Witches on Parole

Unlocked

by Debora Geary

Copyright 2011 Debora Geary

Fireweed Publishing

Kindle Edition

Chapter 1

Some birthday presents made you feel really old.  Jennie looked at the neatly wrapped box with the WitchLight logo on the front and shook her head.  Surely she wasn’t old enough for senior witch status already?

Gingerly she opened the box.  Inside she found two aquamarine pendants—gorgeous, faceted blue stones set in simple silver teardrops.  They were lovely.  And they were a message.

She was to have two students, then.

She touched the matching pendant around her neck.  A sense of calm and clarity radiated from the blue stone, stronger than usual.  Jennie laughed.  Clearly someone at WitchLight thought she might need a little pacifying.

She hoped they’d put as much effort into bespelling the pendants for her two students.  Most new WitchLight recruits weren’t volunteers, and, as she remembered all too well, it was often the guides who took the worst of the reaction.

Nothing like standing in the line of fire of a pissed-off witch.

Ah, well, she thought.  WitchLight had done well enough by her all those years ago.  It was only right that she return some of the good that had come to her.

Perhaps she’d be lucky and get a couple of students with open hearts and a desire to serve.  Or at least, ones a little less cranky than she had been.  Her guide really hadn’t deserved the singed eyebrows—he’d only been the messenger.

Jennie’s sense of humor kicked in.  If there was any karmic justice in the world, her two students would be doozies.

She took a deep breath and opened the letter that had come with the box.

My dearest Jennie,

It’s your time to serve.  WitchLight needs your insight, your humor, and your creativity.  I suspect we’ve made you feel old this morning, but it’s your wisdom we seek.  It’s a curious trick of fate that wisdom generally finds those of us who are getting on in years.

You’ve lived courageously and made us both very proud.  Now we ask you to share that courage, that driving will to be the woman and the witch you were meant to be, with two who need a bit of a kick in the pants.

Invitations have been sent, and your students will arrive in the next couple of days.  We ask you to send us regular reports—further instructions will follow via email, as we’ve now embraced the wonders of modern technology.

Use our help.  You’ll likely find yourself needing it.  Melvin said to tell you that eyebrows do grow back.

And a most happy birthday.  I hear the triplets have taken over Nat & Jamie’s home for the event.  I trust it will be very glittery and full of love, just as you deserve.

Blessed be,

Vero

Jennie leaned back into her couch as memories swamped her.  Melvin’s crusty voice, always gently pushing, never, ever letting her take the easy road.  He’d put a camera in her hands.  Her first pictures had been terrible—a task completed only because he’d insisted.  He’d kept pushing until she’d been willing to put herself into the pictures.

It had always appealed to her sense of the absurd that the career of a world-famous photographer had been launched by a blind accountant.  A very tenacious blind accountant.

And at fifty-seven years old, the knowledge that she’d made him proud was enough to bring her to tears.

In three months, Melvin had changed her life.

It was for him that she’d serve as WitchLight asked—and hope to be half the guide he had been.

She stood up.  There were things to get ready, but first, she had a birthday party to attend, and the guest of honor shouldn’t be late.

Chapter 2

He was a totally evil jerkwad of a slime-ball, and may he rot in hell.  She had the worst freaking luck with roommates.  What prehistoric idiot still thought it was the girl’s job to do all the cooking and cleaning, and then take care of a couple of his friends’ “needs” on the side?

He was just a pimp with a fancier name.  Although, truth be told—and if you couldn’t tell yourself the truth in the middle of the night, you were a delusional idiot—it was the cleaning that had made her run.  Apparently baseball players shared the slovenly gene with druggies and frat boys.

“Slovenly” was such a cool word.  The kind you said quietly in your head.  She’d learned long ago never to say anything that weird out loud.

Maybe it was the words in the letter that had her walking through a nice neighborhood in the dead of night.  It was totally creepy.  No noise, nobody skulking on the sidewalk, nothing.

She pulled the crumpled paper out of her back pocket.  It had an address and directions.  She was looking for a house on some stupid cul-de-sac.  Which was another very cool word, but she was pretty sure she’d never actually met a cul-de-sac in real life.

Something about the words on the page sucked her in again.

Elizabeth,

We’re delighted that you’ve chosen WitchLight as your way of giving back to the world around you, or perhaps as a form of penance.  We trust you’ll find it an acceptable alternative to your ninety-day sentence.

