro would avoid any more rhyming questions.
"I can't matiscate soup," said Aervyn, cheerfully mangling his new word. He grinned, biting into the biscuit that suddenly appeared in his hand. "But I can scatimate this! Want some, Elsie-Belsie?"
Elsie started to shake her head, and then stopped. "You know, maybe I do." She grinned. "I had no idea little-boy toes were so good for yucky tummies. I should have had some before now."
Aervyn giggled. "I had to get them really smelly first. Mama said the fresh ones don't work very well."
Lizard watched the two of them together, amused---and a little weirded out. Two weeks ago, Elsie never would have permitted any toes in her soup, real or otherwise. The whole nice-Elsie thing was still kind of creepy. Not that she was complaining or anything.
Good, said Caro's mental voice. She's working very hard to discover who she is.
She's been lying in bed puking, replied Lizard dryly.
Sometimes change happens when you least expect it. She's a bird in a cage, that one. The cage door's open now, but the bars are still big and shiny. Contemplating the open door is work, and it can be done in a bed. Caro reached past Lizard for plates. How many pieces of bacon do you want?
Lizard snapped out of the lines of poetry swirling in her head, full of caged birds and shiny things. Not enough sleep. A biscuitful, thanks. She looked at Caro's solid back and realized that was a pretty big change too. She'd eaten plenty of bacon biscuits in the past few years---but very few of them had been served to her.
You've been serving plenty of folks lately. We take care of our own.
Yeah. She'd just never expected to be anybody's own. Lizard wandered over to the table, plate in hand, discomfited by the sudden feeling of belonging.
"So?" Aervyn was looking at her expectantly as she sat down. He repeated his question when she looked blank. "When do you go to college?"
Cripes. The kid had a mind like a steel trap. "I'm supposed to start on Monday, but I don't know if I'll be feeling well enough by then."
It wasn't a good sign when all the other people in the kitchen gave her the eye.
Aervyn patted her hand, just as he'd done with Elsie earlier. "School's not too scary, and if you get lost, you can always ask the big people for directions."
It was the big people that worried her. She leaned over and touched her nose to his. "Thanks, Aervyn-Scarevyn." That one made him giggle. "We'll see. I might still have germs."
Caro plunked her own plate on the table and snorted. "If you're well enough to eat a bacon biscuit, you're well enough to go to school."
There was no bullshitting Caro. Lizard contemplated her plate and decided it was no contest. She hadn't had bacon for days. "Fine. But if half of Berkeley College starts puking, I'm not making them all soup."
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Back on our feet. Sort of.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
I think we're on the road to recovery here. I have no idea how you and Melvin managed not to get sick---Leo sat right on both your laps. Thank goodness for small mercies.
Ginia has sent some cure-all soup that seems to have actually worked its magic---that and a nap and I'm feeling almost human. I'd say the need to nap makes me feel old, but I'm well aware you'd give me grief for that :-). Let's just say I'm not at my agile best yet.
I've begun to think on next steps for my students. Lizard will have her hands full just starting college, I expect. She'll have a busy schedule with that and work, although Lauren is being very flexible with her hours. We'll see if our delinquent can wrap her head around being an academic success. There's no doubt she's got the tools---and plenty of ways to sabotage herself, should she so choose.
On the upside, Witch Central is getting back on its feet driven as much by Lizard's cooking as by Ginia's herbs. That will make her friends she didn't even know she had.
Elsie's immediate future is a little more nebulous, at least to me. She needs some time to explore, I think---a chance to discover who she's becoming. Some of those chains she's carrying loom large...
And I'm not sure my head is entirely wrapped around all of it yet, so I'm going to pick out a book and crawl back into bed. Before I do, I have a question for Melvin. My pendant has been vibrating---I assume because it's now more closely connected to those worn by my students. Does he care to enlighten me as to what that might be about? If I'm supposed to be doing more than what I am, it would be helpful if the messages were a little clearer. (Okay, perhaps I'm still a little cranky.)
Enjoy your robust health and the ability to eat actual food,
Jennie
~
Elsie leaned against the door of Knit a Spell, very grateful to have finally arrived. It had been the longest three-block walk of her life, but she'd have been willing to sell half her soul to stay out of bed. Ginia's soup had made her feel like she might survive the trek.
Eventually, some witch would track her down and make her go back to bed, but when they did, she intended to have a ball of really awesome yarn in her hands. One of the stupendously expensive ones that she touched often, but usually managed to resist buying.
Today, Elsie Giannotto had no resistance left---and she coveted gaudy yarn. The vividly bright kind that didn't match anything in her wardrobe.
She also didn't have a lot of room left for denial. Clearly, she had a yarn addiction. She'd had feverish dreams about knitting, the kind that made her wake up clutching imaginary knitting needles and wondering where the glorious creation she'd been making had disappeared.
"Hello, sweetheart! Are you going in?" Marion's big hand landed on her shoulder. "Oh, my. You still look under the weather, dear---are you sure you should be out of bed yet?"
Elsie grabbed her hands, trusting Ginia's word that she was no longer contagious. "Please don't make me go back. I need something to knit."
Marion's laughter was rich and long, turning heads up and down the street. "You have it that bad, do you? Well, come on in, then. We'll put you in Helga's rocker and get your feet up, and then we'll find you that perfect ball of yarn." She leaned over. "And for heaven's sake, the next time you're stuck in bed with nothing to knit, put out an SOS."
Elsie grinned. Marion might be British prim-and-proper, but she knit with flamboyant wool---any delivery she made would likely be eye-popping.
Elsie stepped inside the store as Marion held the door open, already feeling the warm comfort of color calling to her soul. Maybe today she'd actually be brave enough to take some of it home with her. So far, her yarn stash was... muted. Dignified. The need for something gaudy fluttered in her chest again.
Maybe one ball.
Elsie walked toward the back of the store, drawn by the sounds of light chatter. Helga sat digging through a basket of odds-and-ends yarn, and Jodi cuddled her son Sam. They both looked up in delight as she walked toward the table.
It hit her hard. She hadn't really come for the yarn at all---even the extremely colorful kind.
"It's so good to see all of you." She stumbled over the words, embarrassed at the tears suddenly pooling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me."
"Don't you worry, dear." Marion pushed her down into the rocking chair. "A few days sick in bed leave us all feeling a bit out of sorts. You stay put, and we'll get you all fixed up."
Helga bustled over, carrying a throw. "This is one of Caro's. It'll keep you nice and warm." She tucked and prodded until Elsie felt like a well-loved burrito. "I'll go get you some tea now."
Elsie felt totally guilty. Old ladies weren't supposed to wait on her---she should have stayed in bed.
"Helga, you sit down. I'll do that." Jodi stood up, son in her arms, and looked at Elsie. "If you'll rock Mr. Crankypants here, I'll go get you tea and anything else you need."
Elsie gulped. "I'm not very good with babies." Even really cute, cuddly ones. "Why is he cranky?"
"It's a mystery. He was up every hour last night, and I have no idea why." Jodi settled Sam on Elsie's lap. "But he loves to rock, so he should be happy here for a bit. I'll name my second child after you if you can get him to go to sleep."
This seemed like something people with actual skills should be trying---but they all seemed to be busy knitting or fetching tea. Elsie cuddled the baby a bit closer and started rocking. As soon as the chair moved, his gorgeous, dark-blue eyes settled on hers. "Hello, sweet boy. Are you watching me?" She felt his body relaxing as she murmured. "Should we rock together a little? Do you like that?"
"You have the touch," said Marion approvingly, in what was a very quiet voice for the big woman. "You keep that up, and he'll go right to sleep. Good thing, too---poor Jodi could use a bit of a break."
After people waiting on her hand and foot for days, it felt really good to be useful, even if Helga or Marion could easily have taken over baby-rocking duties. Elsie settled a little deeper into the chair, keeping one eye on the increasingly dopey Sam. "What do you think is bothering him?"
"Hard to tell." Marion picked up a skein of yarn and started winding. "Could be teething. Or gas. Or sometimes babies just aren't comfortable in their own skin for a while."
Elsie rocked, and found her fingers drifting up to her pendant. It wasn't just babies who sometimes found their own skin a strange fit. Hers suddenly seemed to be an entirely different size, and she had very little idea what to do about it. "I think he's going to sleep."
"He is at that. You can put him down in his basket if you like, and I'll fetch you some yarn."
Elsie considered the warm little being curled up in her arm, his breath whiffling softly. "No, I think I'll just rock him a while. Maybe he'll sleep better that way."
Marion snorted and patted her knee. "No better medicine than a babe in your arms. You enjoy that."
Elsie grinned. "Nobody gets anything past you, do they?"
"No one half-sick, anyhow." Marion reached for her knitting needles. "So, what are you going to knit after we pry that sweet boy out of your arms?"
Elsie had already learned that half the pleasure of knitting lay in contemplating the possibilities. "I'm not sure. Do you have any ideas?" She took a deep breath and jumped straight into the deep end. "Something a little frivolous, maybe."
Helga chortled from a nearby chair, eyes shining with an approval that bewildered Elsie. "How much time do you have?"
The old Elsie Giannotto would have had a very precise answer to that question. The new Elsie had a sleeping baby in her arms and a day with no particular agenda. Even in her wrung-out-dishrag state, it was a surprisingly nice feeling.
~
Lauren sat down at her desk for the first time in five days and gaped at her inbox. How could so many people want her attention when practically every witch in Berkeley was sick with the flu?
She started clicking into random emails and figured out the answer soon enough. Bored, cranky witches all seemed to have developed a taste for new surroundings. She had more people wanting new homes than they usually handled in three months.
Good thing she had an assistant now, and hopefully one who could manage to be reliable more often than not. Lauren opened another email and snorted. If Lizard wanted to be a realtor, she was going to get plenty of practice.
Then she opened the email from Jamie and laughed. Apparently Berkeley College had awarded Lizard a scholarship, based on her stellar SAT scores. He claimed to have had nothing to do with it and hoped she might pass on the message. Smart witch.
She hit reply. No way. You tell her. Lizard sucked at accepting accolades of any kind, and she might withhold biscuits from the messenger or something. Since biscuits were now a major food group, right up there with chocolate and ice cream, Lauren wasn't taking that risk.
If the real estate thing didn't work out, her assistant could easily go into business as a Witch Central caterer. Not that Lauren planned to mention it, given that their client list had just doubled.
She looked up as the bell hanging on the front door tinkled. If that was another client, she was going to barricade herself in the back office and hide. She'd been overly optimistic---the fact that she could stand up apparently wasn't a sign she was ready for actual work.
Nat came around the corner, looking about as steady as Lauren felt. "Hey. Can I hang out here for a bit? If Jamie finds me, he'll make me go back to bed."
Lauren had some sympathy for him, trying to take good care of his pregnant wife, but friendship had clear rules. "Okay, but only if you sit down. I'll go get us some tea."
"No, please." Nat sounded almost whiny, which was an earth-shattering state of the universe. "No more tea. I'm drowning in tea. I need something real."
"Define real." Since the contents of her kitchen extended to tea and week-old cookies, Lauren hoped whatever Nat craved existed on speed dial---providing for weird pregnancy cravings was also on the friendship-rules list.
Nat's eyes brightened. "Linguine. Can we call Romano's?"
God, yes. "One helping, or two?"
"Three." Nat laughed as Lauren's eyes widened. "Two for me, and one to bribe Jamie when he finds us."
Yeah, he'd probably go for that. Lauren mentally heaped blessings on the head of whoever invented takeout and made the call. If anything could make her feel like a somewhat-normal person again, it would be Romano's linguine. She set down her phone and leaned back, telling her stomach to be quiet. Takeout was a miracle, but not an instant one, even from right across the street. "How'd you escape?"
"He went to air out the studio. We're opening back up tomorrow."
"Are you ready for that?"
Nat shrugged. "It's time. Students have been calling. I can take it really easy for the first few classes."
Lauren grinned. "Need their yoga fix, do they?"
"Maybe." Nat's smile made Lauren nervous. "Hip openers are excellent after illness."
Oh, no. She wasn't falling for that. "In your world, hip openers are the cure for all evils. They're kind of like that nasty green drink Ginia sent all of us. I need to prepare myself before I can actually cope with anything that good for me."
"There's a cute new guy in the front row."
Lauren glared. "Don't you dare join the matchmaking crew of Witch Central. They don't need any help." She'd been ducking eligible men for months. Way too late, she noticed the laughter in Nat's eyes. "Jeebers. I should have twigged to that one. No self-respecting guy takes hip-openers class."
Nat raised an eyebrow. "Jamie does."
"Sorry, he doesn't count." Lauren snickered. "He's not a volunteer."
Nat grinned. "Well, not lately, anyhow. The poor guy's been coming to hours of classes so he could keep an eye on Elsie and make sure she didn't burn the place down."
For good reason. Lauren had seen the scorch marks on the studio's carpet. "Can you blame him? Does he still think she's a risk?"
Nat shook her head. "No. He says her fire magic's well under control now. If she sparks, it will be on purpose."
That wasn't exactly comforting. "And you're okay being alone with that? You've made her mad once or twice. She's still really new to her magic---she could hurt you the next time."
Nat just shook her head, smiling gently. Dang, thought Lauren. Clearly she was missing something. "What?"
"So could my husband, or Aervyn, or about thirty people I see on a regular basis. I hang out with you all the time, and you could fry my brain, or make me do the chicken dance naked on Main Street, or convince me I was a transvestite fish."
The Romano's delivery guy came through the doorway just in time to catch the "transvestite fish" part, and never even blinked. Lauren dug out a large tip and tried not to fall over laughing. In Berkeley, that probably wasn't even the weirdest thing he'd heard today.
She waited until he left to eye her friend. "Just be careful, okay? You're carrying precious cargo in there."
"Elsie's mine now." Nat reached for one of the takeout containers. "I made a promise when I held that pendant out to her, and I intend to keep it. And all the witches in my life who would do exactly the same thing can stop trying to convince me otherwise."
Yeesh. Nat whiny and cranky. Maybe she should have ordered more linguine.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Back on our feet. Sort of.
------------------------------------------
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
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."
Lizard grinned as Lauren produced a credible witch cackle, and said the words along in her head.
"Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blindworm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing.
For charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble."
Aervyn grinned in delight. "That one's funny, but I don't think that Shake guy's a witch---he got too many things wrong. He should go talk to Aunt Moira. I don't think she puts any frogs in her cauldron." He giggled. "Or any 'Lizards' either."
"Well, poets get to make things up. So he could make witches be however he wanted." Lauren winked at him. "Even creepy women who boil frogs and lizards."
He bounced on the sidewalk beside her. "More!"
Lauren shrugged. "That's about all I know. Sorry, munchkin. I had to memorize that one for high school English."
Aervyn looked up, all innocent curiosity. "Maybe Lizard knows another one."
The words blossomed in Lizard's mind, popping up despite her best attempts to keep the lid on. She remembered the first time poetry had danced in her soul---and the Silverstein poem that had done it. They'd stood on the end of the sidewalk, she and Grammie, looking down at the first blades of grass and imagining a world of possibilities. That dog-eared book had been one of her most prized possessions. She'd hidden the words down deep after Grammie died---they were way too freaking hopeful.
Far too late, she heard the echoed words dancing in Aervyn's mind. He grinned up at her. "What's a moon-bird?"
First-day-of-school fear paled in comparison to the terror of having words stripped from her heart. Lizard's teeth practically chattered as she pulled down the Fort-Knox-version of mind barriers. And heard Aervyn's sorrowful knocking anyhow.
Crap, crap, crap. Lizard ran through her entire vocabulary of sailor curses, and then reached for his hand. He was only four, and he'd shared his favorite pencil crayons. A piece of some dead guy's poem seemed like a fair trade, even if it was sewn into her heart. "That's the cool thing about poetry. A moon-bird can be whatever you want it to be."
It wasn't until they'd walked another half a block, Aervyn chattering about imaginary birds and boiled frogs, that Lizard dared to cast a careful glance over at her boss.
Lauren just grinned and looked up at the sky, whistling. "Yup. Definitely a nice day for a walk."
Frack.
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: They're friends.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
Lizard and Elsie head back out into the world this morning, well fortified with bacon and eggs. It was a most interesting chat we had as we ate---particularly the parts that weren't said.
Lizard is a poet. I'm sure of it---and rather embarrassed I've missed it for this long. I've always known she has depths that she does a very good job of hiding. I'd gotten lazy and assumed I'd caught at least the edges of all the important stuff.
How could a woman who loves words the way she does not be a poet? (And yes, I'm done kicking myself now.)
An update on Elsie requires backing up a little. Via the knitter grapevine, I discovered we had a bit of a jailbreak yesterday. Elsie escaped bed rest---and, much to everyone's delight, bolted straight for Caro's knitting store, where she proceeded to rock a cranky baby to sleep and then cuddle him for hours, while chatting about nothing in particular with ladies old and young. All fairly shocking behavior from our rule-bound, schedule-laden psychologist.
Rumor has it she even sang a lullaby to little Sam when she thought no one was paying attention. She's terrified to come sing with you, however.
We'll get her there---but know that Elsie holds you in no small amount of awe. She's convinced she isn't worthy---and terrified by the grip music has on her soul. Elsie Giannotto isn't used to having demanding passions. Or, I suspect, teachers who require that she explore them.
I can't imagine Vero Liantro would ask anything less.
That's the official report. The unofficial one? My girls are friends---their connection was a living thing in the diner this morning. I don't know yet where it's headed, but their importance to each other grows. I asked them today to think about what the next picture on their journey looks like.
My prediction? Very soon, they will be in each other's pictures.
The photographer in me already has an itchy finger.
Much love,
Jennie
~
Nat watched as Elsie folded the studio's towels for the third time in an hour, and sighed. The robotic precision felt far too much like the home of her childhood---and spoke far too loudly of the state of her intern's heart. Clearly neither of them knew exactly what to do with themselves this morning.
Time to confront the elephant in the room.
She carried two cups of tea to the front counter, paused a moment, debating---and then dove straight in. "I see you're wearing your pendant this morning."
"I'm still getting used to it." Elsie's fingers touched her necklace. "Sometimes I can believe it's only a pretty piece of jewelry."
Nat had been around witches too long to try that kind of denial. She sat down, fingering the trio of crystals at her own neck. Her collection was growing. "What did it mean for you, putting it on?"
Elsie stared out the window a moment. "It was a promise." She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "My WitchLight experience hasn't been a very smooth one so far. I guess I saw it as a promise to keep going, even if it's stretching me. A lot."
The simple bravery in that sentence tugged at Nat's heart. There were a lot of rubber-bandy people at Witch Central who had no idea what it was to feel that stretched. She smiled, offering what she could to support a turbulent journey. "I don't think the stretching's done just yet, but perhaps we can change how it feels a bit."
That got a genuine laugh from Elsie. "Is this going to involve standing on my hands again?"
"Not today." Nat picked up her tea. "I'm not sure I could get up into handstand today. I'm still feeling pretty weak and feeble after three days in bed."
Elsie looked over, eyes hopeful. "Do you need me to take care of something? I have time---just tell me how I can be helpful."
And there they were at the crux of the problem. Nat resisted the urge to contort herself into some distracting pose. "You've folded the towels, rearranged the store, scrubbed all the mats, and vacuumed the studio already this morning." All done in a spirit of efficient drudgery that was numbing Nat's soul just watching. She sighed. "The truth is, being an intern here isn't a very demanding job. And you're someone who appreciates a lot of demands." Needed them, if Nat was reading the situation right. "Can I ask you something?"
Elsie's brow furrowed. "Sure."
"What do you need from me?"
Now Elsie looked entirely flummoxed.
Nat fingered her pendant. "It wasn't only you who made a promise. As you step out again on your WitchLight journey, part of my promise is to walk beside you. To help you. I'm not sure how to do that, but I suspect it's more than giving you the chance to become a world-class towel folder."
Elsie's hands fluttered toward the towels and then stopped. "I thought you said anything could be a form of meditation." Traces of lightness teased her face. "Even moving little bits of green tape on the studio floor."
Nat smiled. "Is Jamie still teasing you about that?" Her husband delighted in many little-boy things, and he'd been gently using some of them to work Elsie out of her shell.
Her intern's face flushed. "It's okay. It was a pretty stupid idea. I was out of my element and trying to figure out how to be helpful." She looked at Nat, a little sad and lost. "I think I still am."
Nat had a lovely little speech prepared about how to be okay with not knowing for a while. About moving and exploring and being open to possibilities. She'd practiced it for three days.
And she might have had a chance to deliver it if Jamie hadn't come crashing in the door. He skidded to a halt in front of the desk, glanced briefly at his wife, and focused on Elsie. "You'll be perfect. I need help."
The transformation in her intern was almost instant. Nat tried not to thump her head on the desk. Her husband usually had much better timing. The last thing Elsie needed right now was a new project.
Jamie froze, surveying her face. Sorry. What'd I step in?
Sometimes having a husband who could mindread was a very good thing, even if it was a little too late. Long story. Just don't give her anything serious to work on. Or at least anything too comfortable.
Damn. Okay. Jamie turned back toward Elsie, who was still watching him, increasingly puzzled. "I need a team. By six o'clock tomorrow night. Ginia and Aervyn have issued a challenge."
Now Nat was totally confused, too. "A challenge for what?"
"They're challenging my title as Water Balloon Fight King." Sorry. It was the best I could come up with on really short notice. And they really do want to have a water fight.
Nat tried not to giggle. It wasn't like Witch Central needed an excuse for total goofiness. And her husband's instincts were gold. Joining in monumental silliness might be exactly what her intern needed.
Forget "joining in." I'm going to put her in charge. He put on a sad-puppy face and grabbed Elsie's hands. "You have to help me. They've already claimed most of the good water and air witches."
"You want me to help recruit a team for a water-balloon fight?"
Jamie winced---Elsie's tone was at its stick-butt best. "Not if you've got other stuff to do." Nat held her pendant lightly and tried to keep her eyes off the towels.
Elsie stared a moment longer---and then cracked up laughing. "I have such a strange life now." She tried, fairly unsuccessfully, to sober up. "Do you have a strategy? Some guidance to help with recruiting?"
Nat committed the gobsmacked look on Jamie's face to memory---it was classic. Then, remembering her marriage vows, she tried to help him out with a little translation. "Do you have a plan to win this fight? Preferred talents for your team members?"
His eyes brightened. "Magic would be good. For the rest---good aim, fast feet, and hopefully they don't mind getting wet."
"I think that last one's a given." Elsie snickered. "If I might suggest you think a little beyond the obvious?"
Nat's pendant felt oddly warm for a second. She squeezed it and waited, curious.
"You have an idea?" Jamie pulled up a stool, doing an impressive job of rolling with Elsie's lightning-fast shifts of mood. "Okay, shoot."
Nat listened. Added a couple of suggestions. And made a mental note never to underestimate her intern.
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: They're friends.
------------------------------------------
My dearest Jennie,
It's Melvin this time. I'm trying Jamie's new toy to see if I can perhaps answer your email myself. I must admit, it's faster when Vero does it---but there's some satisfaction in doing things myself.
Of course you didn't know Lizard was a poet---she wasn't ready for you to know yet. Do you think she picked her courses accidentally? That young lady is a master of teasing others into pushing her where she wants to go. The very good news is that her desired destination this time is much improved over some of her past choices.
I knew a young woman once who begrudged every last picture I "made" her take---but never let a clunky old camera out of her sight. That woman would understand our Lizard very well.
As for Elsie, Vero is already preparing. Pass on a message to your student, please. Tell her she's to bring three favorite non-opera songs to her first lesson.
She'll be in good hands. My lovely wife will be both temptress and steamroller, I think, and the incomparable Natalia will be the soft landing. Quite the pair the two of them will make. And it seems we have cuddly babies and seasoned knitters rounding out the team nicely.
As for your "unofficial" report---most certainly Lizard and Elsie are friends. Your single greatest moment of genius was in setting their feet on that path the day they arrived. No one else would have dared, daughter of my heart. When it comes time to take that picture of them journeying together, I hope you see yourself in the center of it.
I hope the words on your screen approximate the ones I tried to type. If they resemble Klingon instead, let me know, and I'll resign my seat to its rightful owner.
Walk in the light,
Melvin
~
Lauren looked up as Lizard blew in the office door at a dead run and skidded to a stop in front of the water cooler. "Morning. How was school yesterday?"
"Homework." Lizard spoke between gulps, waving her phone. "I have like a bazillion pages to read before class in an hour, and some stupid essay thing to write, and I have to figure out how to make a table in Excel."
Lauren blinked. Even she could do that, and her assistant was a wizard on a computer. "You know how to make tables."
Lizard pulled a book the size of a small bus out of her backpack and slammed it down on the desk. "Yeah, but I probably don't do it the right way. I just make stuff up on my computer, and it's probably all ass-backwards or something." She started thumbing through pages like a librarian on speed. "I need to find out what the book says so my professor doesn't think I'm stupid on the second day."
This probably wasn't a good time to object once again to the word "stupid." Maybe she could help with some of the rest of Lizard's load instead. "What's the essay on? Some dead poet?"
"Nah. That'd be easy. I already did all the reading and homework for that class. We only had to come up with a list of five poets we like and a favorite quote from each." Lizard snorted. "Like that's hard."
Lauren knew which assignment would have caused her the most trouble. Now probably wasn't the time to mention that, either. "So what's the essay on, then?" It was clearly the thing causing the most mental distress.
Lizard rolled her eyes. "Some crap on the role of technology in society. How it's changed our lives and stuff. Like I have any freaking clue."
Lauren tried not to laugh. Really tried. She pulled out her iPhone, snapped a picture, and handed it to Lizard. "Maybe this will help."
Lizard looked at the snapshot of herself, laptop in one hand, phone in the other. And finally cracked a grin. "Okay. Got it."
Lauren took back her phone. "Here's one big hint about school. They don't usually ask the really hard questions on the first day."
"They get harder?" Lizard looked horrified.
Sigh. That hadn't landed the way Lauren intended, but who would have predicted that her computer-genius assistant would be terrified by Computing 101 and breezily ace a course on dead poets?
She needed coffee before the morning got even more weird. And she wanted her day back on track. "Can you be here at two tomorrow? I have a new client I'd like you to meet."
Lizard's fingers never stopped moving. "Yeah. So long as I don't have to read anything first."
Lauren quietly shoved the client profile back in her bag. "Nope. No reading."
"Seriously?" Lizard whacked on the monster book. "Why would anyone want to do tables with apples and bananas?"
Bravely, Lauren ventured into the breach. "Maybe it's just an example." Not that she'd want to make fruit tables even as examples, but people who wrote Excel textbooks for a living probably had numb imaginations.
"Okay, but couldn't they at least use an interesting example? So people want to try this stuff?"
Lauren was pretty sure no one actually wanted to make Excel tables. "What got you interested in doing things like that on the computer?"
"Porn. I showed some jerkwad at a bar that satellite TV was cheaper than the pay-per-view crap he'd been buying." Lizard turned the page, still speed-reading. "Way cooler than apples and bananas."
Oh, to have been a fly on the wall. "Did he believe you?"
"Yup. Paid me half the difference for three months." Lizard grinned. "I had a pretty good gig going doing spreadsheets for some of the guys until the cops busted me and said I couldn't hang out in the bar any more. Stupid rules said I had to be twenty-one first."
Lauren stared, too afraid to ask how old she'd been. And realized, one more time, what a foreign planet Lizard had grown up on.
~
Jennie walked out of yoga class feeling like she'd finally tossed off the lingering shadows of sickness. She dropped a sweaty kiss on Nat's cheek. "A lovely class, sweetheart, although I still have no idea how you bend a pregnant body into those shapes."
Nat grinned, dropping a hand to her belly. "Our girl's pretty little yet."
This was true. Smaller than some of the spare-tire bellies in the class, truth be told. Jennie cast a glance over at Elsie behind the front counter. "How's she doing?"
"I don't really know." Nat's shrug seemed troubled. "We're trying to find our way. I'm not sure either of us knows what her purpose is here."
Jennie frowned. She'd have thought the answer to that was easy. "Her purpose is to spend time with you."
Nat smiled gently. "That's your intent for our time together."
"It's not working for you?" Jennie felt like a particularly slow student.
"It's not working for her. Elsie doesn't know how to just be. That's the fourth time today she's folded the towels. It's become an obligation. She's just trading chains right now---old obligations for new ones."
Jennie watched as Elsie's precise hands folded yet another white towel into exactly the same square as the last. Even through the crowd of slowly departing students, she could feel the earnest mental tightness---and Nat's distress. She sighed. "Let me talk with her."
Nat's mood shifted. She grinned lightly and turned to head down the hall. "Be prepared---I think she wants to recruit you."
That was an interesting warning, one that had Jennie approaching the front desk with a touch of trepidation. "Good morning. It's almost lunch time---care to eat with me?"
"I have lunch with me, but thank you." Elsie's hands continued to fold, her brain weeping with boredom. "I have some things I need to attend to here."
Good grief, how had she missed the girl's state of mind on the way in? Jennie pulled rank. "Come. A quick walk around the block, at least. I have another assignment for you."
Elsie's eyes brightened. "Just let me leave a note for Nat in case she needs me."
Jennie grabbed her arm. "I already told her I was carting you off." Not precisely true, but Natalia Sullivan was a smart woman. "Come get some sunshine."
She waited until they'd cleared the studio to shift into amateur detective mode. "So, tell me what your schedule looks like for this week."
"Well, I have my work at the studio." Elsie looked puzzled. "My first lesson with Vero is tomorrow, and Jamie's going to send me through Realm." She shivered. "Have you ever done that? He promises me I'll come out the other end, but I'm not sure I like being a guinea pig."
Jennie grinned. "I'm old-fashioned. I go on an airplane." She touched Elsie's hand, speaking to the real fear she could feel, one that had nothing to do with witch transport devices. "Don't worry---Vero's bark is far tougher than her bite. And she's absolutely delighted to have a student again after all these years."
"She should have chosen one who can actually sing," said Elsie quietly.
"She did." Of that much, Jennie was sure. Vero loved a lot of witches, but she'd never taken a student from their ranks before. Somewhere in Elsie's love for music was a talent Vero had been unable to resist.
"She's just being kind." Elsie smiled. "Singing with her was a gift I'll never forget, but lessons are simply unnecessary."
Again with the tip of the iceberg. Self-confidence wasn't Elsie's real problem---she was bone-deep scared about what might happen if she sang again, terrorized by what it tugged on deep inside her.
And Jennie was well aware she wasn't the woman best equipped to win that fight. "You feel free to tell Vero that when you see her." She'd have to suggest a bit of quiet eavesdropping to Melvin---it would be a conversation that shouldn't be missed. "And she's sent a message. She'd like you to bring three of your favorite songs to your first lesson."
Elsie stopped dead in the sidewalk, nearly causing a pile-up behind her. "I can't do that!"
Jennie pulled her ghost-white student under an awning, confused. "I don't think she means opera, dear. Any three songs you like will do." Feeling the panic still rising in Elsie's mind, she took a shot in the dark. "Don't worry if you can't narrow it down to three right away. You have all day to think about it, and I'm sure Vero won't mind if your list is a little longer than three."
She had no idea what to make of Elsie's spiked panic---or her frenzied dash back toward the studio.
Jennie fingered her pendant and sighed. So much for lending Nat a helping hand. Being a WitchLight guide did wonders for an overinflated ego.
~
Jennie walked into Berkeley Real Estate prepared for pretty much anything after her impromptu stroll with Elsie, and was rather relieved to find Lizard sitting at her computer. "Morning---care to join me for lunch?"
"Can't." Lizard didn't even look up. "Gotta study."
It wasn't usually this hard to find a witch who wanted something to eat. And after several days sick in bed, Jennie was eager for company---her husband was still in the cranky-recovering-invalid stage. She walked past Lizard and knocked on Lauren's door. "I'm looking for someone to come eat with me. Are you going to turn me down too?"
Lauren looked up, puzzled---and then caught the edge of Jennie's mental frustration and grinned. "Nope. I have a craving for Romano's linguine, if that works for you." She lowered her voice. "We'll bring back takeout for Ms. Workaholic out there."
Not a title anyone would have applied to Lizard a few weeks ago, but the change didn't seem like a terrible thing. "She's got a lot on her plate right now." And she was stepping up to the challenge, which could only be a good thing.
"Yeah." Lauren didn't seem convinced. "But nobody's asking her to work quite this hard."
Jennie had spent a lifetime pulling three-day stints in her darkroom with little sleep and less food. "She'll live. Come on, grab your coat---I'm starving." These days, even her darkroom marathons involved breaks for something to eat. Old people needed regular sustenance.
Lauren snickered. Don't let Vero catch you calling yourself old. She gave Caro an earful on that subject at karaoke night.
Was I thinking that loudly? The growl of annoyance as they slid past Lizard answered Jennie's question well enough. Clearly Lauren hadn't been the only mind-witch picking up her leaking thoughts. Jennie tightened up her mental barriers---it was bad practice to leave them that sloppy.
Lauren waited until they got outside and then elbowed Jennie. "See, I told you. She's been growling at me all morning."
"All this for dead poets?"
They stepped into the street, dodging traffic---not the safest route to Romano's, but definitely the most direct. Lauren shook her head. "Nah. She's got the dead poets nailed. It's Excel spreadsheets causing her trauma. Someone needs to tell her that so long as the answer is right, generally nobody cares how you got there."
One wry glance confirmed that Lauren wasn't volunteering for the job. And Jennie wasn't doing it without proper food intake first. She dashed across the last lane of traffic and cyclists, stepping onto the curb right in front of the best Italian food in Berkeley. She inhaled the yummy aromas leaking out the open door. "I don't do this nearly often enough."
Lauren flashed a grin. "I do." And then she walked in the door and cracked up laughing.
Jennie stepped inside and hugged her nephew, who was lounging at the front counter. "Is everybody craving noodles today?"
Jamie chuckled. "That's what happens when every witch in town is sick for a week. Aervyn ate his bodyweight in waffles this morning. Carb-loading for the big fight, I think."
She'd missed something. Jennie frowned. "What fight?"
Lauren grabbed her arm. "Wait, didn't Lizard talk to you?" She pushed a hand against Jamie's chest. "Back off, buster---I saw her first."
He held up his hands and grinned. "Okay, but I have no idea what you guys are up to, bringing a pack of mind witches to a water-balloon fight."
Jennie was catching on quickly. Water-balloon fights were a Witch Central summer tradition. Is it worth trying to play the old-lady card? Or applying to be the official event photographer?
Both her companions snickered. Jamie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I know one four-year-old who would be happy to set a waterproofing spell on your camera. He does good work." He grinned. "And the old-lady thing won't fly either..."
He stopped talking, mind barriers slammed down, and whistled at the ceiling.
Lauren scowled. "You're awfully perky about this fight. Ginia and Aervyn have most of the useful witching talent on their team."
Jamie just grinned. "We have Elsie."
Jennie was getting left behind again---and Jamie's mind was no longer leaking any hints. "She's a fire witch, Jamie. She's going to fizzle the first time somebody drenches her." A very brave somebody---most fire witches didn't appreciate being wet.
"It's not her magic that's going to carry us to victory. It's her brain." He looked far too sure of himself. "So if you want to join the winning team, it sounds like you haven't been officially recruited yet."
Lauren casually picked up a menu from the counter and glanced his way. "I hear your teammates always end up the wettest."
The arm around Jennie's shoulders gave another squeeze. "Ah, but she's my favorite aunt. She'd never let me down."
"Such wonderful offers," said Jennie, more than a little amused. Ah, it was good to be out of bed and back in the world again. She kissed Jamie's cheek. "But I was on your team last summer. I'll see if Lauren can give me better odds at avoiding drowned-rat status."
Whatever retort Jamie might have come up with got derailed by a waiter arriving with his bag of takeout. "Gotta go. Pregnant woman waiting." He gave Lauren a quick hug and then shook his head at Jennie, eyes twinkling. "Pretty sure you're going to live to regret that decision. I think Elsie was a general in a previous life. She's a strategic genius."
That sounded oddly possible. Jennie watched his retreating back, bemused. Not that it mattered a whole lot---nobody emerged dry from a water-balloon fight, and there really wasn't all that much difference between soaked and drowned. She turned back to Lauren. "So, do we have a strategic genius in our camp?"
"Sure." Lauren grinned. "Why do you think I worked so hard to recruit you?"
~
Elsie clutched her new purchase, staring at the miniature instructions in distress. Even if she could squint and read them, none of it seemed to match the parts of her new iPod. The last music player she'd owned had possessed two slots for cassette tapes and buttons clearly labeled On, Play, and Stop.
She'd gone into the Apple store armed with all the latest research, determined to find a way to explore the world of music. The salesperson had been very nice. He'd found her the kind of earphones you could use and still hear traffic noise and not ruin your hearing. He'd helpfully explained storage and screens and something about mixing music up while you played it. And she'd tried not to panic when he'd shown her how many songs were on iTunes for her to choose from.
How was she supposed to remedy her musical idiocy when there were eighteen million songs and she couldn't even get her darned iPod to turn on?
"Cool iPod." Lizard walked into the kitchen. "New?"
Elsie swallowed her pride. "Yes. Do you by any chance know how to turn it on?" She was eternally grateful when Lizard didn't laugh, and even more grateful when a magic touch or two had pretty lights coming to life on her screen.
Two minutes later, her new toy was all hooked up and blaring one of Lizard's favorite songs. Elsie was pretty sure their musical tastes weren't going to overlap very much. "Is there a way to turn it down a little?"
Lizard grinned. "I can probably find some old-lady music for you, if you like."
That she could probably manage to do on her own. Elsie tapped her computer, feeling frazzled and more than a little grumpy. "I'll just look around a little. The man at the store showed me how to use the iTunes site."
"It might have been more useful if he'd shown you how to turn on your iPod." Lizard opened the laptop's lid, hit a few keys, and looked up. "So, you're not into rap. What kind of music do you like?"
Was there no such thing as personal space in Witch Central? Elsie squirmed and then straightened her spine. Trying to remedy a personal weakness wasn't a reason to be embarrassed. "I don't know, exactly. My mother always played classical music in our house. I'm fond of opera."
Lizard raised an eyebrow. "Opera rocks your socks, girl. Weird, but true."
Elsie sighed and gave up. "Yes, it does. But I want to figure out what else I like. Normal music---the stuff most people listen to." She waved at the computer. "How can I do that when there are eighteen million songs to choose from?"
"You were just going to get online and start shopping?" Lizard grinned. "Don't they teach you shrinks anything in school?"
Elsie was pretty sure nothing as incidental as personal musical taste had ever graced the hallowed classrooms of Harvard. Time to throw herself on her roommate's mercy. "If you were me, what would you do?"
Lizard rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "If I find you some good music, will you write my essay for me? It should be easy for you."
It was shockingly tempting. For just a moment or two, and then sanity prevailed. "That would be highly unethical. What's the topic for your essay?"
"How technological illiteracy can be a handicap in modern society." Her roommate snickered and held up the iPod. "But don't worry---I'll change names to protect the innocent." She stood up and headed for the hallway. "I have forty-three hours of homework to do. I'll have some music stuff for you tomorrow."
Elsie felt oddly empty. "Have you eaten?"
Lizard stopped dead, thinking. "Crap. No wonder I'm hungry."
"You can study down here." Elsie didn't stop to examine why this was suddenly so important to her. "I'll make some dinner, and you can work on your essay." She picked up her new iPod. "Here. You can even listen to that really loud rap stuff if you want."
She had no idea what the strange look in Lizard's eyes meant. And no idea what she was going to make for dinner, given her limited repertoire and their empty fridge. But it felt... nice.
Elsie opened the door of the oven, rather proud at the muffins she pulled out. Not bad for 6 a.m. She'd realized the evening before that desire to cook had very little to do with actual results, so she'd knocked on Caro's door at ten o'clock at night and asked for a recipe to try. Amazingly enough, her first attempt looked almost like muffins, except for the little burned bits on the edges.
She'd set the table nicely and walked to the store for orange juice while the muffins were in the oven. It wasn't biscuits, but it was an acceptable breakfast for her first baking attempt. And it might make up for the disaster of a dinner she'd tried to serve the night before. Good intentions weren't always edible, especially when served with undercooked chicken.
Hearing Lizard's clomping on the stairs, she grabbed two---very hot!---muffins and put them on the pretty green plates she'd also found at the store. She looked up as her roommate blew into the kitchen. "Good morning. I made breakfast for you---I hope you like banana muffins."
"Gotta run." Lizard swooped a muffin off the counter and dropped it on the floor. "Shit! These are still hot."
Elsie looked at her breakfast table for two in dismay. "They'll be cool in just a minute. I was hoping we'd have a chance to eat together." She took a closer look at Lizard, currently tossing a muffin hand to hand. "You look tired---did you have trouble sleeping?"
"Yeah. Essays and neighborhood maps kind of get in the way of the whole shutting-your-eyes thing."
"You were up late?" Her roommate really did look exhausted, with big circles under her eyes and the kind of zippy edginess that came from too much coffee.
Lizard snorted. "Dunno. Is 4 a.m. late?" She shoved the muffin in her bag. "More sleep than I got the night before, though. Thanks for the food."
Elsie stared at the suddenly empty kitchen doorway, feeling bereft. She turned around, looking at her now-sad table and its two slightly burned muffins.
She jumped as the front door slammed, and backed up in surprise as Lizard torpedoed into the kitchen. "Sorry, I forgot about the music thing. Do you have your computer?"
Elsie pointed at the counter---Caro had emailed her the muffin recipe.
"Pandora." Lizard pulled up a website on Elsie's laptop. "It's a music site that starts with a song you like, and then plays songs that are related." Soft sounds began streaming out of the computer. "You just need to thumbs up or down here when you love or hate something, and it will learn your preferences."
Elsie moved in, fascinated.
Lizard looked up and grinned. "Perfect for someone who doesn't know squat about music."
Elsie frowned, catching strains of the music. "What's playing now? I like that."
"Dude named Leonard Cohen." Lizard increased the volume. "This song's the closest real-music thing I know to opera. Lots of people sing it, but he wrote it, so I started with the original."
The music tugged on Elsie. Such a deep voice, wise and sad. And then the chorus hit, and she grabbed the counter to hold herself up, totally staggered.
Lizard grinned and clicked on the thumbs-up button. "I seeded some other songs in here to get you started. Once you figure out what you like, then we can put it on your iPod."
Words finally penetrated Elsie's musical haze. "You worked on this? Last night, when you were up so late?"
"No big." Lizard shrugged. "My eyes were kind of bleeding from reading anyhow."
Elsie stared for a moment---and then grabbed her roommate's arm. "Sit. Take two minutes for breakfast." It wasn't a gift like the music, but her banana muffins didn't look all that bad. And the green plates were pretty. "I have orange juice, too."
Lizard dropped into a chair. "How come you're getting all domestic?"
Until that moment, she hadn't been exactly sure. Elsie smiled. "Someone needs to make sure we have something to eat around here." She nodded, pleased with her forming idea. "Summer school is for five weeks, right? You study, and I'll try to learn how to cook for us a little."
"Deal." Lizard guzzled her orange juice and stood up, pocketing the last half of her muffin. "If you cook them for three minutes less, they won't get crispy. Our oven runs kind of hot." She plunked her plate and glass on the counter on her way out. "Nice plates, by the way. Later!"
It hadn't exactly been a conventional breakfast. But it had been nice. Elsie sat tracing the swirls on her plate, a silly grin on her face.
And then sat bolt upright, panicked, remembering why she'd gotten up at 5 a.m. in the first place. Oh, God. She had four hours before Jamie came to port her to Vero's house. Four hours to find three favorite songs.
Well, two. That song with all the Hallelujahs was lovely.
~
Lizard waved goodbye to Freddie as she hopped off in front of Berkeley Realty. His bus was still the best place in the universe to do homework. Maybe she could make it through her last required-reading article before Lauren got to the office.
She pulled her computer out of her bag as she unlocked the front door and turned on the lights---and then cursed roundly as a stranger walked in the door right behind her. So much for getting to work early to study. Should have stayed on the bus.
She tried not to growl as she turned around, sticking out her hand. "I'm Lizard. How can I help you?" Then she blinked. He was way younger than most of their clients, and cute, in a geeky kind of way. Maybe he was lost.
"I'm Josh. I just moved to Berkeley and I need a place to live. I heard you guys were the best."
Probably not lost, then, and she couldn't very well kick him out after he said stuff like that. "Sit. I'll get coffee." She sighed, trying to remember it was her job to be nice now. "Do you want something to eat?"
"No, thanks. I just had breakfast at this awesome greasy diner."
Lizard grinned. "The one with the happy faces on the plates?"
"Yeah. Guess I'm not the first person to discover it, huh?" He waved at her chair. "It's okay---you don't have to wait on me or anything. Just help me find a place to live. Hotels suck."
He looked like a starving student, and rentals in this town weren't cheap. Lizard frowned. "What brings you to Berkeley?"
"The desire to see green things." He shrugged. "I'm working at a small start-up in San Francisco, but I don't really need to be there every day. I did the downtown condo thing in Seattle, but I think I want an actual neighborhood vibe this time."
Okay, definitely not a starving student. "You might want to walk around some. Figure out the kinds of areas that fit the vibe you're looking for." She might even be talked into taking him on a tour.
"Already did that." He grinned and pulled a cool gadget out of his pocket. Then he clicked a couple of buttons and a map sprung up on the wall---a color-coded, annotated map. "Red are the places I liked best."
She was in geek love. With the map. "How did you make it do the color gradients like that?" Google Maps had so far resisted her efforts to do the same thing.
"I tweaked the API code."
Lizard tried not to drool and pulled up her own maps, which suddenly looked shabby by comparison. "This shows the price range and kinds of houses by neighborhood. Let's see how the areas you like overlap with your price range. Do you want to rent or buy?"
