A Lost Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 7) (12 page)

It was the last morning.

And the first.

Hannah sat on the twin bed that had been her home for the last twelve years and tried to fathom the day that was about to begin.

Her walls were bare, the colorful weavings she’d hung up in flagrant violation of protocol neatly packed away in the simple cardboard box that sat by her single bag.  So little evidence of more than a decade of her life.

A knock stirred Hannah from thoughts that couldn’t go anywhere good.  She padded over to the door, fairly sure only one person would be up this early, but checked her peephole just in case.  Crazy people weren’t all that predictable.

Dr. Max smiled through the tiny distorted roundness, his face the cheerfully alert beacon of someone who’d consumed one too many cups of coffee.  Probably woken up by his twins again.  Jude and Sara were adorable, by all accounts.  And also holy terrors.

“Good morning.”  She pulled open her door—and gaped.  The loom she’d carefully set up for a beginner and then said a tearful goodbye to sat in his hands.

“Morning yourself.”  He held out the loom.  “You forgot something.”

“It’s not mine.”  She’d said the words over and over again as she’d pulled fresh warp threads through the heddles, hoping to entice a new resident to its care and feeding.  “It belongs to Chrysalis House.”

“We got it for you, and it’s leaving with you.”  He set it down on top of her cardboard box.  “Nobody else here knows how to use it, anyhow.”

“I wrote out some instructions.”  It had hurt too much to think of the loom sitting idle.  “I emailed them to you.”

“Take it with you, Hannah.”  She’d never seen his eyes quite that stern.  “Consider it outpatient therapy if you need to, but you love that hunk of wood more than anyone else ever will.”

It was several hunks of wood, but she didn’t have enough oxygen left to argue with him.  She bent down, stroking the familiar shape. 

The loom felt like her best friend.  Maybe she wasn’t so sane after all.

Dr. Max sat cross-legged on the floor beside her meager belongings and looked around.  “So, you’re finally busting out of here.”

“Maybe.”  She’d spent all night staring sleepless at the ceiling, well aware how tenuous the threads were that would allow her to walk in the outside world.  How quickly they could snap—and how much was on the line if they did.  “Thank you for agreeing to discharge me.”

“I trust Tabitha.”  His gaze was making her squirm.  “And I trust you.  And I damn well expect you to walk past here in a week or two and stick your tongue out at me through the fence.”

Hot tears flooded in an instant.  Twelve years ago, young and terrified and furious, those were the first words she’d ever said to him.  A defiant teenager’s wild bravado.  “I’ll come back to visit.”

“No.  Don’t.”  He handed her a bandana, the lime-green one that always rode in his jeans pocket and always looked a little worse for the wear.  “Your people have found you.  Don’t you dare come back.”

Her people.  Witches.  And for the foreseeable future, the guardians of her mind.  Things had moved very fast after she’d collapsed on the floor yesterday with just enough energy to grin victorious at Dr. Max before she’d joined the other two witches in the room and passed out cold.  They had a discovery, a plan, and one short, very anti-climactic test where Tabitha had applied the brain clamp and Hannah had met the new receptionist.

The poor woman was probably still recovering from all the manic giggles.

A brain clamp.  It sounded crazy.  Hannah headed to the window, suddenly restless.  “Do you believe in it?  Magic?”

“I’m a doctor and a scientist.  I can talk neurochemistry for hours, and I have a list of drugs I can prescribe that’s longer than my arm.”  He paused, stroking the threads on her loom.  “And every single day, I see things happen in the human brain that I can’t explain.”

She smiled and sat down beside him.  “So you believe in the
possibility
of magic.”  Typical Dr. Max, hedging his bets.

“Yeah.”  He waggled an eyebrow her direction.  “And if you figure out how to turn people into frogs, I’d like to hire you.  One-time event.”

She nearly snorted her eyes out through her nose.  There was one assistant director left from the old days of Chrysalis House.  A narrow-minded, rule-bound woman who rightly saw Max as likely to ascend to the director’s throne.  “She’d make an excellent frog.”

He grinned.  And then reached out and gently touched her shoulder.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your family?”

They’d been over this ground.  More than once.  “Don’t lie to them.  But otherwise…”  They were on a well-deserved vacation in the wilds of Yosemite.

“They’d be glad to come home.  You know that.”