Your guide for the next three months is Jenvieve Adams.  You can find her at the address listed below, along with directions on how to get there.  We trust your ingenuity and the threat of lock-up will ensure your arrival on or before July 9th of this year.

Give us a chance.  It’s possible we might surprise you.

Blessed be,

Veronica

There were so freaking many things wrong with the letter.  First, nothing surprised her anymore, and second, they’d had the nerve to call her Elizabeth.  Maybe that’s why they’d sent her off to visit some wimp named Jenvieve.  A name like that could only belong to some do-gooder witch who ate bonbons all afternoon and cuddled her cat Fifi.

However, they had one thing right.  It had to be better than jail.  Curses on the previous stupid jerkwad who had turned her in for borrowing his car.  Memo to self—if you’re going to suck up to some old guy so you can take a joyride in his really nice car, make sure his daughter isn’t a cop.

It had, however, been a really mag car.  Almost worth it.

She looked at the attached map and directions.  She should be close.  In a normal neighborhood, she’d just ask one of the street skulkers for directions, but they were conspicuously absent here.

“Conspicuously” was another one of those cool, inside-your-head kinda words.

Taking the last turn on the map, she discovered that “cul-de-sac” really meant “dead-end street.”  No wonder she’d never seen one—no escape routes.  Who the heck lived in a house with nowhere to run?

She eyed the fences.  They’d slow her down some if she had to take off, but at least there was no barbed wire.

Geez.  The jerkwad had really done a number on her if he could make her feel fifteen again.  She was legal now.  Twenty-one blessed years old and no one could make her run if she didn’t want to.  And if she did want to, she sure as hell didn’t need to go fence-hopping anymore.

Yeah, she could just go creeping around hoity-toity neighborhoods late at night.  That was so much more grown-up.

The letter said “on or before July 9th.”  Well, she was going to be a little before.  Take that, Jenvieve and Fifi.

She peered through the night at the house in front of her.  Yup, she’d found it.  Hard to tell in the dark, but it was more angular and modern than she’d been expecting.  “Angular.”  Good word.  One of the upsides of this little adventure was the opportunity to sweep out the little-used corners of her mental vocabulary.

Time to see how Jenvieve felt about late-night guests.  Probably not great, but given a choice between that and spending another delightful evening with jerkwad and friends, she was gonna take her chances with Fifi.

She knocked on the door, and then snorted.  Jenvieve was probably one of those matronly types who slept with eyepads and earplugs.  Rolling her eyes in disgust, she leaned on the doorbell.  Rise and shine, people—you’ve got company.

~ ~ ~

Jennie was carefully clipping the second-last image to her drying wire when the doorbell started to ring.  Sighing, she glanced at the last photo.  Not ready to take out of the processing fluids—it would have to be redone.

She left her darkroom, closing the door carefully behind her, and hurried to deal with whatever minor emergency had someone on her doorstep at 2 a.m.  Whoever it was either knew her darkroom habits very well, or had terrible manners—the doorbell had been ringing incessantly for over a minute now.  Good thing her husband slept like the dead.

She yanked open the door.  “Hush now, I’m not deaf.”  And stopped in surprise.  A total stranger at 2 a.m.?

“You Jenvieve?”

A lot of years of surviving in less-than-hospitable environments had taught Jennie the value of flexible mind-witch ethics.  Normally she stayed out of the minds of strangers, but she made exceptions for feisty ones who showed up at her door in the middle of the night.

A quick scan of the outer mind of the young woman in front of her said there was nothing to fear.  A thick layer of pugnacious disdain lay over top of a solid dose of insecurity.  That matched the girl’s looks—tattoos and piercings could only make you look so tough when you were five-foot-nothing of blonde fairy.

Then the blonde fairy surprised her.  Two things happened together: a last stray thought—“pugnacious, cool word”—and slammed-down mental barriers.

Well, well.  The new arrival was a mind witch—and good enough to have picked up thoughts from Jennie’s outer mind.

“Come in, my dear.  Do you like chocolate cake?  I was just about to have a bedtime snack.”

Her stranger stood frozen on the doorstep, a mix of caution and surprise on her face.

“I’m Jenvieve, although most call me Jennie.  I assume you’ve come to find me.  You’ve also got enough talent to have read that I mean you no harm.” She waited a beat, just long enough for the girl to acknowledge her meaning.