"Buy. And price isn't a big deal." Josh looked moderately embarrassed. "I sold my last company for quite a bit of money. You tell me what my budget needs to be to get what I want."
Cripes. Clients weren't supposed to say stuff like that.
And she couldn't take him to see every listing in Berkeley, or even just in his red neighborhoods. Time to narrow things down a little. "So, you want green stuff. The kind you look at, or the kind you mow?"
He grinned. "Look at. I'm better with computers than lawn mowers. Things with motors tend to break when I touch them."
Check. No grass, or window-box air conditioners. Space for a home office, probably. Not a problem on an unlimited budget. "What else?" She glanced back at his totally mag map. "Tell me about the neighborhoods you liked best. What things turned an area red for you?"
"That's going to blow my cool, single-guy cover." He sighed. "I liked the ones with kids biking down the street and little old ladies taking care of their flowers. Where people actually seem to stop and talk to each other, or a cute kid on a skateboard told me where to find the best fried-egg breakfast in town."
If she hadn't been a mindreading witch, Lizard would have been sure he was kidding. Young, rich, cute guys didn't want family neighborhoods where people liked to stop and chat. But this one really did.
He shrugged, deprecating grin back in place. "Am I hopeless, or can you find me a home?"
She knew exactly the property---a small townhouse three blocks away. Just listed, vacant, and right around the corner from the diner. Frack. She was so not going to get her homework done. "I might know something. Do you have a few minutes to go look now?"
His eyes brightened. "Yeah."
As she grabbed her stuff, Lizard wished, for just a moment, that she was the kind of girl who liked geeky and sweet. Because this client needed a girlfriend in the worst way. He had white-picket fence written all over him.
~
They were no strangers to guests, even now, but this one was special. Vero fussed with the flowers on the little table in her singing room, waiting for her student to arrive. She adored the little frissons of anticipation dancing in her chest---it almost felt like standing in the wings onstage, awaiting her cue.
Silly old woman. Vero laughed lightly at herself, but with the permissiveness of one who had always accepted her own silliness. There were much worse vices in the world than flights of fancy.
Adjusting the last stem, she turned and walked over to the piano, a gorgeous and well-used baby grand. It had been a gift from Melvin, back in the days when the money for such a gift had come from years of scrimp and sacrifice. It had moved all over the world with them, and she treasured it more than anything else she owned.
With a sniff for her less-than-agile fingers, she re-stacked the sheet music, wondering briefly if Elsie knew how to read music. No matter. Melvin had often said Veronica Liantro could teach a willing lamppost to sing, and Elsie was no lamppost.
Picking one of her favorites, Vero began to hum. It was a simple tune, well suited to a beginner.
Then she heard footsteps in the hallway and turned to greet her student. "Hello, Elsie. Welcome to our home." She ignored the awestruck eyes---the grueling reality of voice lessons would make that fade soon enough. "I hope your trip here was uneventful." It would be a very cold day before she let herself be zapped through a computer, but it was a fine way for younger people to travel.
Elsie took a deep breath, looking down. "I think so---hopefully all of me has arrived."
Vero chuckled, rich and deep. "Now there's something you don't hear said every day."
Elsie's giggle seemed to surprise her. They would need to work on that. To sing well, the singer must first feel.
And obviously small talk wasn't going to help the poor girl relax. "Right. Let's get started, then." Vero turned to the piano and touched a key. "I'm just going to sing some very simple notes to warm up. I want you to repeat them after me."
She could barely hear Elsie's voice at first, and what little did come out sounded like a tortured cat. Vero just kept playing and singing simple runs of notes, trusting the music to do its work. As Elsie relaxed, her voice got stronger---untrained, for sure, but clear and true to the notes, and the girl had quite a nice range for a beginner.
Vero dropped her hands to her lap. "You have a lovely voice, dear, but your diaphragm is entirely wimpy. Let's work on that, shall we?"
"I'm so sorry." Elsie looked horrified. "I've never taken singing lessons before. I don't have any idea how to do things correctly."
"Of course you don't." And it was a sin that the girl had never been properly taught. "That's why you've come to see me. I'm considered a bit of an expert on fixing wimpy diaphragms."
Elsie wrung her hands in dismay. "You're a genius. I really appreciate you offering to teach me, but I'm not remotely qualified to be your student."
A successful opera singer could pull emotion on a moment's notice, and Vero never missed her cues. She rose from the piano stool, summoning a healthy dose of wrathful indignation. "Are you saying that Veronica Liantro isn't qualified to pick her own students? That I can't pick where to share my genius---I could choose Pavarotti, but I can't choose you?" That last might be a bit over the top, but she'd always loved a good rant.
Elsie couldn't even manage a stutter. She tried several times, and then just shook her head. That much, Vero had anticipated. What she hadn't expected were the fascinated eyes.
"Good." Vero swirled back down to the piano stool, knowing even as she sat that it was not doubt that most haunted her student---it was desire. Well-covered, terrified desire. And that, she could most certainly work with. "Then let's try a song, shall we? Tell me the name of one of your favorites."
"I can't sing them!" Elsie practically squeaked. "I just like them. I didn't know I was supposed to pick ones I could sing."
Vero reached out a hand in comfort. "No one can sing at their first lesson, cara mia. But your choices will tell me something about your musical soul." She smiled. "I believe that's had more practice than your voice."
Elsie stared---and then finally pulled a piece of paper out of her bag. "I've been listening all day. These are my favorites so far."
Vero read the list. Interesting. Mostly soft, pretty things---emotive, but only in a small range. She wondered if Elsie was aware of the thread of safety running through all of the songs she'd picked. Then she noticed one at the bottom that had been scratched out. "What's this last one?"
Elsie flushed. "Lizard played a song for me this morning, and it was wonderful. But I wasn't paying enough attention to the name, and I can't figure out how to make my computer play it again."
And yet she'd tried to put it on the list. "We don't need a computer, love. You heard the song once, yes?" She put her hands on the piano. "Sing it for me."
"I..." Elsie was back to stuttering. "I don't know how it starts."
Ah, but she remembered something---it was in her eyes. Vero stalked her quarry. "Sing whatever you remember. There are few songs on this earth I can't figure out from a few notes." Even some of that boisterous rap nonsense was growing on her.
Her flustered student opened her mouth to sing. Once. Twice. And then shook her head, looking down at the floor. "I can't. I'm sorry."
"Of course you can." Vero tilted up Elsie's chin, command in her voice. "This song has grabbed your heart, dear one. It would be an injustice to let it disappear into the ether. Sing for me."
This time, a few wobbly notes came out. And a word. Hallelujah.
Vero motioned for more---that particular word didn't narrow down the musical world very much. More Hallelujahs...
And then musical magic happened. "I did my best, it wasn't much." Elsie's eyes flew open as the words leaked out of her mouth. "I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch..." She ground to a halt, dejected. "I'm sorry. I can't remember the next line."
Emotion swelled in Vero's chest. She could. And with those few words, she knew Elsie had found her anthem---one full of angst and hope and gloriously gritty melody. Bless Leonard, and bless the girl's gut instinct for what she needed. Vero put her hands on the piano. "You've remembered enough. From the top, shall we?"
The look on Elsie's face when the opening chords played nearly had Vero's tears spilling over. "Sing with me, child. The words will come." This much she could do---this much of a gift was hers to give. By the time the lesson was over, she would have the words etched on her student's soul.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Ah, my heart sings again.
------------------------------------------
Dearest Jennie,
Such a lovely girl, our Elsie---and what a heart she has for the music. It just sweeps her off her feet. Not an altogether comfortable sensation for her, but oh, such a gift she has. Not the voice---she sings adequately, and will sing rather well before I'm done with her, but no more than that.
She was, however, born with a rare talent for listening to the music with her soul. And soon enough, it will not be sufficient just to listen.
She will not fail on her journey---the music will not permit it. My heart feels certain of it now. There may, however, be some interesting detours along the way. The music will help open her, and experiencing freedom for the first time is always fraught with a few difficulties.
You might be interested to know that I believe it was Lizard who helped Elsie to find her song---that one song we all have deep in our souls that is meant to journey along with us. One by my friend Leonard, of all people. He would be amused. I've sent her away with some homework---to listen to the many and varied versions of Hallelujah, and then to return next week and sing it with me again. It's a song that can evoke so many possibilities---dark, light, and everything in between. I will be most curious to see what she chooses, and how that changes as she travels. It's a splendid song for a woman on a journey.
As for Lizard, Melvin reports that she is brushing off his requests to go visit Realm with Ginia. She tells him she has too much work to do. Is the child taking time for play? He is concerned.
I believe that's all for now. Come visit soon---if Elsie can trust her body parts to a computer, then surely you can as well.
Love and light,
Vero
~
Lizard collapsed at the kitchen table, staring at the yogurt container in her hand in disgust. It was the only thing edible left in the fridge. Somebody hadn't been grocery shopping, and she couldn't get her brain in gear enough to remember if it was supposed to have been her.
Elsie ate yogurt, and she didn't die, so maybe it wasn't really white toxic waste. Lizard sniffed. Eew. It smelled like cough syrup and slightly rotten milk. No possible way could she eat this.
She stood up to go toss it in the garbage and grabbed the table, swaying. She held on until the light-headed feeling passed. Crap. No food and no sleep was a really, really bad combination. And since sleep wasn't happening anytime soon, rotten-cough-syrup toxic waste was pretty much her only choice.
Plugging her nose with one hand, Lizard stuck a spoonful in her mouth, gagging as she swallowed. Gross---it felt like swallowing boogers. Big, slimy boogers. Totally repulsive.
She was not going to eat boogers. Even desperate witches had their limits. Making sure she had her balance, Lizard headed for the door. Time to go beg.
She didn't even make it to Caro's steps before the door opened and one very annoyed witch stepped out onto her porch. "What the hell is wrong with you, girl? I can hear your belly growling from my kitchen, and your mind is flat-out exhausted."
Lizard threw herself on the mercy of the gooey heart behind the bite. "Feed me, please? All we have is yogurt. Tastes like boogers."
Caro snorted in amusement. "Come on in, then. I've got some pretty good stuffed-manicotti leftovers---I'll warm you up a plate. Better than boogers, anyhow." She turned and headed back to her kitchen, leaving the door open.
Anything Caro baked hit at least delicious on Lizard's personal food scale. She followed down the hallway, already drooling. "Can I take it to go? I have a crapload of work to get done before this afternoon."
"Don't you dare ditch the water-balloon fight." Caro rummaged in her fridge. "Not after recruiting me to your team."
She hadn't really been considering it. Not seriously. Lizard rested her head in her hands. "I'll be there. But I have an essay to write, five hundred pages to read, and a house contract to write up before then."
Caro looked up from the light flame on her palm she was using to heat a plate of food. "You sell a house?"
"Maybe." Totally. Geek boy had fallen in lust about three seconds after she opened the door to the townhouse. "But he wants to pay cash, and I have to look up how to do that." She scowled. How come she got all the hard clients?
"Don't you have a boss to help you with that stuff?"
"I don't want to bug her."
"Don't be a silly witch." A plate thunked down in front of Lizard's seat. "Here, eat this. Maybe it will get your brain working right again."
The smells nearly sucked her nose right into the plate. The first bite and her stomach wanted to marry Caro. "Thanks. I'll send something over the next time we have good leftovers." Whenever she had a chance to cook again. Elsie's muffins had been edible, but kind of a strange texture.
"Since when do I ask for a trade in exchange for feeding you?"
Lizard ducked as annoyance returned to Caro's mind with a vengeance. "Sorry. I'm a little punchy."
"I know." Caro's hand on her hair was gentle. "I can feel it. You can't keep up this pace---you know that, right?"
Yeah, she did. She just had no idea which of the totally required tasks on her list to blow off.
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: One tired witch.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
I've checked in with my witch spy network. Reports are quite consistent.
Lizard is running herself into the ground---Melvin is right to be concerned. She was one of the first to recover from the flu that hit all of us, and spent the next several days feeding Witch Central. Now she's back at work and at school, and if my sources are correct (and they usually are), she's not sleeping, barely eating, and doing an excellent imitation of a workaholic.
This from a girl who used to randomly disappear instead of showing up for work.
I'm not entirely sure how to intervene yet. There is a water-balloon fight in a couple of hours. We shall see what happens when our workaholic is presented with a bit of mindless fun. And since I'm on her team, she'd better show up.
Elsie would be a workaholic if we gave her enough to do, but we're quite intentionally trying to keep her plate clear of obligations. She needs some time to explore who she is. At the moment, she's chief organizer of Jamie's water-balloon team---and given his general cockiness on the subject, she's either doing a marvelous job or a hopeless one (my nephew has been known to bluff on occasion). He's currently running pretty bad odds in the betting pool, so most assume he's bluffing. I'm not so sure---and not willing to bet against my student just yet.
And you will no doubt be unsurprised to hear that Elsie has been floating on a musical cloud since her lesson today. We will see if it lasts through getting soaking wet.
Off to beg, borrow, or bribe a waterproofing spell.
I will come to see you soon,
Jennie
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: One tired witch.
------------------------------------------
Jennie, my heart,
It's Melvin again. I remember a certain young witch who became fascinated with a camera. I do believe I had to pry your hands off the darkroom table and feed you a time or two.
That's not to say that Lizard's current obsessions are healthy. But a driven heart can be a gift, and it's only very recently that our girl has found something to be passionate about. It sounds to me like she wants to succeed, and that should be celebrated, along with making sure she doesn't topple over from lack of food or sleep.
Balance matters---and so does a purpose in life. There might be some bumps as Lizard gets herself pointed straight down the road, but it's a lovely thing indeed to see her driving. The biggest chain on that delightful girl's soul is a lack of belief the world will adore her. She's giving us a chance to do just that right now, and I hope she trusts the answer that comes.
As for Elsie, of course she is singing. It was a wonderful thing I did earlier today, sitting in the parlor just outside the music room and listening to their voices soar together. Elsie is not the only one who has had a song in her heart since---my Vero has been puttering in the kitchen, singing arias as she bakes cookies. She believes her voice has ceased to carry its old magic, so she sings less than she once did.
She is so very wrong.
Students are a gift, my love---don't ever forget it.
Stay dry this afternoon,
Melvin
~
"Where do you think we should make our stand?" Elsie stood beside Jamie, nervously surveying Nell's back yard.
"Right in the middle." Jamie grinned. "That'll psych out the other teams the most."
"Don't we maybe want to defend one of our flanks?" Elsie had spent half the night reading military strategy websites. Rather sinister, but surprisingly useful. The other two teams had at least one well-protected side. The mind-witch team---Lizard, Lauren, Jennie, and Caro---were set up against the fence. Ginia and Aervyn, along with pretty much all the air and water witches in town, including their powerhouse older brother Nathan, were perched on top of the play structure, a huge tree at their backs.
"We have enough people to man four sides---that should be enough." Jamie measured with his eyes. "And it will give us the shortest distance to the home base for the other two teams."
"Doesn't that mean we're just going to be easier to hit?"
Jamie chuckled. "I think your brilliant idea's going to put a large dent in that problem."
It was a pretty clever plan. And probably a dry one---unless you were on one of the capture squads. Elsie had somehow become Nat's partner on the suicide mission to capture Team Lizard's base. She was going to drown. However, they had to try---winning required control of all three home bases. And the military websites had assured her that the best generals led from the front.
Elsie looked around one more time and couldn't come up with a better place to locate their crew. She hadn't been this nervous since defending her PhD thesis. Heck, she was probably wearing the same clothes---her wardrobe didn't run to backyard shenanigans.
The quick ring of flames Jamie sent up to outline their team turf in the grass didn't help settle the turmoil in her belly any. "Isn't Nell going to care about crop circles in her lawn?"
Jamie laughed and waved the flames off. "That's why we have earth witches. They'll fix it after we're done."
"It doesn't seem fair for them to do all the cleanup." Especially since earth-witch magic apparently wasn't very useful in a water-balloon fight.
"Hardly." Jamie snickered. "Once we get ourselves dried out, we'll need all the fire witches to deal with the pond we've made in Nell's back yard." He pointed. "Ah, excellent. Here come reinforcements."
Nat, and Nell's husband, Daniel, were making their way across the lawn with a hose and a box of balloons. Non-witches, both of them. Elsie was well aware the other two teams were staring---they'd kept their list of recruits very, very quiet.
Aervyn giggled from his perch at the top of the slide. "Don't you need some more witches, Uncle Jamie? We can give you some."
Ginia clapped her hand over his mouth. "No way." She surveyed their team. "How are you going to throw the water balloons without magic?"
Jamie curled his biceps. "I have arms, niece of mine."
She grinned at him. "You can't throw this far. You guys are so toast." She switched tactics. "Auntie Nat, it's going to be a lot drier up here. Sure you don't want to switch?"
Nat simply smiled and peeled off her tank top, revealing the swimsuit underneath.
Elsie was watching the other two teams' reactions very carefully. Almost everyone seemed to agree with Ginia. The two notable exceptions were Jennie and Nell. Maybe Nell knew about her husband's MVP pitching trophies in college.
Jamie grinned. See, I told you they'd totally underestimate him.
Elsie still didn't really understand why a guy who could throw a ball at ninety miles per hour wasn't seen as a water-balloon fight threat, but she could see with her own eyes it was true. Jamie said victory tended to hinge on the witch talents on the team.
Which was a bit nerve-wracking given the rest of their team members.
Ginia held up an arm. "Are we ready to start?"
"Not quite." Jamie walked over to the deck and grabbed four plastic chairs. "We have a few more team members to add." He grinned at Elsie and raised his voice. "Okay, you guys can come in now."
Elsie had never seen anything quite so funny as the reactions of Teams Lizard and Ginia as the rest of Team Jamie walked slowly in the back gate.
Helga hooked her arm through Marion's elbow and waved at Caro. "How come you never invite us to do anything like this? Sounds like almost as much fun as knitting."
Melvin, his hand on Vero's arm, chortled. "Indeed. We old folks couldn't even get a decent invitation, could we, my dear?"
Help me get them settled before the shock value wears off. Jamie's mental voice was full of glee. We've got this one in the bag.
Elsie still wasn't convinced---but the other two teams did look rather off their game.
Off their game? You've just masterminded the biggest shocker in Witch Central balloon-fight history. Jamie took Melvin's hand and helped him to the chair facing the mind-witch team. "Jennie and Lizard are straight ahead," he said quietly.
Melvin's eyes gleamed. "I can keep those two under control."
Elsie helped Helga sit facing the play structure where Team Ginia watched in confusion. And prayed she was right that nobody would soak a little old lady. Helga pulled out her knitting---and lifted it up high enough that Elsie could see the water pistol hidden underneath. "Don't you worry, my dear. They won't get past me."
Marion and Vero positioned themselves in the other two chairs. Team Jamie's home base was now defended by four people over the age of seventy.
And looking at the faces on the other two teams, Elsie could finally taste the possibility of victory.
~
Frack. Lizard had plenty of practice figuring out when to fight and when to run. This was rapidly turning into a run scenario.
She turned to her team. "Okay, this changes things."
"You think?" Caro snorted. "We can use illusions on Team Ginia like we planned, but that's not going to get us past Helga and Marion. Those ladies are tough."
Jennie frowned. "Do they know you're a witch?"
Lauren laughed as Aervyn teleported himself over to Melvin's lap for a hug. "They do now."
Focus, people. Lizard's brain was so damn tired. "How do we deal with Team Jamie's senior-citizen defense?"
Lauren spun around as Ginia yelled, "Game on!" I think we have bigger things to worry about for the moment.
Lizard giggled as Jamie ported Aervyn back to his team---carrying a large water balloon that detonated on impact. And it gave her an idea. How much mind control can we use?
Jennie's mental two-by-four pretty much answered that question. Not much, apparently.
You guys might want to stop worrying about Team Ginia for a moment. Lauren sounded distracted. We're about to be invaded.
Elsie and Nat were flanking them, one up each side, well armed with filled balloons. Daniel and Jamie were headed for the play structure. Damn. With old people defending their turf, the rest of Team Jamie was on the total offensive.
Jennie grabbed some water balloons and Caro's arm. "We'll go see if we can get by the blind man and the knitters. The rest of you see if you can take out these two." She grinned and pitched her voice louder. "Aim high---I don't think Elsie's going to like getting wet."
Lizard felt Elsie's scorn hit---just before all the water balloons in Jennie's arms exploded.
It didn't take a mind witch to interpret Elsie's war whoop of victory. Crap---when had her roommate gotten competitive?
Explosions from the other side of the back yard suggested Team Ginia's balloons were meeting the same end. Someone had figured out how to use fire power at a water fight.
And Elsie wasn't Team Jamie's only fire witch. Lizard spun toward her team's balloon stash and cursed as the one Lauren had picked up exploded in their eyes, rapidly followed by balloons to the backs of their heads.
Lauren started to laugh as she tried in vain to wipe the water off her face. "Crap---that was Nat. Did I mention she can throw?"
Great. Old people and pitching arms suddenly sounded like game-winning tactics. Lizard swiped at her own face and tried to think. First things first. Without weapons, they would be in deep trouble. Caro, can you block Elsie's fire magic from trashing our balloons?
Maybe. Delicate business, though---I could make them explode just as easy as anything else.
Well, try. Focus on saving the ones we're throwing at her. No, wait. Lizard tried to fight the slow motion of her brain. Let one bust over her head. She can't explode what she can't see. And Jennie was right---Elsie wasn't going to like getting wet.
Jennie took the balloon out of Lauren's hand. "You throw like a girl. I'll toss at Elsie---you go stand over by Nat and give us some cover."
They were almost organized---and then the music started. Vero, standing on her chair and singing some crazy, fierce song about barricades and dying to be free. What the hell's that?
Have you no culture, child? Jennie sounded amused. It's the song the revolutionaries sing in Les Miserables, up on the barricades. Pretty good fighting anthem.
Caro snorted. Vero could sing the phone book and make it sound like a fighting anthem. She's a warrior, that one.
Getting wet here, sent Lauren, taking a pelting from Nat. You guys actually going to do something anytime soon?
Jeebers. They were getting creamed by the senior citizen brigade, a pregnant woman, and a fire witch who'd never been in a fight before. It was time to shift tactics. Cut and run, guys. Let's get out of here and go see if we can sneak in the back door of Team Ginia while they're being distracted on the front lines.
Her team didn't budge. So much for their faith in her leadership. Lizard tried to explain. We need all three bases to win, right? Well, so do they. We can give up this one and come back for it later if we're still standing. She nodded her head in the direction of the whooping witchlings on top of the play structure. Look at them. They're all aiming straight for Jamie. And Daniel's just standing there doing nothing.
Daniel's no slouch, Jennie warned. He's a hacker---he specializes in backdoor attacks.
Good point. Fine. Jennie, you create a distraction. Something that will keep his attention off the rest of us.
Like what exactly? Jennie asked dryly.
I dunno. An illusion of his wife dancing naked on top of the slide?
Jennie's mental voice spluttered with laughter. I expect that would work exceedingly well, but this is a family-friendly balloon fight.
Whatever. Come up with something. Lizard winced as water ran down her eyes again. See if you can distract Nat while you're at it. Lauren, Caro, you're with me.
Lizard headed out, her eyes already focused on the play structure. She was an expert in reading volatile situations quickly. See---they're out of balloons. The only real weapons they have up there are Nathan and Aervyn. Air witches weren't any use once the balloons were gone.
Those two are a fairly sizable threat. Caro sounded like she was sitting in a chair knitting, with all the time in the world.
One of them's only four. And no way were they getting punked by a kid who couldn't throw to save his life. Lizard tapped lightly into his outer mind---all that was allowed. And heard the rhyming. Wait---he does rhymes for his spells?
Sure, said Lauren, confused. Most witches do. He's strong enough that he doesn't have to say them out loud. Nathan either---that family has mad spellcasting skills.
Finally, Lizard smelled a route to victory. She dug into her mind for some family-friendly vocabulary and grinned. Okay, team. I'm going to shout stuff. I want you to shout it back to me---voice and mind-broadcast. We're going to distract the hell out of Aervyn and his older brother. Time to disrupt some spells.
She didn't wait for replies. Looking straight at the tiny, mighty king of water, she started to bellow. "Roses are RED!"
Her team almost missed their cue. Apparently it was hard to yell when you were doubled over in laughter. "... are RED!"
"Violets are BLUE!"
Still laughing, but at least they managed recognizable words this time.
"My feet STINK and so do YOU!"
They might have won. If her entire team hadn't been in hysterics, Nathan's confusion and Aervyn's flood of giggles would have given them the time they needed.
Instead, Lizard watched in disgust as Daniel grabbed the opportunity she'd created and stormed the play structure, throwing witchlings down the slide as he went. Not that it was a hard job---most of them had abandoned team allegiance and were happy to run around the backyard chanting, "My feet STINK and so do YOU!"
Yo, fearless leader. Jennie sounded busy. Aervyn's not the only witch who rhymes. You've scrambled pretty much everyone's magic with your stunt there---and guess which team has the most non-witches who can throw?
Frack. Lizard spun around, trying to get a read on the battle. And realized Team Jamie was an inch from winning. They had the play structure. Their senior-citizen defense team held at home base. And Jennie was all that stood between Nat's throwing arm and Team Jamie's total victory.
So Lizard did the only thing possible. She headed straight for Melvin and the home base he protected.
And discovered that a blind man had scary-good aim with a water pistol.
~
Jennie just shook her head as Jamie walked over, his quick-dry spell already causing her clothes to steam. His grin closely resembled a certain four-year-old's. "I told you so. You'd have stayed a lot drier on my team."
She eyed his still-dripping T-shirt. "I'm not sure you're good advertising for that claim."
"But check out my team." His eyes were full of mischief. "Vero and Marion didn't get a drop on them."
"You'd put me on your team of old folks, would you?" Jennie raised an eyebrow. Besides, while half his team of senior-citizen defenders had stayed dry, the same could not be said for Melvin and Helga, who had pulled out water pistols to defend against Lizard's final charge.
Jamie followed her gaze, chuckling. "I didn't know they were armed. That Helga's a handful."
"You know you're going to have to invite her back now." Helga's victory dance had been a sight to behold, a popped water balloon hanging off her knitting needles as she shimmied barefoot through the puddles.
"Of course." Jamie looked rather proud of himself. "And she'll make sure Elsie doesn't chicken out the next time I need her, too."
Jennie shook her head. Only her nephew could recruit a team full of non-witches and scared-of-a-little-water newbies and still emerge Water Balloon King. "It's a little hard to believe she was the mastermind behind all this. Silliness isn't exactly her forte."
Jamie grinned. "She shocked the hell out of me. She talked Helga and Marion into coming and recruited Vero and Melvin at her singing lesson this morning."
Which they had both conveniently failed to mention. "Somehow, I don't think that was a particularly difficult job."
"For them, no." Jamie was more serious now. "But when was the last time Elsie approached people with an idea that was purely about having fun?"
Jennie smiled, impressed with his instincts. No witch trainer ever truly took their mentoring hat off---even in the middle of a monster water fight. He'd given Elsie the role she really needed to play.
And it wasn't the only lesson he'd snuck in for the day. Jennie looked around the back yard at the day's heroes. Helga. Nat. Daniel. "A lot of pretty venerable non-witches on your team." Another oft-repeated Witch Central lesson, and not a bad one for their weak fire witch to learn, either.
"Yup." He looked entirely too innocent. "They throw and shoot pretty well, though."
Jennie looked down at her still-damp clothes. "You don't say." She'd spent ten minutes foolishly trying to defend Team Lizard's home base from Nat and Elsie's purely non-magical assault. "Was that your idea or Elsie's?"
He grinned. "Nat's."
That figured. Nat was no stranger to embedding life lessons in some innocent fun either.
It was time to get some food. Even the vanquished needed to eat. Jennie pointed her nephew in the direction of the loaded picnic table---and then froze, her pendant blazing. Lizard.
Jamie was three steps ahead of her, catching Lizard as her legs gave out. Jennie reached out with her mind, seeking, but there was very little to read---her student was out cold.
Worried bodies crowded around as Jennie knelt beside her blonde fairy's head---and then gave way to one very bossy nine-year-old healer snapping out orders as she moved to her newest patient's side. "Jennie or Lauren, set up a mind shield for her. Uncle Jamie, port my healing bag. Mama, we need cookies."
Ginia dropped down by Lizard, placing one hand on her forehead, the other on her chest. Witch Central quieted, well used to healing scans and the need for relative silence. When Ginia's eyes opened again, two things were clear. Whatever had happened to Lizard, it wasn't all that serious. And somebody was in real trouble. Or a lot of somebodies.
"When's the last time she ate?" Ginia glared at everyone in the immediate vicinity. "Or slept? She's totally out of gas."
Jennie winced. "She's been pushing herself pretty hard."
"And you let her?" Now Ginia's anger had a target. "Aren't you supposed to be taking care of her?"
Ouch. "She's a grown woman, sweetie."
"Even adults can be stupid sometimes." Lizard began to stir under Ginia's hands. "She's waking up now. Uncle Jamie, pour her some of that disgusting green stuff in my bag."
Aervyn skidded to a halt, cookie tin in his hands. "I have cookies. They're a lot better than that yucky green stuff. Don't make her drink it, Ginnie."
"You'd get cookies because you're little." Ginia wasn't bending an inch. "Stupid big people get the green stuff first."
Jennie tried to hide her grin. She knew better than to mess with a healer on the rampage. And Ginia was right---most witches didn't want to face the green stuff more than once. It tasted like a cross between moldy gym socks and three-week-old Chinese takeout. With a little horseradish thrown in.
Lizard took one sip and sat up protesting, looking a lot more lively. "That's nasty! I'm fine. I just got a little too hot or something."
Ginia's eyes were fierce. "Drink."
Lizard's eyes flared. Jennie grabbed Lauren's arm before she could intervene. Don't worry---Ginia can hold her own.
Ha. I was going to rescue Lizard. Lauren's mind was a little amused---and a boatload of guilty. I knew she was working too hard.
We all did. Jennie softened, watching the face-off between her thoroughly pissed delinquent and a nine-year-old healer. But Ginia's got a point to make. We'll be the second front and make sure it sticks tomorrow.
"We're going to have help," Lauren said softly. "Look at Elsie."
Her other student was a picture of horrified guilt. Jennie nodded as Lizard, scowling, took another sip of the green goo. And worried. Elsie didn't need any more projects.
Jennie tucked the blanket around Melvin's legs. "Stay warm this evening, okay? If you get sick, Elsie's going to feel really bad for inviting you." She wasn't past using guilt to get him to take it easy for a bit.
He reached out to touch her cheek. "Do you really think my wife would let that happen?"
True. The woman who had sung on worldwide tour for four decades had a pervasive fear of germs and a well-developed tool chest to ward them off, magical and otherwise.
Melvin patted the seat beside him. "Come, sit and chat with me a while."
Jennie frowned. His mind was looking for more than idle conversation, but he wasn't the only elderly water-balloon fighter in the house. "I should go help Vero with the tea."
"The day has not yet come when she will let you fuss over her." Melvin touched his pendant. "Come---you've things to say about your students, and I've time to listen."
It was no longer a request, polite though his words were---and the events of the afternoon were bouncing around her head. Jennie sat beside Melvin and searched for a place to begin. "They're becoming friends, my two girls."
"Yes." Melvin handed her a frosted cookie from the plate at his elbow. "You can use that."
"I'm worried about it, actually. I don't want Elsie riding to Lizard's rescue. That wouldn't be good for either of them."
"And you think it's likely." It wasn't a question.
"Don't you?" Jennie bit into her cookie, savoring the crunch of gingersnap. "Elsie's mellowing, but she was awfully concerned about Lizard today."
"Old patterns are hard to break, especially when love is involved." Melvin tilted his head, thinking. "You need to show them new ways to care for each other. Ones that support their growth, instead of treading old ruts."
Jennie listened, well aware she'd just been granted one of Melvin's wise nuggets---and not at all sure what to do with it. "Any ideas on how I do that?"
Melvin looked off into the distance. "Why don't you use a tripod when you take portraits?"
Twenty-five years together and he could still confuse the hell out of her. "Too rigid. I need the freedom to move the camera to where it needs to be. If I lock it into place, I always miss the best shots."
"Indeed." He smiled softly. "Teach your students not to be tripods, then. Show them the difference between truly supporting someone and merely propping them up."
Jennie paused, the truth of what he'd said sinking into her soul. When love was rigidly offered, the people you loved could miss their best moments. She reached out a hand in gratitude---he'd always been able to speak her language. "Elsie's quite talented at propping up her own life. She would find it quite easy to extend that to others, I suspect."
"Yes." Melvin nodded. "Just like any of us, she's going to need to experience truly flexible love before she can give it. The net is in place, but as long as she can find new things to keep her busy, she won't ever make the leap. The time is coming, I think, when you'll need to take away that which only props her up and encourage her to fall into those waiting arms."
That sounded like the tough-love version of mentoring---and she had plenty of experience with Melvin's version of it. "You think we're being too gentle?"
"Not yet." He stared off into the distance. "She needs to feel the love before it's tested. That's well underway, however, and soon enough, I think she'll be ready to weather a tumble or two." He grinned. "My wife won't permit anything less. And neither will Helga."
Truth. Elsie had acquired much more than she yet understood at Caro's yarn shop. Women with knitting needles should never be underestimated.
Melvin sniffed the light touch of mint tea floating in from the kitchen. "Elsie's not your only student who feels more comfortable being propped up."
Jennie frowned, brain feeling a bit waterlogged.
He patted her knee. "Young women don't work themselves to exhaustion in three days for no good reason."
He was several steps ahead of her again. "And what do you think the reason is?"
"That's the right question." Melvin shrugged. "There are a number of possible answers, and I suspect figuring out which one fits best will bring you a good deal closer to solving Lizard."
Jennie sighed. He always managed to leave her with a mystery.
~
Lauren frowned as Lizard angled toward the street heading to the office. "No chance, girl. I'm under strict instructions to take you home." And no one in their right mind would cross Ginia today---not while she still had more of that green goo in her bag.
"I'll go home right after I take care of a couple of things." Lizard patted her belly. "I have lots of cookies in me, and I have stuff to do."
"Nothing that can't wait until you sleep twelve hours."
She felt Lizard's mind rallying for a fight. "I can't. I promised a client I'd write up an offer for him."
Lauren felt her eyebrows winging up. "Why is this the first time I've heard of it? Which client?"
"He just came in this morning." Lizard scowled. "I didn't have a chance to talk with you about it yet. He wants to do a cash offer, and I have to look up how to do that. I was going to send you the paperwork after I finished so you could check it for me."
Time to back up three steps. "Wait. You have a client who walked in the door this morning, cash in hand, and you've already found him a place?"
"Yeah." Lizard had neatly steered them toward the office. "Good thing, too---I have an essay to write toni---" She backpedaled when Lauren glared. "I mean, after I have a nice, long nap."
Lauren grabbed her shoulders, stopping them both in the middle of the sidewalk. "You sold your first house?"
Lizard grinned. "Yeah. I think, anyhow. So long as he has real money and isn't just making it up."
"You'd have picked up on that." Her assistant had a lifetime of experience with creeps. Lauren grabbed her elbow. "Okay, change of plans. I'll help you with the cash-offer clause in the paperwork. Then we'll go celebrate." And talk about a few time-management skills.
Lizard was already resisting. "I don't have time to celebrate."
Lauren added mind-power weight and the image of green goo to her words. "Yes, you do." She pulled open the office door. "So, tell me about this client."
"He's a guy. Young. Wants a family neighborhood. He liked the townhouse around the corner."
It was a pretty typical Lizard rundown. And none of it explained the edge of unease in Lizard's mind. "Did you show him anything else?"
"Nope. He fell in love." Lizard shrugged. "I tried to show him at least a couple other things, but he said he's a guy who makes up his mind quickly. I figure you don't argue with a client who has buttloads of cash."
Sometimes it was hard to believe her assistant had an SAT-busting vocabulary. Lauren didn't bother to hide her grin. "We try to avoid phrasing it exactly that way around here."
"He's my age and he had a no-limit budget." Lizard grinned. "What exactly do we call that around here?"
"It doesn't come up a whole lot." Lauren laughed and sat down at her desk. "If you pull up a contract, I'll show you the cash-offer stuff. So what else did you learn about your client?"
"He likes grass, but not mowing, he talks to little kids, and he eats bacon for breakfast." Lizard typed as she spoke. "And I think he wants to buy a skateboard."
Which was all interesting, but still not explaining the really odd vibe coming from Lizard's mind. It didn't take a witch to put the pieces together. "Is he cute?"
"Yup." Lizard hit the print button. "The little old lady next door is already trying to find him a wife."
Lauren frowned. "He's young, rich, cute, and you're going to leave him to the little old lady?"
It took a moment for her question to sink in. Lizard looked up, her cheeks slightly pink. "He's totally not my type." Then she plunked papers down on the desk in front of Lauren. "Okay, show me this stuff so I can go make us three percent of buttloads of money."
A smart negotiator knew when to retreat. But no way was this over yet. First she'd get some Romano's linguine into her assistant and send her to bed. And then she'd start trying to figure out why Lizard was so sure she wasn't the cute rich guy's type. Because her mind was plenty interested---and utterly convinced his could never be.
~
Elsie had assumed Helga would want to go home and rest after her adventurous afternoon. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Helga was practically dragging her into Knit a Spell, Marion hot on their heels.
"I was a bit of a sensation, if I do say so myself," Helga said, chortling happily. "And Marion looked rather fierce."
"Hmmph." The twinkle in Marion's eye didn't match her gruffness. "That small boy almost got one of my best bamboo circular needles wet."
Jodi giggled, meeting them at the door. "Serves you right for taking weapons to a water fight." She bounced her little guy. "You don't listen to any of these silly ladies, sweet boy."
"I learned a secret, though." Helga cast her eyes around the shop and whispered conspiratorially to Jodi. "I think Miss Elsie here is a witch, just like Caro."
Elsie blushed fifteen shades of pink. Somehow, in her great strategic plan, she'd managed to forget that her knitting ladies weren't actually part of Witch Central. She snuck a look at Helga, wondering how on earth she was going to do damage control. Aervyn had ported, for heaven's sake.
"Don't you worry," Marion said, poking her with a needle. "We know how to keep secrets. Especially if we get to come the next time you're all having that much fun."
Elsie stared at Jodi, wondering how the cat had been let so far out of the bag.
Jodi just rolled her eyes. "I can keep a secret too, and this little dude can't talk yet." She grinned. "Besides, my sister's husband's cousin's uncle is a witch. He made pretty little fireballs once for Sammy to play with. Said he couldn't help himself with the babies."
Helga started winding a new ball of yarn. "So what kind of magic can you do, Elsie girl? Can you make me young and beautiful again? And watch out, you're dropping stitches all over the place."
Elsie looked down at her lap, feeling like she'd landed on an alien planet. One where nice ladies in the knitting shop casually discussed magic.
Marion lifted her knitting out of her hands. "You've got more dropped stitches than right ones, child. Have we taught you nothing?" Her competent hands started backtracking, fixing the mess Elsie's jumpy fingers had created.
She suddenly felt like she could have turned herself into a toad and they would have just watched with interest and kept knitting. "Well, I have a little earth magic. Sometimes I can make a flower bloom or get a small plant to grow a bit faster."
Jodi eyed the one straggly plant on Caro's checkout counter. "You could start with that poor thing. Caro doesn't exactly have a green thumb."
Fire witches usually didn't. Elsie looked at the sad little plant. "I think maybe it just needs water."
"Doesn't take a witch to figure that out, dear." Helga rocked, chuckling. "What else can you do?"
Elsie took a deep breath and prayed this wouldn't come back to haunt her. With careful control, she produced a small fireglobe on her palm and floated it out over Sammy's face. As he reached for it, babbling in delight, she danced it gently just out of his reach.
"Is it hot?" Jodi asked in wonder and a little worry.
"No, just warm." Elsie giggled as Sammy tried to clap the ball between his hands. "He's fast!"
Jodi snickered. "Tell me about it. I'm toast once he actually learns to sit up and move around."
It was taking every ounce of Elsie's skill to keep the fireglobe out of Sammy's questing fingers. She'd seen Jamie play this game with an older toddler---it was a lot harder than it looked.
Suddenly a second fireglobe hung in the air beside hers, dancing in time to Sammy's squeals. "Let me guess---we've been busted." Caro grinned at the happy baby. "Thirty years I've managed to own this store without public displays of magic."
Helga snorted. "That's what you think. Remember that power outage twenty years back?"
"Exactly," Marion said, stabbing her needles for emphasis. "You lit candles without a match. Thought we wouldn't notice, did you?"
Caro blinked, her fireglobe vanishing. "Non-witches generally see what they want to see."
"You just keep telling yourselves that, dearie." Helga settled back, chortling again. "You just keep thinking that."
Elsie could feel her energy running low. "Sorry, Sammy. I have to turn this off now. I'm a tired witch." She was prepared for his wail of dismay. She was totally unprepared for the basketball-sized fireglobe that suddenly appeared over his head.
Jodi's sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the room. Even Sammy was silent, staring at the light in astonished awe. A moment later, the globe disappeared.
"Ah, then," said Caro softly. "We have a baby fire witch, do we?"
The fear on Jodi's face as she cuddled her baby razored Elsie's soul. She ached to protect the tiny boy from a mother who didn't want a child who could make fire.
"I should have guessed---he always sleeps better in something knit." Caro leaned forward and gently touched Jodi's hand. "Don't be afraid. We've got plenty of people who can teach him everything he needs to know."
Jodi looked up, eyes hesitant. "Is it dangerous? Could he hurt himself?"
"Not at the moment." Caro stroked the cheek of a very sleepy Sammy. "That little bit of light totally tuckered him out. He hasn't got enough power to do more than that yet."
"Yet?" His mother's eyes were still deeply worried.
"Most fire babes emerge with their power on full blast." Caro chuckled as Sammy gave a huge yawn. "We'll keep a good eye on him, but most likely, he'll just be able to keep his hands warm and amuse small children."
"Okay, then." Jody rocked her baby boy gently as his eyes closed. "I guess there's a reason we wandered into this knitting shop before you were born, sweet boy." She looked up, all traces of fear gone. "Tell me what I need to do for him."
Caro smiled in approval. "Bring him by for lots of visits. Feed his affection for knitted things. He'll always feel happiest with a knit sweater or a blankie."
Jodi laughed. "I bet you say that to all your customers."
"Maybe." Caro winked. "But this time, it's true."
Helga picked up a ball of yarn off the table. "Well then, let's get started, shall we? Dibs on making him a stripy sweater."
Elsie's hands shook more stitches off her needles, her heart a tangled mess. Jodi had traveled from fear to acceptance in less than a minute. Sammy was a very lucky little boy. And it was suddenly very clear to Elsie that she'd been waiting thirty years for her own mother to make that same trip.
~
Lizard laid her head on one end of their couch and watched her roommate's clicking needles. "You're getting faster."
"Practice." Elsie looked up and frowned. "You should go to bed."
Her bed sounded better than chocolate and a million dollars. "Can't. Essay to write, maps to make."
"If you pass out again, Ginia's going to make you drink more of that green goo."
Lizard shivered. That stuff had been totally vile. "I'll sleep, okay? I just have stuff to do first."
Elsie turned her knitting around. "Do you know there are studies that show productivity increases up to fifty percent if you're well rested?"
Welcome back, stick-butt Elsie. Lizard stuck out her tongue. "I hear it's true if you're having great sex, too."
"I don't believe they've done any scientific studies on that." The voice never changed, but Elsie's mind was actually amused. Dang. If her roommate was learning to crack a joke, the world must be ending.
Elsie set down her knitting. "Can I offer some advice? I've always been pretty good at using my time efficiently."
She was actually considering advice from stick-butt girl. Yup. World definitely ending. Lizard lifted one eye open. "Okay, but keep it simple. I'm not used to having this problem." She'd spent the last ten years in desperate search of something to do.
"Well, first you need to prioritize." Elsie tilted her head. "But honestly, I think you're doing okay with that, except for the sleeping and eating parts." She paused a moment. "I think what I want to tell you is that you don't have to do everything perfectly."
That was the kind of advice stick-butt girl would only give if she was suffering from a concussion. Lizard struggled to sit up. "That sounds weird coming from you."
Elsie laughed quietly. "Yes, it does. And I probably need to take my own advice, but... it's like setting the table."
God, this conversation was hurting her head. "What do knives and forks have to do with this?"
"Well, you can set the table with nice china and three kinds of forks and cloth napkins, right?"
Not in her universe. "I'm pretty much a plate, fork, and mug girl, myself."
"Exactly." Elsie beamed. "So that could be good enough. Or if you wanted things to be a little special, maybe use a nice plate or a candle---a small effort, but not as much as the nice china and cloth napkins."
It was beginning to make an odd kind of sense. "So good enough, but not perfect. Kind of like your muffins."
Elsie blushed. "Sorry, I know those weren't very good."
"Nah, they were fine. Pretty good for a first attempt." She'd have been willing to eat cardboard if it kept her brain moving---and that was Elsie's whole point. "You're saying I should be a little more half-assed about some things."
Elsie's lips twitched. "That's one way to put it. Be competent---but you don't have to be a genius at everything." She knit a few stitches, and then laughed gently. "And I really do need to take my own advice."
Maybe Elsie hadn't been the world's worst therapist. Lizard's yawn nearly split her ribcage. And maybe a nap before tackling her essay. "You want biscuits for breakfast tomorrow?"
Elsie put down her knitting and picked up a notebook and a pencil. "I've been meaning to talk with you about that. I think we need a more equitable split of household chores."