A fact for which she was eternally grateful.  Not all crazy people had such good families.  “I know.”  Hannah let out a breath.  “But I can’t do this to them.  Not yet.  Not until I know.”

There would be such hope in their eyes.

And regardless of all their tough talk, she was well aware that both she and Dr. Max expected her back in this room before sunset.

-o0o-

Lauren cuddled her second mug of coffee and surveyed the team.

Jamie and Retha, ready to welcome Hannah to the world of witches who had precog and something approaching normal lives.

Sophie and Moira, fresh off chicken-pox duty.  Ginia sat between them and dared anyone to move her.  Probably a good thing—Moira would tax herself less that way.

Devin, with every witch who might possibly be useful standing by on cell-phone bat signal.

And Tabitha, quietly stuffing herself full of cookies.  The brain clamp wasn’t wildly sophisticated magic, but it required power and lots of it, and of all their designated guardians, Tab had the least of that.  Already the word had gone out to further-flung mind witches—be ready.

Witch extraction team, primed for action.

Lauren wished she felt a little more ready for what came next.

Jamie sat down and topped off her steaming mug.  “Caffeinate—it’ll help.”

Coffee helped all things.  “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to take the lead on this.  You know that, right?  That attack of hers was pretty brutal on you—we can spread it around a little.”

Those were ironic words, coming from the other guy who had been in the room with Hannah.  “That’s why you’re coming with me and playing chauffeur, huh?”

“I’m a Sullivan.”  He grinned and toasted her with his coffee cup.  “We’re gluttons for punishment.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling substantially better.  “That so wasn’t in the family vow of fealty.”

He snickered.  “Should have been.”

Truth.  Fortunately, clan adoption had also come with really good coffee and unlimited, in-your-face love.  She took a large swig of caffeine.  “Thanks.”

He grinned.  “Mom made me do it.”

Lauren looked over at Retha, who was currently supervising a Devin-Ginia arm wrestle.  And knew why this was hers to do.  “I got fetched into this,” she said simply to the man who had brought her coffee. 

And she would gladly spend the rest of her life trying to pay it forward.

“Yeah.”  He looked around his living room and then set down his cup.  “Exactly.  Let’s go fetch Hannah into a vat of awesomeness.”

-o0o-

Hide-and-seek was always such an innocent game—until someone accidentally got ported into the rose bush.  Nell hurried over to rescue Kenna, who was already pulling fire power.  “Don’t torch the flowers, munchkin, or Aunt Moira will make you scrub her cauldron.”

That was highly unlikely for several more years, but it did distract Kenna long enough to get a heat-shield spell around the roses. 

“Someone’s transport spells need a little target practice,” said an amused voice behind her.

“Ah, that sounds like the Marcus of old.”  Nell wrapped an arm around the squirmy toddler.  “Hold still, silly wiggle, or you’re going to have an ouchy thorn stab you.”  Her niece only struggled harder.

“Here.”  Marcus held up his hands, a glitzy purple cascade of water droplets running one palm to the other.  “If you sit very still, the water will turn into a fairy.”

Kenna froze, eyes wide and fascinated.

Nell stopped to watch.  Marcus being adorable was way more fun than tangling with rose bushes.

Get moving,
he sent dryly. 
I’m a one-trick pony.  Fairies are harder than they look.

She grinned and unhooked the last of the thorns. 
Ponies would be pretty popular, if you’re looking for a second act.

Kenna grinned at the dispersing droplets of fairy and ran off, met in mid-dash by Aervyn and Lizzie coming from the other direction.  Nell raised a long-distance eyebrow at her son.  “See if you can keep her out of the rose bushes, okay?”

He giggled and ported his cousin over the small garden fence.  “She’s not very good at hide-and-seek yet.  She makes too much noise and stuff.”

Nell shook her head as the trio ran off, Kenna trying madly to keep up with the other two.  “Since when is my punk one of the big kids?”

“Since the babies all got mobile.”  Marcus chuckled.  “Morgan’s been passed out asleep for three hours after trying to keep up with your crew this morning.”

Standard parent chat.  With Marcus Buchanan.  It was still a little creepy.

Thanks a lot.

Oops.  Nell headed for a nearby table and its ever-replenished pitcher of lemonade.  “I’d get over it faster if you’d scowl at me at least once a day.” 