Then she turned and began heading toward the kitchen.  “Stand there all night if you wish, but the cake is exceptional, if I do say so myself.”  She smiled at the sound of footsteps entering her hallway.  Chocolate.  Worked every time.

Turning on the hanging lights over her kitchen’s island, her eyes fell on the box from WitchLight.  Ah, she should have figured that one out faster.  The skittish new arrival must be her first student.

She puttered in the cupboards and fridge, assembling a late-night snack.  “So, do you have a name?”

A long silence.  “Lizard.”

Jennie was grateful her head was in the fridge.  She was fairly certain such a pronouncement wasn’t meant to be met with laughter.  When her sense of humor was under control, she pulled her leftover birthday cake out of the fridge, set it on the counter, and carved off a couple of slices.  “And how did you come by such an unusual name?”

An even longer silence.  “It’s what I choose to be called.”

Ah.  “Did your parents saddle you with a fluffy name like Jenvieve too?”  Good.  She’d surprised the girl.

Maybe she could take it just a little further.  While she’d made peace with her name decades ago, she vividly remembered punching six-year-old Jimmy O’Connor in the nose for having the audacity to suggest that only girly girls had girly names.  With careful precision, Jennie packaged that thought and sent it toward her new charge, being very careful to leave it sounding like a casual leak.

Audacity.  I like that one.

The unguarded response caught Jennie by surprise.  The girl clearly had a fondness for big words.  Fascinating, and possibly useful.  Before she could be of any use to her student, however, she needed to know more about why the girl was here.

She passed Lizard—that was going to take some practice to use with a straight face—another slice of cake.  The first had evaporated.  “I assume Veronica sent you, but what brings you to my door at this hour of the night?”

The feisty look was back.  The girl dug a crumpled mess out of her pocket and threw it on the table.  “It said to arrive on or before July 9th.  I did.”

Jennie ignored the paper and raised an eyebrow.  “So you did.  Does your letter perhaps say what it is that I’m supposed to do with you?”

A spurt of fear, covered by a snicker and more attitude.  “Didn’t they tell you to expect me?”

“Nope.”  Jennie grinned.  “I’m assuming WitchLight expected you to pick a later arrival time.”

Another long silence.  The girl clearly didn’t babble just to fill space.  Lizard finally shrugged.  “I probably would have, but the jerkwad got on my nerves, so I left.”

Now they were getting somewhere.  “And what jerkwad would that be?”

“The one I was living with.”

As circumspectly as she could, Jennie examined the girl’s arms and face.  No bruising.  There were many forms of abuse, especially for a mind witch, but Lizard didn’t look like she’d been on the receiving end of any fists lately.

“No guy hits me twice.”  Lizard scowled.  “This one was just a slime-ball and he had mutant slimy friends, so I left.  No big.”

Jennie mentally cursed Vero for leaving her to dig around in the dark.  “If it’s no big, why did you ask for a WitchLight guide?”

Lizard started to laugh, a grating and slightly desperate sound.  “I didn’t ask.”

Karma really did flow back at you, thought Jennie ruefully.  Thirty years ago, she hadn’t asked for WitchLight’s help either.

The girl guzzled her glass of milk like an Irishman with a pint.  “You’re not my guide.  You’re my parole officer.  Ninety days with you, or I have to do time in lock-up.”

~ ~ ~

Jennie sat down at her computer.  She’d tucked Lizard into her guest room, tossed out the hopelessly overcooked photo she’d left drowning in her darkroom, and put away the much-reduced remains of her birthday cake.

Now it was time to give a witch a little grief.

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: A little warning next time, perhaps?

-------------------------

Dearest Vero,

A blonde fairy by the unlikely name of Lizard showed up on my doorstep tonight.  It appears she has preceded any instructions about what I’m to do with her.

It also appears she’s joined WitchLight under duress.  I’m sure those echoes of my own history weren’t an accident.  Tell Melvin I’m impressed he waited this long to get even.

Lacking any idea what to do with the poor girl, I’ve fed her and put her to bed, and erected some wards around the house in case the jerkwad is more dangerous than she believes.  Do I need to be concerned?

It also appears she may be somewhat homeless at the moment.  Given her shudders at my guest room’s purple decor—done to please my grandsons—I’m thinking she would prefer her own space.  Unless WitchLight’s mandate has changed a lot in the past three decades, I assume that would be in line with your goals for our Lizard.  I have a friend who should be able to help with that.