What? She didn't have any more freaking time to do chores. And the place looked fine. "You want us to start polishing the floors with a toothbrush or something?"
"No. Not at all." The hurt on Elsie's face caught Lizard by surprise. "You've been doing most of the cooking and the grocery shopping. I know I'm not your equal in the kitchen, but I'd like to try to take some of that load from you. Maybe then you'll have a little more time to relax and sleep."
Crap. Lizard felt like she'd kicked a kitten or something. "I don't mind cooking." And Elsie's muffins were okay, but that didn't mean anything else was safe. "You could do the grocery shopping, though. That would be good." It would be freaking brilliant. It was hard to cook with an empty fridge.
Elsie looked a lot happier. "If you make me a list of items we should have in the house, I'll make sure we're fully stocked." She flipped through her notebook. "I also asked Caro for some simple breakfast and dinner recipes, and she's going to give me a few lessons."
If Caro was helping, they probably wouldn't die. "Her lasagna's pretty easy, and we could eat that for a week."
"Leftovers." Elsie beamed. "I didn't think about that. I'll add it into my plan."
Uh, oh. "Plan" was one of those red-alert words when you were dealing with compulsive people. "What kind of plan?"
Elsie held up a sheaf of paper covered in very precise notations. "I have you scheduled to cook dinner twice a week, and breakfast on Saturdays. I'll handle most of the others, and we can do takeout in emergencies."
Part of Lizard, the part that hated plans and schedules, wanted to throw up. The part that liked to eat could have kissed Elsie's feet. "Put me down for two breakfasts. Biscuits are easy."
Elsie contemplated her master plan, eraser at the ready. "I'll see if I can fit you in. Caro's going to trade some food for helping with fall inventory, and Nat said Jamie might trade tomato sauce for cookies. Caro says cookies are pretty easy." She looked up. "Do you like spaghetti? I'm happy to change the menu to accommodate your food preferences."
Yup. She was going to kiss stick-butt Elsie's feet. "I eat anything." Lizard paused a beat. "Thanks."
"No problem." Elsie grinned. "Cooking is a sensory experience. It'll be good for me."
Nat stood in the hallway, eyes on her intern. 9 a.m. and she'd already folded the towels twice. It was turning into a morning ritual. A soul numbing, life-constricting ritual, the kind that made Nat's throat close up just observing it.
It was like watching a plant die from lack of water. And it was happening in her studio.
Nat tried to breathe, tried to find the open mental space she needed to think clearly. Instead, a line from Jennie's email of the night before marched to a jarring beat in her head. We need to support her, instead of propping her up.
It sounded like Melvin's advice.
Nat watched another towel land on top of the pile, corners crisply aligned---and suddenly knew, with terrible certainty, that Spirit Yoga had become one of Elsie's props. She closed her eyes against the squeezing pain and directed one furious blast at the pendant around her neck.
Why was this hers to do?
The answer flowed back into her fingers. Because she was the one who saw the need.
Nat wandered back to the small kitchen, thinking and breathing and trying to soften the ache in her heart. The pendant around her neck brought with it some demands---she'd known that the moment it had been laid in her fingers. She'd made a promise to Elsie the night they'd both put their necklaces on.
Sometimes keeping promises really sucked.
She'd pushed very hard on Elsie before, and it was time to do it again. No more flaming interns---she'd promised Jamie. But this was going to scrape at Elsie's soul.
Taking two teacups off the shelf, Nat poured some of the steeping tea, willing her hands to stop shaking. Some lovely blend of chamomile and strawberry---one of Ginia's recent experiments. Nat inhaled deeply, letting the ripe smell of strawberry carry the richness of summer deep into her lungs. This time of year was full of abundance. Time to go water Elsie's garden a little---even if it meant ripping the plastic off her greenhouse first.
She paused again in the hallway, watching. Elsie had been so vibrant during the water-balloon fight. Out of her element, surrounded by friends, and totally open to the possibilities. It was time to give that Elsie more room to play.
This was going to tear both of them in two---and it had to be done.
Nat stepped forward, holding out a cup of tea. "I think maybe this isn't the place for you right now."
Towel folding completed, Elsie shifted to straightening yoga mats. Ones that were already perfectly straight. "I don't understand---do you have something different you need me to be doing?"
Even tea felt lumpy in Nat's throat. She pushed her anguish away---there would be time for that later. "Take some time off. I don't really need anyone to fold towels for me, and if I do, there are plenty of willing hands. You need time to explore who you are, and I don't think that being here is serving you right now."
"You're firing me?" Elsie's hands fluttered, her steady rhythm shattered. Her bleak eyes nearly tore Nat's heart out.
"No." It had seemed so clear a moment ago. Nat tried to cling to the tattered remnants of her certainty. "When was the last time you had a life free of commitments to anyone but yourself?"
Elsie's voice was a harsh whisper. "I've never asked for that."
"I know." Nat kept her tears at bay---they wouldn't help. "But I'm giving it to you anyway. You are always welcome here---but come when yoga calls to you." Or maybe, friendship. "Come for your needs, not mine. Come because Elsie Giannotto feels the need to move and breathe in the way we do here, or because you have a sudden urge to be upside down. Come every day, or don't come at all."
The weight of freedom bowed Elsie's shoulders. "I'm sorry. I must have failed."
Nat caught her by the arms, wishing she could reach the heart that was already fleeing. "You didn't fail. If you believe nothing else, please believe that. You've been so brave. I'm not pushing you away---I'm trying to tell you it's okay to take some freedom." And right now, Spirit Yoga was just another chain weighing down Elsie's responsible soul.
Elsie's eyes were hollow. "I guess it's my lacking that I don't understand the difference. I need to go now." She turned, her movements those of an old woman, and walked very slowly toward the door.
Nat leaned against the counter, holding her pendant and feeling sick. And prayed Elsie had a soft spot to land.
Her pendant beat a steady vibration on her chest. She didn't know if it was cheering or crying. Nat laid her head down on the counter and let the tears come.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Jamie Sullivan <jamie@enchantersrealm.com>
Subject: What the hell is going on?
------------------------------------------
Jennie,
I get a phone call from Melvin, telling me to go to my wife, and arrive to find her as devastated as I've ever seen her. All I've picked up so far is that she fired Elsie. Well, not really, but that's how it feels to the both of them.
Something about folded towels and chains and pulling the wings off caged butterflies. It's hard to make much sense of words swimming in a vat of tears.
I'd go hit somebody, but I'm pretty sure my wife has done this to herself. She's sliced her heart in two because she believes she had to.
I'm no stranger to the best among us being asked to walk the hardest road---and I know all too well that she's one of our very best.
But as the guy wiping her tears, let me just say for the record---this bites. I want to know what the hell's going on, and what that wise old guy in San Diego knows that I don't.
If Nat's not out of the bathroom in two more minutes, I'm going in. Pretty sure that's in my marriage vows somewhere.
See if you can find a witch to come cover the studio, please? I'm taking my wife home.
Over and out,
Jamie
~
Elsie stumbled through the door of Knit a Spell, no longer able to hold back the faucet of tears. She made it two steps and felt Caro's strong arms wrapping around her. "Shh, sweet girl. Shh."
Hands and voices joined Caro's in a chorus of concern as Elsie shook with sobs. Some part of her fought for control---in her world, tears weren't a communal activity.
Nonsense, child. How better to cry than surrounded by friends?
Friends. She had friends. A few last hiccupping sobs, and Elsie picked her face up off Caro's shoulder. Helga handed her a delicately embroidered hankie. "Here you go, dearie. Have a blow, and then come sit and tell us all about it."
Elsie looked at the hankie in consternation. "It's so lovely. Maybe a Kleenex instead?"
"Pfft." Helga's eyes twinkled. "A little snot never hurt anything well made."
The giggle that snuck out caught Elsie's bruised heart totally by surprise. Carefully, she blew, trying to keep the pink roses as clean as possible. It was a bit of a hopeless task.
Helga looped her elbow through Elsie's and led her back to the tables. "So, was it a man?"
Elsie tried to get her brain moving. "A man?"
"Tears like that usually mean a man," said Helga sagely as the others nodded. "It's their Y chromosomes, dear---they don't know any better."
Jodi bounced her small boy on her lap. "Except this one. I'm going to raise him right."
"You give it a good try." Marion patted her knee. "But don't be too hard on yourself it if doesn't turn out quite the way you expect."
Elsie felt their banter coating her soul in comfort. Friends. She had friends. "It wasn't a guy." She sniffled one last time. "I got fired."
Helga frowned. "From where, dear? I thought you were taking a break from your therapy practice."
"I am." Elsie took a deep breath. "Nat fired me. From the yoga studio. Well, not really fired, but she told me to go away, which is pretty much the same thing."
Caro's eyebrows flew up. "That doesn't sound like Nat."
"I was there." Elsie hated the bitter tone in her voice. "She told me none of the things I'm doing for her are very useful."
"Wasn't she the young pregnant woman at the water-balloon fight?" Marion's needles stabbed her knitting rather fiercely. "She seemed nice enough. I guess appearances can be deceiving."
"She's wonderful." Elsie jumped to Nat's defense. "She's worked very hard to help me during my time working with her." She stopped for a moment as the true awfulness of what had happened came to sit on her heart again. "It's me. I was sent to be her intern, and I guess I haven't done an acceptable job."
"Bull hooey." This time Caro's eyebrows stayed in their normal place. "There's not a chance Natalia Sullivan said that." She tugged on a couple of errant balls in the counter yarn display. "It might have been what you heard, but that's a different kettle of fish."
"Ah," said Helga, setting down her knitting and pulling out a large plastic container. "Sounds like we need some chocolate, and then you can tell us exactly what Nat said, Elsie dear. We'll put our heads together and see if we can figure out what it all means."
Elsie took a brownie, blew her nose again, and started to tell the whole, miserable story. And felt better the moment the words started to flow.
~
Lauren sighed and started back at the beginning of her pile of listings. It was like there was a disturbance in the force, or something---she was finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate this morning. She looked up as a shadow interrupted the warm sun streaming in her front door, and did a double take. Totally hot guys didn't walk into the office every day. "Hi, welcome to Berkeley Real Estate. Can I help you?"
It wasn't until he smiled that Lauren realized how young he was. "Hi, I'm Josh. Is Lizard around? She said she had a counteroffer for me to look at."
This was Josh? Holy hell. "She's gone around the corner to put a sold sign on one of our listings. Have a seat---she'll be back in a few minutes. I'm Lauren, by the way. I'm glad Lizard found you something you liked so quickly."
He slouched into a chair, easy charm in ratty jeans. "Her maps really helped. Those are pretty cool. I haven't seen other real estate offices using them---is it a proprietary system you've developed?"
Lauren blinked. Ratty jeans and casual conversation or not, Josh's mind screamed high-flying businessman. "That's Lizard's baby. I'm a fairly competent computer user, but she's our resident tech genius. I'm just smart enough to let her do what she's good at."
"Most bosses aren't that smart." He shrugged. "I played with the maps she sent me last night. I don't think it would be that hard to set up a system. Sell it to other realtors maybe, or offer it as a service to buyers."
Interesting idea, but it had a couple of obvious flaws. "And lose my competitive advantage?"
"Nah." Josh flashed that grin again. "The maps are cool, but the genius is in Lizard's head. You can't sell that. It would be a useful tool that might make you a lot of money, though---and you guys would still have the best maps in the city."
His eyes got hazy for a moment. "Or you could offer it on an exclusive-licensing basis to one real-estate team in each metro area. No competition for you, big advantage for each of them."
Lauren was a smart businesswoman. She appreciated Josh's quick mind and grasp of her business. But the fact that he got Lizard? That was making her totally melty. "It sounds like an interesting idea. The maps are Lizard's---have a chat with her." She debated a moment and went on instinct. "You might go slowly with it. She's not quite as convinced as I am that she's a genius."
Josh's face didn't change, not even a flicker. But she felt her words land---and the empathy and curiosity that followed. "Sounds good. First I want to buy a house, though."
Lauren heard the mental clomping that signaled Lizard in the vicinity. "Here comes the woman who can help you with that." She swept up her papers. "I'm in the back office if you need me."
More points to Josh when he waved vaguely in her direction and turned toward the door, looking for her assistant---with an eagerness in his mind that gave Lauren's heart happy flutters.
~
Lizard set the paperwork down in front of Josh. "Okay, here's their counteroffer. They came down some on price, but I think we can do better---the place is vacant, and not every buyer's going to be thrilled with the new baby next door." Josh, on the other hand, had already offered to babysit.
He glanced at the papers. "Did they agree to the earlier move-in date?"
"Yes." After a long conversation trying to convince the selling agent that her client was for real. "With a cash offer, we can move things along pretty quickly." She'd spent hours on the phone with bank people and insurance people and paperwork people, making sure they could get the rich-but-crazy Joshua Hennessey into his new house in exactly one week.
Josh grinned. "Sorry. I told you I was going to be a pain-in-the-neck client." He looked around. "Got a pen?"
Crap. "You really shouldn't sign this one. They'll come down on price." She was sure of it. The selling agent probably sucked at poker---she'd had "wishy-washy" written all over her face. "Let me go back to them one more time. They're just getting greedy because they know you're in a hurry."
"I hate hotel rooms." He shrugged, easygoing---and mind totally made up. "And it's just money."
He was going to sign it---with a year's salary worth of wiggle room still on the table. Lizard gritted her teeth, glared at him, and swallowed her pride. Yo, Lauren---can you come here a minute?
Lauren's head poked out of her back office seconds later. "Can I help with anything?"
Lizard folded her arms. "Yeah. Tell him it's dumb to sign this counteroffer. They'll come down another forty grand, maybe more."
Lauren leaned back against the doorframe and assessed Josh. "You gonna sign it?"
He grinned. "Yeah."
"Can you afford it?"
Another grin, slightly embarrassed this time. "Yeah."
Lauren shrugged. "Give the man a pen."
Lizard blinked. What had happened to her boss's fabled negotiating skills? "How come you're on his side?" Then she swung around and glared at Josh, who was totally smirking. "And why do you think it's funny?"
Josh just looked at her for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded almost impressed. It did weird things to her gut. "How many real estate agents would be trying to talk me out of signing this deal?"
She had an answer for that. An answer Lauren had taught her, damn it. "All the smart ones. We're supposed to keep clients from doing things they'll regret later."
"I won't regret this." His eyes were clear-blue amusement---and then they darkened to something harder to read. "You found me a home, Lizard. Now let me buy the damn thing."
Well, frack. What was she supposed to say to that? Lizard reached into the desk drawer and handed him a pen, watching as he scrawled his name in big, bold strokes. And then she felt the pleasure hit his mind. Little-boy-dancing-in-a-mud-puddle pleasure.
Congratulations, sent Lauren. You did good.
He paid forty grand too much.
Yeah. That should tell you something.
Lizard frowned. He's filthy rich and stupid?
Lauren rolled her eyes. No. He really wants a home. She waited a beat, and then grinned. And he's stubborn as a rock.
Great. How come she got all the hard clients?
Lauren's mental laughter was loud enough that Josh could probably hear. He's young, sexy, and rich, girl. How come you get all the luck?
Lizard scowled and looked up to find the sexy, stubborn guy in question holding out a sheaf of papers and smiling. "Signed. If you handle the sealed-and-delivered part, I'll go pack my stuff."
Lauren just eyed Lizard.
Crap. They were supposed to celebrate this part and stuff. Requirement of the job, and she was pretty sure he wasn't the fruit-basket type. "Can I take you out to lunch first? There's a great Thai place down the street you should know about. They have seriously good green curry."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to scowl at me the whole time we eat?"
She shrugged and tried not to grin. "Probably." He totally deserved it.
She could still hear Lauren laughing when they were halfway down the block.
~
Jennie glanced at Caro as they walked out of power yoga. Is Elsie as messed up as Nat? She'd never been in a Spirit Yoga class with their teacher so distressed. Or with Jamie hulking at the back, broadcasting so much concern.
Nope, not anymore. Caro wiped her face with an already soggy towel. A few tears, brownies, and a bevy of meddling knitters, and Elsie's on the road to recovery. Burdens get lighter when they're shared.
Jennie pulled two water bottles out of her bag and handed one over. "That's no small thing for Elsie to discover. She's found a real home there amongst your balls of yarn."
"Knitters are good people." Caro's face softened. "And Elsie's got a huge heart that's slowly digging its way out. Nat just gave her a bit of a hand."
Jennie raised an eyebrow. "You think Nat did the right thing?" They hadn't had much time to talk before class---just enough to know that Elsie had surfaced at Knit a Spell.
"Doesn't she always?" Caro glugged water. "Bruised both of them a bit, but it's for the best. Kind of like hip openers---uncomfortable, but good for you." She put down the bottle. "I have to run back before Helga gives away too many balls of yarn or uses her water pistol again."
Jennie grinned. Helga was a force to be reckoned with. "Where did she get that, anyhow?"
Caro's laugh was long and deep. "From Melvin. He brought two." And then she was gone, long strides carrying her out the door.
"Never underestimate a blind accountant," Jennie muttered under her breath. She was the last person who should have needed a refresher of that particular lesson.
"Talking to yourself?" Lauren, arriving for the next class, looked amused.
"Wouldn't be the first time." Jennie pulled her over to a quiet corner. "Do me a favor---spend some time with Nat after work today?"
Lauren's eyes sharpened. "What happened?" Then her eyes hazed as she began to pick up the emotional currents. "What's wrong with Nat?"
"I'm not sure yet, other than she fired her intern."
"I didn't." Nat's soft voice stopped them both in their tracks. "I released her from obligation. There's a difference."
Jennie blinked. It was like looking into Melvin's eyes. Wisdom and pain. "You think being here isn't good for her?"
"It was." Nat took a deep breath. "And I believe it will be again. But obsessively folding my towels isn't what Elsie needs right now. She's managed to turn it into an act of obligation, rather than one of service and meditation."
"You meditate while you fold towels?" Lauren shook her head, eyes full of concern. "Never mind, dumb question. So, you threw Elsie out for her own good?"
Nat winced. "I didn't throw her out. Exactly. I invited her to return whenever she wanted."
Ah. Finally Jennie understood. "When she wants. Not because she's needed." That subtlety had likely flown right over Elsie's head.
She could feel Nat's distress mute a little. "Exactly. There's so much here that could help her---but..." She trailed off a moment, arms wrapping around her ribs. "It's like handstands. If I give students a choice at first, almost all of them will pick the wall over the support of my hands in the center of the room."
Jennie blushed. She'd been one of them. "The wall feels safer."
"Yes." Nat smiled, a touch of brightness fighting through her aching sadness. "But it isn't, and most students eventually choose to give the center of the room a try."
Lauren stared at her friend, finally nodding. "And if they don't, you take away the wall."
"Yes. If you time it right, almost any student can be freed from needing a wall to prop them up." The pain was back in Nat's eyes. "I know Elsie's wall needed to go. I'm just not sure I got the timing right---and if you mess up, people stop doing handstands."
Jennie reached for Nat, remembering her first fearful handstand in the middle of the room. "That's up to Elsie to decide." It felt awfully early to be sending Elsie to the center of the room. But darkroom photographers knew a lot about timing. Sometimes the most beautiful results come from getting the timing wrong.
They would just have to see.
Lizard walked into her house and sniffed. Nothing smelled burnt---hopefully that was a good sign. It was Elsie's first officially scheduled day to make them dinner. The neatly printed menu on the fridge had said something about chicken. In French.
There was a takeout menu from the Thai place in her back pocket in case haute chicken hadn't worked out.
She unloaded her coat and ten-ton backpack at the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. Even French chicken should be smelling like something by now.
The last thing she expected to find was Elsie in a really ugly pink bathrobe, sitting in front of a half-empty box of chocolates and a mostly empty bottle of wine. And judging from her mind vibes, totally sloshed.
Lizard seriously contemplated a quiet retreat. Which might have worked if Elsie's brain wasn't also sending off kicked-puppy vibes. Crap. She had an essay to write on the "emotional context of verse" for her dead-poets class. Whatever the hell "emotional context" was.
And she obviously needed to cook, because clearly there was no chicken being Frenchified in this kitchen, and both of them would probably be passing out soon without it. Lizard pulled open the door to the fridge. Bonus---at least there were groceries. Time for some boring American chicken.
"I'm so sorry! I was supposed to cook, wasn't I?" The words were more than a little slurred.
Lizard turned around to discover that her bathrobed roommate had ventured in her direction---and was none too steady on her feet. "Hey, go sit back down before you fall over." She reached into a basket on the counter. "Here, eat this." It was one of Elsie's leftover muffins---a little worse for the wear, but at least it would absorb some of the alcohol.
Elsie stared at the muffin, perplexed. "I don't think I'm hungry. Maybe I ate too much chocolate."
She did not have time for drunk roommates. "Look, go sit down, okay? I'll cook some dinner, and then I have a crapload of work to do."
"Work." Elsie sniffled, and then tears started streaming. She wiped at them with a totally soggy rag covered in pink flowers. "I don't have any work to do. I got fired."
Lizard stopped halfway out of the fridge, package of chicken in one hand, broccoli in the other. "You got what?"
"Fired. Turfed. Downsized. Redacted. Helga says it isn't really fired because Nat said some other stuff when she fired me, but whatever. I feel fired." Elsie reached for the wine bottle. "They told me to come home and have a nice glass of wine and a bubble bath, but I can't find the bubble bath or the wine glasses, so I'm improvising."
Jeebers. Her roommate was a chatty drunk. Lizard slapped the chicken into a frying pan. "Gimme some of that wine."
Elsie protested as Lizard upended the bottle over the chicken. "Hey. I'm not done feeling sorry for myself yet."
"Try something besides wine." Lizard rolled her eyes and put the bottle out of reach. If Elsie wanted to sulk, maybe there was more than one way to get her homework done. "See that green book on the counter? Hand it over." She flipped it open to My Soul is Dark. Byron totally knew how to wallow. "Read that."
Lizard recited her favorite lines in her head as Elsie's lips mumbled through the words.
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst.
"I don't understand," said Elsie, peering at the page. "What does it mean? Doesn't he like the harp music?"
Nobody was that poetry-impaired. "He wants the harpist to play a bunch of sad music so he can wail and weep and cry and stuff. Then he can be happy."
"Really?" Elsie turned the page almost sideways. "Where does it say that?"
Lizard rolled her eyes. Maybe Bronte would be better. She leaned over and thumbed a few pages. "Here. Try this one instead."
Elsie covered her eyes. "The words are kind of dancing on the page."
That was usually a sign you should have stopped drinking half a bottle ago, thought Lizard as she flipped the chicken. "It goes like this." Working from memory, she began.
"The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go."
Elsie frowned---and then comprehension lit her face. "Oh---she's being held captive by a witch?"
The words of the poem still tugging at her soul, Lizard stared. "No. It's a poem about her unhappiness, and how she feels like it's a darkness holding her captive."
Elsie blinked. "Really? Why doesn't she just say that?"
Lizard tried to find words for something she'd always just known. And then she remembered the music. Reaching for her iPod, she pulled up the Hallelujah song that had yanked on Elsie before and turned up the volume. "Listen."
She chopped broccoli, and watched the tears pour down Elsie's face even before the words started coming. Elsie might be poetry-deaf, but she totally got the music. It was a pretty cool song. An anthem of misery---or maybe one of hope. It all depended how you listened.
Which was basically what her essay was supposed to be about. Sweet. She'd go write the freaking thing---right after she got her sloshed roommate fed and into bed. Maybe Caro knew a witch cure for hangovers.
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Nat's decided to shake things up.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
Well, the day went something like this:
... Nat fires Elsie.
... Elsie runs to Knit a Spell for some love and tears.
... Lauren meets Lizard's cute, sexy client and approves.
... Lizard is in total denial about the cute, sexy client.
... Nat is a more of a wreck than I've ever seen.
... Lizard reports that Elsie's totally sloshed, asleep, and her paper is almost finished.
... Ginia is mixing up some green goo to port over in the morning.
Just another day in Witch Central. Be gentle with Elsie tomorrow---if memory serves, grand pianos and hangovers aren't the happiest companions. Jamie's taking good care of Nat.
Much love,
Jennie
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Nat's decided to shake things up.
------------------------------------------
Lovely Jennie,
Singing will chase away whatever still ails Elsie's head when she gets here, but I trust it will be unnecessary. Ginia's green goo is becoming quite legendary.
I must say, I wasn't expecting our Natalia to be the one who turned things upside-down. Melvin suggests that any of us who are surprised haven't been paying attention. He said to tell Nat he's very proud---she's a woman of rare courage. However, I don't believe he wants her to know that he's been sitting here with tears in his eyes most of the day. He grieves for her.
My heart hurts. For my husband, for Nat, and for my singer who has just begun to find her first notes. It seems so very early to make her sing a cappella. Ah, well---this is why we live---to travel up and down life's currents together, whether or not the timing is exactly right.
Melvin thinks it's sweet that a boy has found Lizard. I want pictures. And a second opinion---our Lizzie has a long history of being attracted to jerkwads. Melvin says the pendants would have registered a jerkwad, so perhaps it isn't really a second opinion I seek---just idle gossip and candy for an old woman's eyes. (Melvin is chuckling as I write this. He said to send a picture of Lizard---that will be far more informative.)
He doesn't know what it is to have an old woman's eyes. And gazing on something pretty has always been balm when my heart hurts.
If the boy isn't a jerkwad, you know that will cause Lizard some trouble. She's not at all ready to admit she deserves the attentions of a good man.
Melvin, who is finally looking at me with something other than sad eyes, would like to know if there are any more water fights planned. He will polish his pistol.
Love and light,
Vero
~
Elsie wandered the streets of downtown Berkeley and marveled. The night air was cool, with hints of the warm day still rising off the pavement beneath her feet. A full moon hung low in the sky, and she could almost hear the ocean waves over the voices humming from sidewalk cafes and streaming through open windows.
The music of a summer night.
She wondered if she'd ever been up this late in her entire life. How had she missed this? She'd woken less than an hour earlier to beams of moonlight streaming across her pillow and a bedside clock that had said just past midnight. Which was a truly strange hour to be wide awake and ravenously hungry.
She had vague memories of Lizard shoveling her into bed after a plate of insanely yummy broccoli trees and chicken. The little green trees had made her giggle. Which was good, because she'd spent way too much time both before and after dinner crying over sad songs on the iPod.
Even the one about the man who lost his horse and cowboy hat.
Here in the breezes of a summer night, even lamentable country songs didn't seem all that silly. The wine earlier had clearly gone to her head, but sleep appeared to have rejuvenated everything except for her very hungry stomach.
She was out in search of food. A quick poke around in the kitchen hadn't turned up any more broccoli trees or edible leftovers, and cooking required full daylight and a recipe book.
Elsie laughed at herself and spun slowly around under the moonlight. It was the moon that had teased her outside. Walk this way, it had seemed to say. Everything you desire can be found if you just follow the light.
"You're a pretty sight tonight," said a deep voice behind her.
Elsie spun around---and goggled at the stranger standing there wearing a cowboy hat. She pinched herself, wondering if he'd lost his horse and his pickup truck, too. "I was just dancing with the moon."
The big man stretched out his hands. "Would you like a partner?"
On a late summer's night, anything was possible, even dancing with a sexy cowboy. Elsie stepped forward into strong, flannel-clad arms and moved to the music shimmering in the air around her. Her mysterious new partner never missed a beat, spinning her around on the sidewalk in a seductive moonlight waltz.
She leaned back against his arm, face tilted at the night sky. "It calls to me, the moon."
Her cowboy chuckled, low and deep. It did funny things to her belly. "As it should. Cool light to balance out your fire."
Tonight she could feel that inner flame tickling happy inside her chest. Her witchy powers had always seemed more content in the summer heat. More full, more alive. She leaned back further, delighting in the forces pulling on her, body and soul.
"Elsie Giannotto. What in heaven's name are you doing outside in your bathrobe and slippers?"
"Momma." Elsie's spinning stopped abruptly, her cowboy gone in a flash. Suddenly she was a girl on the edge of puberty, snuck out into the back yard on a warm summer's night to dance under the moon.
"What will the neighbors think, child?"
Younger Elsie knew better than to laugh. "They're all sleeping, Momma. I was awake." Thinking of fairies and moon dust, but she wouldn't say that either.
Her mother glanced up at the sky. "Probably the moon keeping you awake. Come, we'll pull your curtains shut."
Elsie squished the small, rebellious voice that wanted to sleep with moonlight on her face, just as she squished so many things that made her mother unhappy. Moonbeams were irresponsible, just like silly girls who danced in their bathrobes and fathers who left in the dark of night and never came back.
She curled up in the stifling darkness of her bedroom, the curtains now firmly closed. And felt the pounding in her head. Maybe she'd had too much wine after all.
Lizard walked into the kitchen, brain totally bedraggled on four hours of sleep and a really weird dream about cowboys and bathrobes. Her essay was done, though---and it totally kicked butt. A sampling of the best totally depressing poetry through the ages, from Lord Byron to Dylan Thomas. No wonder those guys were all dead.
She pulled open the fridge, hoping some kind of food had magically materialized overnight. And saw two huge smoothie glasses and a note. Hey, Lizard. Give the green one to Elsie when she wakes up. It will help her head. You drink the other one---it's just a basic energy drink. Tastes way better than the green goo. Promise. Ginia.
She picked up both glasses---and then caught a whiff of the green one. Ugh. It smelled worse than two-hundred-day-old pee. Fetid repugnance in liquid form. If she were Elsie, she'd just stick with the hangover. This was the kind of remedy that gave witches everywhere a bad name. Not that most hangover fixes smelled all that good, but still.
She put the vile one back in the fridge---if it stayed on the counter, it would probably make the whole kitchen stink. The other one she sniffed gingerly, but it smelled mostly like chocolate and bananas. That had to be better than facing raw chicken at 6 a.m., and she had to get to work early to finalize details on Josh's deal. Lauren was currently giving her the "your client, your details" line. So much for the gentle-mentoring part of their deal.
Okay, that was probably a little cranky. Lauren was by far and away her best boss ever. Not that the bar was all that high.
Lizard took a cautious sip of the brown goo and decided it didn't taste all that bad. Maybe she could ask Ginia what to put in one---it was a seriously fast way to get breakfast, and these days, fast was good. Then she decided she probably didn't want an ingredients list.
Couldn't be as bad as the one for Elsie, though. That one smelled like it started with fermented eye of newt, and ended with... well, stuff that nobody eating breakfast should really be thinking about.
She got about halfway done before getting hit by the waves of agony washing off Elsie's awakening head. Crap. Hangover empathy was a bad side-effect of being a mind witch. She yanked down her mental barriers, realizing just how long it had been since she'd had to protect her head from someone else's stupidity.
Mentally plugging her nose, she snagged the glass of green goo out of the refrigerator. Given the state of Elsie's head, it just might be worth drinking.
She nearly dropped it when Caro's voice spoke in her mind. Stand well back when you give it to her. And don't jump like that, girl---what, did you think I'd still be sleeping with the mental caterwauling she's putting out?
Elsie's head was pretty loud. Lizard gave one more tug on her mental barriers and made her way up the stairs. She started to knock on her roommate's door and thought the better of it. Hung-over people tended to way overreact to noises, even polite ones.
She reached out a gentle tendril of mind power. Elsie? You okay in there? Ginia sent a potion for you to drink---said it'll help your head.
All she got in reply was a very quiet moan. Nuts. I'm coming in, okay? Put a blanket over your eyes or something.
Screeches of protest as she opened the door, daylight streaming in from the skylight in the hall, suggested Elsie hadn't followed her last instruction. "Here, drink this. It's supposed to make you feel better." Lizard wasn't entirely sure she trusted a preteen to be making a good hangover cure---in her experience, the best ones came from people with the most experience overdosing themselves on alcohol---but it was the best she had to offer.
Gingerly she slid the green gluck into Elsie's hands and oozed quietly backward out the door. No way she was going to try to make anyone actually drink something that putrid. Elsie would have to make her own choice there.
Delivered, she sent to Caro. Don't do anything loud over there today.
Do I look like a fool? came the dry reply. For now, I'm going to try to get some sleep. That poetry of yours is quite lovely, by the way. Caught snippets during the night. Your barriers slide when you write.
Lizard stared at the wall in horror. And thanked the gods it had only been dead-poet words on her brain. She'd been too busy to write any of her own lately. Sorry. I'll keep my head shut next time.
That would be a shame, girl. A real shame.
Trying not to stomp, Lizard stormed down the stairs. Quietly. She'd be writing her essays at the office from now on.
~
Jennie's hands hung up dripping images on her drying lines, her mind noodling. Her damn pendant had vibrated half the night, and Melvin's reply to her grumpy 6 a.m. text hadn't been soothing. It vibrates when the chains on their souls are moving.
What was that supposed to mean?
She looked at the topsy-turvy row of pictures she'd just pinned up, and sighing, moved back to the beginning of the line. A jumbled mind was no excuse for a sloppy darkroom. Even retired photographers had to have some standards.
It vibrates when the chains on their souls are moving.
Generally Melvin chose his words with the same deft touch she used in framing a portrait. Jennie stepped back a moment, remembering a night of karaoke and his words then. What was it he had said to Lizard? Call this the point of being unlocked, but not yet unfettered.
Indeed. You could unlock a heart---but the chains still carried weight.
Hands moving meditatively again, Jennie contemplated her two students. Lizard seemed to have taken hold of her life with a vengeance. Success at work, success at school---she'd thrown herself into both with an energy that was close to frenetic.
Jennie was no stranger to frenetic. Or to the demons inside that could drive such a pace. She chuckled as her pendant vibrated again. "Message received, Melvin." Lizard might have flipped her chains over, and this side might be a little shinier than the last, but they still weighed heavy. Believing in yourself was no small task, and their tattooed fairy still had quite a journey ahead of her.
One that might get gently prodded by a nice boy. Or if Lauren was to be believed, a sexy, driven, confident young man with a sweet appreciation for Lizard. Which was fascinating, and a bit worrisome. Lizard likely wasn't ready to be appreciated, and Jennie knew all too well what a defiant young woman might do when handed such a gift.
She shook her head, laughing. "Took your pessimist pills this morning, did you?" Talking to the walls in her darkroom was long habit---laughing at herself, slightly more recent. It took maturity to giggle at your own foibles. Both her students still took themselves far too seriously.
Or not seriously enough.
Elsie was definitely swinging between those two extremes, and Jennie wasn't sure which way to push her. If her vibrating pendant meant shifting chains, then Elsie's were definitely on the move---but unbalancing a heavy load might just make her student land on her face.
Nat had tried to lift one of the heaviest chains off Elsie's back. Jennie had an idea for how to lift another, one Elsie might appreciate even less than being fired. However, the timing wasn't yet right for that. First, they needed to give her a chance to play on the swing by herself a little. Meddling was always the second choice---it was far better if a witch could be the force for change in her own life.
She snorted, remembering all too well how badly she had needed Melvin's meddling. Ah, well. It was worth a try, at least. She straightened one last photo on her drying wire. Tomorrow, she would meet with her students again---and try to help them frame a picture.
~
Elsie landed in Vero's living room, both hands holding her head. Maybe that way it wouldn't fall off. She squinted at the light and moaned. Coming had been a mistake. She could barely whisper, much less sing. For the first time in her life, she was about to report in sick for an appointment.
"Tsk, tsk." Vero glided two steps into the room and halted. "Melvin dear, it looks like you were right."
Elsie jumped as Melvin chuckled behind her. "Of course I'm right---have you taken a whiff of that concoction?"
Vero's laugh rolled as she headed back down the hall. She returned a minute later with a glass that struck terror in Elsie's heart---a twin to the one Lizard had shoved in her hands two hours prior. "I can't drink that. I tried. It tastes like raw frogs."
"An apt description, child." Vero looked amused, but also oddly sympathetic. "Sometimes we must suffer for our art. I'm sure it tastes absolutely vile, but I can promise it will make that head of yours feel much better. Ginia is a talented healer."
Elsie stared at the glass, stomach roiling in fierce protest.
Melvin smiled. "Try holding your nose. I hear that can help."
Vero snorted. "Try plotting revenge on Ginia the next time you see her. I speak from experience, unlike my accountant husband who never does anything silly enough to earn him a hangover." She wrapped an arm around Elsie's shoulders. "We singers are more prone to excess, aren't we, love? Go on now. Drink it down."
Vero's strong arm and Melvin's sympathetic smile helped Elsie find the bravery she hadn't been able to muster standing in her bedroom alone. With one hand, she plugged her nose. With the other, she tipped back the glass of raw frogs.
It was utterly, outrageously, flamboyantly vile. And it only took seconds to start making her head feel better.
Melvin held out a cup of tea. "Here, try this for a chaser. It'll get rid of some of that taste."
Vero snorted again. "Not unless you've spiked it with a little whiskey, dear---and that's probably not what Elsie needs right now." She moved to the door, her bearing a royal summons. "Come now. Let's go sing, shall we?"
Elsie leaned down to kiss Melvin's cheek, greatly relieved that her head seemed more prone to staying on her shoulders now. "Thank you."
He raised his hands to her face. "You have some rough mornings ahead of you yet, my girl. Learn from my wife. She is magnificent in moments of joy, and suffering, and everything in between."
As she walked down the hall to the music room, Elsie pondered his words. And wished she had a small fraction of Vero's bold style. Or even her beautifully colorful dress.
Elsie entered the room and walked over to stand by the grand piano. Vero looked up from a sheaf of music, eyes twinkling. "Is my husband telling you nonsense about me again?"
"He really loves you." Elsie had no idea where those words had come from, but she felt their power. "You're not at all alike, but he knows exactly who you are."
"Yes." Vero laid her hands on the piano keys. "He is the greatest gift of my life---and I'm finally old enough and wise enough to appreciate him." She smiled softly. "I didn't always---and I will be eternally grateful he had the patience to wait for me to figure it out."
There was a story behind those words. Elsie tilted her head, curious. Seeking.
"Ah, my dear." Vero stood and moved over to a window, her gaze somewhere far, far away. "I was such a restless soul. A woman of extremes and large passions. I wanted to feel everything, do everything. I found love in an artist's garret in Paris and wept in the streets of Prague when he broke my heart. I tasted all of the grapes of Tuscany and sang out my pain with some of Italy's greatest tenors." She smiled. "If you had told me then that true happiness would come sitting over a cup of tea with a blind accountant..."
Elsie's heart ached, and she wasn't entirely sure why. "Do you not need those things now?"
"Oh, I'll always need them." Vero returned to the piano, smiling. "I was born with big feelings. And without my Paris artist or my Tuscan grapes, I wouldn't know tea and happiness for what it is."
"And the music."
"Always." Vero patted Elsie's hand. "You have some of my passion in you---I see it when you sing. Don't be afraid to be bold, darling girl, even if it causes the occasional headache."
Elsie looked down at her hands, clutching the piano. "I mostly just feel silly."
Vero laughed, coating the room in rich melody. "Part of the package. You can't live a bold life and not feel silly at least once a day. In fact, I suggest plenty of practice." Her hands ran briskly over the keys. "Let's get our voices moving, shall we? I have a small aria we could try today---it's always felt to me like a celebration of silliness."
Already Elsie felt the music tugging at her heart. And an odd desire to be a little outrageous. Perhaps, even silly.
~
Lauren tried not to laugh as Thea sashayed into the office, broadcasting a very clear mental picture of herself as a hot-air balloon. Ever since Thea had discovered her realtors were mind witches, she'd made it her mission to share as many over-the-top thoughts as possible.
Their very pregnant client was two days away from taking possession of her new home---and Lauren hoped Bean wasn't going to crash the party.
Thea sat down, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to give birth in your office, I promise." She grinned. "I went to the diner for bacon and eggs this morning---you'd have thought I was a small bomb or something."
"You do look kind of ready to pop," said Lauren, pulling out her snickerdoodle stash. She knew better than to try to hide cookies from pregnant women. "What brings you by?"
Thea neatly snagged two cookies and rested one on her belly. "I was visiting with Louise."
Lauren laughed. Usually clients waited until they actually moved in to meet the neighbors. Thea had already made fast friends with the two seventy-year-old ladies who lived next door, and they'd already thrown her and Bean a big backyard barbecue. Since they'd lived in their little bungalow for forty years, that meant Thea was now on a first-name basis with half the neighborhood.
"Louise is knitting the most awesome baby booties for Bean. And Norman, the nice old man from down the road, has a rocking chair he insists we have." Thea giggled, eyes a little misty. "Louise says to watch out for him, though---apparently he's a bit of a pool shark. He always wins the Thursday night tournaments."
"They have pool tournaments?" Lauren wasn't above pumping people for the kind of insider information that closed real-estate deals all the time. Of course, it was probably already on Lizard's maps. She couldn't keep up.
Thea nodded, polishing off her first cookie. "Sure. Lizard told Louise to tell me all about them. Says there's lots of cute guys and plenty of hands to hold babies." She grinned. "I'm going next week---Norm says I can be his partner for the first one. He won't fleece me until I've been around for a while."
She had the world's most unconventional real estate assistant. "Lizard's trying to hook you up with a cute guy?"
"Pretty much." Thea patted her belly as she swiped Bean's cookie. "We don't really need one, but Lizard's a good friend, and we don't mind if some of our new neighbors are cute."
Lauren wondered if old-guy-and-pool-shark Norm fell into that category. Probably---Thea was generous with her affections, and clearly there was a small village already lining up to help with Bean. She wondered if Lizard even knew how above-and-beyond she was going.
Thea turned as Lizard came through the open front door. "Hey, Lizzie. I came to snag you for dinner. Bean and I are buying, so long as you feel like linguine."
Lauren tried to hide her grin. Her assistant would have throttled anyone else who dared to call her Lizzie.
Lizard blinked. "Isn't it like 3 o'clock in the afternoon?"
"Bean's hungry." Thea shrugged. "If you're not hungry, we'll go eat noodles by ourselves."
"Can't." Lizard looked pained. "I have way too much stuff to do."
Lauren refrained from volunteering to come---barely. Romano's linguine was her absolute favorite. And she held off on whacking her assistant with a mental two-by-four, pretty sure Thea was up to that task.
"You can't turn down a date with Bean," Thea said, slinging her arm through Lizard's. "It's a pregnant-lady rule."
Lizard snorted. "You totally make up those rules."
"Of course I do." Thea grinned. "And when you're pregnant, you can make them up, too."
It was only for a tiny moment---so fast that Lauren almost missed it, even with her mental antennae up. Longing. And then the weird emptiness of mind barriers slammed shut.
Lizard wanted a baby?
No, not exactly... Lauren grabbed for the fleeting emotion she'd picked up, trying to bring it into focus. Lizard wanted a family.
Lauren watched as the odd duo of pregnant client and tattooed fairy made their way out the door. And hoped Lizard realized she was already well on her way to having one.
~
Nat felt a presence intrude on her solitude just as her pendant began to vibrate. She tensed, not ready for the interruption---and then realized who had come to visit.
Letting out a last breath, she opened her eyes. "Did my husband send you?"
"He did, yes." Melvin smiled from his chair, facing out over the vista of San Francisco and the ocean beyond. "Used that magic phone of his to save me quite the hike to find you. The air smells lovely up here."
Nat smiled and kept her words gentle. "I find that a bit of a trek discourages most visitors."
"Would you rather be alone?" His eyes held a world of kindness.
"I thought so." She reached out to touch his hand. "But you've brought comfort, haven't you?"
"Perhaps." He smiled. "I feel the sun on my face, and I can sense just the barest tang of sea air. The perfect retreat." He ran a hand down the smooth fall of her hair. "A good place to put doubts to rest, I hope."
Nat sighed, well aware that had been the purpose of her hike. So far, she'd made very little progress. The look on Elsie's face haunted her dreams---and her solitary hikes. "I never send people away. Yoga is invitation, and there's always some way to meet people where they are."
"It was invitation you offered." Melvin's voice was sterner now, enough so that it surprised her. "You invited Elsie into freedom."
She felt the tears spill, hearing her own words said back to her with absolute faith. "Did I do it too soon?"
"Yes."
His answer stabbed at her heart. Nat could feel her breath shaking deep in her chest. "How do I fix it?"
"You trust what you've started." Melvin reached for her hand. "You're asking the wrong question, my love. You don't need me to tell you it was too soon for Elsie to step easily into freedom. You knew that before you sent her away, even if you sit here now doubting your own heart."
She could feel breath moving from his strong fingers into her shaking ones. "What's the right question?"
He chuckled. "That's a try worthy of Jennie, my dear, but I've great faith in your ability to figure it out for yourself."
Nat's laughter shook her ribs even as tears threatened. "I've gotten myself stuck, have I?"
"Not for long." Melvin squeezed her hand again. "Even my wonderful Jennie doesn't have your bravery. You sit up here with me a while longer and see if the right question doesn't soak in, along with this wonderful sunlight."
He was so very peaceful---contagiously so. With the ease of long practice, Nat closed her eyes and followed her breath into meditation. In with the sunlight, out with the doubt hiding in dark corners. In with the warm breezes, and out with cold fear.
When she bubbled up out of her heart, back onto her rock on the ridge trail, Nat knew two things. She knew the right question. And she knew she sat by the grandfather of her heart.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't at all surprised to find Melvin's face turned toward hers. "Found it, did you?"
She nodded, suffused with serene rightness. "I sent her away unready, and I knew it. The right question is 'why?'"
His approval filled cracks she hadn't known existed. "That's exactly right. And I expect you found the answer easily enough, as well."
She had.
He laid a hand on her cheek. "It will still be hard for you, watching what comes next. But those who walk with the most freedom in life are the ones who have learned to take a tumble. Your heart was exactly right. Elsie isn't yet ready to be free---but she's ready to try. And she's ready to fall."
