Witches Under Way (9 page)

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.

Chapter 7

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.”