His face managed a passable attempt, but his mind stayed light and amused.

Nell sighed and took a seat on a convenient deck chair.  “It’s just not the same.”

“No, it isn’t.”  Gratitude oozed out of his pores.  “I hardly recognize my life most days.”

He was a walking, talking vessel of contagious happiness.  Nell leaned back in her chair, a glass of cold lemonade in her hands, and took a moment just to enjoy him.  “You deserve it—you know that, right?”

“No, I don’t.”  He sat down, picking up the glass she’d poured him.  “I spent a lot of years believing I deserved what had been thrown at me, and it turned my life to dust.”

“Sorry.”  And she was, deeply.  “I didn’t mean to take you back there.”

“It’s good to remember.”  He smiled as fiddling music drifted out of the inn behind them.  “It reminds me to live in the moment I have.  I couldn’t possibly have done anything extraordinary enough to deserve Morgan and Cass.”  The sunlight blew back into his mind.  “But I damn well intend to enjoy them.”

She could have told him that he was plenty extraordinary.  But when a man was happy, you didn’t try to change his mind.  “Maybe Cass isn’t entirely crazy.”

He propped up his feet on a handy rock.  “Remember you said that.  Aervyn wants a violin.”

Nell considered the lilting music floating through the air.  That might not be so terrible.

Marcus snorted.  “The first lessons aren’t usually quite that melodic.  Cass has acquired quite a few students lately.”  He downed half a glass of lemonade.  “Young Sean’s developed some nice additions to a standard soundproofing spell.  You might spend a little time with him while you’re here.”

Sean was a talented air witch and spellcaster—and the village’s resident troublemaker.  Nell grinned.  Some things didn’t change.  “I’ll do that.”  She could use the distraction. 

I thought perhaps you could.

The crusty old bachelor had always had a hidden streak of kindness—but he’d never been this aware. 
I’ve been a little restless, I guess.

Marcus looked over, eyes opaque.  “I expect it’s hard to be on the sidelines.  You’re usually leading the charge.”

Witch Central had plenty who could lead—it wasn’t back to Berkeley that she wanted to go.  “I keep wondering if I need to go farther away.  Somewhere the damnable specter of precog can’t follow.”

Protective parent instincts landed like a ton of bricks.  “You think we’re at risk here?”

No, she didn’t, but it was chasing her all the same.  “Only psychologically.”  She contemplated the floaty bits in her lemonade and wondered what the healers might be sneaking in.  “Very few kinds of magic pass Aervyn by.”

“Ah.”  His mind pulsed in quiet empathy—and worry for the small boy he had loved even at his most curmudgeonly.  “And this new witch has a level of precog that is rather more frightening than Jamie’s occasional splutters.”

It was terrifying.  “Once upon a time, I bet she used to play hide-and-seek with her cousins, too.”

Silence sat between them for a moment.

And then Marcus laid a hand on hers, far less awkward than he’d ever been.  “I’ve lost a large part of my life worrying about moments far away from the day I was in.  On this day, your boy plays hide-and-seek.  The rest matters—but it’s okay to put it down for a while and just enjoy.”

Dammit—he was not going to make her cry.  Nell extracted her hand and poured more lemonade into both their glasses.  “That sounds like advice I gave to you once.”

He raised an eyebrow, classic old Marcus.  “Indeed.  And
I
was smart enough to listen.”

Nell grinned.  She wasn’t getting left in the dust by a crusty old bachelor.  Not today.  She thunked her glass on the table and stood up.  “Come on.  Let’s go show the munchkins how to play storm wars.”  They had four witchlings who could use the magic practice—and the rest of the under-twelve crowd would just have fun getting wet.

It didn’t surprise her that he came.

But when a cloud full of water upended on her head, she nearly face-planted into the rose bush in shock.

Marcus shot a sneaky grin as he ran past her, headed for the beach. 
You’re so going to lose.

The laughter that bubbled up inside her came from some place primal and happy and free.  She ran after him, not bothering to argue.

He’d figure it out soon enough.

-o0o-

There was no preparing for this.  Hannah stood, clutching her cardboard box and her loom.  Jamie, her bag slung over one shoulder, leaned against the bedroom wall.

Everyone waiting for some kind of signal.

“We’re going to take you to Jamie’s house, if that’s okay.”  Lauren was watching her carefully.