Nat moved in behind his chair, reached up for the gift of sun, and then bent over to pour love and light on his shoulders. She snuggled her head in beside his, cherishing his wisdom. "Thank you."
"It was a lovely day to come sit in the sun." He smiled. "You have an uncommonly wise heart, my sweet Natalia---and sometimes that can be lonely."
She didn't have to ask how he knew. It was why he'd come.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Melvin is doing his magic again.
------------------------------------------
Dearest Jennie,
Melvin has returned from a chat with the lovely Nat. He said to tell you she will be fine now. And that it is time for the rest of us to let go of our fears that she has perhaps pushed Elsie a little too hard. She has, as she meant to, and my darling accountant is in complete agreement with her.
I am not foolish enough to disagree with that much wisdom in one corner.
And our Elsie sang some new notes today, some edges of emotion, some depth that I have not heard from her before. My soul whispers that she is preparing to feel more deeply. And anything that has encouraged those notes can only be right.
We've heard little of Lizard today. With a witch, that's usually a sign that tomorrow will prove eventful.
Good luck, and blessed be,
Vero
Jennie snuck quietly into Berkeley College's classic poetry appreciation seminar and took a seat in the back row. She glanced around for her tattooed fairy, hoping she'd picked the right dead-poets class. The last place she expected to spot Lizard was smack in the middle of the front row---scowling and taking copious notes.
Good morning. Jennie was surprised when her student jumped---it was usually fairly difficult to sneak up on a mind witch. Care to grab a coffee with me after class?
Can't. Lizard was still scribbling. The professor wants to talk to me about my essay. Probably thinks I got my thematic emotional context all wrong or something.
Jennie opted not to ask exactly what "thematic emotional context" might be. Not a problem---I'll wait.
Why?
I want to see how your assignment's going.
Alarm flared in Lizard's mind. What assignment? Crap, did I forget to do something I was supposed to do?
Jennie disconnected from the ride through Lizard's mental Rolodex and tried to offer a quick reminder. Breakfast at the diner last week, karaoke photos, figure out what the next picture looks like?
Oh, yeah. Mental scowls and more scribbling. No idea---I haven't really had time to think about stuff like that yet.
Jennie grinned, impressed by the mad multitasking. That's why I'm here. Consider this your gentle reminder to come up with something. She jumped as the bell rang---it had been a very long time since she'd voluntarily been in a classroom.
She watched as Lizard flowed against traffic, working her way up to the guy standing at the front of the room. Curious, Jennie cast out, scanning his outer mind---and smiled. Whatever was coming up, she was pretty sure it wasn't a discussion of anything Lizard had done wrong. The professor's mind radiated approval and a healthy dose of curiosity.
Deciding regretfully that her ethics didn't stretch to eavesdropping, Jennie pulled out her camera and captured his curious eyes instead. Then she turned her lens on Lizard and watched the emotions flowing on that volatile face. Suspicion. Worry. Defiance.
Professor Guy smiled in welcome and reached out a sheaf of what Jennie assumed was Lizard's essay. A bit of small talk, a raised eyebrow, and then he said something that hit Lizard like a small bomb---and followed it with total nuclear annihilation. Lizard stood, arms hugging her waist, horror on her face, and brain keening in terror.
A pat to a tattooed shoulder and Professor Guy walked away, leaving a completely flattened pupil in his wake.
Jennie scrambled down the steps to the front of the class, eyes glued to her catatonic student. She knew all too well what a few misplaced words from a professor could do. And was getting a sharp reminder of the anger that had led her down the path to Melvin's living room almost three decades ago. Dammit.
Huffing a little, she laid a hand on Lizard's shoulder. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" Idiotic question, given the mess rolling off Lizard's mind. "What did he say to you?"
"He..." Lizard's breath lurched. "He wants me to take a different class."
"A different class?"
"His advanced poetry class." Terror clattered through Lizard's mind. "It starts next week."
Jennie shook her head, trying to undo the brain jam. "Wait a minute. Isn't that good news?" As soon as she said it, she realized that was her second idiotic question in fifteen seconds.
"I can't take it." And every fiber of Lizard's body clearly believed it.
Jennie pulled her gently down into a seat, rapidly putting the picture together. "Why not?"
"It's a third-year class. I don't have the prerequisites. I never even finished high school. And it's at the same time as my computer class, so I can't even go."
But she wanted to. Jennie had given her ethics a swift kick sideways and probed deeply enough to be sure. "You could reschedule your computer seminar. Heck, you could probably just skip class and take the final." Jennie was pretty sure Computers 101 wasn't the real problem here. "And you don't need prerequisites. You just got a personal invitation."
"It's only because he liked some stupid thing I said in my essay. He doesn't know I'm a delinquent high-school dropout."
Jennie's heart ached---and her eyes blazed. "You're right. He doesn't know. He invited the person he does know---the woman who wrote the essay you're holding in your hands." The obviously very good essay. She tilted Lizard's chin up. "Think about what you want the next picture to be. Think very, very hard."
And then she walked out, holding the reins of her meddling soul with both hands. Picture framed---but it was up to Lizard to push the button.
~
Jennie wasn't at all sure what to expect from her second stop of the morning. Without her regular hours at Spirit Yoga, Elsie's life had very little structure to it at the moment, and that made tracking her down for a surprise visit a little difficult.
Ah, well. If Elsie weren't home, she could always drop in on Caro. Or any one of the two dozen other witches who lived within six blocks.
However, judging from the sudden banging in the kitchen, she'd managed to track down her quarry. Jennie walked down the hall, resisting the temptation to cover her ears. Clearly Elsie was past any negative effects from her hangover. Hopefully no one in half a mile was suffering from one either.
When Jennie walked in the kitchen, the first thing she did was look for Aervyn. Or any other witchling who might possibly be responsible for the unholy mess.
All she found was Elsie, hips jamming to the beat of the racket coming out of her computer, covered in flour and other unidentified food substances from head to toe, and surrounded by an avalanched mountain of pots and pans. Jennie tiptoed through the disaster on the floor and tried to find the volume buttons on the computer, only to be nearly deafened by the scream when Elsie turned around and discovered she'd been invaded.
Damn. Clearly Elsie wasn't used to Witch Central's open door policy yet. Jennie rubbed her ears, trying to dull the vibrations. "Vero's obviously been teaching you breath control." The scream had been worthy of a trained opera singer.
"I'm so sorry." Elsie looked like a contrite flour pixie. "I didn't hear you come in."
Jennie finally found the mute button. "That's probably not a big surprise. I'm sorry I scared you."
"You can thumbs down that song. I gave it a good chance and tried to find its soul, just like Vero suggested, but I don't think I'm drawn to that one."
"Vero suggested that song?" Jennie could feel her eyebrows fly up. Vero had wide and eclectic musical tastes, but Jennie was pretty sure none of it extended to tortured cats.
"No. She told me to pick a few songs at random and see where they led me." The timer on the stove started beeping, and Elsie spun around, looking a little frantic. "Do you happen to see an oven mitt around here anywhere? I might have lost it."
Jennie tried very hard not to laugh. "I don't suppose you know what color it is?"
Elsie giggled, grabbing a towel. "The flour got away from me a little. The recipe neglected to mention that you should slow down the mixer before you pour in the dry ingredients."
Even Jennie's rudimentary culinary knowledge could work out what happened if you mixed dry flour and a high-speed mixer. "Fire magic's not much use for cleaning spells, but I could probably borrow a witchling to help, especially if you have cake to offer."
Then she spied the pan coming out of the oven. Oops. Aervyn had better bring his own cake.
Jennie's amusement fled when she caught the sad helplessness on Elsie's face. It matched the look on her grandson Leo's face when his beloved purple birthday balloon had floated away in the sky. She reached out to touch Elsie's shoulder. "Why were you baking a cake, sweetheart?"
"For Helga." Elsie shrugged, wrapping her arms around her waist in an uncanny imitation of her roommate standing in front of Professor Guy. "It's her birthday today. It's okay---I'm sure Caro will bake her a cake."
Jennie felt her pendant vibrating. And ignored it, rejoicing, as a searing empathy welled in her heart. Lizard had been hers from the moment they'd met, all defiantly lovable five feet of her---but somehow, she'd never quite been able to feel that same connection with Elsie. Jennie had no idea why a flour explosion and a miserable excuse for a cake had finally done it, but they had. She didn't need pendants, emails, or bat signals in the sky. Her heart would know the way now.
She closed her eyes in gratitude---and beamed a bat signal of her own to Caro next door. Elsie and I will bake Helga's cake. Put away whatever gorgeous creation you've made.
It was a measure of true friendship that Caro instantly agreed---no questions asked.
Jennie opened her eyes. "A cake can't be all that hard. How about I be your intrepid assistant, and we give it another try?"
Elsie looked askance at the cake in her hands. "Are you a good baker? I think I need more than an assistant."
"No, my dear." Jennie felt the laughter rolling up from her toes. "I'm an awful baker. But I can absolutely, totally promise you---in these parts, it's the thought that will count."
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: A fascinating morning.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
I met with both my students this morning, and you are already correct. Today will not go quietly.
One of Lizard's professors has noticed her talent, and she's ready to run screaming into the night because of it, holding tight to her chains with both hands. Which might sound less empathetic than I mean it to be. I was there---she's scared down to her toes.
I pushed as much as I dared. I know all too well that nothing makes you cling tighter to those chains than someone else trying to cast them off for you. If Melvin's got a bravery-boosting spell in his back pocket, Lizard could use one right about now.
I know I often leave Elsie until last in these updates. Today, it is finally for the right reasons. Whatever sat in my heart and made it hard for me to truly love this girl has fled, chased off by one marginally passable cake and enough flour to turn half of Berkeley white. I guess I can finally stop being ashamed of the guide I've been for her.
I know I've done well enough by her. And by any standards I know, that's not nearly good enough. She deserves my best---and now I know I'll be able to give it. Today, we were magnificent.
All my love,
Jennie
~
It was the first time she was jumping on Freddie's bus without fare in a long time. Maybe he'd take money instead of biscuits. Lizard dug in her pocket, hoping she had some change chasing around somewhere.
"Since when do you pay to get on my bus, girlie?" Freddie looked seriously indignant.
Oops. "Sorry. I don't have any biscuits today. I can afford to pay, though---I have a good job now."
"Course you do. And that ain't gonna change the rules any at all. You go have a seat and tell me a story or two, same as always." He pulled the door shut behind her and grinned. "You can bring me two biscuits next time. And a word. I haven't had a new word in weeks."
That much she could give him. "'Vacillating.' It means someone who can't make up her mind."
"One of those days, huh?" He waved her back. "Out of my doorway, girlie."
Lizard sat in a seat just off to the side, glad the front of the bus was empty. She was well aware she'd come to the guy who'd always given her straight advice, most of it pretty decent. "So I'm taking a class at the college now."
Freddie raised an eyebrow. "You get that high school diploma while I wasn't looking?" It had always been a point of contention between them.
"Nope. But a friend of my boss helped me get into the campus downtown. Taking a couple of classes."
"That's good, girlie. Real good. You come ride so I can help you with your homework?"
He'd helped with plenty in the past, right after giving her grief because it wasn't done. "No, I'm keeping up with it all, so far."
Freddie just drove, whistling patiently. He'd done that for hours the first time she'd climbed on his bus. Just waited her out, figuring she'd talk eventually. And much to her surprise, she had.
Jeebers, she was getting all nostalgic today. Lizard tapped her fingers on the bus window. "I'm taking this class about dead poets."
"Dylan Thomas dead, or Shakespeare dead?"
"Somewhere in the middle. Snuck Dylan in to one of my papers, though." Dylan was one of Freddie's favorites.
He chuckled. "Well, the man's dead, ain't he?"
"Yeah." Lizard paused, pretty sure the next part was going to sound stupid. "So I wrote an essay about Dylan and Byron and emotional context and stuff, and my professor said I should come take this other class he teaches. This totally hard class."
Now she had Freddie's complete attention. "Somebody finally figured out you're a smart cookie, did they?"
She just shrugged. Freddie would kick her off the bus if she called herself stupid. She had the boot marks on her butt to prove it.
"When's the class start?"
She blinked. Of all the things she'd figured he would say, that one hadn't been on the list. "Next week sometime. Why?"
"You find out where, and you find out when, and you let me know." He looked at her in his big mirror, pride shining in his eyes. "I haven't never been to college, girlie, but sometime next week, Freddie Grenadine's gonna sit on this bus and know you're walking into that class. And you better be walking big and tall so I can be proud of you."
Well, frack. Apparently somebody was going to get to see her cry after all.
~
Elsie nudged through the door of Knit a Spell, arms precariously laden with supplies. The plates and cups were pretty---the cake, not so much. And while she couldn't entirely shut off her embarrassment at bringing something far less than perfect to share, she could also feel pride bubbling up.
It was a truly ugly cake---but she'd made it herself. And somehow, in the wildly incompetent hour she and Jennie had spent assembling it, Elsie had managed to find an important truth. The cake wasn't the message. The love that made it was.
"Need some help there?" Marion bustled over and reached for items sliding off the top of Elsie's pile. "Jodi, come take some of this, would you? Helga will be here any minute."
"Oh, the napkins are pretty." Jodi neatly evaded her son's grasping hands. "You can have some cups to play with, silly boy. Just give Mama a minute to get things set up." She grinned. "This is his first birthday party, so he's a little excited."
Elsie juggled the cake dish and freed a hand, quickly forming a small fireglobe and pushing it over to Sammy. The baby babbled in delight and made a small light of his own.
Jodi giggled. "Don't encourage him. He sleeps in a cradle next to our bed, and every time I open my eyes at night, he's floating one of those light balls around."
"Practice is good," said Caro, coming out of the back room. "It might look like a game, but he's getting some nice control."
"Uh, huh." Jodi's eyes twinkled. "He tried to chase the cat with a firelight yesterday. She might not come out from under the couch for a week."
"That's nothing." Caro set down a teapot and cups. "When Jamie was little---he's the trainer I introduced you to---he made a full-sized dragon illusion, complete with flames, and sent it into his sister's bedroom."
Waking up to a fire-breathing dragon would have sent Elsie hiding under the couch with the cat, but she was pretty sure Aervyn's mama was made of tougher stuff. Then again, maybe there was a reason she seemed impervious to magic tricks.
"You're a fire witch." Marion raised an eyebrow at Caro. "What stories would your mama tell us about you?"
"She'd tell you I was an angel of a child---never gave her a moment's pause," said Caro, pouring tea. Then she winked at Marion. "Didn't come into my power until I was a teenager. You might not want to ask her about that part---I think it still gives her the shakes."
Elsie set down her cake, caught by the unexpected tendrils of sorrow growing out of her belly. She was a fire witch---and if her mother had any stories to tell, she'd never heard them. She didn't have the magic to make a dragon, and they'd never had a cat. But maybe she'd at least made a firelight dance in the night.
Good grief. She was jealous of a baby. Elsie shook her head, trying to toss off the momentary gloom. They had a birthday girl coming. Carefully, she pulled the aluminum foil off the top of the cake plate. Darn. It had gotten a little squished on the way over. Not that it probably mattered a whole lot---when they'd tried to draw a picture with icing on the top, she and Jennie had discovered their artistic talents were well matched to their cake-baking skills.
She looked up, apologetic. "It's supposed to be Helga, holding a water pistol." It looked like a stick figure holding a mangled state of Georgia.
"Of course it is," said Caro, lips twitching. "You can be on my Pictionary team any time you like."
Elsie stared at the cake and the poorly concealed amusement of her friends---and cracked up laughing. "We tried. We really did." She held her ribs as the giggles poured out. "I should have brought the photograph we worked from and just put that on top of the cake instead."
Caro had a decent case of the giggles too. "Just tell me that Jennie took a picture of this fabulous cake."
No, they hadn't. But as Elsie looked around at laughing women, a mangled cake, and Sammy's dancing fireglobe, she knew it wouldn't have been the right picture anyhow. This was what she wanted the next picture to be.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: A fascinating morning.
------------------------------------------
Lovely Jennie,
It's Melvin again.
You're wrong---you've done far more than "well enough" for Elsie. You've done as much as we might have imagined. But now I can see we didn't dream big enough, because I know the power that sits in the heart of Jenvieve Adams.
You've asked your students to find their next picture. They might still be flailing a bit, but I believe you've found yours, and it's a truly lovely one. You've got a rich and beautiful soul.
And now that I've completely embarrassed you, let me admit to some giggles at the idea of the two of you bonding over an activity at which neither of you possesses a smidgen of skill. How delightful.
As for Lizard, you have chosen rightly, as you already know. Her chains are hers to cast off---and mighty though you are, I don't think I'd want to be in a tug-o-war with that one. She's got a warrior's heart beating inside, or rather, a warrior poet's. I'm delighted that you'll have some help enticing the poet into the light. The strongest warriors are the ones who truly know their own hearts.
One day, I hope to hear the words she holds so close. I'm sure they will be magnificent---just like Elsie's cake. Pure treasure.
Much love,
Melvin
Sometimes, a few words could stop a day dead in its tracks. A whole paragraph... Jennie read Lizard's text one more time. I signed up for the class. Here's my next picture---I don't want to feel like an idiot. And maybe a little less like a juvenile delinquent dropout and a little more like something else. I don't know what yet, though. I'm not a freaking photographer.
She danced a quick jig, narrowly avoided knocking over a nice old couple walking down the street, and sent a return text. It'll do.
"You know this morning's class is hip openers, right?" Caro, more sprightly than the nice old couple, had managed to avoid getting bumped by Jennie's exuberance. She leaned against the wall of Spirit Yoga, looking highly amused.
Jennie grimaced. "Don't remind me. I have no idea how I get talked into trying to make my hips do things they're only meant to do while giving birth."
"Then how come I have to do them too?" Jamie leaned in, kissing Jennie's cheek. "Because trust me, these hips of mine were never meant to do any of the stuff my wife thinks they should do."
"She's just getting even with you for what hers will have to do during birth." Caro grinned. "And trust me, you've earned every minute of it."
Jamie linked arms with the two of them. "Just for that, I'm going to do Nat a favor and make sure you two actually enter the building. She seems to think you occasionally ditch class in favor of the coffee shop down the street."
Busted. "Only once or twice." And almost always on hip-openers days. "Aren't you supposed to be babysitting this morning?" Nell and Daniel were delivering their older kids to summer camp, and the last Jennie had heard, Jamie had been designated to keep Aervyn out of trouble until they got back.
"Nope." He grinned. "Elsie's doing it---Aervyn's trying to talk her into baking cookies."
Jennie's heart quaked. "You left the two of them alone together?" She had seen with her own eyes the destruction either one of them could wreak with a bag of flour. Put them together and they could easily be dealing with baking Armageddon. "You're on cleanup squad, nephew mine."
Jamie's lips quirked. "I ported the flour to safety. They're at the park, playing in the sand. It'll be fine, and if it's not, Elsie knows how to use a phone."
Jennie looked at Caro as Jamie veered off to say hello to his wife. "Am I silly to be concerned?" Elsie was a grown woman, and a highly responsible one.
Caro snorted. "That girl's going to discover her sense of adventure one day, and Aervyn would be more than happy to help her find it. We'll walk down to the park after class and check up on them." She grinned. "Then we can bring them back to the store to help with the leftover cake."
Jennie winced. "Was it edible?"
Caro's laugh blew through the normally quiet murmur of Nat's yoga studio. "It tasted better than it looked, but that's not saying much." She picked up her yoga mat, still chuckling. "Helga adored it."
Of course she had. And maybe they could just bury the rest of the poor, sad cake, and not give Aervyn a tummy ache.
~
What, fancy San Francisco start-ups didn't have fax machines? Or elevators? Lizard grumped as she marched up four floors to the funky warehouse offices of the company where Josh worked. He'd asked her to bring over the final paperwork on his townhouse, so she'd spent two hours on a freaking streetcar caught in a traffic jam just to get him to sign a stupid piece of paper.
Maybe she was giving up on the whole delinquent thing a little too fast.
She yanked open the door of suite 406 and looked for someone resembling a receptionist. Instead, what she saw was chaos. Computer screens everywhere, some of them bigger than she was. A pool table, Pac-Man arcade game, two guys swimming in a huge pool full of plastic balls, and the thrumming beat of a rap song. Sung by a guy over in the corner with dreads and some very cool tats.
"Welcome to chaos," said Josh's voice over her shoulder. "Thanks for coming up."
She looked around one more time. "Is it always like this?"
"No." He grinned, catching a Superball aimed at his head. "Half the staff don't get here until noon. This is quiet. Come on this way---I've got something to show you."
Rap-singing dreads guy winked as she followed Josh through a set of huge doors---into total quiet. Lizard stopped dead, feeling like she'd stepped through a wormhole. Here was the tastefully hip and cool start-up---clear glass cubicles, funky art, and employees who look like they'd graduated college instead of being kicked out of kindergarten.
Lizard was pretty sure she belonged on the other side of the doors. "You work here?"
Josh grinned. "And back there in The Pit. This is the business side---strategy, marketing, partnerships. The Pit's our product development guys. I'm one of the few people who goes through that door on purpose."
Yeah. The college types would get eaten alive in The Pit. She looked around again---and realized Josh was on the move, headed through some glass doors.
She followed him through---and then froze, recognizing the explosion of color up on the monitors. Her maps. Or not her maps. Highly jazzed-up versions of something resembling her maps. What the hell. "What is this?"
Josh was watching her carefully. "It's a mock-up---an idea of what could be done with a little programming muscle behind your ideas."
She knew what the frack a mock-up was. How come they were they playing with her maps? "Why?"
"Because it's a creative, smart idea you had. I think it could maybe be turned into something other people would pay a lot of money for." He held up a hand as her brain fizzed fury. "Give me two minutes, okay? Let me show you some of what it can do."
He grabbed some fancy remote-control toy and pointed. "See here? This takes restaurant recommendations from five review sites, filtered by user demographics. That way, you can find places to eat that are preferred by people most like your clients. And here? This pulls in the census data through an API, so you don't need to manually load it. You can find Thea a grandma without having to work so hard."
When the hell had Josh met Thea?
He moved the remote thingy again. "And here, you can put in the parameters of your client's budget and preferred neighborhood feel, and it will narrow down the top five areas to look. You can overlay listings on that too, and do the usual things with price ranges and bedrooms and stuff."
Her fingers itched for the remote. Right after she killed him. It was totally awesome---and it wasn't hers anymore. Lizard tried to stay professional. He hadn't signed the paperwork yet. "What are you going to do with it?"
He looked... hurt. "That's my question for you. This was just me goofing off a bit with a couple of the guys from The Pit. Mira and Danny---he was the guy rapping back there---have a bunch more ideas, but this is a pretty decent prototype."
She was way lost. "A prototype for what?"
"To sell to investors. This is a genius idea, Lizard. You could make a ton of money selling it. We'd like to help."
Her knees were buckling, and the hip-and-cool office didn't have any chairs nearby. She backed up against a wall and slowly slid to the floor. "It's just a map."
Josh came to sit beside her. "No, it's not. You've totally changed the way people can find a home, don't you get that? Most real estate agents ask how many bedrooms you want and do a search on that." He waved at the wall monitors. "You get that the house doesn't really matter. It's about the neighborhood, the little piece of the world you live in."
Sure. "It's what Lauren does. I just made some maps to help."
He grinned. "Then give her a cut of the profits. There will be plenty to go around."
Okay, now they were back at the part that made her knees dissolve. His mind felt way too freaking sincere. "Anybody could make a map. You just need Google Maps and a little time."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't let Danny hear you say that. He spent a bunch of hours cursing at the census data API."
Well, yeah. Not having to enter that manually was a pretty big deal. "Can you do that with the driving time and transit data too?" Calculating how long it would take to get to people's offices and stuff was a major time suck.
Josh's eyes gleamed. "Let me get Danny and Mira in here."
~
Babysitting witchlings wasn't as easy as it sounded. Elsie was beginning to think she'd gotten in way over her head. "I don't know if the park people really want you adding a water fountain to the sandbox."
Aervyn grinned. "Uncle Jamie can fix it if anyone gets mad, but I bet some of the other kids wanna make mud pies too." He wiggled his fingers again, and water started spouting out of the small pipe he'd magicked out of the ground. "See?"
Engineering wasn't her strong suit. "Isn't that just going to flood the sandbox?"
"Uh, huh." His eyes gleamed. "And maybe I can even make a moat and a castle too."
She didn't have enough fire power to do a quick-dry spell on a sandbox the size of her living room. Especially if there was still water pouring in. "Do you know how to turn the water off?"
"Sure." Aervyn started mixing water and sand, totally unconcerned. "But first we should get dirty and silly and have fun. Gramma Retha says that's what kids are supposed to do. If you're clean at the end of the day, then you aren't doing it right."
Elsie looked down at her very clean hands, and her very clean shorts---and wished there had been a Gramma Retha in her childhood.
"It's okay," said Aervyn softly, holding out handfuls of dripping sand. "You can be dirty and silly with me now. There's plenty of mud."
Elsie paused long enough to hope her mud-pie skills weren't as rickety as her cake-baking ones---and then plunged her hands into wet sand. Eew. She held up her fingers, dripping goop, and made a face at Aervyn. "Totally disgusting, dude."
"Yup." He giggled and sloshed his handfuls into a pile, mud droplets spraying everywhere. "So first we have to make a mountain. A really, really big one. Which is kinda tricky, because it all wants to slide back down into the goop lake."
She dumped a handful of muck on top of his pile and watched. Sure enough, it was all morphing back into primordial ooze. "How do we stop that from happening?"
"Magic." He grinned. "We can use a fire spell to dry out some of the mud. Kind of like a moat, only backwards. And then we put the wet mud on the inside, and keep drying the outside, all the way up to the top."
Elsie thought hard, helped by the mental picture he casually dumped in her brain. Hard and dry on the outside, wet on the inside. "Won't that make a volcano?"
"Yeah." The glee in his eyes scared her silly. "You can 'splode the first one if you want. That's the funnest part."
"Wait---aren't we just making mud pies?" She was the babysitter. The responsible adult.
"Nope." Aervyn shook his head, grinning. "We're supposed to be having silly, dirty fun, remember? Uncle Jamie said to start slow, cuz you're new to punk witchlings, but I bet you really, really want to make a volcano 'splode. Right?"
She couldn't have said no to those eyes if her life depended on it. Elsie picked up a big handful of soggy sand. "Okay, you do the fire part on the outside, and I'll put the wet stuff in the middle. I need the practice."
He nodded soberly. "I can stay all the way 'til lunch time. That should be enough time to get pretty dirty."
~
Nat grinned as they arrived at the edge of the park. "You guys are the kinds of friends my mother warned me about."
Jennie laughed---quietly. They were trying to sneak up on a pair of witches, and Aervyn, even well distracted by a sandbox, was still a formidable mindreader. Nat was pretty sure Jennie and Caro were doing something mind-witchy to keep them all from being detected.
"I can see the top of Elsie's head," said Caro, pointing. "But that little hill's in the way."
That much, Nat could fix. If you were going to be a spy, you might as well be a competent one. She reached up for the tree branch over her head. "We should be able to see from up here."
"I'm no tree climber, missy." Caro's chuckles were putting their skulking at risk. "And Jennie used to clamber pretty well, but I'm guessing she's not headed up there either."
Nat shook her head, amused. And stopped at the first branch---pregnant women probably shouldn't be climbing very far up a tree, either. "You're mind witches. If I can see, you two can just borrow my eyes."
Caro gave Jennie a nudge reminiscent of the Three Stooges. "How come we didn't think of that?"
Nat laughed. One of the most awesome things about Witch Central was that most of the adults never quite grew up. Life was a lot more fun that way. Settling on a wide branch, she looked over at the sandbox. She had a clear line of sight now---and what a sight it was.
Elsie was covered in mud, head to toe. Any more and she'd be mistaken for sandbox sculpture. Aervyn was a little cleaner, but that wasn't saying much. And in between them sat a humongous mountain of wet sand.
Since there was a serious gigglefest going on in her head, clearly Jennie and Caro had hooked in. Assuming they'd hear her, she asked the obvious question. What the heck are they doing?
Jennie just shook her head, shoulders quaking. No clue, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't Elsie's idea.
Caro snorted. Good thing they didn't do it in my kitchen.
Nat grinned---her husband made that kind of mess in the kitchen on a regular basis. She'd come to really appreciate a good cleaning spell.
This wasn't done in the pursuit of food, sent Caro dryly. And you ever need cleaning, you just ask. You'll have a line-up around the block in trade for a jar of your husband's spaghetti sauce.
She'd married into witch royalty---Jamie's tomato sauce was sublime. People were willing to share all kinds of useful things in exchange for some. Nat leaned over for a better view. Elsie and Aervyn were still busy piling and patting, shaping the outside of their mountain. Nat watched in fascination as the woman who used to be her intern focused every bit of her being on a mound of dirt---and felt some of the residual tension leaving her shoulders. This was much better than folding towels. So much better.
Aervyn suddenly stood up and scrambled back from the dirt mountain, looking gleeful. And Elsie, looking very determined, waved her fingers at their muddy creation.
Caro squinted, not much help when she was using Nat's eyes. Now what are they up to?
Jennie started to laugh. Uh, oh.
Nat didn't have much time to wonder. One more wiggle of Elsie's fingers and the sandbox blew up, a pelting shower of mud coating everything and everyone within a hundred feet. They were outside the spray zone---barely. Poor Elsie, sitting at ground zero, was plastered, and it obviously wasn't the first time. Aervyn danced a jig in front of her, clearly very excited at the outcome.
Nat held her breath, holding a wish in her heart.
And felt happiness bloom as Elsie grabbed Aervyn and rained glunky kisses on his cheeks, blanketing the park in their shared laughter.
Exploding mud volcanoes definitely beat folding towels---especially when you liked it.
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Two happy hearts.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
I just watched a minor miracle happen. Aervyn shared the magic of his little-boy heart, and Elsie learned how to get really, really dirty. On purpose. The baking mess was a bit of an accident---this time, it was entirely intentional.
Her mud volcano was spectacular---and their laughter after, even more so. It was sheer delight to watch, even if we nearly blew our super-spy cover with our giggles. Tell Melvin that as Nat watched Elsie, I watched Nat---and he's right. She'll be fine. It did her heart much good to see Elsie happy. I'm not sure I gave Melvin enough of those opportunities in our early days together.
From Lizard, we have heard little. Lauren reports that she headed off to San Francisco this morning to take some paperwork to Josh. And since he hasn't shown any signs at all of being a high-maintenance client before this, she suspects he's up to something.
So I'm off to sit in her office and await the prodigal assistant's return. Some days we do more than indulge in spying and idle gossip, but apparently today isn't one of those days.
All my love,
Jennie
They heard Lizard coming from halfway down the block. Lauren grinned at Jennie. "Wow, Josh must have really pushed her buttons."
Jennie leaned back into her chair, looking intrigued. "I think I have to meet this boy."
He was young, but he was no boy. Lauren kept her mouth shut, however---Jennie was more than capable of figuring that out for herself. And Lizard's mind was spewing a lot of snippets that didn't seem all that related to Josh.
Interesting.
She blew through the door, looking monstrously frazzled. "Lauren. How do most real estate agents come up with a shortlist of houses for clients?" She skidded to a halt in front of the desk. "Hey, Jennie."
Lauren blinked, trying to hop aboard a conversational tornado. "Most agents, or this office?"
"Most." Lizard sat down, but her mind was bouncing like a fish tank full of Superballs.
"Well, any decent agent gets a sense of what the client wants in a house and tries to match that to available listings." Which was hardly news to her assistant, but a good negotiator knew when to bide her time. Something big was on Lizard's mind.
"The house, right? But not the neighborhood."
Ah. This had something to do with the maps. Clearly Josh wasn't moving slowly. "Well, good agents have a feel for the areas they typically sell in, and you try to match that up with a client---but it's more art than science. Partly it's because good information isn't as available---that's why those maps of yours are so useful."
Lizard nodded, still distracted by the thoughts firing around her brain. "That's what Josh said." She looked up, eyes suddenly clearing. "But the idea to pay attention to the neighborhoods is yours. I just did the maps."
Okay, she was falling behind again. Lauren studied her assistant, trying to gauge where this was going.
She's trying to worm out of owning her genius, sent Jennie quietly. She can do that if you let her be just the data flunkie.
It was always good to have backup. Lauren kept her voice casual. "It's not a new idea. Any good realtor knows clients buy into a whole package---the house, the neighbors, the cute little shop or park down the street. But those things are really variable, so they're hard to put on a listing sheet. It's easier to focus on bedroom closets and whether the kitchen has nice appliances or not."
"So most real estate agents don't really focus on the neighborhood."
Lauren's inner negotiator could smell the deal now. "They might. If they had the right tools."
Lizard glared, suddenly radiating suspicion. "Have you been talking to Josh?"
Bull's-eye. "No, but you have. Are you going to tell us what you talked about, or are we going to keep playing Realtor Twenty Questions?"
Her assistant scowled. "He wants to make a fancy version of my maps and sell it to real estate agents across the country. Make all the data automated and stuff."
That much, Lauren knew. "How do you feel about that?"
Lizard shrugged. "Less work for me, I guess."
Murky territory again. "It wouldn't be as good as your maps. You walk around the neighborhood, get a hands-on feel. Databases can't substitute for eyes on the ground."
"That's what I told Josh." Lizard's eyes lit. "We need to hire people to go walk around the neighborhoods. Take notes."
Jennie's eyebrows flew up. "That's not exactly a small undertaking. Or a cheap one."
The jumble in Lizard's mind multiplied tenfold, all underlaid with a thick coating of doubt. "He says he knows investors. Suits with lots of money and no ideas of their own. He thinks they might be interested in the prototype."
In a parallel universe, Lauren might be keeping up with this conversation. "What prototype?"
"Josh and a couple people he works with jazzed up my maps. We talked about a few more ideas to add, and then he wants to show them to some people." Lizard suddenly looked kind of green. "He wants me to meet with them too."
Lauren tried not to laugh, imagining the culture shock that might happen if Lizard ended up on the other side of the table from the no-ideas-of-their-own guys. And then realized that was exactly the thing terrifying her assistant, in the short intervals when doubt wasn't in control. Well, this much, she could help with. "Just pretend they're naked."
Jennie nearly snorted tea out her nose, and tried to cover by being helpful. "Or covered in tattoos."
Lizard stared---and then her lips started to quirk. "Do I get to design the tats?"
"Absolutely." Jennie smiled. And sent a tightly channeled message to Lauren. Keep me posted. I might know an investor or two who don't wear suits, if this is for real.
Lauren hid her smile. Josh was for real, and she was pretty sure she could name a couple of Jennie's investors. It had been a total shock to discover how much money ran quietly underground in Witch Central, and a good deal of it ran through her best friend's husband. And there was no chance Jamie would show up wearing a suit.
Lizard jumped as her phone beeped. "Crap, gotta go. Class starts in fifteen." She was already on the move. "I'll be in at eight tomorrow. Is it okay if I leave early for my new poetry class?"
Since she didn't wait around to hear the answer, Lauren figured the question was mostly rhetorical.
Jennie smiled. "That was interesting."
"Yeah." Lauren grinned. "Do you think Josh is ready for a bunch of witch investors?"
"Hmmm." Jennie's eyes were pensive. "I'm more interested in whether Lizard's ready for Josh."
She wasn't the only one.
~
Elsie reached up and ran a hand through her hair, pretty sure she still felt sand. That probably wasn't a huge surprise---even her eyebrows had been caked with sand by the time she and Aervyn had finished blowing up every volcano in his imaginary universe.
Running through the sprinkler afterwards had been fun, but it had mostly just spread the sand around to new places. Perhaps she should have taken Nell up on the de-sanding spell. It was apparently a pretty easy spell for an earth witch---and that troubled Elsie. She had minor earth talents. Why didn't she know how to clean herself up when she got messy?
She walked slowly down the sidewalk, knowing the truth, and hating it. Because she'd never gotten messy. And now she was an adult with some huge, gaping holes in her life because she'd skipped way too many of the fun and silly parts.
She'd worked with an awful lot of clients who had blamed their parents for their troubles, and never truly understood it. But if a ten-year-old girl didn't know how to be silly, how could that not be her mother's fault?
Yes. She was angry with her mother. Scratch that. She was furious with her mother. And all the therapy degrees in the world weren't helping her calm down.
It was easy enough to follow the pretty classic lines of what had happened. A father abandons his wife and child. The wife, distraught, works to remove any reminders of the father from her life---including those that lived in her daughter's personality. Papa had been a painter, a sculptor, an artist. Messy and silly had been his stock-in-trade.
And after he'd left, guided by her mother's sadness, Elsie had divested herself of the bits of her soul most like her father. It had been a willing transformation---Mom wasn't the only one who had been abandoned.
Fast forward to adulthood, and you ended up with a woman who needed a remedial education in how to have fun.
Elsie stopped on the edge of a playground, watching a toddler throw sand with one hand and eat some mushy lump of gluck with the other. An older child balanced precariously on a skateboard, tongue sticking out in lopsided concentration. Further away, a group of giggly teenage girls stood watching a couple of shirtless boys throwing balls at a hoop.
Oh, God, thought Elsie. Silly wasn't restricted to kids under six. She'd done well enough with Aervyn, learning the fine art of making mud pies. But nine and ten and sixteen-year-olds did three lifetimes full of things she'd never tried.
How did you catch up on more than twenty years of being the responsible, obsessively neat child who didn't have any fun? Preferably without breaking any bones or getting arrested.
There were so many ways this could go badly. But she had to try.
She'd worked too hard finding this hole to refuse to fill it.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Two happy hearts.
------------------------------------------
Jennie love,
Melvin has often said that Aervyn's greatest talent is his capacity for joy. To that I would add his ability to be the engine of much of the silliness of Witch Central. It's a delightful sign that Elsie is ready for his particular brand of magic. And if I recall correctly, blowing up a mud volcano is a pretty bit of spellwork as well.
I imagine that your hands itched for a camera---and I admit to a bit of a wish that you'd had one. Few things make for a sweeter picture than small, dirty boys and a good dose of joy.
I assume Lizard has returned by now---Melvin's pendant gives no indication that she's gone AWOL. And while I know nothing of this Josh, I know all too well how dangerous a nice man who suddenly gets demanding can be. My Melvin had me fooled for a while---that quiet accountant exterior of his is quite the disguise.
I find myself thinking that it might be an interesting journey for our Lizard to meet her Melvin. And then I laugh at myself for being a matchmaking old lady. She has plenty of time to find her own heart yet.
Although Josh might not think so. I know young people meet and part a lot these days, but we opera singers believe in grand loves. I'll indulge myself in a little daydreaming on Lizard's behalf. Reality might choose a far different path.
Walk in the light,
Vero
~
The house smelled insanely good. Lizard paused at the door, stomach ready to riot. It was Elsie's night to cook dinner---and nothing in Elsie's repertoire came remotely close to smelling like heaven.
Lizard reached out with a mindscan, checking for house invaders.
Welcome home, sent Jamie, mentally chuckling. We're having a cooking lesson back here, and we've cleaned up most of the mess---I think it's safe to enter.
Ha. They were still cleaning up flour out of kitchen crannies after the bake-Helga-a-rock-resembling-a-cake disaster. Are you a better cook than Jennie?
Laughter rumbled from Jamie's head. On most things, yeah. More importantly, I know my limitations. We're making tomato sauce.
That got Lizard's feet moving toward the kitchen. Fast. Jamie's tomato sauce had a street value higher than crack. She dropped her bag on the counter and kept moving, nose headed straight for the pot on the stove in front of Elsie. "How'd you get him to teach you his secret sauce?" She'd heard people had tried to bribe him for like two decades.
Elsie just grunted and squinted at the sauce.
Lizard spun around to face Jamie, glaring. "I even offered to trade my biscuit recipe. What'd she give you?"
Jamie grinned, draining pasta over the sink. "She babysat Aervyn for me today."
Unless superboy had turned her roommate into a frog or something, that was the most pathetic trade ever. Lizard's bullshit detector started beeping insanely. No way. What's the real deal?
That's it. Jamie poured noodles onto a big flat plate. She's only a baby negotiator, and she really wanted to learn how to cook something that uses earth magic. My repertoire's kind of limited, and she asked nicely, so we're making sauce.
Lizard frowned and asked something that had bothered her for weeks. She's an earth witch. Aren't they born good at cooking?
Yeah. Jamie met her gaze. Some of us don't manage to use everything we're born with.
She had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling they weren't talking about Elsie anymore.
Elsie spun around, victory blazing on her face. "Green stuff. It needs some of that green stuff. You know, the one with the little pointy things and the smell."
Lizard blinked. "That doesn't exactly narrow it down a lot." About half the kitchen herbs in the universe met that description.
Try grabbing the picture from her mind, said Jamie dryly. It's a little more precise.
Ah. Rosemary. Lizard turned around, following her nose, and discovered about fifteen plates of chopped, mashed, and shredded herbs. "Whoa. You guys put all this in the sauce?"
Jamie grinned. "Nope. That's just the range of possibilities. Elsie's been picking and choosing."
Normally that would have had Lizard running in terror, but she couldn't deny the wondrous smell emanating from the pot. Gingerly, she handed over a plate of lightly crushed rosemary, and watched, fascinated, as Elsie ran her finger through the herb. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to hear what it's saying." Elsie leaned her nose closer to the plate, and then looked at Jamie, uncertain. "A little more?"
He shrugged. "Is that what it's telling you?"
Get out, Lizard sent, smart enough not to disrupt her roommate's concentration. Herbs talk?
Kinda. Jamie reached up for wine glasses. It's not much different than kneading bread dough---how do you know when you have enough flour?
It sure as heck didn't have a conversation with her. I just know. When it feels right.
He nodded and poured. It's kind of like that for an earth witch, but with a little extra punch. And they don't have to have done it ten times to have those good instincts.
Well, that was freaking convenient.
Jamie rolled his eyes. She's cooking you a bad-ass dinner---are you really complaining?
No. Lizard started carrying stuff to the table. Cooking had always been her deal, though. It was weird to get kicked out of the kitchen.
Tell me about it. Jamie grinned, porting wine glasses into place on the table. Nat's cooking pregnancy potions with Ginia in our kitchen. No geeky boys allowed.
Lizard snorted. So you're really here to sponge food?
Pretty much. Trust me---you don't want to know what goes into potions.
Nope, she totally didn't.
Elsie turned from the stove, dripping ladle in her hand. "I think it's done. Jamie, do you want to taste test?"
"Hell, no." Jamie held out a plate and discreetly ported away the mess the ladle had made on the floor. "I want to eat."
Lizard grabbed a plate and got in line. It smelled seriously good---and she was hungry enough to eat even if her nose lied. She nearly drooled as Elsie upended a ladle of sauce over her noodles. "So how come there aren't people lined up around the block holding plates?" A month in Witch Central, and she was well aware what happened when witches smelled food.
"It's top secret." Jamie was already at the table, fork in hand. "Elsie wanted some space to experiment before she tries to feed the hungry hordes."
"Since when have witches needed an invitation?" Lizard, still standing, spooned in her first bite, heavy on the tomato sauce. Tangy bliss rolled over her tongue, and she tumbled into a fog of tomato goodness. It took half the plate to notice the noodles were homemade---probably Jamie's contribution---and that she was still standing.
Lizard was no dummy. She headed for the stove before sitting down, and piled her plate halfway to the ceiling. Setting her treasure down carefully on the table, she snagged another mouthful, and then gestured at Elsie and Jamie's plates. You guys want more?
Jamie pushed her into a seat with one hand, the other snagging his plate. "I'll get my own. Eat fast---I can't promise the hordes won't smell this."
Three forkfuls into the mountain, Lizard finally pulled enough of her brain away from food to read the dumbfounded awe in Elsie's mind. Confused, she looked up at her roommate, trying to get a better read.
"It's really good," whispered Elsie, staring at her fork.
"Good" was a really wimpy word. And Lizard had lots of words. "It's stupendous. Magnificent. Monumentally scrumptious." She vaguely registered the surprised pride in Elsie's head.
"Nice one." Jamie plunked back down at the table, a mountain to rival Lizard's on his plate. "Elsie, there are people who will tell you this is better than mine." He grinned. "They might be right."
Now the pride was ringing clearer. Elsie blushed and twirled more noodles on her fork.
It was Jamie who had Lizard's attention now. People just didn't give up their claim to fame that easily. Jamie had decades as the reigning king of spaghetti sauce.
I'm not that old, he sent with a mental snort.
Whatever. She'd had his sauce. Elsie's was a pretty serious competitor, but still.
There's room for more royalty. Witch Central can easily handle another sauce diva.
Lizard took one more moment to wonder where that kind of easy generosity came from---and then she dug back into her noodle heap. Philosophy could wait. Even if Jamie was still watching her with eyes that were doing way too much thinking.
Then he switched his gaze to Elsie. "When are you going to invite everybody over for a taste test?"
Lizard snorted. Unless they barred the doors, an invitation wasn't going to be necessary. She hoped her roommate could repeat her tomato miracle.
Elsie looked down at her fork for a long moment. "Tomorrow. For breakfast." She smiled. "I have a little project, and I need help."
No one at the table was dumb enough to point out that people didn't usually eat spaghetti for breakfast. For this kind of sauce, a world of exceptions could be made.
~
Her pendant was vibrating---and Jennie was pretty sure that this time, it was mad at her. She was about to meddle, and for all the wrong reasons.
She'd asked Josh to meet her for coffee. If Melvin had ever done any such thing, she'd have turned his accounting ledgers into concrete.
Way out of line. She knew it, her pendant knew it, and if Josh was half as smart as Lauren seemed to think, he knew it too. Which made it all the more interesting that he'd agreed to come. Jennie shook her head and opened the door to the Headbeater Cafe. It had seemed like an appropriate location.
Josh waved from over at the coffee bar. Points to him for being early. More points for the mix of caution and curiosity in his eyes.
Jennie sighed. Sometimes love made you stupid---and she really loved Lizard. Walking over to the bar, she slid up onto the stool beside Josh. "I appreciate you coming."
"Interesting choice of venue." He grinned and caught the barista's attention with the kind of smooth ease that said he'd been here before and tipped big. Headbeater baristas lived parallel lives as a biker gang or something---they were legendary for their cranky service.
Jennie ordered one of their insanely good Killer Espressos and figured a caffeine buzz that would keep her up all night was a good start to her penance. "I figured if I was going to be stupid and harass a young man I hardly know, I could at least offer both of us good coffee while I did it."
His mind reflected no surprise at all. Lauren was right---he was plenty smart. "I'm not all that easy to harass, but I'm pretty much a coffee addict, so you have a captive audience until my cup is empty. Care to share the general topic?"
Jennie tried not to squirm in her seat as he lobbed this mess squarely back at her. "I'm a friend of Lizard's." Oh, so many miles out of line, and she hadn't even gotten started. "And I'm reaching the age where I might get away with being a nosy old busybody, so I wanted to meet you."
"She's my real estate agent." Josh's lips quirked. "Meeting with all her clients must keep you pretty busy."
The punk boy was playing her. Jennie tried not to be amused, although he'd done a good deal to calm her nerves already. "You'd be the first, and I imagine you've figured that out."
He didn't even try to hide his grin this time. "Pretty much. So why is one of the best portrait photographers in the world pointing her lens in my direction?"
She blinked. Very few people under forty had any idea who she was. "Googled me, did you?"
"Nope." He sniffed happily as a steaming mug of dark coffee slid onto the bar in front of him. "Didn't have to. My great-uncle is Charlie Tosh. I grew up listening to him curse about how you always had the light on your side."
Charlie Tosh was a photography legend---easily the most talented artist with light and shadow she'd ever known. He was also a prickly bastard who scared off half his intended targets before he managed to get his camera pointed. They'd shared awards, fought publicly and privately, and generally been the face of an entire generation of photographers.
And she was only barely aware he had a family at all. "How is Charlie?"
Josh's eyes lit with humor. "Totally obnoxious and reaching the age where he thinks he might get away with being a grumpy old man."
Jennie laughed and sipped her coffee. Charlie had been born a grumpy old man. "Did he ever put a camera in your hands?"
"Nope. He hid them in the highest cupboard in his house under lock and key."
A sneaky grumpy old man. "And did it work?"
"Sure did. All of us messed with a camera at some point. I got more fascinated by what you could do to the images once you had them on the computer."
"Heathen." Jennie knew how to edit a digital photo. She just hated it.
"Yeah." Josh grinned and reached over the counter for a donut. He'd definitely been here before---getting service twice required an act of God. "Uncle Charlie always says he created a monster. The first piece of really nice code I ever wrote got bought by Adobe. It's built into the filters in Photoshop now."
"Which ones?" If it was the color-saturation adjustment, she had a complaint to lodge.
He frowned. "I thought you didn't do digital editing."
This meeting wasn't going at all the way she'd planned. "For my professional stuff, no. But when I've taken two thousand snapshots of my grandbabies, I use the computer." Even her legendary darkroom stamina couldn't keep up with her need to capture their faces on camera.
She felt his mind suddenly questing, his face carefully blank. "Taken any of Lizard?"
It took a very brave man to go there---and one with more than a passing interest in her student. Jennie treaded very carefully. "Sure. Her tattoos look lovely in black and white."
"Those tats of hers suggest a pretty interesting story." He met her gaze squarely over his mug of coffee. "I'm not asking you to tell me what it is. But I am going to ask you to stay out of my way while I see if I can find out for myself."
Game, set, and match to Josh. He was asking her to get back in line---and the asking part was just basic politeness. Jennie set down her cup and touched his arm. "Tell Charlie I said hello." It was as close to an apology as she dared come.
Damn. She really liked him.
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Coming clean.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
Tell Melvin he can hush my pendant now. I'm done causing trouble, and even if I weren't, I don't think Josh is the kind of man to be messed with.
I'm not sure why I felt so compelled to meet him. Overprotective, I guess. I'm not convinced Lizard is at all ready to have a force the size of Josh Hennessey in her life, but he's made it very clear that it's not my choice. I'd love a chance to get those eyes of his in front of my lens. Most of the young people I like best aren't afraid to speak truth to power. That one isn't afraid to be power.
And he's Charlie Tosh's great-nephew. Anyone that grew up around that man isn't going to find Lizard's occasional prickles at all challenging. I find myself wanting to warn her, but I think I've done enough meddling for one day.
I don't know if she's remotely ready for what he brings to her life, but one barely legal boy in jeans just told me to stay the hell out of his way---and I think I might just listen. For now, at least.
Elsie has sent an invitation to her house for breakfast. Spaghetti, complete with Jamie-coached tomato sauce. I have no idea what's up, but I plan to be there at the crack of dawn, before anyone else smells food.
All my love,
Jennie
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Coming clean.
------------------------------------------
Jennie my darling,
Melvin said to let you know that if your pendant was that easy for him to control, he'd have used his powers years ago. And that you are not the only WitchLight guide who has done questionable things in the name of love.
I will be more straightforward. The next time you go meet with that young man, I want an invitation, propriety be damned. By all accounts, he is disarming every watchtower guard Witch Central throws at him, and that's quite an impressive feat.
But for all our blustering, his role in her life is Lizard's to decide. I find myself thinking she might be more ready than we think to make a wise choice. Some of us needed a lot longer to grow up before we could contemplate the delightful chaos a partner adds to our life journeys, but carefully tucked under her tattoos, our Lizard is quite a smart cookie.
Yes, I know I'm way ahead of myself. Melvin is amused.
As for Elsie, I only want to know what treasures she offered up in exchange for Jamie's sauce secrets. I've been trying to worm them out of him by means fair and foul going on fifteen years now.
And now my Melvin is chuckling again. He says Jamie didn't do it for Elsie---he did it for his beautiful wife. Which, now that I think about it, is rather obvious. It seems she did well to fire our Elsie---but I'm sure her soul has been hurting, probably far more than anyone other than my husband truly understands. And Jamie would have given up far more than spaghetti sauce to fix that.
Enjoy whatever delightfulness comes in the morning.
Sleep well,
Vero
~
Elsie looked around the kitchen, well aware she should be feeling frantic. The place was a mess of tomato splatters and squished herbs, she'd slept for all of three hours, and it was entirely possible no one was coming.
Caro snorted as she marched in the back door, an enormous pot in her hands. "They're coming, my girl. Floods of them. I've brought you my biggest pasta pot---you're going to need it."
Elsie blinked. "I only invited a few people."
"Ha." Caro set the pot to filling and started wiping down counters. "A smell like that coming out of your house is invitation enough. Jennie and her husband are just down the block, and there are at least a dozen people behind them."
Now panic hit. "We don't have enough chairs for that many people!"
"Chairs?" Jamie ported into their kitchen, a huge plate of noodles in his hands and laughter in his eyes. "This is going to be a standing-room-only event. Nell's crew just landed in the back yard. We'll spread out some blankets back there and over in Caro's yard, too."
Lizard clomped into the kitchen holding her phone. "Lauren's coming---she's just picking up Thea. Apparently Bean can smell the sauce from inside her belly."
"No wonder," said Helga, strolling into the kitchen with a steaming loaf of bread in her hands. "You've made all of Berkeley smell good, my dear." She held out the loaf. "I obviously didn't make enough bread, but nobody told me it was going to be a party."
Elsie stared, dumbfounded, as people started flooding in the doors of the kitchen.
Caro took her hand. "You've been adopted, girl. Get used to it. I'll run over to my house and grab more plates---we're going to need them."
"I already got them," said a witch Elsie didn't even know, walking in the door with plates piled up to her chin. "Do I get an early plate of food in exchange?" That idea got met with general good-natured cat calls.
In a daze, Elsie turned back to the stove, stirring what she had thought was enough spaghetti sauce for six months.
Jamie materialized at her shoulder. "I think you've got enough, but there's more at my place if we need it." He squeezed her shoulder. "Don't let this scare you off your original idea. It was a good one."
She still forgot far too often that half the witches in her life could mindread. "I don't even know all these people."
He grinned. "I do---and don't worry. They all know plenty of ways to be silly. You'll have enough input for three lifetimes. You might ask before they start eating, though, or they'll have time to plot and plan together. You might not be ready for those kinds of ideas just yet."
Her brainstorm of the night before wasn't looking very sane in the light of morning. "Maybe I'll just wait and ask some other time."
He stuck a ladle in the pot. "You could."
Elsie had taken graduate classes on how to encourage, mentor, and gently lead. She'd studied with some of the finest therapists on the West Coast. And no one held a candle to the nudging Jamie could accomplish with two words. He offered a way out---and a fierce push to stand on her own feet and be brave.
She very much wanted to be the Elsie Giannotto he imagined her to be.
I'm not the only one, he sent quietly. Turn around.
Slowly, Elsie turned---and saw her knitting friends arrayed in a circle behind her. They were holding out plates, a world of encouragement in their eyes.
She could do this.
Elsie held up her hand---and gaped as silence actually fell.
Jennie grinned from the crowd, Lauren at her side. We mind witches are good for some things.
Public speaking had always been one of her strengths. Elsie repeated that to herself twice. It didn't help her knees feel any less wobbly. "I wasn't expecting so many of you."
Oddly enough, the general friendly laughter did help out her knees a little. "Some of you don't know me, but I'm one of Jennie's students." She paused, not at all sure how to get where she was headed. "I'm working on changing some things in my life. I tend to be organized, efficient, neat... I'm hoping to learn how to let that go sometimes."
An old witch she didn't know wiped some stray tomato sauce off the counter and licked his finger. "I'd say you're doing a mighty good job."
Elsie grinned and licked some sauce off her own fingers, suddenly delighted with herself. She really could do this. "Well, I've heard you're all pretty good at being silly and messy and not very organized." As laughter bubbled through the room again, she looked around for her jar and held it up, along with neat squares of paper and a container of nicely sharpened pencils. "I was hoping you could give me some ideas of things I could try."
The old witch chuckled. "Do I get some of that delectable food behind you in exchange?" He held out his hand. "I'm Edric. How many ideas do you want?"
"Just one would be fine." Elsie fought the lump in her throat as hands reached for pencils and paper. She hadn't known there was a world like this, where people lined up to help just because you asked.
Helga moved in, a sheaf of squares in her hand. "It's going to take me a while, dear. I'll bring them to the store for you later. I have one for you now, though. Learn how to flirt." She smiled up at the old witch and batted her eyes. "Care to join me in finding some place to sit?"
Elsie watched in gobsmacked awe as Edric blushed pink and offered Helga his arm. Not in a million years could she ever learn to do that.
She looked down at the tug on her hand. Aervyn held two plates, gleeful trouble written all over his face. "I can't write yet, but I think we should eat our noodles without any forks." His grin exploded. "Mama says it's okay just this once."
That registered well beyond Elsie's silly meter, but it wasn't in her to say no. She reached for a plate, clutching her sense of adventure with both hands. "I think we'd better go eat in the back yard, superboy."
He giggled. "Yeah. Mama said that, too."
~
Nat stared at the square of paper in her hand and fought the urge to dance in delight. The kitchen was way too full for any kind of dancing.
She wasn't surprised when Jamie's arms came around her from behind. "She's reaching for that freedom you told her to go find, wise wife of mine."
It was a world away from folding towels. Nat turned around, grinning at her husband. "How many of these people did you invite?"
He tried to look innocent. "Just a few."
"Right." She snorted with laughter, pretty sure her husband had sent out an SOS call to everyone on his contact list. Not that Elsie's cooking wasn't a pretty good bribe all on its own. "Her sauce is almost as good as yours."
"Give her a month." He grinned, winding noodles on his fork. "She's still a little shy with the rosemary. A bit more of that, a little more magic whispered into the tomatoes growing over in Caro's garden, and I think I'll be giving up my main claim to fame soon."
Jamie Sullivan was going to end up unfamous exactly never, but his easy generosity with Elsie still warmed her heart. "It's a very nice thing you did for her," she said, taking his hand. "And an even nicer thing you did for me." Seeing Elsie grab on to her life this morning had soothed Nat's heart almost back to normal.
This time his innocent look was a complete failure.
She just grinned and held out a forkful of spaghetti. He would make a magnificent father. "So what did you write on your paper?"
"Haven't yet." He shrugged. "I'll think of something."
Of that she had no doubt---very few people did silly better than her husband. "Is she ready for the suggestions she's about to get?" Her husband's mindreading skills tended to bring out her inner snoop.
Jamie grinned and wiped spaghetti sauce off her nose. "Well, a few of them might be a bit outrageous. Thea thinks she should take belly-dancing lessons, Lizard's contemplating some things I might not even do, and Edric thinks she should try skinny-dipping in the ocean." Then he tilted his head and laughed. "No, wait. He thinks Helga should try skinny-dipping. What the heck's going on there?"
Apparently warm summers made even old men frisky. Nat smiled, hoping it was true of her man in fifty years too. "He's a water witch---they'll be fine. And you might want to step out of his mind now." She looked over as Caro and Jennie started giggling. "Or not." Privacy around mind witches wasn't always practical, even when they weren't trying to overhear things. Poor Edric.
"Don't feel sorry for him." Jamie's grin looked an awful lot like a certain four-year-old's. "Helga's pretty interested in the skinny-dipping."
Nat laughed---and knew exactly what she wanted to write on her paper for Elsie. She had one in the jar already, but nobody seemed to be taking that as a serious limit.
She didn't get the chance to write, however. The moment she put pencil to paper, every mind witch in the room spun around, seeking. It wasn't hard to find the source of their sudden attention. Thea, plate of food crashed to the floor, stood clutching the counter, face white.
Ginia flew to Thea's side, the mantle of healer authority sliding onto her shoulders as she moved. "Breathe, sweetie. Lizard, stand here so she can hold on to your shoulders." She moved the stunned Lizard into place and then laid her own hands on Thea's belly, focusing.
Nat rubbed her own belly with silent empathy and a touch of envy. Thea would cuddle her baby soon.
Ginia put her head together with her patient for a minute, and then looked out at the waiting crowd. "We'd better go to the birthing center. Bean's in a hurry."
It didn't surprise Nat in the slightest when half the room took that as an invitation. Thea would have quite the escort.
~
Lizard stumbled out of the birthing room, still flying on the terrifying wonder of what she'd seen. Not that she'd had a choice---Thea had not once loosened the death grip on her hand. Not until they'd laid Bean on her belly. So much for finishing maps and dead-poet reading.
However, Bean had to be a better excuse than the dog-ate-my-homework thing.
Bean himself had been a bit of a surprise. He'd been covered in gunk and totally gorgeous---and his Auntie Lizard had fallen hopelessly, completely in love. How could you not love a kid who came out sporting a mohawk, two fists, and an attitude?
Her first aunt duty had been to hold him while they'd done stuff to Thea that she was never thinking about ever again. Her second was to let whoever was still left in the waiting room know that Bean was here, fed, and chunking out some seriously disgusting poop.
It had been fourteen hours. They'd probably all gone home. Except her somewhat delirious mind could sense a crowd. Maybe there was a train wreck in the emergency waiting room.
No, came Jennie's amused voice. We're all here. Ginia kept us posted, so we put out the word when Bean made his appearance. Take a left---we've occupied the cafeteria.
Lizard took a left, walked through the cafeteria doors, and stopped in stunned silence. There were over a hundred people in the room---and none of them were eating. Some were witches. Some were people she recognized from the neighborhood.
Lauren stepped to her side. "Spill, or they're all going to invade Thea's room to check for themselves."
Ha. They'd have to get through the dragon-lady nurse midwife first. Lizard tried to focus. She'd never made a birth announcement before. "Well, Bean's here. He started off pretty mad, but he's doing good now. He's pooping and eating and all the other stuff babies are supposed to do."
You'd think she had recited beautiful poetry or something with all the gooey eyes in the room. "How's Thea doing?" asked a voice in the back.
Swamped by the love in the room, Lizard did something she never did. Carefully, she formed a picture of Thea's face the moment Bean was laid on her belly---the moment when joy trampled exhaustion and fierce love exploded in a new mama's eyes. Lizard took her picture and sent it out on a hundred fingers of mind magic.
She never mind-broadcast. Ever. It meant opening yourself to every mind in the room. Thea was worth it.
She wasn't surprised to feel Lauren, Caro, and Jennie amplifying her send. Reaching over a hundred minds wasn't really within her powers. What she wasn't ready for was the emotional punch that rolled back through her open connections.
Love. Huge love for a brave mama and a baby none of them had ever met. And a weird river of gratitude for Lizard herself.
Lizard reached for the back of a chair to hold herself steady. "They said we can start sending people in to visit soon." Her voice sounded raspy in the silent room. "I don't think they're expecting this many people, though."
Jennie laughed. "They never are. Thea needs some rest for now. We'll go back to her place and make sure everything's ready for them to come home tomorrow."
An old man Lizard didn't know stepped out of the crowd. "We've got that all taken care of. The fridge is stocked, neighbors have signed up for a food rotation, and someone will come over to rock Bean whenever Thea wants." He chuckled. "Heck, probably when she doesn't want, too."
Jennie grinned. "We have a few names you can add to the rocking chair contingent."
"And the food contingent." Caro nodded at the women around her. "And I think we've almost knit the boy a complete wardrobe while we waited for him to show up. It's been busy in my shop today." Pairs of hands held up things that bore resemblance to hats and blankets and baby booties.
Lizard listened in stunned silence while the collective organizational talent in the room took care of pretty much everything except Bean's college education. And she might have just missed that part.
Lauren wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Congratulations. You did a fantastic job."
Huh? "I just held her hand." Honesty forced Lizard to amend that statement. "I'd have run screaming somewhere in the middle, but she wouldn't let me go." There had been plenty of heroes in the birthing room, but Lizard was really clear she hadn't been one of them.
"Not what I meant," said Lauren softly. "You felt their gratitude, I know you did. Look around this room---Thea has this community because of you. You helped her find a lot more than a home. At its very best, this is what we do." She wiped her cheek and squeezed Lizard's shoulders. "Bean is going to grow up rooted in a community of love. That's pretty much the best baby gift ever."
Okay, way too many people had been smoking baby weed. "I picked a lucky house listing, and then I didn't even show up when you took Thea to see it." It was a surprise to Lizard to discover she was actually a little embarrassed about that now. "You're the realtor, not me."
Lauren's smile seemed oddly sad. "Is that really what you think?"
She had a smart-ass reply. Really she did. But somehow, she just couldn't make it come out. Lizard sighed---and then told the truth. "Mostly, yeah. But I want what you think about me to be true someday." Because giving a kid a decent place to grow up---scratch that, a total fairytale of a place to grow up---was pretty cool.
And maybe it was something she wasn't totally awful at.
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Bean has arrived!
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
It has been a red-letter day for both my students. Lizard got dragged (quite literally) into Thea's birthing room, which both awed and terrified her, although I think she admits only to the latter.
Bean (and I do believe that name just might stick) is adorable and feisty and worthy of the tidal wave of love surrounding him. I had the joy of taking his first portrait, cuddled up on his mama's shoulder. There is such wise mystery in the eyes of a newborn child---and I've never quite managed to capture all that lies within. Perhaps I'm not meant to, but there is much pleasure in trying.
And Bean is not the only being who discovered he is loved today. Elsie opened her heart, although I don't think she intended for half of Witch Central to come rushing in. She's had little experience yet with the instant attraction of witches to anything silly or vulnerable, and she offered up both today.
We came for the food. We stayed for her heart. She doesn't begin to understand that yet, but perhaps she felt it, and that's a start. It's easiest to find your path to self-expression when there will be love waiting for whatever you do.
And oh, to be a fly on the wall when she reads the suggestions in her Silly Jar. She gave us permission to meddle, and I'd guess very few turned down the opportunity. I wonder if she knows how much celebrating there will be if she actually acts on any of them.
Stumbling off to sleep, with perhaps a quick stop in my darkroom to develop just a picture or two of that lovely baby.
Love and light,
Jennie
Elsie's eyes slid open, faint traces of cowboy dancers and silk-soft baby cheeks drifting away as the morning light pulled her into wakefulness. She stretched lazily and realized she was still wearing yesterday's clothes, complete with tomato stains. And something vaguely green.
Memories, pushed out of the way by the awe of a baby's arrival, came flooding back. Somehow, in the day-long wait at the hospital and Knit a Spell, and her first lesson in cable stitch for Bean's blanket, Elsie had forgotten about her spaghetti breakfast.
Dozens of people, come to eat food made by her own hands. Laughing in her kitchen. And writing ideas for her small project of self-development. Sitting up straighter now, she reached across to the antique dresser and picked up the aptly labeled Elsie's Silly Jar. It was stuffed to the brim.
She held a hand over the top of the jar for a moment, feeling like she'd stepped into an oddly momentous occasion. And then felt her WitchLight pendant vibrating gently.
It had never done that before. Maybe it liked silliness.
She reached into the jar and pulled out the first slip of paper her fingers settled on. The writing was pink and glittery and covered in smiley faces. Buy a frilly pink princess gown and wear it roller skating.
Elsie smiled, even as she winced. That sounded like a recipe for a trip to the emergency room---but a pretty dress was oddly tempting. Her wardrobe was entirely bereft of anything pink or frilly.
She reached for the next offering in the jar, hoping for something a little less precarious than roller skating. Have a sword fight with homemade swords. Elsie giggled---that one could likely be accomplished without medical incident, and she knew a witchling who probably had sword-making talents.
The next one was a bit mystifying. Borrow Caro's bike and go for a ride. Why was that silly? She tried to imagine what the practical Caro could possibly have done to her bike and shrugged, coming up empty. Perhaps it was painted orange. She could handle a ride on an orange bike. Perhaps that was a good project for the morning.
Wear socks that don't match. Elsie told her inner fashion critic to be quiet. Feeling silly was the whole point of this exercise. The bigger problem was that all her socks were the same practical gray.
Create some graffiti art. She snorted---that one would get her arrested.
The next slip of paper was signed. Take video of all the other silly ideas in this jar. Invite us all over to watch---with popcorn. Jamie. Nat's husband had a warped sense of humor.
Looking at the strewn pieces of paper on her bed, Elsie decided she needed some kind of organizational system. A pile for ideas she could implement reasonably quickly and with minimal danger to herself or others. A pile for things that might require some assistance or instruction. And a pile for ideas too outlandish to be considered. A quick glance at a few more of the slips in her jar suggested the third pile was going to be rather large.
Learn to belly dance. She was learning to sing. That was surely enough embarrassment for one lifetime. Into the "outlandish" pile.
Toast marshmallows inside a fort of couch cushions. Fire hazard, but it might work with some modifications. Into the "needs assistance" stack.
Feeling like she had a good system now, Elsie went to work.
~
It wasn't often you woke up with Count Dracula's laugh ringing in your ears. Lizard blinked, wondering what the stupid jerkwads were up to now---and then remembered she didn't live with jerkwads anymore.
She lived with a stick-butt psychologist. Well, that probably wasn't entirely fair---the stick had loosened up quite a bit in the last couple of weeks.
Then the laugh came again, and this time Lizard sent out a mindtrace to verify. She considered putting a pillow over her head and going back to sleep---whatever had Elsie laughing like a Sesame Street character at 7 a.m. couldn't possibly be good. It was, however, impossible to ignore.
The whole watching-babies-be-born deal was exhausting---she needed about three more days of sleep to feel normal. Which was going to happen exactly never, especially with Count Dracula in residence in the bedroom next door. Lizard rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall, pushing hair out of her eyes---and found Elsie sitting on her bed, surrounded by little slips of paper. Her cackles had moved on from the Count to something that sounded more like it belonged in Macbeth.
"Morning," said Lizard, walking into the room. "Practicing your witch laugh?"
Elsie startled, sending bits of paper flying everywhere. "Oh, you scared me!" She squinted at Lizard more carefully. "I'm so sorry---did I wake you up?"
Lizard saw the jar and flashed back to the events of the previous morning. "Are those all the silly ideas? Any good ones?"
Elsie was busily collecting and re-piling papers. "Some excellent ones, I think. And some impossible ones, but that's to be expected."
It was the latter that interested Lizard. "Which pile is the crazy ones?" She tried not to laugh when Elsie pointed. It was twice as big as any of the other piles. Lizard picked up a few notes and started reading. Belch the ABC's---or Shakespeare. Challenge the witchlings to a tricycle race. Create some graffiti art. Speak in rhyme for a day. "These aren't impossible." The belching sounded like a blast.
"Sure they are." Elsie frowned, looking over Lizard's shoulder. "I can't belch or rhyme, I couldn't possibly fit on a tricycle, and graffiti is illegal."
"Everyone can belch, graffiti's only illegal if you get caught, and the whole reason the tricycle race would be funny is because you don't fit."
Elsie just looked totally blank. Lizard tried a different approach. "What's the doable pile? Never mind." She looked for the smallest one. Lick the batter bowl with your fingers. Have a scary laugh contest. Ah, that explained Count Dracula. Blow bubbles in your milk. Play hopscotch.
Okay, they could start with baby steps. "Come on, let's go have breakfast. We'll blow bubbles in our orange juice."
"Just let me finish organizing these last ones," said Elsie, upending the jar.
Lizard grabbed her hand. "You don't organize silliness---you just do it." She used a foot to shove her frozen roommate off the bed. "Move. You can have the bathroom first."
As Elsie headed down the hall, Lizard picked up the middle pile. Dance around to the next three songs on the radio. Build a pillow fort and tell ghost stories. Pillow forts scared Elsie? They had some work to do. Eat brownies for breakfast, and breakfast for dinner. Walk down the street singing at the top of your lungs. Okay, that one was surprisingly brave---maybe there was hope. Tell a pirate joke. Let a puppy lick your nose. Decorate yourself in glitter.
Well, she could make brownies for breakfast, but no way Elsie made it through these lists on her own. And today was twenty-five-hours-of-class day.
Lauren said good realtors knew how to delegate. Picking up her phone, Lizard texted Jamie. Elsie needs belching lessons. And glitter help. He was a guy---they all knew how to belch. And he was in tight with the queens of glitter.
Her good deed for the day was done.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Bean has arrived!
------------------------------------------
Lovely Jennie,
All our blessings to the new mother. Thea is a wonder---I've much enjoyed her company the times I've met her. She's a gift to that little boy of hers, and a gift to the friends she makes with such ease.
You'll be sending us one of the pictures hanging in your darkroom, if you please. Melvin insists. There is indeed such magic in the eyes of a babe newly arrived. Then we spend decades trying to once again attain that level of grace and wisdom, I think.
Some of us need a few more decades than others.
Melvin tells me that I underestimate what it required for Lizard to hold her friend's hand yesterday. To watch a birth, real or metaphorical, requires no small bravery. I won't question his judgment---my path in life has always been to be the one whose hand is being held.
I much look forward to my next lesson with Elsie. I didn't expect her to embrace the quest for silliness quite so completely. I know not everyone is convinced it is a necessary part of her journey---and I wasn't sure myself, until I heard her sing. She still lacks that inner light that comes from knowing your own silliness and forging ahead anyway. And only with that light can a singer truly venture into the dark or tumultuous corners, trusting that she can find her way out again.
They both have interesting days ahead, as do you.
All our love,
Vero
~
Elsie walked out the front door---and saw a bike leaning against the front fence. An eye-popping bike.
It was bright orange, with painted flames dancing all over the bars. Which might have looked fast and sleek if the bike wasn't one of those granny models with the upright handle bars, big padded seat, and grocery basket hanging off the front. The basket was covered in woven yellow ribbon, the handlebar ends were festooned with red pom-poms, and a gigantic purple frog sat right up front.
Elsie was pretty sure the frog was giving her the evil eye.
"His name is Alfred," said Caro, chuckling, as she stepped up to the fence line. "He started life as a respectable bike horn, but now he mostly belches, which seems somewhat appropriate."
Elsie just gaped. She was afraid to ask if the bike had a name, too.
"Nope." Caro smiled. "I'm not eavesdropping, girl. Your mind is yelling pretty loudly this morning. I named the frog. The bike's just a bike."
It was the most un-bike-like bike Elsie had ever seen. And the loud noise in her brain was the raging fight between her sense of decorum---and fingers that itched to touch the handlebars. Just touch.
"Anyhow." Caro pushed back from the fence. "I heard via the grapevine that someone thought you might like to go for a ride. I'll leave Alfred in your care. Just put the bike in the back yard when you're finished."
And Elsie found herself alone in her small front yard, staring at a purple rubber frog with something akin to fear.
It was one thing to be accidentally silly or to get dragged into messy play by a four-year-old on a mission. It was an entirely different matter to volunteer. Swinging her leg over that bike was an entirely intentional act, one that could hardly be blamed on impulse or influence or anything else.
God---had she always been such a wimp?
Elsie dropped her bag in the yellow basket, reached for the bright red helmet sitting on the fencepost, and grabbed the handlebars. "Come on, Alfred. You and I are going for a ride."
In two blocks, she was feeling as silly as she'd ever felt in her whole life, pretty sure everyone in Berkeley was watching her ride by. They kept waving. Politeness required that she wave back, but she hadn't yet mastered the technique of safely letting go of the handle bars with one hand. Even Alfred had winced the one time she'd tried.
By the time her wheels hit block number three, she'd gotten a little braver. Hair and pom-poms streaming, she sailed down a small hill---and then walked the bike back up to the top to do it again. And again. Alfred liked speed.
By block number six, she finally mastered the coordination required to give Alfred's nose a squeeze---and giggled hysterically at his drunken belch. "You are one sad excuse for a bike horn," she said, and mashed his nose again.
Somewhere around block number twenty-five, she found a group of young boys riding their bikes down a big hill. No hands. And screamed, heart in her delighted throat, as she joined them.
By the time she rolled the bike into Caro's back yard, her bottom entirely numb and arms shaking in exhaustion, Elsie had fallen completely and totally in love. She gave Alfred's nose one last squeak and backed away, one slow step at a time.
And realized it was far harder to walk away than it had been to get on.
~
Lizard walked into room B243 and stopped dead. It wasn't a lecture hall---just a small room with a table and chairs, and about six people, all looking at her curiously. "Sorry. I was looking for the advanced poetry seminar."
"You've found it," said a voice behind her shoulder. Professor Allard walked past her and took a seat at the top of the table. "Come have a seat. Guys, this is Lizard, a student from one of my other classes. She's got some interesting ideas about poetry, so I invited her to join us."
Lizard sat, feeling horribly conspicuous. A student with dark glasses and pasty skin looked her up and down. "What do you write?"
Write? "I don't write anything." Probably one of those literary snob types.
The guy in glasses grinned. "We all write something. Most of us aren't brave enough to talk about it, either."
Okay, maybe not a total snob. But she didn't write stuff. Words on Freddie's bus didn't count. "Well, I don't."
Professor Allard handed a folder down the table. "Course materials. Don't worry about catching up---just jump in with this week's reading."
Glasses Guy handed over a piece of paper. "Here's a copy of the poem we're talking about today. I usually bring lots of copies."
The dark-eyed girl beside him laughed. "And color-coded pencils, three dictionaries, and five related books of poetry."
"I like to be prepared." He grinned, not at all bothered by the light teasing.
They sounded like bickering siblings, but brother and sister wasn't what Lizard was picking up from either of their minds. Apparently college lovers bickered too.
"Think we can actually get to the poem now, guys?" asked Professor Allard dryly. "Jeremy, you want to give it a run-through for us?"
"Sure." Glasses Guy picked up the page and started to read. One line in, he had the class hanging off every word. Halfway through, Lizard was well aware she wasn't the only one fighting tears. Jeremy's voice was magic---and he knew what every single word in the poem meant. She'd never heard that kind of word magic happen anywhere except in her own head. It sucked her in, moth to burning flame.
"Can you always do that?" Lizard froze, suddenly aware she'd spoken out loud.
Jeremy grinned. "Yup. Can't write a decent poem to save my life, though." He wiggled an eyebrow at her. "Got something I can read?"
For the briefest moment, she was tempted to hear her words spoken with that kind of passion, that kind of utter comprehension---and then sanity kicked back in. Not in this lifetime.
Professor Allard rode to her rescue. "Okay, let's go round the table and get first reactions to what you heard. Lori, you want to kick us off?"
Jeremy's girlfriend picked up her paper. "It's such a sad poem. This line here, 'dark fire, rising from the fleeting embers of my soul's breath,' is just so much bleakness."
Like hell it was. Lizard leaned forward, words spilling off her tongue. "No way. Fire brings light into the darkness. That's totally where all the hope is coming from. The dude who wrote it isn't getting sad---he's digging out. And not slowly. Fire is fast and fierce, and burns away all the crap."
Then she realized she was talking out loud. Again. In a class full of brainiac third-year English lit majors. Crap, crap, crap.
"Maybe," said a skeptical voice from down the table. "But if the fire's dark, maybe the writer means all those things about fire, but bringing the darkness, not the light."
Lizard fought to keep her stupid mouth shut---and lost. "Sometimes words don't work like that---you can't take them so literally. Listen to how they sound, how they taste when you say them." She recited the line from memory. "The whole rhythm of the line, it's accelerating, coming faster. He's climbing out."
Seeing skepticism, she dug for more proof. "It's like in that other poem he wrote." Again, she pulled lines from memory. "That's what he sounds like when he's headed down, all big words and slow, painful beats." Way too many dead-poet dudes were totally bipolar. "This is him climbing out. It sounds totally different."
Complete silence. Lizard prayed belatedly for a hole to come swallow her up---and then stared as Lori grinned and elbowed Jeremy. "Ha. You've finally got some competition."
He winked at Lizard. "Nope. I'm pretty sure she can write."
~
She had to hurry. Lauren wasn't sure exactly why, but her pendant had been buzzing for almost thirty minutes. The darn thing would be far more useful if it gave her less vague directions.
She slid to a halt outside the room that was supposed to contain Lizard's new class and took a deep breath. Time to use more reliable witch talents. Gently, she sent out a scan, seeking her intern's familiar mental signature.
It took no time at all to find Lizard. A happy, dancing, confident Lizard, with lines of poetry running mad, naked streaks through her mind. What the heck? The poetry wasn't really a surprise, although it was closer to the top of Lizard's mind than Lauren had ever seen. But the pendant had been giving off clear "urgent" vibes.
And while she was still pretty skeptical of a lot of the more hocus-pocus witch tools, it was hard to brush off a necklace sitting on your chest yelling the rock equivalent of "Move, move, move!" Nothing in that room screamed "emergency."
Well, if she was here, maybe she could feed Lizard, at least.
Lauren leaned back against the wall to wait, watching the college kids wandering by, and felt vaguely old.
Ha. Try actually being old, said Jennie, walking down the hallway. I take it your pendant paged you as well?
Yeah. I don't get it---Lizard's fine. Better than fine, actually. I have no idea what's going on in there, but she's having a blast.
Jennie frowned, and Lauren felt her send out a light mindscan. Jennie's eyebrows flew up. "I've never seen her poetry that close to the surface. Usually all I catch is stray words."
"Sure." Lauren lifted her pendant away from her neck, annoyance growing. "But why is this suddenly an emergency?"
Jennie's forehead wrinkled---and then she let out her breath in a huff. "Because Melvin's a very smart man." She leaned back against the wall beside Lauren. "I remember the day I finally took my first decent picture. It wasn't the one he wanted yet, but it was good, and I knew it. My mind probably felt quite a bit like Lizard's in there."
Lauren tried to imagine truly feeling a world-class talent for the first time. "Sounds like it would be quite the buzz." She could read Jennie's concern now too, and it still didn't compute. "And that's bad because...?"
Jennie sighed. "I wasn't remotely ready to feel talented. Talent demands that you respect and honor it, and I was still kicking myself around the block seventeen different ways. Talent without the self-confidence to handle it can be terrifying."
Lauren was catching up fast. She eyed the door to Lizard's classroom. "Especially when that talent finally shows up in public." No, that wasn't quite right---poetry was close to Lizard's surface, but not outside it yet. "Or at least sees the opportunity."
Jennie nodded slowly. "There's invitation in that room. Interest, respect, shared passion."
Damn. Lauren closed her eyes, well able to picture what was coming next. "What do we do?"
"What you do best." Jennie squeezed Lauren's hand. "I think I was only meant to come steer you in the right direction."
Crap. What? "You're leaving?" Lauren didn't need her pendant vibrating any longer---she was plenty worked up without it.
"We both are." Jennie smiled. "This was just a scouting mission. She'll come to you soon enough. Send her to me later, when she's ready to talk about the fierce demands of talent. She'll need you first, though, doing what you do best."
Lauren was totally clueless. And what's that?
Jennie hooked Lauren's elbow and dragged her down the hall. You treat her like an adult---one who can make smart choices. I want to protect her too much. You'll demand that she look this in the eye. It's one of your greatest gifts.
Lauren was far too smart a negotiator to fall for that kind of flattery, even if Jennie meant every word.
Vero could hear the music before Elsie ever opened her mouth---it streamed from her every pore. Oh, goodness. "You look happy today, my dear."
Elsie giggled and pulled up her jeans. "My socks don't match."
Indeed they didn't. And neither of them looked like they'd been a part of Elsie's pre-silliness wardrobe. "Went sock shopping, did you?"
"Mhmm." Elsie looked up, eyes twinkling. "Do you know they even sell socks that don't match on purpose? It was more fun to mix them up myself, though."
Vero's heart throbbed with hurt for the woman who was only discovering the joys of personally stamping your wardrobe at thirty-two years old. And delighted that she wouldn't be waiting any longer. "You might be brave and move past socks next time."
To her utter astonishment, Elsie turned twenty-five shades of red and crossed her arms protectively over her chest.
Oh. Oh, my. Vero's laughter rolled, and she reached out, cupping Elsie's face in her hands. "Got yourself some saucy new underwear, did you? How completely marvelous. Was that one of the ideas in your Silly Jar?" It should have been---she'd have sent it herself if the girl had even hinted at being ready for it.
Her student was still flaming red, but managed to get a few words out. And then an avalanche of them. "No. But I rode Caro's bike down a hill with no hands, and then I went sock shopping because I was sad to say goodbye to Alfred, and the socks were cute, but there was this purple lace bra." She ground to a halt, cheeks steaming. "It was the same color as Alfred."
Vero had met Caro's frog. And opera singers, even old, dried-up ones, just didn't do a good job of hiding their emotions. Vero collapsed in a chair, overtaken with delicious giggles. The child had bought underwear to match a plastic frog. An act of perfect silliness.
And the woman who had created such a moment of perfection was embarrassed enough that she might stop breathing at any moment. Vero pushed up out of the chair, reaching for the deeper emotions she wanted Elsie to see. "Don't, sweet girl---don't lock up the utter beauty of what you've done."
Elsie looked totally mystified. And wavered on the precipice between adoring her new underwear and hating it.
So Vero used what she knew best. She sang one of her favorite arias, full of sexy, playful daring. It was the kind of music she'd been most famous for---Veronica Liantro was daring down to her bones. And singing, she pushed the aria's sensual notes deep into the heart of her audience of one. Be a woman, the music called. Dare to play. Dare to live.
For forty years, she'd watch audiences react---and Elsie was a delightfully responsive audience. Slowly, her arms unfolded from her chest, and the fierce red of her cheeks abated, replaced by curious eyes.
"It's beautiful," Elsie said softly, as the last notes trickled away. "Will you teach it to me?"
Ah, such bravery. "Of course, darling. What else are we here for?" Elsie's voice would mangle the aria---she lacked the decade of training required to do it justice. And it wouldn't matter a bit. "You'll love singing in Italian. Such beautiful, round vowels."
"I'm not sure I know that one." Elsie's head tilted. "What do the words mean?"
It took every ounce of Vero's stage training to keep her face nonchalant. "The music tells you---just listen to the notes, my dear." She was pretty sure even Elsie's newfound bravery wasn't ready for what was essentially a musical striptease, woman to her lover. But the passion in the music would speak to her soul anyhow.
It always did.
Sitting down at the piano, Vero began to pick out the first bars of the aria. "Just hum with me to start. Let the music catch you first---we can add the words later."
They made it halfway through the first verse---and then Elsie's demons kicked in. Vero had been waiting for them. Passion so hard won didn't come without a cost. She reached out a hand to the quaking girl. "Talk to me, love. What is it that shakes you up so?"
Elsie gripped the edge of the piano. "It's all so big. Sometimes it's hard just to stand up."
Still trying desperately to be brave. Vero took a breath---and decided to name one of the lesser demons haunting her student's heart. "Go see Nat, sweetheart. There's nobody better to help you through this."
"She kicked me out." Elsie's face pinched with hurt.
"No." Vero's heart rattled in sympathy. "She invited you to come back when you'd found your need. I think you've found it."
She was very pleased when Elsie finally nodded. Good. Perhaps Nat could get Elsie ready to face the much larger shadows darkening her soul. Even lacy purple underwear wouldn't hold her aloft for long otherwise.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: She's sitting on the edge of the nest.
------------------------------------------
Jennie dear,
Elsie has just left, and I wanted to ask you to be especially watchful today. She's shedding her old persona, and so very delicate. Such incredible bravery, wrapped in skin just finding daylight for the first time. I feel a little like I've sent a newborn babe out to play in traffic.
You should have heard her singing---it brought tears to my eyes, the passion that has rushed in and taken up residence in her heart.
Such bravery is rare. I think the last time I saw it, the young witch involved was holding a camera in her hand. I didn't think Elsie had that in her---I really didn't.
I was wrong. And I suspect my husband has known it all along.
As, perhaps, has the lovely Natalia. She lacks Melvin's words yet---but she has his sight. I encouraged Elsie to go see Nat, and I believe she just might. I hope it brings healing for both of them.
And if I know anything, I know that witches tend not to journey alone, however solitary they might feel. Our Lizard and Elsie are hooked together, thanks to your marvelous instincts. Which makes me wonder if Elsie is the only witch who has been laid bare today.
We are building to the second act, I think. I'll be singing the supporting notes under Elsie's wings. Let us know what else we can do.
Walk in the light,
Vero
~
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To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Re: She's sitting on the edge of the nest.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
It's always fascinating to me that a blind accountant and an opera singer, both hundreds of miles away, know things we are just beginning to figure out.
Yes, Lizard is exposing her heart today as well, letting some of those precious words of hers come out to play a little. Our blonde fairy danced through her advanced poetry seminar this morning, or maybe shadowboxed, if what we picked up from the outside is any indication. We're waiting for the fallout now.
Caro reports her bike left this morning and didn't come back for two hours. And half of Witch Central seems to have seen or heard Elsie out on the streets. Rumor has it that Alfred had a very good time.
I assume more than a plastic frog has stirred up the kind of passion that makes Veronica Liantro cry. If you'd care to give us a few more hints, that would be lovely. I've seen the mismatched socks, but I'm pretty sure you don't cry over socks, either.
On full alert,
Jennie
~
It was a seriously weird grocery list. Weren't pregnancy cravings supposed to go away after the baby was born? Lizard scanned the dairy case and wondered where the heck grocery stores hid something called belly butter. Because no way was she asking for help finding it. It was butter---how hard could it be?
She'd found the freaking loose-leaf raspberry tea and the nipple pads. She could do this. And fast would be good---she needed to review the list of assignments for her new class and figure out if she got to sleep in the next month.
"What crime did the chickens commit?"
Josh's voice made her practically land in the butter. "What?" What the hell was he doing here, anyhow?
"You're scowling at the eggs like they just killed a whole village of Ewoks or something." He handed her a can of whipping cream, laughter written all over his face. "May the force be with you."
The temptation to squirt was strong---and the hapless eggs wouldn't have been her target. However, food fights with clients probably weren't on the list of good realtor behavior. Lizard tried to rearrange her face in less of a scowl. "I'm grocery shopping for a friend of mine who just had a baby. She wants some weird stuff."
"Eggs and milk?" His voice sounded entirely normal, but his eyes were still dancing. "Those are pretty standard."
"Nothing she wants is normal." Lizard waved the list in his face, done with the stupid good behavior thing. "I found the tea and the meatballs with no onions and the special kind of applesauce. What grown woman eats applesauce, anyhow?"
"If she's nursing, raw apples might bother the baby." Josh lounged, hands in his pockets. "Same deal with the onions---they make babies gassy." His eyes furrowed. "Hey, wait---is this for Thea? How are she and Bean doing?"
Josh knew Thea? "She's coming home from the hospital today, so we're getting stuff ready. She's doing good, though." Good enough to be writing seriously weird grocery lists. Lizard frowned as his earlier words finally registered. "And how come you know all that stuff about apples and onions?" And breastfeeding. Okay, she wasn't going to think about that part.
"Three older sisters." He shrugged, reaching for a gallon of milk. "Want help with the rest of her list? I can drop it off if you want."
He knew where Thea lived? Lizard's radar went on high alert, for reasons she was going to totally ignore. "How do you guys know each other?"
"The neighborhood welcoming committee pushed us into a room alone together as soon as they found out I was moving in." His cheeks crinkled as he loaded enough cheese for three months into his cart. "I think they were matchmaking."
Thea and Josh? Well, he did seem to know a lot about babies and stuff. Maybe the neighbors weren't totally dumb, although the vibe Josh was giving off said it hadn't worked. If it had, he'd be the person looking for belly butter.
Or maybe he just moved really slowly. Her radar still jangling, Lizard tried to do a friend a favor. "She's really sweet, and Bean's totally adorable." Or he probably would be, once he wasn't so red and wrinkly.
"Don't go there." Josh rolled his eyes, laughing. "The neighbors don't need any more help."
He wasn't interested. And now Lizard was mad on Thea's behalf. "Did you even give her a chance?"
"No." His eyes had gone all dark and intent, standing there with eggs in one hand and sour cream in the other. "She didn't want one. She's awesome, and so is Bean. I already have my uncle button, and that's going to have to be good enough for everyone."
Her radar finally got the hint and shut up. Which was good, because her insides were starting to do all kinds of other weird things, none of which were on the realtor good-behavior list either. Damn. She held out Thea's list like a weapon. Maybe a guy who knew about onions could be useful. "Where's the belly butter?"
His eyes clouded in confusion.
She waved at the dairy case. "They've got twenty-five kinds of butter here, but none of them says anything about bellies."
He stared at her, still perplexed. And then he started laughing. The kind of big, shoulder-jerking laughs that had half the store looking at them.
"What is so damn funny?" She fought off the urge to stomp her feet or kick his shins. Barely. He wasn't laughing at her, that much she could read---he just couldn't contain his amusement.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, still chuckling---and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Belly butter's just a fancy kind of lotion for pregnant bellies." He steered her away from the dairy aisle, body still shaking with mirth. "It works well on babies too---sometimes they have dry skin when they first come out."
A big cave in the middle of the grocery store was probably too much to hope for. Lizard tried to cling to her last shreds of dignity, and finally gave up. It was hopeless. Other realtors just didn't end up in these kinds of messes. Just the stupid ones.
Josh glanced down, frowned, and pulled them to a stop. He just looked at her for a minute---and when he spoke, all traces of laughter were gone from his mind and voice. "I'm sorry. I guess this is one of those things that won't be funny for you for a while."
He'd be a lot easier to deal with if he was an obnoxious rich dude. Lizard could feel her punk face sliding into place. "No big. I just don't know much about babies."
His smile didn't seem to see her defenses at all. "And I don't know how to cook scrambled eggs." He grabbed her hand. "How about a trade? I help you find belly butter and whatever else is on that list, and you show me how to cook something decent for breakfast."
He didn't know how to cook? Lizard tried to fit that in with her mental picture of Josh. It didn't compute. "You asked for a house with a big kitchen."
"Yup." He turned left down the shampoo aisle. "Cooking's just following directions, right? I figure I can learn. If you help me, I might not have to eat burnt cheesy eggs again." He grinned. "The first attempt this morning wasn't so good."
If he'd added cheese and eggs in the proportions in his shopping cart, that wasn't a big surprise. And she wasn't falling for his whole "see, there are things I don't know either" routine. They lived on different planets---she knew it, even if he didn't. He lived on the kind where he could probably afford to hire a live-in chef to teach him how to cook. Not a mostly-ex delinquent.
Josh reached out and pulled down a jar. "This is the belly butter."
Sure enough. It said so in great big letters on the side of the jar, along with a woman who looked like she'd swallowed the world's biggest pumpkin. It didn't look anything like butter---and for reasons she couldn't fathom, Lizard suddenly found that funny. The slightly panicky kind of funny that meant she needed to get the hell away from Josh Hennessey before she did something really, really stupid.
Lizard reached for the jar, giggles bubbling to the surface. Rich dudes aside, she was never going to be able to buy butter with a straight face again. Thea owed her seriously big.
~
It had felt like the journey of a thousand steps. Elsie put her hand on the door of Spirit Yoga, yoga mat under her arm and heart in her throat.
Vero had said she needed to come.
Elsie had mostly managed to quiet the screeching protest in her mind. The quaking of her soul was a lot harder to manage.
Barely able to breathe, she pulled the door open. And saw Nat, sitting quietly against the opposite wall, smiling in welcome.
Elsie stood in the doorway, her ability to put one foot in front of the other entirely gone, her reasons for coming totally opaque.
Nat uncurled gracefully and stood up, hand out in invitation. "I was just about to do some gentle opening yoga. Join me?"
Somehow, that unglued Elsie's feet. Slowly she followed Nat down the hallway into Spirit Yoga's studio space. Like magic, her heart eased down from her throat, calm seeping in through her skin. Quiet music called to her, an offering of tranquility in every note.
Elsie breathed. Vero had been right---she needed this.
The scent of summer grasses and dandelions tickled her nose. Looking around, she saw the bouquet at the front of the room---a riot of color and weeds, clearly picked by small hands. Elsie grinned. It was just the right touch of exuberance in an otherwise utterly peaceful room. Rightness settled on her skin as she folded onto her mat.
Then Elsie blinked as Nat unrolled her mat and lined up just to her left. The message was clear---it wasn't the positioning of a teacher. Shards of sadness sliced at Elsie's breathing.
Nat reached out a hand, eyes softening the shards. Elsie closed her eyes in gratitude as the meaning shifted. No, not a teacher---someone to be at her side. A friend.
With a shared grace that astonished Elsie, they eased into movement together. Following instinct, she slid back into downward dog, her body creaking its appreciation, even as unused muscles scrambled to wake up. Used to following Nat's movements, Elsie looked over---and discovered Nat was tracking hers. Her old teacher stretched into an elegant downward dog and waited patiently.
Carefully, Elsie led into a simple sun salutation, feeling an odd pride as Nat smoothly followed. Keeping the flow simple, she took them through the most basic version of the sequence, their breathing united as arms swept and backs arched, reaching for the gifts of warmth overhead.
As they moved into forward bend, Elsie felt Nat's breath hitch a little. Concerned, she looked over, and moved into the next pose. Which wasn't right---she could feel it. Nat followed, but it wasn't where she needed to be.
Quietly Elsie shifted into reverse, back into forward bend, and paused. Opening yoga, Nat had said. Breathing deeply, Elsie held the pose, sending air and space to the tight places on the backs of her legs, her hips, the small of her back. Gently she helped her body to release into the gift of opening this pose should be. The breathing beside her sounded almost blissful.
And this time, when she finally led out of the pose, Nat flowed smoothly, body embracing the next movement.
Elsie had spent a professional lifetime trying to help others. It had never felt like this. Her mind had always gotten in the way.
It wasn't until she saw the tears rolling down Nat's face that she realized a lot more had opened than a few tight muscles.
Going entirely on instinct now, Elsie moved in, earth magic at her fingertips. With careful strokes, she wiped the tears, offering what little healing she had. And then realized she had far more powerful magic to offer.
Sniffling through her own tears, Elsie grasped her friend's hand---and asked for help. "Come shopping with me. I need to buy a bike." And with Nat's serenity at her side, she might be brave enough to buy the one she really wanted.
It was exactly the right offering---she knew it before the glow of reply ever hit Nat's face.
~
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To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Update.
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Dear Vero,
Well, it appears that Elsie landed in the best possible place---Nat's arms. I have no idea what magic has transpired today, but Jamie reports that his three nieces, along with Nat, Caro, and Elsie, are all in his back yard, consuming copious quantities of chocolate and decorating a bike to rival anything on the streets of Berkeley.
With that decorating crew, I can only imagine.
More importantly, he reports the open delight in Elsie's mind---and the searing joy in Nat's. Something very right has happened today, and it started with a jar of silliness and flowed through your music room.
I have been paged to join them, camera in hand, to record this moment for posterity. And pink glitter, if I have any. This being Witch Central, I'm sure I can scare some up.
Lizard is tucked in at Thea's house, pretending she doesn't know anything about babies. I'm pretty sure Bean will see right through her. I don't expect things to stay quiet with her, but for now, she's in a place of love, safety, and newborn snuggles.
Tonight, my girls are happy. And that fills my heart in ways I didn't think were possible. I know I didn't volunteer for this. But I'm thanking you anyhow.
All my love,
Jennie
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To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Update.
------------------------------------------
Jennie dear,
We're delighted to hear of all the joy in Witch Central yesterday---it sounds positively contagious. Melvin and I might have caught a small case of it as well. Spirits shining brightly are always worth celebrating.
I trust you already know that when chains are tossed in the air, some land back on the shoulders that gave them a heave. And I trust that your marvelous team will be ready, buoyed by the shared love of glitter and new babies. It is a glorious thing how that team has grown, and one for which you don't take nearly enough credit. Building community has always been one of your most special talents.
Remember what a gift that is when those chains land. And remember the joy. Melvin is quite sure you have pictures to remind you.
Blessed be,
Vero
~
Lauren was really glad she was on her second cup of coffee. She could hear Lizard's panicked, blazing anger from a block away. Assistants in crisis required way more than one dose of caffeine.
Pushing the new-listings folder aside, she battened down her mental hatches and prepared for the fireball about to blow into her office.
Lizard stormed through the door, doing a pretty good imitation of a fire witch. "They won't let me drop the class. Crappy fracking regulations---I just started yesterday. How was I supposed to know it was the stupidest class ever until I saw the assignment list?"
Generally Lauren wasn't all that fond of bureaucracy, but apparently it was on her team this time. "What class are you trying to drop?"
"Advanced poetry seminar. I can't do it. Not gonna happen."
Now Lauren could feel the fear. And the longing. "I thought you got invited to take that class. Professors don't do that unless they think you can do the work."
"No way." Lizard yanked a sheaf of crumpled paper out of her backpack and threw it down on the desk. "It's supposed to be a class about poetry. Other people's poetry. I'm supposed to write essays about dead-poet crap. Not a freaking personal journal."
Lauren read the assignment sheet. Fifty percent of the grade for keeping a personal poetry journal. She closed her eyes, borrowing a few choice words from Lizard's vocabulary---and tried to remember what Jennie had said about treating Lizard like an adult. "You don't want to write a few poems?"
"For someone else to read?" Her assistant stomped around the room---totally oblivious to the fact that her private poetry life had just been acknowledged. "Do you know what people do when they read poetry? They try to figure out what was going on in the poet's head, and how they felt, and if they're a totally screwed-up idiot or whatever. It's like being naked, only a thousand times worse."
Lauren was no stranger to crux points in negotiations. Or in wanting to keep your inner life away from onlookers. She wished briefly for a third cup of coffee and dove in. "But you write them."
Lizard froze in mid-step. Which would have been funny if her face weren't sheathed in pure terror.
You love words. Lauren mindspoke as gently as she could. It's not a huge stretch.
Lizard crumpled. "Yeah. In private. For nobody else. Ever."
Lauren breathed, well aware how much trust was involved in those few short words. Her assistant might think the biggest battle was coming. Lauren was sure it was over. Lizard wrote poetry and was willing to say so. The rest of the details could be negotiated---she hoped. "So ask the professor for your journal to stay private."
"Huh?" Lizard's eyes nearly crossed. "You have to turn it in every week---it says right there on the sheet."
For someone with a pretty delinquent past, her assistant had a really odd respect for things written down on paper. Lauren reached for the new-listings folder on the side of her desk, grabbed the top sheet, and plunked it down on the desk. "What does it say this house is worth?"
Lizard looked. "Six hundred thousand, but that's just the list price." She read the rest of the listing and snorted. "And they're dreaming if they think it will sell for that."
Lauren took a quick moment to appreciate the growing savvy of the junior realtor in her office---and then flipped back to the important stuff. "But it's written right there on the sheet."
"It's negotiable." Light bulbs went on. "Class assignments aren't like listing prices. You don't do the work, you don't get the grades."
"You're going to do the work." Lauren leaned back, body relaxed and mind on high alert. The path she was treading right now was damn skinny. "You just have a key outcome you're carrying into the negotiation. You want the contents of your journal kept private. Your professor wants to know that you've done the work. Find a solution that gives you both what you want." Or at least most of it---in tight negotiations, sometimes you had to bend.
Lizard scowled for form, but her thoughts were moving at light speed. She really wanted this.
It was all quiet, except for the buzzing of Lizard's brain. And then she hit on a solution, and Lauren recognized the look on her face all too well. It was the one all good dealmakers wore when they made their final push.
Blonde fairy warrior and mistress of words---ready for battle.
If Lauren could have frozen a moment in time, this one would have seriously tempted her. Go---make yourself a deal.
She kept her game face on until Lizard swept out of the office, crumpled assignment page in her hand. And then dropped her head in her hands, hoping by all that was holy that the professor was the kind of guy who made deals. Not everybody was.
~
Caro looked up in surprise. Elsie she had expected---her companion, not so much. "Good morning, you two. Are you taking up knitting, Nat?"
Nat reached out for a ball of luscious green hand-painted yarn. "It's tempting, but no. Elsie wanted to make a blanket for our fire baby." She rubbed her belly. "We've come to see if our girl in here might let us know what yarn she likes."
It was a very nice idea, and given the glow on Elsie's face, Caro didn't have to guess whose it had been. "The blues and greens call to you, but your babe will more than likely want the warmer tones. We fire witches are pretty fond of our reds and yellows."
Elsie pulled out a gloriously orange skein and held it up to Nat's belly. Then she giggled. "How exactly are we going to tell if she likes it?"
Caro didn't answer. It would be a lot more fun if they found out for themselves.
Nat grinned. "She's got some pretty strong kicks already. Maybe it's one kick for yes, two for no?"
Elsie tried a different ball of yarn, this one fuzzy and yellow. Nat shrugged.
Slowly they moved down the aisle, hands reaching for colors of fire and light. Caro watched with interest, her own guess forming. If the baby had held out against gloriously orange, it was going to take a pretty special yarn to win her over.
When they reached the desk, Elsie's glow had slipped a fair amount. "Are we doing it wrong, Caro? I thought I heard you talk about how Aervyn had picked the wool for his blanket."
Indeed he had. "Nope, you're doing it exactly right." Caro reached under the counter where her most precious yarns were stashed and pulled out a basket. "Try this one."
Elsie's hands reached for the colorful strands with reverence. "What is this?"
"Handspun. I card that wool and dye it myself. Only make about ten balls a year." It was a work of art---a labor of serious love. And it was infused with fire magic at every level.
Elsie looked at the basket in dismay even as her fingers curled in the yarn. "I'd need all of it to make a blanket."
"Course you will." Caro held up a skein, saying a quiet goodbye. More could always be made. "See what our girl in there thinks."
Elsie held up the ball---and Nat's belly started to glow. Faintly at first, and then candle bright. Caro's eyebrows flew up as she felt the wave of heat. Oh, my---light and warmth. The baby was going to be an impressive little fire witch.
Nat stroked her belly in awe, cheeks flushed with heat. "She's dancing a jig in there. I think you've found it."
Caro touched the balls of yarn one last time---the last of the batch she'd made for Aervyn's baby blanket. She pushed the basket toward Elsie. "You'll add your magic as you knit."
Then she send a gentle message to the baby. Soon enough, tiny girl. Turn that off now---you're cooking your mother. She was pleased when the heat eased off. Fire witchlings, even unborn ones, weren't always all that amenable to suggestion. Then again, neither were adult ones---but love usually found a way.
~
Lizard climbed on to Freddie's bus and tried not to kick a dent in the door on her way in. She held on to her mad up the first two steps---and then she saw the empathy on Freddie's face and nearly collapsed.
"Morning, girlie. You look like you could use a ride today."
She swiped at her traitorous eyes, eternally grateful the bus was empty except for a couple of kids in the back who weren't paying any attention. "Tried to grow up. It's not working."
"Looks rough." Freddie handed her a bottle of water. "Have a seat. This piece of road has bumps big enough to eat a skinny thing like you."
Damn. It was the second time in a week she'd shown up on his bus without biscuits. "I'll bring you a bunch this weekend."
"Course you will." Freddie nodded serenely, pulling out into traffic. "For now, how 'bout you sit there and tell me what's got you all riled?"
"It's one of my classes at school." Lizard settled into the rhythm of telling Freddie her troubles. She'd talk, he'd nod, and by the end, she'd feel better and he'd have something smart to say. "I got invited to this advanced poetry seminar. Went to the first class yesterday." Without telling him, which had been seriously stupid. Her eyes asked for forgiveness.
He just raised an eyebrow. "Sucked, did it?"
No, and that was a big part of the problem. "Nope. Kind of cool, actually. Full of brainiac poetry geeks, but it's pretty interesting. Mostly we just talk about what some dude meant by 'dark fire' or 'empty holiness.'"
Freddie eyed her curiously. "You one of the talkers?"
"Yeah." Lizard recited the 'dark fire' lines from memory. "You think that dude's going up, or coming down?"
"Up. But I just drive a bus, girlie---I ain't no poet. Which way did you say?"
She grinned. "Up. Some of those poetry geeks don't know enough about dark fire, I guess."
Freddie shook his head. "They don't know enough about down and up, that's all. Life's treated them too good, so they can't see it yet." He studied her eyes in the mirror. "Is that what's got you sad today---that they don't see what you see?"
Lizard sighed---she'd almost managed to forget the really crappy part. Leaning her head back against the window, she told Freddie about the personal poetry journal, and the deal she'd tried to make with her professor. "Told him he could see my work, count the lines if he wanted, but he couldn't read it." Iron spiked her heart just thinking about it. "He said no. No going halfway in his classes."
Freddie sat quietly for a long time. And then he did something he'd never done, in ten years of bus riding. He stopped the bus---pulled right over to the side of the road, put the lights on, and slowly lifted out of his seat. One measured step at a time, he walked over to sit by Lizard and closed one huge hand over both of hers. "Then you have a choice, don't you?"
She could hardly breathe. Somehow, this had gotten really important. Freddie didn't stop the bus for anything. "I can't drop the class. Missed the deadline."
He shrugged. "If you really want out, you'll get out. You're good at that---always have been."
Somehow, that didn't sound like a compliment. She met his eyes, needing the one person who had always, always loved her to understand. "I can't do it, Freddie. I'm like totally naked in my poetry."
"Don't you be talking about naked on my bus." His eyes twinkled. "So put a few clothes on those words of yours. Figure out how to write it so you can stand to have somebody else read."
Lizard stared, speechless. And tried to imagine a poem in clothes.
It didn't sound impossible.
"You think I should do it?"
"Don't matter what I think." Freddie patted her hands. "Matters what you want to do."
He stood up and walked slowly back to his seat, looking out into traffic. "But I'm thinking you'll do it. And that makes Freddie a happy man." He grinned back over his shoulder. "You mostly write that poetry of yours on my bus. I think I'll be getting me a lot of biscuits courtesy of that professor of yours. You tell him thanks."
Lizard just rolled her eyes. And blessed the magic that had dropped her onto Freddie's bus so many years ago. He always had the right words. Always.
She wasn't the only damn poet on this bus, whatever Freddie thought.
~
Elsie sat on her bed, surrounded by little slips of paper. It was fun to reorganize them---and informative. Her "done" pile of silliness was getting impressively large, and a few of the "impossible" ideas were sneaking over into the "maybe" pile.
She was getting braver.
And she'd started to add her own little bits of spontaneous silliness, thanks to one glittery pink bike all decked out in sparkles and flowers and ribbons. She'd even named her ride. Gertrude Geronimo. She had no idea why that was the right name---it didn't even make sense---but it had slid into her mind and refused to budge.
Elsie picked up a piece of paper stuck under her leg. Walk down the street singing at the top of your lungs. She started to put it back in the "impossible" pile and then reconsidered. Gertrude was pretty fast. Maybe if she did it late at night on a hill, nobody would hear. She grinned and dropped the paper on top of the "maybe" pile.
Buy a frilly pink princess gown and wear it roller skating. That one still qualified as impossible. Bike riding was hard enough, and at least a bike had brakes. Maybe she should buy a fancy dress and ride Gertrude, who already had enough pink sparkly stuff to satisfy any princess.
Not that she wanted to be a princess. But something to match the way she felt when she rode her new bike might be nice.
Elsie looked up at her closet, suddenly assaulted by its complete lack of frivolous fun. It was all tailored, expensive, and boring. So completely unlike her gorgeous new wheels.
It was time to go shopping. She needed a Gertrude Geronimo dress.
~
Jennie drifted out of sleep, a jarring noise interrupting a very lovely dream. Judging from the angle of the sun, she wasn't in her bed, and it wasn't morning.
One eyelid slid halfway up, confirming her suspicions. She'd fallen asleep on the couch again, the consequences of a long night in the darkroom. No matter---she and the couch had spent plenty of time in happy entanglement.
The jarring noise came again, and the other eyelid slid up to half mast as well. Doorbell. Smart people knew not to wake her up from an afternoon nap.
Stretching like an old and somewhat cranky cat, Jennie swung her legs to the floor and ambled in the general direction of the front entry, stopping to peer in her coffee mug as she went. Empty. That would have to be fixed.
Clutching the mug in her hand, she pulled the door open. And squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make sense of the apparition on her doorstep. Two eyes peered out from behind a mountain of shopping bags. Jennie craned her neck, and then remembered she had magic. Darned afternoon naps really turned her brain to molasses. She reached out with a quick mindscan---and discovered pretty much the last person on earth she'd have expected to find behind a haul worthy of Shopaholics Anonymous. "Elsie?"
"Yes." A giggle emerged from behind the bags. "Sorry, I guess this is a pretty effective disguise. I could use your help, if you have a few minutes."
Any help involving those bags was going to take a lot longer than a few minutes, but Jennie was by now insanely curious. She grabbed some of the more precariously perched loot and opened the door as wide as it would go. "Come on in. Want some coffee?"
Elsie made it as far as the living room before her piles avalanched to the floor. She looked at the covered floor for a minute, mind shocked and more than a little amused. "I guess I got a bit carried away."
"That's not all of it," said Jennie dryly, holding up the bags she'd claimed at the door. And decided she'd better offer fair warning. "For what it's worth, I'm not much of a shopper."
"Nor am I." Elsie's automatic response was followed by more giggles. "Or I wasn't. I wanted a dress worthy of Gertrude Geronimo, so I started wondering into all the cute little stores downtown." She waved her hand at the littered floor. "Somehow, that turned into this."
Jennie didn't have to ask who Gertrude was. The magnificently silly bicycle dominated Elsie's thoughts, along with the adoration of a small child in love with her very first big-girl bike. "And what did you decide matched the lovely Gertrude?" She was a little afraid to ask.
Elsie's mind suddenly grew up a couple of decades. She eyed the bags softly, gentle amusement on her face. "About the fourth store, I realized I wasn't really trying to match Gertrude. I was trying to match the way I feel when I ride her." She spun around slowly. "And then I realized Elsie Giannotto needed a new wardrobe."
Her pleasure was contagious. "It seems you've done that, and very well, too." Jennie smiled, delighted in the awakening happening right under her nose.
"I was having trouble choosing," said Elsie, the first signs of a frown forming on her face. "I know how I feel inside, but the mirror still sees a woman who looks a lot like I always have." She paused a moment, fingers touching something inside one of her bags with almost a wistfulness. "I hope these are me. They're so pretty and, well... not boring."
Jennie waited silently, aware this was building to something that felt monumental for her student.
"I wanted to ask you a big favor." Elsie looked up, eyes suddenly intent. "You see things with your camera. Not just the outside of a person, but the inside."
Now Jennie knew where they were headed. "It's what I do, yes."
"Will you take my picture---in these clothes?" Elsie held up a bag. "I want to see if my outside and inside match, or if I just look like a compulsive psychologist playing dress-up."
Vero was right---Elsie was insanely brave. And for this to work, they were going to need an audience. The bigger, the better. Elsie was going to need love blowing beneath her wings to be the woman she wanted to see in the mirror.
These people were her friends. She could do this. Elsie clutched a few of her precious shopping bags and tried to breathe. In less than an hour, Jennie's house had shifted from peaceful oasis to feminine madhouse. Judging from the clothes heaped everywhere, she wasn't the only one who was going to be playing dress-up.
The knock on the door didn't even surprise her anymore. There had been a constant stream of arrivals since about ten minutes after Jennie had put out the word. It did, however, surprise her to find Helga on the doorstep, accompanied by Jodi, holding a huge pile of clothes.
The younger woman grinned. "These are Helga's. Apparently she was quite the dresser in her younger days."
Helga snorted and swatted her companion with a flaming red leather purse. "I'm still quite the dresser, missy."
Elsie eyed the turquoise beaded pom-pom hanging down from the pile. Even the new Elsie wasn't ready for one of those.
"Don't worry---I don't think Helga's stuff will fit you," said Jodi in a conspiratorial whisper. She winked. "But it might fit me."
Helga bustled into the room and stood surveying the scene for a moment. Then she turned to Elsie, eyes gleaming. "Somebody needs to get this party organized." She marched off in Jennie's direction, battle fire in her eyes.
Elsie stood, barefoot and amused, and watched as General Helga had fifteen witches and assorted friends marching in time-step in ten seconds flat---without ever pulling out her knitting needles. Chairs were moved, piles were made, a big mirror was set up in front of the fireplace, and Jennie and her camera were perched on a stool in the corner.
Helga clapped her hands and got instant silence. Then she eyed Elsie. "I think we're ready, my dear. Why don't you go put on one of your outfits?"
It was only then that Elsie realized she was supposed to go on parade in front of a roomful of people she knew and loved---in clothes that made her feel practically naked. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine flying down a hill on Gertrude Geronimo. If she could do that, she could do this.
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Helga's face, full of pride and love---and command. Elsie reached down randomly for a bag and fled to Jennie's study. If she moved fast enough, maybe she wouldn't lose her nerve.
The bag contained one of her favorites, an ethereal, floaty sundress in bright yellow. Wispy straps held up a lightly embroidered top and three layers of filmy skirt. She slid into the dress, letting the voices in her head fight with each other undisturbed. Hopefully the echo of the saleslady who had thought it was the perfect color for Elsie's sun-kissed shoulders would outshout her mother.
She ran her hands down the skirt once and headed back to the living room.
The doorway was as far as she got before her nerves ran out. She paused, distraught, as courage leaked down her toes and skittered out the front door. And then she caught sight of Helga's needles, and something in her solidified. She could hardly do her sunny cloud of a dress justice if she stood like a child waiting to be scolded.
Taking a deep breath, Elsie walked into the room and spun slowly, letting the skirt dance with the air and her ankles. For the briefest of moments, she spun in silence---and then the clamor started.
"I've got shoes that go with that somewhere. Jodi, do you see them?" "It's the color of sunshine, Mama!" "Bean has a sunsuit that's exactly that color." "It's the perfect dress for a fire witch." "The ones with the sunflowers on them, that's right."
Elsie felt like a bobblehead doll, trying to keep up with the conversation. No---conversations happened when people took turns speaking. This was something else entirely.
Jodi emerged out of the sea of noise and movement, clutching screaming red, sparkly, high-heeled sandals, adorned with a flower on each glittery toe.
They were... ridiculous. And oh, she wanted them.
"Try them on, child." Helga grinned, setting her knitting aside. "They were made for that dress."
Elsie felt like a modern-day Cinderella, sliding her toes into the shoes. Then she stood up, wary of the four-inch heels, and discovered that when your shoes are that ridiculously tall, you have two choices. You can lean on a wall---or you can dance.
This time, when she spun, it was with the delighted speed of a small child, feeling like Marilyn Monroe and Dorothy of Oz all at the same time.
~
Nat watched as Jennie captured Elsie's joyous flight on film---and knew she would want a copy of the picture. She smiled at herself, even knowing what she'd call it. The Sunbeam Formerly Known as Elsie.
That's not bad, said Jennie's amused voice in her head.
Nat got up and walked over to the stool where their resident photographer was still snapping shots, now of the faces watching Elsie.
Jennie smiled in welcome, even as her fingers kept moving. It's some very good work you've done there.
"Not me." And that realization still saddened Nat. "I pushed her away. Which seems to have worked out all right, but it's the friends here who have helped her find her feet."
"Oh, please," said Lauren, pulling up a second stool. "You're not usually so blind."
Nat blinked. That kind of dismissive tone was very rare in her best friend. "What am I not seeing?"
Jennie held up her camera, a picture framed on the screen. "Look." Nat stared at the picture of Elsie, a stream of yellow joy, hands stretched to the sky. And finally, she understood. Her former intern's dance was a living, breathing sun salutation---the deepest embodiment of one of yoga's most important lessons.
She reached blindly for the hem of her tank top. Pregnancy hormones had her sniffling at the strangest times---and they turned a real reason for tears into a monsoon.
Lauren's hand touched hers, Kleenex in tow. "Wipe fast---you don't want to miss the next part."
Nat swiped just in time to catch their dancer careening to a halt in front of the full-length mirror. Elsie's gaze met her own astonished eyes in the mirror, traveled to her flushed cheeks and permanent grin, and then drifted lower, over yellow gauze still floating on what Nat was sure were witch-assisted air currents, all the way down to flower-bedecked toes.
She was gorgeous---and as Elsie looked back up, it was clear she'd finally figured that out. Truth streamed from her eyes as she turned to face her audience. "Well, what do you think?"
Nat was pretty sure that for the first time in Elsie's life, those words were an entirely rhetorical question. One of those chains Melvin talked about had just gone flying.
"I think," said Helga, breaking the silence, "that you get to keep the shoes."
Everyone saw the "I can't" form on Elsie's lips. And then watched as she walked it back in silent gratitude.
Helga smiled. "Take them dancing---they haven't had young feet to enjoy them for many years." She beamed at Elsie for another moment and then clapped her hands. "I don't think we'll beat that one on you, so time for everyone else to find an outfit. Jodi, my turquoise flapper dress has your name all over it."
Nat watched in bemused awe as Helga herded cats, women, and witches with the kind of skill that suggested inborn talent and a lifetime of practice. Time for one yoga chick to go have some fun too. Hopefully something would fit her pregnant belly. She reached for the hand of her best friend---playing dress-up was a lot more fun with a partner.
"Not just yet," said Lauren under her breath. "Incoming."
"I asked her to drop off some things from Caro. Forgot about that." Jennie had paused shooting as well, camera hanging loosely in one hand. She grinned at Lauren. "I vote for being cowards and leaving her to Helga."
Lauren eyed their resident general. "That could work."
Nat stopped wondering as she heard the distinctive clomp of Lizard's shoes coming in the front door and sat back to watch what happened next. Her money was on Helga.
Lizard's eyes opened wide as she came around the corner. "Did the mall explode?"
"Hmph." Helga snorted, amused---and ready for battle. "This is hardly mall-quality apparel, dear." She walked over, tucking her fingers under Lizard's chin. "Let's see. Tough eyes, but sensitive, too. Feisty, but I bet you like pretty things, even if you don't admit it very often."
"Damn." Lauren's whisper sounded highly impressed. "Pegged in one---she's good."
Nat grinned, pretty sure she wanted to adopt Helga. "I suspect those two have a lot in common."
Their fashion general hemmed and hawed, studying Lizard from several angles and totally ignoring the fierce scowl. "Nice tats. Your design?"
"Yeah."
"An artist, then." Helga nodded decisively. "And a tiny little thing. Jodi, where's that purple smocked shirt?"
~
Lizard had no idea what kind of crazy dress-up party she'd just walked into, but Helga's intentions were obvious. And no way in hell was anything purple and smocked becoming part of her wardrobe, even on a temporary basis.
She took a quick glance around the room. Damn. Clearly no one else was objecting to playing grown-up Barbie dolls. And Jennie and Lauren were moving to cut off her exit. How come she always ended up trapped in these crazy Witch Central ambush parties? This one wasn't even at her house.
Lizard glared---and then realized Helga had gotten distracted by some stranger in a crazy sequined dress. Time to hide. Pulling her mind barriers down tight, she headed, as casually as possible, for a quiet corner. If she positioned the stool just right, nobody would ever find her behind the mountain of clothes.
She grinned as she reached the stool and popped a flower-laden hat on her head. Camouflage. It was impossible to resist peeking, however.
It was like watching some kind of crazy play, full of color and light and random bits of magic. Elsie sat ensconced in a couch, dressed in duck yellow and the kind of sandals that made Lizard's feet scream just looking at them. But she was loopy with happiness and riding a serious chocolate high, so maybe the shoes were just for decoration.
Even Caro had gotten into the act, modeling in front of the mirror in a fuzzy orange hat topped with a peacock feather. It even kind of worked on her.
Thanks. I think, sent Caro dryly.
Damn. Lizard yanked her mind barriers down tighter again, and then snickered as Helga descended on Lauren, something hot pink in her hands. Lauren had the good taste to look properly petrified.
It was like a Monet painting on really good drugs.
The words swirled in Lizard's mind, a poem calling to be formed.
An afternoon out of Monet---
Flapper lilies and duck-yellow joy.
Dappled color and the quietly insane conversation
of women trying to find pieces of their souls
in a pile of clothes.
Half-dressed bodies and half-naked hearts.
She smiled, riding the glow of words that had found the right order.
Pretty words, girl. And no, I'm not peeking. Caro's steady eyes met Lizard's furious ones. You leak when you let go to find the poetry.
She'd let down her guard. Lizard felt physically sick.
I'm sorry. And Caro sounded it. I didn't know you held it so close. I'll be sure not to listen in next time.
There was hurt behind the apology, and a gentle sadness---and she just couldn't rage at either. Not coming from the woman who lived next door and felt like home. Lizard swallowed her need to puke and tried to grow up. It's mostly about you guys anyway, not about me. Freddie was right---she needed to give her freaking poems some clothes.
Well, we'll see if it's about you, said Caro, hurt subsiding, and something else in its place. Helga's coming.
Lizard turned---and quaked. Helga carried purple. And smocked. And some seriously smoking black leather pants. Frack.
~
Jennie turned her camera away from Lauren's laughing face, catching the sudden tension radiating from her student-in-hiding. Something was up---and whatever it was, Caro had caught a piece of it. What's up with Lizard?
Helga's picked her an outfit.
Jennie snorted. No way that was the whole story---unless it involved turquoise pom-poms, and she was pretty sure the flapper dress was still running around on Jodi. And what else?
She leaked, and she'd rather not have. Caro's mind was uncharacteristically ruffled. I listened a little too closely and caught a bit of her poetry. I should know better.
Being a mind witch was sometimes a minefield of ethics, but Caro respected lines as well as anyone Jennie knew. You okay?
Of course. Caro brushed off the concern. I got swept up. She's an artist, that one, and it called to me. No excuses, though, even if she's painting pictures with her words.
Jennie finally understood. Caro was a marvel with a paintbrush, a vivid and evocative artist. If Lizard had tapped into that with her words, Caro would have wanted to connect, artist to artist and witch to witch. And one delinquent blonde fairy probably wasn't ready for that. It was too damn bad---Caro was a hell of an artist, and one of the most decent human beings on the planet.
The small shriek from behind the clothing bunker suggested that Helga had found her target. And if that hadn't caught the attention of everyone in the room, the cursing would have.
"I don't wear frilly crap. Or stuff that isn't black."
"Of course you don't." Helga's voice was motherly, calm, and utterly determined. "Do you want the boots or the sandals?"
"I'm not wearing this stuff." Lizard sounded like Leo ramping up for a monster toddler tantrum.
"Personally I like the boots best, even if it's summer." Helga sounded smooth as glass. "They're better for stomping around in. We small women need to make the earth shake when we walk---it's more fun that way."
"I don't stomp!"
"Well, you should try it then." Helga chuckled. "Give a little booty swing while you do it. That'll make all the cute boys look." Jennie managed not to inhale her soda. A couple of other people in the room weren't so lucky.
Lauren leaned over. "Should we be rescuing Lizard?"
"I don't think so." Jennie sent out a cautious mindprobe. "It isn't all temper tantrum. Something going on back there is scaring her at a different level than her fashion sense." And sucking her in. Whatever Helga had carried behind the mountain was calling to Lizard.
And making her denial really loud.
Jennie winced. Maybe someone really should ride to the rescue. She moved to get up---and then sat down in a rush, hands diving for her camera, as Helga pushed Lizard out of hiding.
Killer black leather boots---the fierce, stomping kind with heels. Leather pants that moved like a second skin. The sexiest purple smocked top Jennie had ever seen. And a black beret that should have been way over the top---and wasn't.
Lizard looked like a poet. A bombshell rebel poet.
Oh, Helga---what have you done? thought Jennie ruefully, and snapped the picture her fingers were itching to take. A Doubtful Poet. Perhaps not as good a title as Nat's, but she could hardly call it anything else with the angst shining out of Lizard's eyes.
Then Jennie felt the reverb of Lizard's mind slamming shut---and the directed flare coming from Caro. The kind that signaled a mindsend with some serious force behind it.
Lizard scowled. Caro mindsent again---with enough power to make Jennie wince, even though she couldn't hear the words.
The words are none of your business, sent Caro tautly. Just mine and hers.
Jeebers, sent Lauren, catching the byplay. How'd we end up with a mind-witch showdown at the O. K. Corral?
No idea. Jennie shook her head slowly, eyes and mind intent on the sudden, silent drama. But Lizard's not blocking her. Caro's send was just a shade short of forced entry---with enough effort, Lizard could have kept her out. Instead, teeth gritted---she listened.
And finally, grudgingly, nodded.
Something big had been decided. Jennie just had no idea what.
Lizard turned to the room, struck a pose---and recited poetry.
Roses are red, violets are blue,
This room's a psycho shopping zoo.
The fashion's a disaster, the mirrors are large,
And somebody left a crazy lady with needles in charge.
The room exploded in giggles from those who knew Lizard only casually---and utter, silent shock from those who knew her best. Of the latter group, only Caro stood unsurprised, the gleam of victory in her eyes. Jennie sent her a look of immense respect. She still had no idea what had been said, but Caro had just pushed a flower through a mountainside.
Now they just had to survive the aftermath, which was in serious doubt for a few nerve-wracking moments. And then the crazy lady targeted in the poem leaned over and adjusted Lizard's beret. "Your delivery is excellent, my dear. And there's more of your heart in that poem than you think."
Lizard spluttered. And reddened. And couldn't hold back her punk grin.
Jennie shook her head. A room full of mind witches, and it was the little old knitting lady with all the right answers. That just figured.
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Any lighter, and they'll be floating.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
My darkroom calls---I know I caught truth in my camera lens today, and I can't wait to see it.
It all started when Elsie went shopping for clothes to match Gertrude Geronimo. Whoever added a bike ride to her Silly Jar was either mystically lucky or very wise. If it was the latter, I want to know how Melvin guesses these things.
Buoyed by the joys of a fast set of wheels, she went looking to buy the right self-decoration for freedom---and then danced for us all. I'll send you the picture as soon as I have it, but you'll see something of yourself in it, I think. That bewitching stage presence of yours comes from the same taproot as what we saw in Elsie today.
She was magic in a yellow dress and red shoes.
This one, I will have to print in color.
The rest of us just got caught up in the enchantment---and the Helga typhoon. I should know better than to underestimate my elders by now, but she was a force. Even Lizard got swept up.
Sometimes forces of nature can get it really wrong, but Helga has either uncanny insight or really good sources. Or both.
And Lizard recited her first poetry in public. It was intentional silliness, of the kind that makes small children and witches giggle. No matter. It was poetry.
That, too, I have on film. And I'd print it in black and white, to catch that edgy humor at work---but I can't possibly leave Helga's purple miracle hidden. Color it will be.
There were chains thrown off today. Big, fat, heavy ones.
And apparently, even my darkroom will be festooned in color to celebrate.
With love,
Jennie
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Any lighter, and they'll be floating.
------------------------------------------
Jennie dearest,
Ah, such cause for celebration. I must see pictures of our girls in their finery, especially my lovely Elsie. I have very fond memories of a yellow dress from my younger days that always made me feel as if I were floating on sunshine. I wish such feelings for her.
Melvin says he's not the one who added the bike ride to Elsie's jar, and that you should seek the wise writer of those words in her yogic realm. He claims it's just a hunch, but I'm not sure I believe him. There's a beautiful and mysterious connection between Natalia and that husband of mine. It is good---she needs a grandfather, and he has always needed hearts to love.
I am intrigued by Helga's role in all of this. She's a feisty and interesting woman, and clearly she's taken to your students. Melvin remarks that we shouldn't be surprised---anyone who is a dead shot with a water pistol has obviously lived a fascinating life.
I'd love to know where he comes up with these things.
I'm thinking back to when some of your heaviest chains went flying, Jennie darling, and I'm reminded of something. It was one of the very few times I believe I was helpful to the wise man I married. You had just brought him the picture that mattered, the one he'd asked for, and he was so very proud of you.
You only ever really astonished him once---and it was with what you did next. Out of your feeling of lightness came an act of incredible bravery, one that even he wasn't expecting. You put that picture up on your wall---and it nearly broke you.
Neither Lizard nor Elsie lacks for bravery, so I fully expect them to test their new wings. Be ready.
Sending gentle winds,
Vero
Lizard opened the oven and scowled at her biscuits.
"Something wrong?" asked Elsie, pouring orange juice. "They smell delicious."
They were golden brown perfection, and they'd taste like heaven. None of which was going to make her day any better. She looked over at her roommate, belatedly realizing Elsie didn't seem so perky this morning either.
Lizard sighed. Sometimes she wished for stick-butt Elsie back---she'd been easier to ignore. "The biscuits are fine. I have a sucky day coming up at work, that's all."
Elsie moved quietly to the table with glasses of juice, ignoring the obvious invitation to complain about her day too. "Lauren says you're becoming an excellent realtor. That's something to be really proud of."
Lizard frowned---her roommate sounded almost wistful. "Yeah. Today I get to give Josh his keys."
"And that's a bad day?" Elsie's eyebrows winged up. "I thought he was really happy with the property you found for him."
It was so weird to have a roommate who actually listened to stuff you said and remembered it. "He is. It's a nice house, right around the corner from the diner, and half the neighbors love him already."
"Sounds nice." Elsie sounded wistful again. "So what's the problem?"
Lizard squirmed, suddenly realizing she was having this conversation out loud. Dammit, it was hard to keep people out of her personal life when they asked questions before breakfast. "He wants cooking lessons. Hey, can't you cool those things off?"
Elsie grinned, tossing a still-hot biscuit hand-to-hand. "Fire magic's only good for making things hot." She broke it in two and dropped it on a plate, then deposited the plate in front of Lizard. "Josh wants cooking lessons?"
Yup. She actually listened. Lizard wished briefly for the kind of roommates she used to have---the stupid, unreasonable ones that let her sulk in peace. "He can't cook, and he thinks I should teach him."
"If you don't want to teach him, I'm sure he'd understand." Elsie was back to biscuit tossing again. "That goes well beyond your obligations as a realtor."
Lizard grinned. Sometimes stick-butt Elsie still made a brief appearance, and it was oddly reassuring. "Nah, this is a separate deal. He's not one of those clients." Some were, and she was usually tempted to zap them with mind magic, something her boss unfortunately frowned on.
"Then why..." Elsie's voice trailed off, and her eyes suddenly got a look that made Lizard squirm. "You don't want to spend time alone with him in his house."
Frack. The old Elsie had been way less smart. "It's just his kitchen." Lizard scowled. "Besides, the diner is right around the corner, and he's richer than Borneo. Why does he need to learn how to cook scrambled eggs?"
"I have no idea how rich Borneo is, but I take your point." Elsie's lips quirked. "Maybe he really likes eggs." She touched a biscuit with a finger, mind suddenly filled with gratitude. "Or maybe he knows that really good food makes a place feel like home."
Okay, they were getting way too touchy-feely this morning. Lizard started to scowl, and then got hit by a brainwave. "Hey, you make pretty decent eggs now. You could show him, and then you could teach him how to make spaghetti sauce. Not your special stuff, just a basic recipe." Josh would totally go for that. Scrambled eggs and spaghetti pretty much covered all the food groups a single guy needed.
Elsie got up from the table and reached up into the cupboard over the fridge. She came back bearing two jars of red sauce and a package of fettuccine noodles. "A housewarming gift."
Jeebers. That probably meant she wasn't getting out of scrambled-egg-lesson duty, but it was worth one last try. "You could go drop them off yourself---he's getting his keys in about an hour."
Her roommate's face went blank. Which wasn't nearly as scary as the sudden emptiness in her mind. "I have some other things to take care of this morning."
Lizard stared. This wasn't even stick-butt Elsie. It was worse. What the heck? "Where are you going?"
No answer. Just---distance.
To hell with that. Lizard reached out, hands and mind both demanding an answer. "Where are you going?"
Elsie slid back into her own head---real again, and ineffably sad. "To visit my mother. It's time."
~
Jennie beamed straight into Melvin's living room. She didn't have time to knock.
And found him sitting in his usual chair, hand wrapped around his pendant, eyes focused on faraway places. She knew better than to interrupt, even though her heart knocked with fear.
It nearly undid her when his fingers reached out to curl in hers. "Thank you for coming, sweet Jennie. I need the company."
That wasn't the answer she was looking for. "What's going on? Why are the pendants going nuts?"
He was silent a long while. "There are moments in every person's life. Moments of infinite hope and great danger, when the egg of the soul cracks open." His grip on her fingers tightened. "One of those moments is today."
Brought on by the magic of exactly the right clothes and people who saw you as you could really be. Damn, damn, damn. She had the insane need to leap tall buildings in a single bound. "What do we do?"
His face sheathed in pain. "We wait."
Unacceptable. Jennie jumped up, reaching for her cell phone.
He stopped her with a whisper. "It's not ours to do, bright Jennie. It's ours to wait." A tear ran down his cheek. "And I'm terribly sorry it's been asked of you."
It hit her then, like a sledgehammer. He'd done this before. Lived with this tearing need in his soul---and done nothing but waited.
She crouched down at his knees. "You did this for me."
"Yes." He rested his forehead on hers. "It doesn't get any easier."
~
Elsie fussed with Gertrude's ribbons, double-checked the lock, and kissed the head of her brand-new lime-green frog, riding in a place of honor on Gertrude's handlebars. She hoped it would give her courage.
And remind her of the woman she wanted to be---the kind who got pleasure from kissing cosmically ugly green frogs. The kind who rode her bike in a pretty skirt and sandals, just because the sun was shining. They weren't her Helga-gifted red shoes---even the new Elsie was pretty sure she couldn't ride a bike in four-inch heels.
But in the quiet hours of the night, she'd gone through the bouquet of clothes in all the untouched shopping bags and found those that made her happiest. The flirty, jewel-blue skirt was the sort of bold, daring color she never wore---and it had delighted her heart to slip it on this morning.
She brushed her hands over the vibrant material and sighed. A bold woman wouldn't be standing here terrified to go knock on her own mother's door.
Elsie touched her frog one last time for luck, and then walked through the white picket gate of the front yard where she'd grown up. Automatically she scanned the gardens, lovely as always. Her mother sank all of her earth-witch talents into the summer blooms. Elsie reached for a blue flower almost the color of her skirt and sent it a wisp of power, pleased when the blue petals perked up under her touch.
"Your skills have improved," said a voice from the front door. "Perhaps this internship is doing you some good."
"Hi, Mom." Elsie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to channel Nat's calm, and then turned. "You taught me how to use my earth magic well. I just had to learn to keep my fire power separate. I've gotten some help with that now."
Her mother turned sheet white. "You're not a fire witch. What ridiculousness is this?"
"I am." Elsie reached out her palm and lit a small fire globe. "And without knowing that, I always used earth and fire magic together. It's why I wilted the flowers." Her inability to tend to the gardens had always been a permeating disappointment.
"Parlor tricks." Her mother dismissed the fire globe with a flick. "Your father could do the same. True magic is power that can be controlled and put to good use."
Elsie's fingers nearly crushed the poor blue flower. "Papa was a fire witch?" Sudden, irrational anger flared. Why did they always talk about her father in the past tense? "He has fire power?"
"I wouldn't know." Her mother's gaze was level. "He's not real for me anymore, Elsie. And he abandoned you. His magic was weak, just like his love."
Elsie gently magicked the small blue flower back to health---and felt a tug of empathy for the woman who had been left alone with a small, bereft child to comfort. As a lost child, the why's had mattered little, but as a trained therapist, she knew that loving and being a responsible adult weren't always the same.
She snuffed out the fire globe---and then felt her anger streaming back. Her head might understand, but her soul still seethed with slow-burning fury. And her mother had always preached the importance of proper training and control. "What about my magic? I'm not Papa. How could you ignore magical talent?"
"What good is a ball of light, Elsie?" She could hear the conviction, belief in a path well followed. "What use are a few magic tricks? Better that you learned to use your magic for good."
"What, because it was Papa's magic too, it can't possibly be worthwhile?" Elsie could feel the pressure building inside her head. "Who are you to decide that?"
"I'm your mother." Again, the conviction.
Elsie's temper exploded. She reached up her hands, letting fingers spark to the sky. "I could have been dangerous. Fire power can be deadly." The words screamed from her throat. "I could have burned the house down."
"I know." Her mother's voice rasped sharp against the summer day, her eyes glued to the smoky residue of Elsie's outrage. "I sat outside your room with a bucket of water and a fire extinguisher when your magic emerged. Every night for three months. I kept you safe, Elsie Bean."
The old childhood nickname stopped Elsie's streaming firepower in its tracks. The image of her mother, exhausted, sitting guard over her room at night, nearly undid her.
She'd come to rail against the injustices of a child denied her power and her passions, a child guided into a life of efficient emptiness.
And found love.
It had been love misguided---but it still mattered. And it quenched her need to rage against the woman who hadn't been the mother she needed.
Elsie Bean's past was already written---no amount of fire and fury could change it. But the future was entirely up to her.
To start, she could offer Mom a chance to get to know the woman she intended to be. Elsie smiled and held out a hand. "Come meet my new bike. Her name is Gertrude Geronimo, and she sparkles."
It was worth the entire trip just to see the melting shock on her mother's face. Elsie grinned. She might have to accept the past, but there was no need to make the future entirely easy. Time for Mom to meet her new daughter---the one with fire in her soul and ribbons on her bike.
~
Hand clutching her pendant, Nat strode swiftly down a street she didn't know, in a neighborhood she'd never been to before. Seeking... something.
After a session of moonlit yoga in the wee hours of the morning, delightfully interrupted by her husband, she'd been indulging in a morning of lazy sleep. And then her pendant had gone nuts, a frantic beacon that had yanked her out of bed and into the car, trying to follow the mangled directions of a rock that clearly didn't understand motorized vehicles couldn't fly.
She was close now. And whatever curses she might want to rain on her hapless pendant, it had gotten her close. That much she could tell.
She didn't often wish for magic, but mind powers would have been really useful right about now.
And then her pendant exhaled, its sense of impending crisis fading away on the release of breath. Cripes. She had a bad case of yoga brain. Rocks didn't breathe---but the urgent beat in her palm was almost gone.
Nat paused a moment, trying to get a better read. Her pendant still thrummed. All right. Time to find Elsie and whatever in this neighborhood of cookie-cutter suburbia was chasing her. But she probably didn't need to call in cops, witches, or the Sullivan family SWAT team.
She began to move again and then crashed to a halt as realization hit. Add a few million dollars, and this was exactly the kind of proper sameness her own parents lived in. Elsie had gone to see her mother.
Now Nat didn't need the pendant's pounding alert to feel sick to her stomach. She remembered all too well the day she'd gone to confront the demons of her childhood---and left with machine-gun holes in her soul.
Beautiful yellow dresses and siren-red shoes didn't protect against bullets.
Nat's eyes ranged more desperately now, cursing her pedant's ill-timed quiet. Then a flash of color caught her eye and gladdened her astonished heart. Elsie, flying down a distant street on Gertrude Geronimo. Smiling.
Then Nat's heart beat harder---and she somehow knew that the smiles came through tears. She stepped into the street, waving, fingers of her other hand still wrapped around her pendant. Whatever magic was hers to use, she willed it to catch Elsie's attention.
When Gertrude turned and headed in her direction, she breathed a deep sigh of gratitude.
"I didn't expect you here." The bicycle wobbled as Elsie jerked to a halt, face streaming with tears---and oddly happy. "Sorry---I'm a bit of a mess, I think."
Nat reached out a hand, gently wiping tears. "My pendant paged me. It seemed to think you might want some company."
Elsie tilted her head and swiped at her face. "Maybe I do." She swung off her bike and began pushing on Gertrude's handlebars. "Do you mind if we walk? I think I need to get out of here." She looked around, shuddering. "It's all the same. Why did I never realize that growing up?"
Nat smiled, hearing the wobbles---and sure now that there were no life-threatening bullet holes. "No Gertrudes here. That's a supremely cool frog, by the way."
Elsie grinned, still sniffling. "It was ugly and brown when I found it. Aervyn helped me turn it the right color."
The mental image of a four-year-old and the once-proper Elsie pouring lime-green love into a mud-colored plastic frog was one Nat tucked away to treasure. Sometimes transformation came in the most unexpected ways.
Elsie patted her frog's head, giggling at the squeaky belch. "I think the frog was the last straw for my mom." She ran a hand gently down Gertrude's pink and sparkly stem. "I came to blast her, Nat. To hit her with all the pain of living this many years believing I was the child she wanted me to be."
Nat's heart ached. "I know. I made that same journey once."
Elsie's eyes widened. "I mostly didn't do it. I couldn't. She was wrong in so many ways, and for so many reasons. But she loves me." She exhaled in a sharp blast. "So I showed her Gertrude instead. And invited her to come visit me sometime." Her eyes twinkled. "The Arts District will totally freak her out. Lizard will, too."
From anger to forgiveness to active reaching. In one morning.
It was a breathtaking journey. Nat reached for the handlebars, stopping Gertrude, and hoped Elsie could read the immense respect in her eyes. "It has taken me fifteen years, Elsie. Fifteen years, and I haven't traveled as far with my mother as you did this morning."
Emotion flooded Elsie's eyes. Shock. Pride. And then finally pain---and an ocean of empathy. She reached for Nat's hands, fingers whisper gentle. Her voice, however, was edged in steel. "Then she must not love you enough to make the trip worth it."
Nat felt the great, gaping slice in her soul as the last dark roots of hate and fear were lopped off by Elsie's sharp, bright words. The lacking, the reason why she couldn't reach her mother---didn't live in her.
She clung to her student's shoulders, racked with great, gulping sobs. Sometimes truth was the most brutal weapon of all. And the greatest gift.
Now she knew why her pendant had rung. It had rung for her.
~
She would be an uber-professional realtor if it killed her. She'd even worn a damned suit. Lizard squirmed, ready to hate Josh just for that. Why people with lots of money chose to wear the most stupidly uncomfortable clothes on the planet was a complete mystery.
Then she spied Josh coming down the street. In jeans with holes in the knees. Fine---maybe not all rich people were totally stupid.
Then again, he was buying a house with a big kitchen and he couldn't cook. That was a point in the pretty-dumb column. She had some nice single-boy condo listings with a microwave and takeout menus tattooed on the wall.
Her pendant vibrated in warning. It seemed to like Josh.
Yup. It was going to be an entirely craptastic day. She pasted a cheery smile on her face and went to greet her client. "Good morning. Ready to be a homeowner?" Cripes, that sounded like something from the worst of the realtor-training videos.
Josh, however, just grinned. "I am. I think my hotel room's giving me hives."
Ha. He never spent any time there. The neighbors had been feeding him all week---she had her sources. "When are you moving in your stuff?"
"Already did." He waved in the general direction of the front porch, where a couple of duffle bags, three boxes, and a really ugly chair were sitting. "I didn't have much."
That was an understatement. "You sleep on the floor?"
"Not usually." He grinned, and headed up the walkway. "I'm going shopping after I dance around the living room a couple of times. Want to come?"
No. The professional-realtor thing drew a firm line at having anything to do with the client after they owned the house. A fruit basket, maybe. Or a Christmas card.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Liar, liar, pants on fire. He had an empty house and an unlimited budget. It would be the best shopping trip ever.
She was so not going. He did funny things to her insides, and made her want to believe they lived in a universe where Planet Lizard and Planet Josh didn't implode on contact. He might like her new window dressing---but what lay underneath just didn't mix with guys like Joshua Hennessey.
He thought she could help him pick out a new TV. She could tell him several places to pick up a fenced one for cheap. Different planets.
She got the lockbox pieces off the front door handle---just in time to see her totally hip-and-cool client leap across the threshold with a warrior yell and turn a cartwheel down the hallway. A really good cartwheel. Then he ran up the stairs and slid down the banister, practically landing in her lap. "Sorry. Damn, that's fast. I'll have to put a crash-pad at the bottom, or something." He grinned. "Wanna try it?"
There were forty-three reasons that was a bad idea. She went with the obvious one and looked down at her skirt in disgust. "I don't think I dressed right." Yup. Suits sucked.
Josh laughed. "I guess that rules out cartwheels down the hallway too."
Nope. Basic klutziness ruled those out. Lizard tried to remember the whole realtor thing. "So you've signed all the paperwork, but we should do a quick last inspection. Make sure they didn't leave holes in the walls or anything."
"Holes can be fixed." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you always so grumpy when you do key delivery?"
"No." That was usually Lauren's job. Or at least one they did together, where Lizard could kind of skulk in the background. She'd expected the same thing to happen today, until she'd arrived at the office to a pile of paperwork, keys, and a note that said "Good luck."
Josh grinned. "I'm special then, huh? What do I have to do to get you to stop making faces at me?"
Crap. Scowling was totally not professional. She tried the realtor-video fake smile again, and then snorted as he pulled his shirt up over his face.
He shook his head as he came back out. "Quit doing that---it's totally creepy."
This so wasn't going like she'd planned. "I'll go so you can move in your boxes."
He snagged her hand. "Does that mean you're not going shopping with me?"
It was a big, fat line in the sand. And she was a big girl who knew which side she belonged on. "I can't. Got stuff to do."
His face didn't so much as flicker out of casual-guy mode---but his mind was keenly disappointed. "Maybe one day soon. I'll probably be shopping for weeks."
"Maybe." Screw professional. Lizard muttered something under her breath and got the hell out of the house of the guy she needed to stay really, really far away from.
Jennie sat in her darkroom, poring over old negatives. She would never forget the pictures that had made her famous or kept her that way, the professional persona of Jenvieve Adams, world-renowned photographer. But sometimes it was fun---or oddly disconcerting---to paddle around in the quietly forgotten waters of the other thousands of pictures.
Usually it was a journey that kept her up late at night. Today she'd come in at high noon, trying to find the patience to wait quietly for her students' journeys to unfold.
A few reports had drifted in.
Jamie had gotten a text from Nat, who was apparently with Elsie, walking back from some suburb in outer Mongolia. Jennie grinned as she recalled the dour tone of his text---Jamie wasn't fond of either the suburbs or missing pregnant wives.
Lizard had gone to deliver keys to Josh---and never come back. Lauren wanted to put out a witch APB, but for the moment, Jennie had held her off. Her pendant had stopped its furious pounding.
It felt like the eye of the storm.
Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Time to email Vero.
~
Vero read Jennie's email and smiled. No opera singer was afraid of storms. The greatest of life's moments were the ones infused with the most passion---and passion wasn't always easy.
Ah, but it was always grand.
It was why she had loved the stage so much---a chance to sink her soul into a storm of feeling, to fill and drain and fill again, and then to walk away with a lightness of being that only came from visiting the depths of despair, tragedy, and love unrequited.
Much less messy than doing all those things in real life, although she'd given that a fair try in her lifetime as well.
She wondered which of those things was driving Elsie today, and turning Melvin white with the strain of waiting. In him, passion ran deep and still---but it ran. Oh, it ran. So long it had taken her to figure that out, but he loved with a completeness very few hearts could match.
Light footsteps in the hall told her Elsie had arrived. The swirl of yellow coming through the door pleased Vero greatly---until she saw that the eyes didn't match the dress.
Oh, dear. "Hello, my love. You look glorious today. Such a dress shouldn't come with a sad heart."
"My heart's been bouncing around quite a bit this morning. I was hoping if I put on the dress, I'd find the happiness to match it."
Elsie's lopsided smile tugged on her heartstrings. "Tell me about your day, sweetheart, and we'll see if we can find music to match it."
"I went to see my mother."
Six words that nearly stopped Vero's heart. And she gave them the only response she could. Silent respect.
"It wasn't what I expected," said Elsie softly. "I went in all scared and angry fire---and then I remembered that she loves me, and I can live as I choose now, and... well, I left." She spun around. "I felt good when I left. I thought it would bring me some kind of peace, but now I just feel empty. Like there's a hole where the happiness should be. Like something was stolen."
It was one of the most honest looks in the mirror Vero had ever heard, by a heart not used to looking. And it gave Vero what she needed.
Briskly, she stood up and went to the piano. "It's not happiness you need. It's a good rant." She looked up into Elsie's shocked eyes. "You've journeyed from adult to child and back today, my sweet, and it's a bold and generous thing you've done. But the woman didn't get a chance to be angry for the child---and she needs one."
She reached for Elsie's hands and dug for words that would make more sense to her rational pupil. The words of one of her more stormy maestros came back to her. He'd been a student of psychological motivations. "What are the stages of grief, my darling?"
"Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance." Elsie's therapist training answered automatically.
"Indeed," said Vero, well pleased. "And today you traveled from denial to acceptance, all in one fell swoop."
"I don't understand," said Elsie, eyes beginning to fire. "Isn't that a good thing? How do I get on with the rest of my life without accepting?"
"Acceptance is a very good thing." Vero wondered how far to go. "But you're Italian, my love. You need a good rage to be completely, fully done. It's why all the best operatic dramas are Italian. The Germans know depression, the Russians excel at despair and bargaining. But the Italians have perfected the full-blown temper tantrum."
Elsie's body stiffened. "I'm not a child."
"I know you're not." Vero walked over to her beloved Victrola and carefully slid on one of her most cherished records. She needed her hands free for this next bit. Turning, she reached out to her wary student. "But trust me on this---you're never too old for a tantrum."
She closed her eyes as the first strains of the aria flooded the room. "I'll sing. You follow my actions and let the music carry you."
Vero swept her arms, passion in every fiber of her soul, and started to sing. It was the music of a woman scorned, never properly loved, never understood. The unvanquished temper of one who had just learned the truth---and despised it. Vero became the woman raging, not just with her voice, but with every cell of her being. And waited for her student to follow.
She wasn't surprised when Elsie's first moves were small and wooden. When the first waved fist wouldn't have scared a mouse and the chest heaved not an inch. Patiently, Vero raged, fists and voice, face and feet, every inch the woman spurned. She felt the cleansing burn of anger steaming in her veins, pulled by the imperious notes of musical perfection.
And she watched, proud, as Elsie was called to the roots of her Italian blood. It was her hands that woke up first, expressive and vivid, pulling her arms along for the ride. Then color rose in her cheeks, eyes snapping with fire unleashed. And finally, her heart joined, an angry tumble of fire and magic and streaming passion. She even managed a passable rendition of a very difficult aria, notes spurred by a beautiful fury.
It was a tantrum worthy of the greatest of divas. Vero was mightily impressed.
When it finished, Elsie's eyes blazed in glory.
And gratitude.
~
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Watch for the tempest.
------------------------------------------
Lovely Jennie,
I believe I've just taught our Elsie the value of a hotly passionate rage. It occurs to me I probably shouldn't send her back out into the world without giving you a bit of a warning.
Her mind walks ahead of her heart---ready to forgive, to grow up and be the woman she is meant to be. Her soul needs more time to grieve, to be sad for what is lost, and to rage at the unfairness of it all. Music set her anger loose today, and it's a gorgeous temper she has.
Not that we should be surprised---she is both Italian and fire witch.
Melvin says that if I am impressed by her passion, the rest of the world should cower in fear. I believe he exaggerates.
He is, however, worried again---and it's not Elsie that concerns him now. Her wave has crested for now, or so he says. It is our other witch he seeks, holding his pendant and gazing off into the distance. I wonder if his heart is young enough to do this twice in one day.
Perhaps someone could go check in on Lizard and lay our interfering hearts to rest.
All our love,
Vero
~
It was written down. Lizard clutched her poetry journal in her hand and tried not to puke. If she didn't hand it in today, there was no point in going back to class.
She'd written it. One lousy poem with clothes, intended for possible public consumption. But damned if the first set of eyes on it were going to be some professor geek who didn't even really know her. There was only one person who'd earned that right.
And she was standing here waiting for his bus.
He pulled up to the curb, right on time, as always. Lizard was fairly convinced the man had traffic magic---the kind that zapped small, annoying traffic jams and moved buses through the time-space continuum. She held up a brown paper bag. "Got biscuits today, with some of Caro's special homemade grape jelly."
Freddie's eyes lit. "You gonna introduce me to this Caro?"
And have the people in her life ganging up on her? Not likely. "She's old and ugly. Not your type."
"Girlie, I looked in the mirror this morning." Freddie laughed long and hard. "I know an old and ugly face when I see one."
Lizard grinned. "Maybe you're not her type."
"How could a woman resist Freddie?" He shook his head sadly. "But my wife says I'm not allowed to have a type that isn't her. Forty years she's been keeping me in line."
Lizard was pretty sure that was why Freddie was one of the most content people she'd ever known.
"So why you riding today?" He eyed her journal. "That what I think it is?"
"Yeah." She glanced around at the empty bus. Even her toenails were nervous. "I did what you said---I wrote a poem that didn't have so much of me in it. I might read it for you." She glared at him. "If it sucks, you better tell me the truth."
Freddie's laughter rolled again. "I ever told you anything else?"
Nope. Not ever. She paged open her notebook. Sheer perversity had made her write it in the middle. "It's kind of long. Let me read it through to myself first, okay?"
"Take your time, girlie. There's never been anything but time here on Freddie's bus."
"I don't know what it's called yet." And that bothered the hell out of her. It usually meant the poem wasn't finished. She'd probably have to call it something stupid just to be able to hand it in.
Lizard stood up and faced the rear of the bus. The friendly ghosts of warm, safe hours in those seats stared back at her. Comforting---and demanding. It was time to start. Time to say her truth.
She took a deep breath around the choking tangle in her throat and began, not needing to look at the words. She never did. Once she'd written them, they were burned in her soul.
Four walls and a door,
A window or two and fancy names for rooms
that are really just meant for sitting and sleeping.
People mortgage their souls for those four walls and a door.
Okay, she wasn't going to die. Puke maybe, but not die.
"It's a home," they say.
"Our children can grow up here."
Kids don't need four walls and a door
unless a whole lot of other stuff in their lives has gone wrong.
"We'll have made it," they say.
"We'll be homeowners."
You can own a house. You can't own a home,
although there are a whole lot of people making money
off the promise that you can.
"It will make us happy," they say.
"We really need more space."
Space never made anybody happy,
even a million-two's worth of emptiness.
"It's in our budget," they say.
"And it's got double sinks and a really big closet."
If your neighbors are mean, the double sinks won't matter.
And life is better out of the closet.
Frack. That line was a lot naked, but if she stopped now, she wouldn't finish.
"It's meant to be ours," they say.
It's four walls and a door
and all the mystical crap in the world can't change a house into anything else.
Home isn't what you buy.
It's how you live.
Lizard looked up, knowing Freddie could see her in his mirror, and willed herself the guts to get through the most important part. "This next part isn't written down. But I wanted to say it." Even though it didn't have any damn clothes at all.
My home doesn't have four walls and a door.
"It's a bus," they'd say.
"Just a way to get from one place to the next."
And they'd be wrong.
Homes come in every kind of shape. Even a bus.
She couldn't turn around. She couldn't breathe. And then some totally rude guy behind the bus started leaning on his horn, and Lizard realized the bus was stopped. In the middle of Main Street.
When she spun around, Freddie was still in his seat, his big hands still holding the wheel. And his face was drenched in tears.
Crap. She knew what it was called now.
Freddie's Bus. And the last lines would have to get written down. He deserved it.
~
Elsie cranked the volume on her iPod speakers. Operatic passion screamed through the house, stoking the fires of her restlessness.
She needed to do something---and she had no idea what.
But it needed to be bold and daring and reckless and crazy. Apparently she hadn't totally burned off all her feelings in Vero's music room.
She looked around the four walls of her bedroom. Everything was neat and tidy. Organized, efficient Elsie, never a problem, the child who always picked up after herself and hung her clothes in color-coded order.
She was so done with that.
In two steps, Elsie was at the door of her neatly hung closet. The yellow dress could stay, and the jewel blue skirt, and the red shoes that were the most agonizingly beautiful things she had ever owned, and a few of the other pretty things from her shopping spree.
The rest was going to Goodwill.
And then the soprano on her iPod hit a deliriously high note and something inside Elsie snapped. Something beyond reckless. An idea, pure insane temptation, pierced her soul.
The old Elsie shrieked in terror and tried to run for the door. The new Elsie told her to shut up. Singing along with the soprano, hopelessly off-key, she pulled clothes out of her closet in deranged abandon.
Summer was a lovely time for a bonfire.
"Holy crap." Lizard's voice happened to catch a momentary lull in the music---otherwise Elsie might never have heard her. "You moving out?"
Elsie froze---and then the soprano's voice chased to the heavens once more. Maybe insanity would be more fun with a friend. "Got anything you want to burn?"
Lizard jumped back, cracking her head on the wall. "House fires are a really bad idea. Really, really bad."
She was insane, not suicidal. "No, we can use the fire pit outside. I don't think Caro will mind."
Lizard stared. "You're going to burn all your clothes?"
"No." Elsie stroked the yellow dress hung carefully off to the side. "Only the ones that don't fit anymore." She could feel all the passion Vero spoke of. Building. Flaming.
"No sparking inside." Lizard grabbed half the mountain of clothes. "We're so going to get evicted if you burn the house down."
Elsie looked at her fingers, edgy lightning dancing from their tips. And rejoiced at the blaze inside her.
"Don't make me kick you in the shins." Her roommate looked awfully tough. "Clothes. Outside. Now."
Fine. Elsie scooped up what was left of the pile and headed down the stairs and through the kitchen. Nothing stopped her triumphant march until she tried to go through the back door and got stuck, wedged in by her own mountain of clothes.
Lizard got them unstuck by the most expedient of methods---a foot on Elsie's butt. Which got them both through the door---and heaped in a pile on the back lawn.
"I'm a fracking genius," said Lizard, a really prim button-down shirt hanging from her ear.
Elsie started to giggle. That was the shirt she'd worn for volcano making. "We need to borrow a teleporting witch."
"I'm already a delinquent." Lizard got to her feet and started collecting clothes. "Let's not corrupt anybody else. Bonfires are probably illegal in city limits."
Illegal? Elsie felt her newfound recklessness melt.
Lizard looked up sharply and then rolled her eyes. "Good grief. Only a little illegal. Hang on, I'll be right back."
She was back in less than two minutes---just long enough for the last remnants of Elsie's courage to entirely flee. And then she heard the music again. Opera, booming from the kitchen window.
Lizard stepped out the back door. "That's as loud as it gets, so do whatever sing-y thing you do that makes your head feel all brave and crazy."
Elsie didn't have to do anything. She could feel the flames unfurling in her belly to the beat of the music. She held out her hands as Lizard dropped another armful of clothes in the fire ring. "Stand back."
Her roommate jumped of the way with impressive speed. Elsie let her power free, a bolt of lightning streaking from her fingers. And watched it land in the clothes and smolder a moment before it died.
"I think you're going to need a little more juice than that," said Lizard dryly.
She didn't have a lot more. Clearly bonfires weren't as easy as they looked. This time, Elsie focused, remembering all her fire training. The second attempt was better---there were actually a few flames before everything fizzled out again.
Her heart pelted against her ribs in frustration. How could you rage against the world when you couldn't even get a fire started? Channeling the need clawing inside her, she aimed one more time.
~
Jennie felt determination from Caro---and then a thunderbolt of power blew past her cheek and Elsie's bonfire whooshed into flame.
Lauren, coming in the back gate, dove for cover. Moments later, she climbed out from behind the rose bush, cursing. A little warning on the lightning bolts next time, maybe?
Thought I'd give them a hand. Caro settled back down on the back porch swing. Girl's not much of a fire witch, but she's got a big heart. Deserves a bonfire.
Jennie glanced over at Jamie, who sat cuddling a now-smiling Nat. "Caro's not the only witch helping out. Nice assist on the music volume. You put a training circle up?"
He snorted. "A feisty fire witch wants to burn things---what do you think?"
She thought this night was about to get pretty riotous, even by Witch Central's very permissive standards. Oddly enough, her pendant had been really silent---they were all here thanks to a text message from Caro. The get-off-your-butt-and-get-over-here kind.
"What are they burning?" Lauren squinted in the direction of the back yard.
Jamie grinned when she stabbed his direction with a thorn she'd just plucked out of her shirt. "Clothes."
"Ah." Lauren nodded in satisfaction, clearly having mindscanned. "The stick-butt-Elsie wardrobe. Nice."
"Things that don't fit anymore," said Nat softly, eyes bright with pleasure and reflected firelight.
"Could have just given them to charity." Caro pulled out her knitting. "That fire's going to make a real mess of my back yard."
Jennie was well aware that anyone trying to put out the bonfire would have to get through Caro first. If anybody understood the ability of fire to burn away the unneeded parts, it was their knitting witch. "I'm sure we can find you a volunteer cleaning crew."
"Nuh, uh." Jamie grinned and competently mimicked his four-year-old nephew. "Witches who play with fire have to clean up their own mess."
Caro snorted, obviously recognizing one of her favorite training mantras. "Let the girls have their fun first." She looked over at the fence line again. "Seems like they're getting into the spirit of things."
Jennie looked---and felt her heart catch. Her two students, heaping clothing onto the flames. Elsie singing at the top of her lungs, a look of wild glee on her face. Lizard was scowling, but lines of fiery poetry stormed in her mind---and she was stoking her roommate's precarious bravery.
The girl's got a light touch. Caro nodded in approval. I didn't know she could project. Reading emotions was fairly easy for most mind witches. Modulating them in others was tricky---and fraught with ethical issues.
Neither did I, said Lauren, pride written all over her face. She's had plenty of opportunity, and this is the first time I've ever seen her try.
Jennie was feeling some of that pride herself. "One thing that's never been in doubt is Lizard's ethics." And stoking the bravery of a fire witch on the rampage, even a weak one, took some serious chutzpah.
Jamie sat drinking a beer he'd ported from Caro's fridge. "So what brought this on? What got into Elsie?"
Singing lessons, thought Jennie dryly. She needed to have a little chat with Vero. And it wasn't just Elsie. Lizard might not have started the bonfire, but her mind was churning as it watched the flames. Something was moving in their delinquent fairy too. "She wouldn't have gotten it done without her roommate, though. They're feeding off each other over there."
"Of course they are," said Nat softly. "They love."
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Re: Watch for the tempest.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
Oh, the tempest has arrived. Or rather, the bonfire. You would have been very impressed with the twenty-foot flames doing away with all the outward trappings of the Elsie who first came to us. Suits, shoes, even a very ugly black briefcase.
And I should perhaps be embarrassed, but I cheered mightily when notebooks and file folders hit the flames too.
All done with the glorious vocals of Veronica Liantro streaming into the night. You literally sang the oxygen into Elsie's fire. A luminous performance.
It was Elsie's bravery shining in the firelight tonight---but she didn't do it alone. One blonde fairy stood at her shoulder. It was Lizard who brought the music outside. Lizard who gently nudged the mental embers of Elsie's bravery. And Lizard who gave us all a bad case of the giggles when she made Elsie go dig up the contents of her underwear drawer too. Ah, bra burning. That does bring back memories :-).
I personally think the bras were an excuse. Something else white slid into the fire along with them, and I'd lay money it was the bandana Lizard wore the day she arrived.
Elsie wasn't the only witch shedding old skin tonight, even if Lizard did it much more quietly. We await the morning with interest.
Much love,
Jennie
Lizard sat down at her kitchen table and tried not to feel like she'd left her kidney with a stranger. Handing in her poetry journal had nearly killed her. Not handing it in and facing Freddie's dark eyes would have been worse.
And a tiny voice in the back of her head kept insisting that's why she'd written Freddie's Bus in the first place. Because she wanted the world to know she was a poet, and his belief in her was the only damn thing on the planet that could have forced her to go public.
Yeah. Lizard Monroe, poet laureate. That seemed likely.
And man, her head hurt. Sometime last night, possibly before the bra burning and her crazy decision to actually hand in her journal, they'd consumed some very bad wine. Or maybe some good wine that tasted bad thanks to the mind magic---she'd never been good at using power while drinking.
Not that she'd been convinced a backyard bonfire was the smartest idea of all time, but it was one of those things you pretty much had to finish once you'd started. Kind of like handing in poetry journals. Halfway didn't count.
"Morning." Josh walked into the kitchen holding out a box. "Don't shoot---I brought donuts."
What, was there a sign on their front door saying "Come on in, we don't mind?" Lizard started to scowl, and then remembered that was a totally ineffective tactic on this particular annoyance in her life. Instead, she pasted a grin on her face and grabbed the box. "How totally lovely. There are going to be ten half-naked women here soon, and I'm sure they'll be thrilled the donut shop delivered. Thanks, goodbye, don't let the door hit you on the way out."
Josh gaped. Then he grinned. And then he busted up laughing. All without actually letting go of the box of donuts.
Dammit, she was not playing tug-o-war over baked goods. Lizard let go of the box and stomped to the window. "Why are you here---did you lose your keys or something?"
"Nope." He opened the donut box on the counter and took out something that made her traitorous stomach growl. "I wanted to talk to you about an investor meeting."
"A what?" Lizard grabbed a cruller. Any sentence with "meeting" in it definitely deserved a donut.
"For the neighborhood-mapping project." Josh reached for a napkin. "I've got some investors interested in talking to you."
Okay, her head was going to officially explode. "Why do they want to talk to me---can't you just show them the demo?"
He paused, hand stuck in the donut box. "We talked about this when you came to the office. People don't just hand over a few hundred thousand dollars because they saw a prototype. They want to see who's behind the idea."
Her brain had stopped dead at "a few hundred thousand dollars."
Josh was back on his donut-seeking mission. "You're the creator, and you have great vision for where the project should go. Sit, talk with these guys for a bit, and you'll be funded." He grinned. "Then you hire us to execute."
Yup. Still stuck. Lizard blinked and tried to unglue her fried circuits. "What the frack do you need hundreds of thousands of dollars for?"
"More than that. About three million, I figure." He reached into his bag and pulled out a computer. "Here are some estimated start-up costs, sales projections, stuff like that. We're good at that part, but you're the ideas girl, so they're going to want to talk to you."
She'd never realized eyes could actually bug out of your head. "It's just freaking maps. That I do on a computer in my spare time with free tools anyone with an Internet connection and a brain can use." The numbers in the spreadsheet were mesmerizing, in a totally sick way. "Where do you find stupid suits who want to pay you lots of money for something anyone can do for free?"
Josh rolled his eyes and slammed the donut lid shut. "Okay. Then I'll let you make your own donuts and take these away with me."
"What?"
"You buy donuts. You buy bacon and eggs at the diner. Why? You could make them a lot cheaper here in your kitchen."
He was so not a cook. "It takes hours to make donuts."
"Exactly." He grinned, clearly headed somewhere she wasn't going to like. "How long does it take to make one of your maps?"
A freaking long time. And now the numbers on his spreadsheet were starting to mess with her head. "So people pay for fast and easy."
"Every day." He suddenly looked a lot more like one of those suit people. "Realtors are busy people, and selling a house brings in a big commission. You think they're going to balk at a few dollars for a tool that will make their job easier?"
Not the smart ones. Lizard squinted at the numbers, taking them more seriously now. "You're pricing this as a subscription service? Not a per-use thing?"
"That's just a preliminary model. Those are the kinds of decisions you'll need to work with us to make."
"Me?" Okay, brain glue gone. "I can't do this. I'm just the ideas girl, remember?" She waved at the computer. "Pay me for my idea, and then you can figure all this stuff out."
"Could." Josh grabbed what must be his fifteenth donut. "And if you were stupid, you might go along with it." He plowed right over her growl. "We'd offer you about half a mil up front, all rights."
Brain glue back. In triplicate.
"If you're smart, you invest that capital back with us as lead partner in the project and walk away with ten times that in a couple of years." He shrugged. "Up to you."
Five million dollars. In two years. For some maps. No way. No fracking way.
Josh closed the donut box. "Lemme know. Jennie's got a couple of people she thought might want to play too. I can set up the meeting anytime you're ready."
The bottom fell out of Lizard's world. "What does Jennie have to do with this?" And how did Josh even know Jennie? This had smelled, right from the beginning. Now it stunk right to Witch Central heaven.
Josh's eyebrows winged up at her tone. "Not much. We don't need her at all if you don't want, but I tend to try to meet potential investors before I tell them to take a hike."
Brain glue was no match for the wrath of Lizard. She stood. She steamed. And then she mounted her charge. Even Josh was smart enough to get out of her way. She'd deal with him later---right now, she had a witch to go eviscerate. Nobody got to screw around with her like this.
~
Jennie could hear Lizard coming from halfway down the block. Furious mind witches made a lot of noise---and this one was making no effort to be quiet.
Something about donuts and people in suits.
Furious mind witches also didn't tend to make a lot of sense.
Jennie tossed the laundry basket on the bed and headed for the door. At least it was a good excuse to get out of folding towels. She slid into a pair of flip-flops, and following instinct, grabbed her camera. She figured a smart witch went into battle well armed, and her lens had always been her best weapon.
She got to the front door seconds ahead of her fuming student and opened it wide. Lizard stormed in, wearing a tank top and smiley-face boxer shorts, half a donut still clutched in her hand. Jennie's fingers itched mightily, but she was pretty sure that would get a camera shoved up her nose.
Well, they could always try small talk. "Good morning."
"Like hell." Lizard whirled, squished clumps of donut plopping onto the floor. "What were you thinking? Let the rich people offer to buy Lizard's soul? And how the frack do you even know Josh in the first place?"
Oh, dear. Jennie still had very little idea what was going on, but for the last part, she was guilty as charged. "I invited him for coffee. Don't blame him---I was the one being the busybody."
"Oh, I have plenty to blame him for without that." Lizard pounded the donut remains into a wall. "I'm not for sale, Jennie! Five million dollars or ten times that."
Okay, this wasn't about coffee. Jennie sent out a gentle mind probe and nearly got sizzled by Lizard's white-hot barriers. "Forgive me if I'm a bit slow still this morning---what five million dollars are we talking about?"
"That's how much Josh says I can make if I let the stupid suits you know invest in my maps." Lizard gulped for air. "It wasn't that long ago I could be bought for some food and a decent place to sleep. Maybe I still can. But what, you all sat down and made a plan for how to save Lizard from herself? Is Lauren in on this too?"
Jennie was catching up. Maybe. "That's not what WitchLight is about, Lizard. The only one making plans for your life is supposed to be you."
"Bullshit." Lizard was back to pounding on the wall. "You read my mind, drop over all the freaking time with parties and friends and dress-up clothes. You pull strings to get me into college, listen outside my poetry classes---yeah, I knew about that. You two are really loud for eavesdroppers." One more thunk on the wall. "Heck, for all I know, you sent Josh. Is he a set-up too?"
"You really think anyone tells Josh what to do?" Jennie couldn't help it. Really, she couldn't. Sometimes you just had to laugh. "Yes. We are guilty of caring about you. Of including you, and hopefully opening your eyes to a different world than the life you had where food and a decent place to sleep were the best you could hope for most days." She sighed. "Heck, we're probably guilty of meddling, too. But none of us is capable of the kind of deceit you're accusing us of."
"But you went to see Josh." The wall punching seemed to be over, but Lizard wasn't exactly mellow yet.
"I did." Jennie closed her eyes and swallowed the yucky medicine. Words weren't enough here, and she knew it. She dropped her barriers, letting Lizard read what she chose. "I'm a nosy old woman who wanted to lay eyes on this guy who had suddenly landed in your life." A woman who loves you. Jennie didn't say the last part. With her barriers down, she wouldn't have to.
Lizard just looked, for the longest time. And when she finally spoke, it was in soft tones with her eyes to the ground. "He's not a jerkwad."
"I know." And that was the worst of it. "I didn't trust you enough, and I'm sorry for it."
Lizard's smile was lopsided and a little sad. "With my track record, I might not have trusted me either."
"He's a good guy." Jennie reached for her student's hand. "Now come back to the kitchen and tell me about the five million dollars."
"Oh, crud." Lizard stopped suddenly, real fear in her eyes. "You really didn't know about that, did you."
Jennie opened her mind again. No words necessary.
"Frack," whispered Lizard, face white. "That means it's real."
Oh, it was real all right. And unlike Lizard, Jennie was pretty sure five million wasn't a pie-in-the-sky number. She'd lay bets Joshua Hennessey would be aiming a lot higher than that---and money wasn't even close to all he wanted.
He had serious guts. He'd just given Lizard five million reasons to tell him to go to hell.
~
It was the biggest check she'd ever written in her life. And Elsie was pretty sure the intended recipient was going to tell her to go to jump off a bridge. Or something worse.
However, that was a problem to worry about when she actually arrived at her destination---which was requiring ridiculously more effort than it should. Elsie cursed her shoes. Whoever had designed Helga's four-inch heels had never intended for them to serve as actual walking footwear. However, she'd burned almost every other pair she owned. Her shopping spree hadn't included many practical necessities like shoes or underwear.
A small oversight.
It paled in comparison to burning her bathrobe, though---especially when she'd walked downstairs in one very red silk nightie to find a strange man in her kitchen. Her lack of attire seemed to have gone fairly unnoticed, however---Josh had been far more concerned about where Lizard might have gone.
He was a very sweet man.
And a very smart one. In the space of three donuts, he'd explained who he was, why Lizard had run, and accepted Elsie's offer of help.
The old Elsie Giannotto had liked helping people. And sitting at her kitchen table, listening to Lizard's very real chance to reach for the stars and the moon, the new Elsie'd had a revelation.
She still wanted to help.
So over donut number two, she and Josh had hatched a plan. A smart, devious, daring plan---the kind that put all the weight of friendship and trust on the line and still left the final choice up to Lizard. It delighted Elsie down to her toes that the initial seeds of the idea had been hers.
Well, maybe not quite all the way down to her toes, since they'd gone completely numb. Three more houses to go until Jennie's walkway, and her feet were pleading for deliverance.
Elsie promised them down booties and a pedicure if they'd deliver her. And whether it was bribery or sheer stubbornness, she made it to the front door.
Standing in front of the purple fairy-wing knocker brought back the strongest sense of déjà vu. Elsie remembered the day she'd first arrived at Jennie's house, ready for her three months of service to others. She shook her head and grinned ruefully. One day, she and Vero were going to have a little chat about the WitchLight marketing brochure she'd been sent.
Oh, how unready she'd been for what lay ahead.
When Lizard yanked open the door, her sense of history repeating itself was complete. Even the wary scowl looked the same.
Then Elsie looked again and realized two momentous differences. One, her roommate no longer looked at all like a delinquent. She looked every inch the hip, artsy professional. Well, besides the scowl. And two---her eyes held welcome.
Lizard grinned. "Did you come to see the interfering old witch too?"
"I heard that," called Jennie from the kitchen. "Come on back. If anyone else needs to yell at me, we're at least going to eat breakfast first."
Elsie was pretty sure three donuts were ample breakfast, but Lizard might be more willing to hear her out if there was food involved. She followed her roommate down the hall and grinned again, even as her feet howled in protest. One more thing that hadn't changed---Lizard was still a master clomper.
Jennie looked up as she came into the kitchen. "You look lovely this morning. What's the occasion?"
Elsie could feel even her hair blushing. "My wardrobe is a little skimpy at the moment."
She had the strangest sense Jennie was laughing, even though her face hardly changed. "There are plenty of willing bodies in Witch Central if you want shopping company."
"Maybe not." Elsie looked down. "The last time I got help, I ended up with these shoes."
Jennie winced in sympathy. "Every woman needs to own at least one pair of impossibly uncomfortable shoes in her lifetime. But there are no rules that say you have to keep them on in my kitchen."
Elsie slid out of her shoes with a groan of bliss---and couldn't stop the mental giggles. She was barefoot and in the kitchen. That so wasn't in the marketing brochure.
Jennie, lips quirking, handed her a pitcher of orange juice and a steaming basket of fresh muffins, and motioned toward the table. "Have a seat, and then you can tell us why you decided to torture your feet this morning."
Elsie took a deep breath and sat down across from her roommate. "I came to see Lizard." She pushed a check across the table. "This is for you. I want to invest in your project."
Lizard stared, totally confused---and then she looked down at the check on the table.
For a long moment, nobody moved. Then the hell of Lizard broke loose. She flew back from the table hard enough to send her chair over backwards and the basket of muffins into Jennie's lap. "I can't take your money. I don't even know if there's going to be a project yet, and even if there is, it's supposed to be funded by old men in suits who have money to burn."
Elsie smiled at Jennie. "This is going well, don't you think?"
Jennie's eyes held shock. And amusement. And no small measure of pride.
Elsie soaked in all three and turned back to Lizard. "Josh tells me your project is an excellent investment, likely to double my money in three years." She smiled, rather impressed at the daring of the inner gambler she hadn't even known existed until donut number two.
Lizard's eyes bugged. "You know Josh?"
"I do now." Elsie shrugged, astonished at how much she was enjoying herself. "I don't usually find strange men in my kitchen offering investment opportunities. It's been an interesting morning."
The check could have been lit dynamite and Lizard probably would have looked less terrified. "You can't do this. What did you do, rob a bank?"
"No. It's my savings. Well, half my savings." Elsie grinned. "Don't worry---the other half is in totally boring, conservative bonds." She reached for a muffin. "I know it's not much compared to what most of your backers will bring to the table, but Josh said small investors are welcome too."
"Not much?" Lizard's voice was a strangled rasp. "It's fifty-three thousand dollars, Elsie."
"I'm aware of that." Somehow, she hadn't expected this to be fun. "I wrote the check and made sure I got all the zeroes right."
"I can't take this. You're my friend."
And just like that, they were at the part that really mattered. The part that Josh had tried to talk her out of, and she'd insisted was her right. She was clear on the risks. And clear on the caliber of people she was putting her money behind.
Elsie met Lizard's gaze, eyebrow raised. "So you're only going to make old, dusty guys in suits richer? Not your friends?"
Lizard was pressed back into the wall. "It might not work. Maybe Josh is wrong and nobody will buy my stupid maps and we'll get run out of town. The suit guys are used to taking risks and watching their money evaporate."
Elsie let some of her newfound passion loose. "I've seen your maps and how smart you are and how you know exactly the right place for someone's home." She laid down the knife. Stabbing it for emphasis probably wasn't helping. Her eyes, however, gave her roommate no room at all for wiggling. "The only way you will fail at this is if you want to."
She pushed the check toward Lizard. "I have fifty-three thousand dollars that says you have more guts than that."
She got up from the table, picked up her shoes, and using every ounce of stage presence she'd learned from Vero, made a grand, sweeping exit. To the loud sound of Jennie's mental applause ringing in her ears.
It had been worth fifty-three thousand dollars just for that moment of triumph.
~
------------------------------------------
To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org
From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>
Subject: Elsie's finest hour.
------------------------------------------
Dear Vero,
Why do the stupid things always come back to bite you?
Ironically, Lizard seems more upset that I know rich men in suits than that I sat Josh down to check him out, but I suspect she simply hasn't thought about what the latter implies yet. I still say that young man has the potential to be a lot more than a business partner.
But I'm smart enough to duck for the cover he has provided with his multi-million-dollar offer. He knows how to get a woman's attention.
Jamie has checked out his business credentials (yes, we are apparently hopelessly addicted to meddling). He said he's fairly annoyed he's not already one of Josh's investors, and they're discussing some kind of programming-geek partnership on his current venture. Which is Jamie-speak for "approved."
You'd think Josh's offer would be the highlight of the day, but it pales in comparison to the magic that just happened in my kitchen. Last night, I watched Lizard's innate generosity help Elsie find the bravery she needed to take the safety net of her old persona and toss it in the flames.
And this morning, Elsie limped into my kitchen, threw half her life savings on the table, and dared Lizard to succeed.
It is too soon to know if it worked---but it was the gutsiest act of love I've seen in a long time, and I live in a world where bravery and love are everyday things.
We are in a rare moment, I think---and not quite done. I'm flying purely on instinct here, but there comes a time in every photo shoot when the right pictures come, and they generally come fast and furious, all in a clump. I think we've taken the first couple of pictures in that clump now.
My gut says there are more.
And my gut says I'm not the one to find them. Lizard and Elsie have become WitchLight for each other now. I want to give them a chance to really run with it.
Our weekly meeting is tomorrow morning. And I have one of those ideas that is either genius or pure folly.
Wish me luck,
Jennie
------------------------------------------
To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com
From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>
Subject: Re: Elsie's finest hour.
------------------------------------------
Sweet Jennie,
Every witch needs her moments of folly, but we don't believe this will be one of yours. The throwing off of chains is easiest when a person has momentum on her side. Your students are moving now, and giving them another push seems exactly right. Even my normally cautious husband has been known to do this a time or two.
That they are WitchLight for each other is an idea that has touched both of us deeply. Melvin spent the evening adding a touch of magic to their pendants---a small additional awareness of each other. He trusts it will serve whatever you intend to do today.
I believe he regrets not having done it far sooner.
WitchLight has long been one student assigned to one mentor. You are teaching us the value of doing things differently, just as Melvin expected you would. We are most grateful.
If there are more life savings required for Lizard's project, please let Josh know we would be happy to contribute. Melvin mutters about our money just sitting in a bank somewhere and moldering. We would be delighted for it to see daylight for such a good cause, although from the sounds of it, Josh's biggest problem is going to be a big enough table for all his investors.
Walk in the light---always, but especially today.
We'll be waiting to hear,
Vero
~
Jennie waved at Caro as she strode up the walkway to Lizard and Elsie's side of the duplex. Always good to have a fire witch hiding in the house next door in case things got messy.
I'm hardly hiding in my own house. Caro sounded amused. Mostly. Making fresh bread---feel free to stop by after if you want.
Got that covered. Jennie waved a mental version of her picnic basket in Caro's direction.
Good luck. I'll be on standby.
Jennie grinned. Caro sounded fairly hopeful that fireworks ensued. Given what she had in mind, that seemed entirely possible.
Elsie opened the door before she could knock. "Good morning---Lizard said you were coming, and to knock off whatever you're planning with Caro over there."
Unfortunately, responsibility for this plan rested on her shoulders alone. Jennie held up her offerings. "I brought brunch and a blanket, hoping I could tempt the two of you outside with me this morning."
Elsie grinned. "We already have the blanket part taken care of. Lizard's out back crumpling pages in her poetry journal." She took the basket from Jennie's hand. "Food is always good, though. The waffles I made for breakfast were a little funky. Apparently baking soda and baking powder aren't exactly the same thing."
Jennie laughed. "You're asking the wrong witch." Her waffles were bad enough that her husband hid the waffle iron on a fairly regular basis.
They walked down the dim hallway and out into the bright light of the back yard, eyes blinking to adjust. Elsie bent down beside Lizard and started unloading things out of the picnic basket.
Jennie stood back a moment and sent a light mindscan, hoping to know the lay of the land before she put her idea on the table. Or the blanket. Elsie was bubbly and happy. Lizard was really mad about some word or another that wasn't behaving.
Well, one out of two was better than nothing.
She joined her two students on the blanket and started slicing baguette. Yes, she was stalling. It was allowed.
When she looked up, three slices later, it was clear the stalling was over. Two faces watched her suspiciously, two pairs of arms crossed. A kingdom and three slices of bread for her camera.
"Okay, what's the assignment?" Lizard had clearly been nominated to find out what was going on, in that unspoken communication of sisters and close friends.
Jennie tried to gather her thoughts. "Well, as you know, WitchLight is about a personal journey. You remember back at karaoke night, when Melvin talked about locks and chains?"
"Yeah, yeah." Lizard waved a slice of bread. "First we found the keys, now we're supposed to be dumping the chains." She grinned at Elsie. "Or burning them."
Elsie's eyes were sharp. Never try to outthink a trained analyst. "I believe we've both already made some pretty substantial progress in that direction."
"You have. And that's the point of the next assignment." Jennie buttered a hunk of bread and handed it to Elsie. "The journey doesn't end with removing the chains---but it's hard to take flight with too many of them in tow."
"I'm good with not flying." Lizard stabbed at grapes with a toothpick. "Feel free to leave whatever chains I still have right where there are." Now the toothpick was aimed Jennie's direction. "Especially if they involve clients, money, maps, or any other form of meddling not previously named in this sentence."
The girl was spending far too much time negotiating real estate contracts. However, she'd left a loophole. "It's not me that's going to touch them." Jennie waited until she had both sets of eyes pointed her direction. "You're going to do it for each other."
Lizard's snorted. "I believe we've both already made some pretty substantial progress that direction." She mimicked her roommate's slightly snotty tone to perfection, much to Elsie's amusement.
"You have." Jennie paused, wanting them to read how much she meant that. "And you've come to know each other very well in the past few weeks. There's love in this house." Elsie's cheeks flushed and Lizard squirmed, but neither of them denied it. Good.
Jennie smiled. "Now I'm asking you to be the final push for each other. Look deep into your friend's heart and come up with an assignment that will help with the chains that are still hanging around." She paused a beat, fingers itching again when the two of them just raised matched eyebrows and stared. "WitchLight brought you together. Now it's time to be WitchLight for each other."
~
It wasn't a freaking assignment. It was a dare. Lizard was well aware of the difference. Words mattered, and Jennie hadn't picked the right one.
This wasn't about sweetly encouraging a friend. It was about getting in their face and making their life really uncomfortable.
She was tempted to tell Jennie to take her "assignment" and shove it. Really, really tempted.
But then she thought about Elsie dropping a gazillion-dollar check on the table. That had been a big, fat, elephant-sized dare. And Elsie Giannotto had never wimped out of an assignment in her entire life. So there would be a dare for Lizard Monroe, and damned if she was going to opt out and let Elsie off the hook---not when there was a hook coming straight for her own butt.
Besides---she knew the perfect dare.
She'd known for weeks. Every night when Elsie went to sleep, she had the same dream. Not the cowboy one. The other one---the one that made her soul fly.
But if she was going to mess with Elsie's dreams, she needed help. And backup. And that meant visiting a new planet.
Lizard pulled open the door to Spirit Yoga and gingerly looked around. No granola on the floor---that was a start. It smelled kind of weird, but not in a bad way. She walked over to the small store display, attracted by a vivid swirled-orange tank top. And then snapped her hand back like it was hot. Or contagious, or something. Yoga was for people like Elsie.
"Don't let my wife hear you say that." Jamie stood leaning against a wall, looking amused.
Damn mind witches were always eavesdropping. "What are you doing here?" He didn't seem like the yoga type either.
"When you're married to a yoga teacher, you do yoga. It's a rule." He grinned. "And it's not as bad as you think. Just stay far away from the hip-openers classes."
She'd sign up for pole-dancing lessons first. "So, I have this thing. I'm supposed to come up with a dare for Elsie. Something to really mess with her soul and all that stuff."
"Sounds heavy." Jamie moved off the wall, reached through a door, and came back with his arm wrapped around his wife. "Lizard's supposed to mess with Elsie."
Nat wiped her face with a towel. "On purpose?"
Lizard didn't want to know what kind of yoga could make Nat sweat like a pig. "Yeah. It's our WitchLight assignment for the week."
"How can we help?" Nat leaned against the wall next to her husband.
Man, in her old neighborhood, nobody ever agreed to help with anything without knowing what it was first. Witches were weird. "I have the idea and everything, but I need to know if you think Elsie's up for it."
"Isn't that the point of a dare?" asked Jamie. "To push her to do something she might not be up for?"
"Hardly." Nat tossed the towel in the general direction of her husband, who ducked and grinned. "The point is to make it something she can do, but believes she can't." She looked over at Lizard. "You want Elsie to succeed."
Yeah. After she scared the pants off her. Fifty-three thousand dollars worth of oh-my-god. Lizard laid out her idea, taking pains to explain all the safeguards in place so that Elsie wouldn't actually die. And then stopped and waited for a second opinion.
It only took a second. Jamie's grin blazed. "Can I sell tickets?"
Oh, God. Elsie would kill her. Lizard eyed him, pretty sure he didn't need her permission. "Can you keep it under a hundred people?"
"Not likely." Nat chuckled quietly. "It's a brilliant idea, and an audience just might help her. She'll need all that love and support to keep her knees from buckling."
Elsie was going to need a lot more body parts functioning than just her knees. Lizard eyed Nat, knowing her opinion was the one that counted. "Can she do it? Will she?"
"She can." Nat's eyes were solemn. "I don't know if she will."
Crap. That was pretty much the answer Lizard had started out with.
"It's not a dare if you know the answer," said Nat softly. "You've picked the right question. All you can do is wait to see if her heart is ready to answer."
That sounded like yoga teacher hocus-pocus. "I suck at waiting."
Nat pulled the swirled-orange tank off the hanger, and a pair of what looked suspiciously like yoga pants. "I have a beginner class starting in ten minutes."
Lizard just stared. No freaking way.
Nat smiled. "Yoga's a good way to wait. And you'll need something to do while you worry about how she's going to get even."
Frack. Just. Frack. "I thought you weren't a witch."
Jamie's chuckles rolled off the walls of Spirit Yoga. He linked his elbow through Lizard's. "She's got people totally fooled. Come on, I'll help you pick out a mat."
~
Elsie wiggled her toes, delighted with her new sandals. Cute, colorful, and she could hike ten miles in them, or so the sales lady promised.
They had to be better than four-inch heels.
It was definitely a different kind of world when the new Elsie had to go shoe shopping before she got to working on a high-priority assignment. Not that shopping had been an entire waste of time. She'd considered and discarded several ideas for Lizard, including handing her over to the nice sales ladies for a shoe makeover.
She had a sneaking suspicion that was a bit of transference. Elsie was pretty sure she was a shoe addict-in-the-making. There were so many kinds, and they were all so pretty.
"Awesome shoes," said a voice behind her. Lauren grinned down at the shopping bags. "I guess I don't have to ask where you got them. That's a great store."
Elsie laughed. "They're having a sale. Buy three, get the fourth pair free." It had taken all her willpower to limit her selections to four pairs.
Lauren's eyes gleamed. "Excellent---I'll go after lunch. Are you hungry? I was just dropping off files, and then I was headed to Romano's. We can probably talk them into a buy-three, get-the-fourth-plate-free witch lunch special."
Elsie shook her head, amused. "Do realtors negotiate everything?"
"Yup." Lauren winked. "Wait until you see what I can do at the shoe store."
"I could probably be talked into coming back with you." Elsie held up her bags. "Can I stash these in your office just in case?"
"I hear you gave my assistant half your life savings." Lauren's smile held a lot more than humor. "The least I can do in exchange is help you get a better deal on shoes."
Elsie blushed. "Did Lizard tell you about that? Is she still mad?"
"I'm not sure she was ever really mad." Lauren took the shopping bags and dropped them down inside the office door. "You called her bluff, and you did it with a lot of zeros. I hope one day she thanks you for it."
It wasn't thanks she wanted. "I need to come up with an encore now."
Lauren just raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
"Jennie handed over her guide hat. I'm supposed to come up with a WitchLight assignment for Lizard."
Lauren's eyes shone with mischief. "Are you wearing body armor?"
That wasn't quite the advice she'd come looking for. "You're a really good negotiator, right? If there's an obvious deal on the table, is it smart to go digging for a different one?"
"Depends. Is the old deal off the table if you go looking? Is the new deal potentially enough better to take the risk?"
They walked out of the office into the street, Elsie blinking in the sharp sunlight. Then she looked up and smiled as her fire power welcomed the hot summer sun. After years hiding under hats and sunscreen, it was still a change she was getting used to. "The obvious assignment is to have Lizard seriously consider Josh's offer."
Lauren nodded. "You've already given that a good push. You could definitely lean on it again." She eyed Elsie curiously. "What else are you considering?"
"Making it more personal."
"With Josh?" Lauren grinned. "That's definitely gutsy. I'll buy you the body armor."
"No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure Josh can do that all by himself if he wants." Elsie was chagrined, however---playing matchmaker had never even occurred to her.
They walked silently down the street for a bit. Lauren finally elbowed Elsie. "A good negotiator often uses silence, but you're killing me here."
"It started with my Silly Jar." Elsie felt the need to lay out her logic---she'd been oh-so-wrong on her ideas for Lizard in the past. "Somebody put in that I should take a ride on Caro's bike."
"I'm pretty sure I know who that someone was." Lauren pulled open the door to Romano's. "And I've seen your sparkly new wheels, so obviously it was a good suggestion."
"It let me be a little girl again and fall in love with my shiny new ride. A child's first taste of freedom." Elsie looked sideways at Lauren. "Nat would have known that."
Lauren just grinned and led the way to a table.
"I got to go back and find a piece I missed---and then it felt like so many of the pieces attached to that one just kind of fell into place." With a speed that still left her breathless.
"Nat's a very smart cookie."
Yes. And that was a debt Elsie would gladly spend her life repaying. Starting now. "I want to find that same thing for Lizard. The piece that went wrong way back at the beginning."
"Ah. The deal you'd have to go looking for." Lauren's eyes sharpened. "No, wait. You already know what it is, or at least you think you do."
Elsie nodded. She did.
Lauren looked at her for a long time. And then reached for the bread basket. "I think the owner of Gertrude Geronimo has very good instincts."
Message received, loud and clear. It had better be the new Elsie making this call.
~
Jennie laughed as her phone buzzed with a message for the third time in ten minutes. She felt like a master spy, or the ringmaster at a circus---she still wasn't sure which.
Lauren again, asking if she wanted a great deal on shoes. She shook her head, chuckling and replied. No, but Elsie could use some. Is she still with you?
Of course.
It was a strange day. Her interns had apparently switched placements. Jamie reported that Lizard was currently in Nat's beginner yoga class, doing a passable downward dog and occasionally forgetting to scowl. And while he wasn't willing to share any hints at all, clearly he knew what Lizard's dare for Elsie was going to be---his glee was coming through even via text.
He also thought Lizard was right---"dare" was exactly the right word. Which didn't reassure Jennie terribly much.
So Lizard was hanging out at Spirit Yoga, and Elsie was shoe shopping with Lauren, following the ingestion of copious amounts of noodles. No way that was coincidence.
And neither, she thought, looking up as visitors landed on her couch, is that.
"Good afternoon, my dear," said Vero brightly. She stood up from the couch and kissed Jennie's cheek. "We've come to offer our moral support."
"Nonsense." Melvin chuckled, still on the couch. "We've come to see all the fun of the Great WitchLight Dare."
Only in Witch Central could a vague idea turn into an audience event in less than a day. "I didn't give Elsie and Lizard any timeline on their assignment. It could take them a while to come up with their ideas for each other." That didn't sound convincing even to her---clearly things were already on the move.
Melvin touched his pendant and smiled. "I don't think it's going to take much more time at all."
No one in their right mind argued with Melvin and his pendant. "Okay." Jennie shrugged, rolling with the inevitable. "Has anyone invited us to dinner yet?" The better cooks in town would be eager to save her guests from her less-than-stellar cooking.
"Of course." Vero went to the couch to give Melvin her arm. "Jamie's ready to beam us up whenever you send him the bat signal."
Jennie was pretty sure Vero had her pop-culture wires crossed, but nobody in their right mind argued with Vero, either. And Jamie could probably read bat signals as well as anything else. She paged her husband too---he'd be delighted with the reprieve from her cooking.
It was a three-ring circus at eight o'clock in the morning. Lizard was beginning to seriously regret telling a soul what she'd planned. And apparently the two souls she'd told had assembled half of Berkeley to watch. There was an impressive and growing crowd milling around the big warehouse near the Oakland Harbor.
Some thoughtful witch had illusioned the signs on the building. She was guessing Aervyn was the culprit, given that they now said Monstr Truks. That might not make Elsie any calmer. It was, however, doing a good job of keeping the waiting audience in the dark.
If Elsie didn't take the dare, then this was going to be the suckiest thing she'd ever done to someone else on purpose. And Elsie was her friend.
You had enough faith in her to set the dare, said a brisk voice in her head. Caro, walking up with a flock of ladies from the knitting store. Don't go all wimpy on her now. She'll need you to poke her a little.
That had been the idea yesterday. In the cold light of morning, it was looking insanely stupid and more than a little mean.
"There's not a mean bone in your body," said Caro, closer now. "A few stupid ones, but I'm not seeing any of those poking out today."
Lizard jolted as warm arms enveloped her in a hug. They should be saving all the gooey stuff for Elsie.
Caro chuckled in her ear. "I just don't want you to puke on me, girl. Get that backbone of yours straightened up. I sleep just the other side of the wall from Elsie's bedroom---you're not the only one who hears her dreams."
Lizard breathed---and discovered that her desperate need to puke had eased off some. "Am I crazy? Maybe dreams stay inside your head for a reason."
The look Caro leveled at her was the kind that made grown women squirm. "Sometimes it's those things inside your head that need to come out and play the most."
Lizard wasn't sure they were talking about Elsie anymore.
And then the crowd noise doubled, and they weren't talking at all. The star of the show arrives. Good luck, girl. And with that, Caro was gone, melted back into the sea of faces.
Jamie got out of the car first, turning and waving to the crowd. Holy shit, he sent to Lizard. Where'd all the people come from?
Frack. I thought you invited them.
A few. I wouldn't have done this to her. She's gonna freak.
She's tougher than you think, sent Jennie calmly. And obviously more loved than any of us knew, including her, I suspect. Is she coming out?
Nat's working on that. Jamie looked a little worried.
"That's your cue, sweetheart," said a rich voice in Lizard's ear.
She turned in shock---for old people who lived far away, Vero and Melvin did a lot of traveling.
"It's a stage you've created for her." Vero swept her arm grandly, taking in the crowd, the slightly dingy warehouse, and the morning fog. "Now you need to ask her to make an entrance." She pushed on the small of Lizard's back. "Go. She needs you now."
Lizard stumbled forward, legs liquid with fear that Elsie might never even make it out of the car.
The first eyes she saw when she ducked her head into the car were Nat's. A glance full of tranquil strength, and then she slid out of the seat and motioned Lizard into the car.
Getting in was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She looked over at her roommate. "You going to puke?"
"I don't know." Elsie sounded like one of Scrooge's ghosts. "I don't even know what you want me to do yet, or why, and I'm already terrified." She picked at the simple black pants on her legs. "They told me to wear clothing for yoga, but I don't think all those people are here to watch me do a handstand."
Well, that might be one of the things that happened inside the warehouse, but it probably wouldn't be the audience favorite. And Caro was right. If Elsie was going to face this thing, she needed a little poking. "I've been thinking that a lot of those people out there have been going too easy on you."
Elsie's head flew up, eyes sparking. "Too easy?"
"Sure." Lizard tried to put on her obnoxious delinquent persona. It was harder than it used to be. "They're all treating you with kid gloves. 'Let's see if Elsie can be a little silly.' Is that what you want at the end of this? To be silly?"
Her roommate's face fell. "I love my Silly Jar."
Damn. Okay, poking was officially done---she couldn't take it anymore. Time for plan B. Lizard reached out for Elsie's hand. "Your Silly Jar rocks, but it's only the beginning of what you can do. You've got real guts in you. You didn't start out so hot, but you're totally amazing now." Cripes. This was getting way too gooey, but she needed to finish. "You could stop now, and it would be cool and everything, but I just don't think you're done. There's more in you."
Elsie stared for a long, long time. And then asked one question, her entire mind holding its breath for the answer. "What else do you see?"
Lizard breathed out. It was going to be okay---she knew the right words now. "Daring. You could be daring." She reached for the car door and pushed it open. "And there's a whole crapload of people out here waiting to cheer you on because they totally love you, Silly Jar and all."
She stepped out of the car---and clutched the door to hold herself up as Elsie stepped out to thunderous applause. That had been way, way too close.
~
Vero had a lifetime of experience watching stage entrances. She'd seen them from stars and terrified understudies, first-timers and singers well past their prime. She knew how to read the signs and tell-tales, the tiny indicators that even seasoned professionals couldn't hide.
She knew to watch the hands. Elsie Giannotto had Italian blood running in her veins, and Italians believed hands were the eyes to the soul.
She'd seen Elsie's hands hanging onto her piano as music slammed into her heart. She'd seen restless fingers traveling the folds of an uptight skirt and a floaty yellow dress. She'd seen those hands at rest, and leading arms up to the sky as passion soared.
But when Elsie stepped out of the car, eyes skittering around the waiting crowd, Vero saw something she'd never seen before.
Two fists. Italians also knew how to fight.
Delight beat in her heart, and she gripped Nat and Jennie's hands more tightly. "She'll be just fine now---our Elsie's found her courage."
Jennie snorted skeptically. "Her mind's still a scattered mess."
Sometimes minds were the last to know. "Her soul is going to lead today, not her brain. The lovely Natalia has taught her how to do that."
Nat's breath came in quick gasps. "Maybe we should reserve judgment until she actually hears the dare."
Ah, yes. The lovely Natalia knew what was coming. Vero squeezed her companions' hands one more time and tried to impart the sense of destiny she read in her student. "Fortitude, my friends. She's ready for this---we've all had a part in bringing her to this moment. Now we're simply breath for her wings."
Elsie's audience sensed the beat of destiny too---Vero could feel it. After forty years on the stage, she knew these moments. They brought either standing ovations or career suicide. She wouldn't permit thoughts of the latter.
Someone had opened the side doors, and people began filing into the building, a buzz of awe filtering back from those who had made it inside. Lizard grabbed Elsie's hand and positioned her in front of a big loading door. "Wait here. I want everyone to get inside first."
Now the fists were gone. Elsie and Lizard stood hand in hand in front of the enormous door and waited for it to open. It was the last thing Vero saw as she ducked inside---and the first thing she saw as the door swung up and finally revealed what lay behind.
"Welcome to Trapeze Arts, everyone." Lizard pulled Elsie forward and projected her voice so everyone could hear. She gestured toward the back of the crowd, where three people in tights stood up on some kind of platform. "Those are the trainers who work here---Elliot, Colleen, and Abe."
She turned to face her roommate and pointed to a bar hanging far above their heads. "This is my dare for you, Elsie Giannotto. I dare you to fly."
Dozens of people watched Elsie's face. Those who could also watched her mind and heart. Vero watched everyone else. There was Helga, hands pushing on air, sending strength. Marion, standing beside her warrior-firm---and clutching prayer beads in her hand. A gaggle of children who had arrived on bikes, here to cheer Gertrude Geronimo's rider down her next hill. Thea, holding a tiny babe, with a whole neighborhood ranged behind her. And the ever-familiar faces of Witch Central, breathing hope into one of their own.
Elsie saw none of it. She stared only at a solitary trapeze hanging quietly down from the ceiling.
And then the entirely unexpected happened.
She ran. Straight for the ladder to the sky.
~
For a thousand nights, that trapeze had called to Elsie, swinging through her dreams in impossible temptation. And a thousand mornings she'd woken up and remembered that people didn't fly. That skies were for birds and gravity was an immutable, unbendable rule.
Not today. At long, long last---not today.
Strong arms caught her just as she reached the base of the ladder. "Hey, slow down there a minute. I'm Abe. Let's get you clipped into a harness, okay? Then we'll head up." He grinned. "You must really want to get started."
It shocked her to her toes, but yes, she did. The harness, however, had never been part of her dreams. "Will it get in the way?"
"The harness?" Abe shook his head. "Trust me, you'll hardly feel it. There's plenty of open sky up there."
A few more safety instructions, to which she paid embarrassingly little attention, and then they headed up. Abe took her hand as she stepped onto a small platform. "Okay, the first thing is to get you trusting the harness and the net. I want you to do a big jump off the platform here and land right out there in the middle. You'll feel the ropes working to stabilize you on the way down, and the net's a soft landing. Do a nice big cannonball, just like you used to do into the pool when you were a kid."
Elsie Giannotto had never been that kind of kid.
She looked down---and felt her head reeling. Oh, God. This was a very bad time to discover a fear of heights. Abe wrapped her hands around the ropes, and she felt the sense of disorientation receding. "In general, looking down will just make you dizzy. Keep your eyes on those two over there." Elliot and Colleen waved from the mirroring platform on the opposite wall.
Abe tapped her shoulder. "Ready when you are. Big step out and feel the wind in your hair."
What she felt was the beating of a thousand hearts---and not all of them were hers. And the strains of an aria, rising in the background. Vero---singing of passion.
Elsie breathed in the love. Clutched the ropes. Bent her knees. And launched herself into outer space.
It was Gertrude Geronimo on a big hill in fast-forward. Her stomach carved an arc in the sky, coming down to land somewhere in her toes. And she was pretty sure the jubilant scream ringing off the rafters was coming out of her mouth.
Then feet touched net---and back up into the air she flew, this time with eyes wide open. Abe was right. She didn't feel the harness at all.
She had no idea how long it took before the net no longer catapulted her back up into the sky. She landed, a tangled pile of rope and legs and sweaty joy. And saw Abe, waving down from the platform, laughing. "I forgot to mention the bend-your-knees part. That way you won't bounce off the net so many times."
Elsie grinned back, delirious and a little dizzy. "What fun would that be?"
He chuckled and started pulling on a thin line. "Come on back up. This time, we'll put you on the trapeze."
Her entire world narrowed to the bar slowly swinging back to Abe's hands. She was going to fly.
Quickly, she scaled the ladder, barely conscious of the height this time. And felt the earth shift when she grabbed on to the trapeze with both hands. It was like a living thing, shimmying under her touch. Something that had always been meant to be part of her, and had been missing until just this moment. She shook Abe off as he leaned over. No instructions necessary. Her soul had been training for this moment for thirty years.
Hands firm on the bar, she pushed her hips up into the sky---and flew into her dream.
~
The joy beating out of Elsie didn't take a mind witch to see---but every mind talent in the crowd was amplifying her anyhow. She was far too contagious for them to do anything else.
Jennie watched the moment through her camera lens---and knew exactly what she would call it. Escaping Gravity. Elsie had found her next picture with a vengeance.
"There's another picture to take," said Melvin's quiet voice at her shoulder. He'd always known how to make himself heard in the midst of bedlam. "Over to your left."
Jennie turned, astonished. Not once, in twenty-five years, had he tried to point her camera in any particular direction. And then she felt it, sandwiched between Elsie's sky-scorching joy and the communal celebration on the ground.
Lizard's fierce, proud delight.
Jennie felt her tears come.
"They love." Melvin's thumb gently wiped her cheek. "This is a miracle of Elsie's bravery and Lizard's insight---and the woman who trusted that they could become sisters for each other."
"Lucky guess," said Jennie, sniffling. She looked up as another squeal signaled Elsie's descent off the bar down into the nets.
This time she remembered to bend her knees. After coming to a much less unceremonious stop, Elsie peered down through the net and waved, blowing kisses at the upturned faces.
Melvin laughed. "She's got a bit of the performer in her, doesn't she?"
Jennie grinned. Aervyn must be providing eyes for Melvin again. "Vero has taught her well."
Elsie headed for the ladder with one last wave to the crowd. Helga, standing right at the front, called after her. "Hurry on up, sweetheart. I want a turn."
The trainers up on the platforms thought she was kidding. Jennie wasn't nearly so sure.
"Interesting." Melvin reached for his pendant. "They're not finished with her yet."
Jennie blinked. The girl had flown on a trapeze---what more could they want? She watched as all three trainers started moving around. Elliot hopped onto some kind of modified trapeze. Colleen flew down one ladder and scaled up the other side. Then she borrowed Elsie's trapeze and focused on Elliot, swinging from his knees on the second trapeze.
Oh, God. They couldn't---they seriously couldn't. Jennie felt the crowd hush as more eyes figured out what was coming. Colleen and Elliot, seasoned veterans, executed the move with easy precision. And then Abe put the bar in Elsie's hands as Elliot wound up his swing again.
Jennie had a terrible urge to cover her eyes. And then she felt Melvin's hand, warm and comforting, wrap around hers. "Feel her mind, Jennie mine."
The sky-scorching joy was gone. And in its place---bold, focused daring.
Abe had his hands on Elsie's hips, helping her time the jump. One, two, and off, flying through space on a thin metal bar. This time, she had a destination. With a grace that awed Jennie, Elsie slid her legs up through her arms and over the bar---and then let go with her hands. One long whoop of joy as she whooshed through the air hanging by her knees, and then she was looking. Reaching. Meeting her partner's hands as if she'd done this a thousand times.
Elsie Giannotto, trapeze artist. She was utterly magnificent.
~
Elsie tried to roll down from the net like Abe had instructed---and landed in an ungainly heap in his lap. He laughed and stood her back on her feet. "Your legs are probably a bit tired after all that. You just blew through about three months of lessons in an hour."
Her legs were wobbly. Her arms were pretty much non-functional. And if none of them ever worked properly again, she'd consider it a fair trade.
Abe handed her a brochure. "We have beginner classes and intermediate. You could come for either. Beginner's more about the flying-free stuff. Fun, not very demanding. More partner work at the intermediate levels, and focusing on knowing where you're going." He grinned. "Seems to me you might like both."
Elsie stared. And then started to laugh. A warehouse full of meddling witches, and the next step of her journey was coming from a guy she'd just met. Elsie Giannotto still needed some free flying. Heck, if it felt that good every time, she'd always need it. But she also needed to figure out where she was going.
Someplace to match her newly bold heart.
She took the brochure---and turned to face her audience. She had some things to say. And then it would be time to get even.
After flying on a trapeze, public speaking was a breeze. "I was going to say that I have no idea why you're all here. Well, except for Helga." She paused and grinned at her white-haired friend. "You can come with me next time."
"I just might," Helga chortled. "And we're here because we love you."
"I know. And I'm pretty sure you'd all still love me even if I'd never gotten out of that car." She wondered if they had any idea how close a call that had been---and sought out the face that had chased her out into her dream. "How did you know?"
Lizard shrugged and crossed her arms. "You dream loud."
Elsie stared, shocked to her core by the invasion of privacy. And then shock receded as Lizard's words truly sunk in. "No." Elsie shook her head slowly. "I didn't dream loudly enough. My deepest hopes only got to come out and play at night when I wasn't really listening."
She closed her eyes, feeling the truth of what she was about to say next. "Thank you for listening when I couldn't."
"No big." Lizard looked insanely uncomfortable now.
Elsie grinned. It was about to get far, far worse. She walked slowly over to her bag, keeping one eye on her roommate. And pulled out a brochure.
She turned to the waiting crowd. "You're all invited to the Great WitchLight Dare, part two, tonight at the Starry Plough pub. 8 p.m."
She turned back to a totally confused Lizard. "This is my dare for you, Lizard Monroe. You have an open-mike slot in the pub's Poetry Slam at 8:15 p.m." Which had required a minor act of God and several witches. She handed her roommate the brochure. "I dare you to speak one of your poems."
Watching the blood drain from Lizard's face, Elsie was suddenly very glad to be a fire witch. It might take a ring of fire to get Lizard in the pub's door.
Lauren walked in the door of the pub, filled to the rafters with noisy witches and assorted college students. She found Jennie's worried eyes. Sorry, I got nothing. No idea where she went.
Nobody else does, either.
Lauren sighed. It's not all that easy to vanish in Witch Central. You think she left Berkeley?
Jennie shook her head. Melvin says no, and he's never wrong about this kind of stuff.
Does Melvin know if she's coming back?
Jennie's mind was leaking concern. He's not sure.
Crap. Lauren knew why Elsie had given Lizard hours of notice on the dare. Most people couldn't recite a poem with no warning, although their blonde delinquent might be the exception. But it had given Lizard way too much time to think. And way too much time to run.
She turned to look for Elsie. If Lizard didn't put in an appearance, it was going to be hard on a lot of people, but none more so than her roommate. Her friend. The one who had stepped up to her own dare and served a wicked-hard one in return.
"Elsie's doing better than the rest of us," said Vero, handing Lauren a mug of beer. "She says Lizard will show."
"I hope that's not just wishful thinking." If wishes could get the job done, Lizard would have been back hours ago.
"Not anymore." Vero climbed up onto a stool. "Even back before WitchLight, Elsie was often an effective therapist, you know. Not always, but she had a reputation for being quite insightful."
That hadn't been Lauren's first impression of Elsie, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Vero had a big soft spot for their once-obsessive witch. "Well, she nailed this dare. Not what I expected from the woman who once had us all texting words to Lizard to improve her vocabulary."
Vero snorted into her beer. "We all take wrong turns sometimes, and Elsie's were often spectacularly wrong. She also had a reputation for that in her professional community, although I'd wager she's unaware of that."
Lauren raised an eyebrow. "You seem to have a lot of background on your WitchLight charges."
Vero's lips twitched. "Information is power. You know that as well as any witch in this pub."
She did. "I don't suppose those files of yours happen to say where Lizard goes to hide."
Vero shook her head, sipped her beer---and watched the door.
Lauren had just settled down into errant-witch watch when her pendant sent out a long, slow hum. The kind of sound you might expect from a rock exhaling in relief. She glued her eyes to the door, along with all the pendant wearers in the room.
And watched Lizard come stomping in. With an enormous, smiling black man at her side.
Who the hell is that? sent Jennie. Lauren could hear versions of the same question from two dozen minds.
No idea. But I intend to find out. She stretched a link toward Lizard and ran into a blank wall. Deciding she wasn't taking blank for an answer, Lauren turned her scan on the hulking man standing beside her assistant.
And caught the last thing on earth she'd expected to read. He's her father.
She caught Jennie's shock---and then her laughter. No way those two share genes, my dear.
Lauren looked at the huge black man and the tiny blonde fairy and shook her head ruefully. Jennie had a point. Not a father, then---but really paternal. He loves her. And he's proud enough right now to blast the roof off the pub.
You two could see that with your eyes if you were paying any attention, Caro sent dryly. And you're missing more than that. She's wearing her poet outfit.
Lauren turned off her magic and just used her eyes. Damn. Caro was right. Black leather pants and a purple smocked shirt. Lizard, the delinquent poet. Here to take a dare. Maybe.
~
Lizard was pretty sure that if Freddie let go of her shoulder, she'd fall over and never get up. Which might not be all that bad. Nobody could expect you to recite poetry when you were passed out on the ground, right?
Hell, that would probably just earn her a big glass of Ginia's green goo to drink.
She looked around at the sea of faces and hoped they were all getting really drunk. To begin with, her poem would probably sound better if they were all intoxicated. And then they'd all need a dose of the green goo in the morning, which would be a good start on her revenge.
Because she intended to make somebody pay for this. A lot of somebodies. Right after she found the guts to get up there and strip off all her clothes and parade around naked for half of Berkeley.
Crap. Stripping would probably be easier.
She hadn't intended to come. But Freddie had driven his bus right off route #27 and parked outside the Starry Plough pub---with one quick stop so she could "dress like you mean it, girlie." He'd just messed up a forty-year perfect-driving record. For her.
So she was going to do this. And then she was going to get even.
"Hey, you here to read?" Lizard jumped as another hand came down on her shoulder and Freddie melted into the darkness. Glasses Boy, the poet-reciting wonder, and his sidekick girlfriend. Jeremy grinned and repeated his question.
"Maybe." It was the best she could do. She intended to save the actual yes-or-no part of the evening for about 8:14 p.m.
"Cool." Jeremy hugged Lori's shoulders. "She's finally letting me read one of hers. I've been bugging her for eight months."
Lori rolled her eyes. "It's private. I don't know if I want everybody hearing the stuff inside my head." She looked at Lizard and shrugged. "It's like it's more real once you say it out loud, or something."
It had never occurred to Lizard---not once---that other people felt the same way she did about her words. Especially not the smart girls in the advanced poetry seminar. And it somehow inspired her to honesty. "I don't know if I can do it."
"I hear you." Lori threw an arm around her shoulders. "Jeremy says beer helps. Let's go find one."
"I'm up first." Jeremy blew them kisses and turned to leave---and then turned back, eyes intent on Lizard. "Words have power. And when you put them out there, it makes them real for other people, and maybe it changes the world a little." He shrugged. "Or maybe it changes you." And then he was gone, ducking around tables on the obscure path to the stage.
"He's a smart guy." Lori smiled softly. "And if I don't puke and run away to Tahiti first, he's going to make magic with my words tonight."
Since half the pub was full of witches, that probably wasn't going to be very hard. Lizard grabbed her new friend's hand. "If you puke, they'll probably make you drink something green and disgusting. Come on. Let's go sit up front where he can see your face and know you didn't bolt for Tahiti."
"He loves me." Lori hitched in a breath. "I can't leave."
Lizard caught sight of Freddie's head, towering in the back. And knew she couldn't leave either---for the same damn reason.
They got to a front table just as Jeremy picked up the mike. "Hey, everybody. My name's Jeremy, and I'm here today to share the words of an amazing woman and talented poet, Lori Ahmad. It's called I'm New Here, and it took me eight months to convince her to let me read this, so listen up."
He got laughter---and everyone's complete attention. Lori might be the poet, but Jeremy was born for the stage. Three words into the first line, magic struck the Starry Plough, as promised. Hearts listened. Minds opened. And Lori wept silent tears as her poem entered the world.
Lizard didn't hear the words. She didn't need to. Much as she tried to kill the rising tide in her head, it was as inspiring as all hell.
~
Lauren just sat and watched and marveled at the hidden parts of her assistant's world, suddenly out in the open. The gigantic man who had come in with Lizard was now tucked between Jennie and Melvin, making himself right at home. The kid up on stage, along with sending a love letter to the pretty black-haired girl in the front row, was speaking a dare of his own straight into Lizard's heart---and he knew it.
The universe was pulling together for Lizard tonight.
Aervyn hopped up on the stool beside her, holding on to Melvin's hand. "Is it her turn soon?"
She had no idea how a four-year-old had been smuggled into a California bar, but she didn't ask. Witches had their ways. "I think she's third, sweetie. This guy, and one more, and then she's up."
"She's gonna do it." Aervyn materialized a fizzy drink and took a big slurp.
Lauren frowned. "Are you getting that from her mind?" Doubt was receding from Lizard's thoughts, but it wasn't over until the skinny girl got up on stage and actually started speaking.
"Nuh, uh." Aervyn grinned and pushed a second fizzy drink over to his companion. "Melvin says so, and he's a totally smart dude."
Lauren laughed as the "totally smart dude" nearly snorted fizz out his nose. Drinking around Aervyn was always a risky sport.
Jeremy walked offstage to thunderous applause---and then there was an awkward pause and the riffling of papers. Finally a guy in a black vest and Bob Marley shirt made his way to the mike. "We've got a missing artist, so we're going to bump everyone up a spot. Lizard Monroe, you're up."
Lauren hadn't thought it was possible for Lizard to turn any whiter. She'd been wrong. Their terrified poet sat frozen to a chair just in front of the stage, waiting for the floor to swallow her up.
Instead, the big black man who cherished her stood up at the back of the room---and started clapping. One by one, every person in the Starry Plough joined him, some knowing why, others simply adding to the heartbeat of sound swelling forward toward Lizard's chair.
Lauren felt it hit their poet fairy---and felt her resistance turn to dust, blown away by the sheer volume of love pushing her up on stage.
When she turned to face the crowd, her face was pure delinquent scowl. But her mind was as open as Lauren had ever felt it. She was ready.
Lizard pulled the microphone out of the stand and clomped to the very edge of the stage. "I'm Lizard Monroe, and this is my poem. It's called Stupid. You'll probably know why by the time I'm done."
She took a deep breath, found Freddie's eyes---and began, in the clear, ringing voice of a woman who intended to do her words proud.
Stupid.
Sometimes it doesn't even start out as a word,
just slime that eases in and grows roots and has no name,
covering the parts of your insides that know how to breathe.
And then one day it turns real, an agent of mean
aiming to bruise your soul or someone else's.
It doesn't matter.
Stupid sticks to everything, even if it wasn't thrown at you.
You do battle with stupid.
You tell people they're wrong and you try to be smart
and one day you even try to put stupid in a bag
with some rocks and one of those crazy fisherman knots that never come undone
and hope it drowns.
But stupid floats back up
and it's cute kittens and Santa Claus and grandmothers who live forever
that end up in the bag instead.
Stupid's a survivor.
Eventually, you stop fighting
and grant squatting rights in your soul.
If you're lucky, one day, for reasons unknown,
good people start shoveling other words into your head
and stupid gets quieter for a while,
maybe even takes a long vacation to a nice island with no Internet.
But it always comes back.
I've learned that you can't fight stupid,
or drown it or bury it or send it on a long trip without a map.
You can't unlearn it or unteach it or eviscerate it from the memory of the world.
But you can remember this.
Stupid isn't a name. It's just a word.
Lauren had no idea how long it took before she realized the words were finally done. She had no measure for how long she sat, silent with the entire crowd of the Starry Plough, honoring the sublime.
And then one more time, Freddie stood up at the back of the room and began to clap.
This time, the pub went absolutely nuts.
~
Jennie wondered how long it would take Lizard to figure out she'd used magic on an entire pub full of people. She'd made them all feel stupid, standing in the shoes of a girl who believed she was worth far too little. They'd all fought with her, throwing the bag into the river---and dying inside when it came up again. And underneath it all, the slow, leaking notes of gratitude to everyone in the world who had ever done battle against stupid---a quiet anthem to making a difference.
But nothing had packed the punch of feeling Lizard throw off a chain that no longer fit.
Jennie squeezed the hand of the stranger who loved Lizard. "She did that for you."
"Nope." Freddie shook his head, eyes still glistening. "My girlie finally did that for herself. I just gave her someplace to sit a while so she could figure things out."
He'd saved her soul. But Jennie was pretty sure that after Lizard's poem, he knew that.
She pushed him gently toward the stage where Lizard still stood, awash in the audience's thrall. And then, as well as she could through a wall of tears, Jennie made her way over to the people who would understand best.
Melvin had his arms open before she even arrived. He held her hard, conveying a message that needed no words. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. "Look."
Lizard stood on the last step coming off the stage, eyes on the father of her heart. His eyes, however, were on the shifting crowd to her left. Freddie watched, as did everyone else, as the waters parted and Elsie slid to a screeching halt inches away from Lizard's face. They stood there, nose to nose, two warrior witches brave and bold and mad as hell.
And then gratitude swamped everything else and they simply melted together.
Jennie watched the clock in her darkroom tick over to 2 a.m., impatient to pull the first print out of the tray. Some photographers developed a kind of Zen in the dark, suspended free of time and the care of its passing. She'd never been one of them.
And the pictures of this day had her heart yearning to see.
The timer inside her head finally went off and she reached for the first tray, already smiling. Elsie's first leap, no trapeze in sight yet. Just wide-open spaces and a singular act of bravery from the girl who had never jumped off the dock or let go at the top of a swing's arc.
Caro, Nat, and Helga, dancing a wild jig of glee. She was pretty sure that shot had come just after Elsie had let go of the trapeze for the first time, her maiden flight complete.
Lizard, face full of portent, as she dared her roommate to fly. And then Lizard again, a prayer in her eyes, watching somewhere far over her head. Jennie smiled to herself. Her students had gotten a rather big taste of what it was to be a WitchLight guide. Good. She suspected that some day far in the future, pendants would come calling for both of them.
It was only fair.
The photos from the bar were more atmospheric than the warehouse, but no less laden with emotion.
Gently fierce Freddie, clapping Lizard up onto the stage. The biggest part of that man was the heart beating inside his chest.
Their fairy poet, the moment before her first words came. Terror had fled from her eyes---and in its place sat conviction. And just the smallest glint of a woman who had finally felt hints of her own genius.
Lauren, eyes haunted, somewhere in the middle of Lizard's poem, feeling the full weight of stupid in her heart. None of them had really, truly known what it was to live believing you were that worthless. Except for maybe Freddie.
Elsie, head burrowed in Vero's chest, peeking out between her fingers, tortured by what she'd asked of a friend.
And a picture Jennie had almost missed. One young and handsome man, sitting in a quiet, dark corner, lost in thought, his eyes glued to Lizard. She'd felt his mind---that story wasn't anywhere near done yet.
She was nearing the end of her line, and as usual, she'd saved the most important two for last.
Elsie, her face a study in concentration, the moment before her hands connected with Elliot's. Bold freedom, married to a knowledge of the destination. Elsie needed a life with goals---and now she was ready to seek them.
And Lizard, a ferocious light in her eyes, a heartbeat before she demoted stupid back to just a word. A fighter---aware, finally, that the biggest battlefield lay in her own brain. Every kind of success awaited Lizard. Perhaps now, she was ready to let it get near enough to have a chance.
Two students, unlocked and unfettered. And now to see who they would become without the chains. Witches in flight.
The finale of Lizard and Elsie's story is coming...Witches in Flight (March 2012)In the meantime, you might enjoymy top-rated A Modern Witch series.In the first book, go back in timesix months---to the day Jamieshowed up in Chicago to tell Laurenshe was a witch...A Modern Witch (book 1)A Hidden Witch (book 2)A Reckless Witch (book 3)And, visit www.deborageary.com tosign up for my new releases email list!
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