Barring any further 2 a.m. arrivals, I’m off to sleep.

Blessed be,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

Jennie woke up to the glorious smell of frying bacon.  Since her husband was still curled up in bed beside her, it was a bit of a mystery.  She sent a sleepy tendril of mind magic out to investigate.

Ah, Lizard.  She’d managed to forget about her middle-of-the-night visitor for just a moment.  Jennie didn’t have to wonder why the girl was up and cooking at 7 a.m.—her mind screamed “hungry.”

With the ease of long practice, Jennie slid out of bed without waking her husband.  She’d always caught her sleep in snatches wherever she could, but he was a bit of a grump without eight hours straight.  When you’d been married almost thirty years, you learned to respect these things.

She pulled on yoga pants and a tank top.  Perhaps if she dressed for yoga first thing in the morning, she’d actually make it to class.  First, however, that bacon was siren song.

When she stepped into the kitchen, Lizard spun around, holding a spatula out like a weapon.  Jennie put her hands up.  “Don’t shoot—I just came for the bacon.”

Lizard frowned.  “I guess I made enough for two.”

Jennie tried not to laugh.  Even by witch standards, there looked to be enough food for six.  When her guest turned to pull fresh biscuits out of the oven, it was hard not to drool.

Between Jennie and her husband, they managed to assemble food well enough, but their efforts were simply competent.  One look at Lizard’s biscuits, and it was clear she was another class of cook entirely.  “If you save one of those for my husband, he’ll be your willing slave.”

Lizard scowled, and her mental reaction was hard to avoid.  I thought I was done cooking for guys.

Ah, she’d stepped into that one.  Not everyone grew up in a world where skills were freely shared and gifts easily given.  For some, everything had a price.

Lizard carried two plates to the table and slapped one down in front of Jennie.  “I’ll go eat in my room, if you don’t mind.”

Jennie knew a challenge when she heard one.  She was also smart enough not to meet it head on.  “I’d love the company, actually.  Why don’t you sit for a bit and tell me a little about what you expect out of the next three months?”

“I expect to do whatever you tell me to do so I can keep my butt out of jail.”

She felt the girl’s mind reaching out.  Interesting.  It took practice to be that subtle with a scan.  Jennie debated for a moment and decided to get into the ethics of uninvited mindreading later.  Instead, she softened her barriers and let the scan touch the outer levels of her mind.

I’m no threat to you, child—and I might be a help.

Lizard’s fork clattered to the table, and her mental barriers slammed down with a crack that made Jennie wince.  “Crap.  You’re a mind witch?”

Obviously that hadn’t been clear the previous night.  “I am.  As are you—a fairly skilled one, if that scan was any indication.”

The girl glared.  “Stay out of my mind.”

Jennie decided not to point out the double standard.  “Surely you know your mental barriers are strong enough to keep me out for as long as you choose.”

It didn’t take a mind reader to see relief flitter across Lizard’s face.  It seemed she hadn’t been sure.

Jennie looked into her new student’s eyes and went with her gut.  “I take it there was someone once who didn’t stay out of your mind.”

Lizard stared for a moment, and then got up and went to the stove.  “Want more bacon?”

Pushing too hard.  Trust took time, and she’d have a lot better idea where to push with more information.  A serious chat with Vero was high on her list of planned activities for the day.  First, however, she needed to find some level ground with her student.

She watched as the girl refilled her plate and wrapped several biscuits in a napkin.  The sleeves of her shirt were pushed up, revealing more of her tattoos than the night before.  Jennie’s artist’s eye was captivated—the designs were really quite beautiful.  Perhaps this was a good place to look for footing.

“Your tattoos are lovely—did you design them yourself?”

Lizard raised an eyebrow.  “The last person who asked me that was my court-assigned psychologist.  I don’t talk about my tats with people who are too proper or too scared to have one.”

Jennie calmly turned around.  Her yoga tank left most of her shoulders bare.

Lizard snorted.  “An angel and a demon?  What were you, twelve?”

Jennie smiled.  “Something like that.”

“Decent design work, at least.”

“Mine.”

“Not bad for a twelve-year-old.”

Jennie laughed.  Now they were getting somewhere, and her instincts were kicking in.  “Let me photograph yours?”

Lizard frowned.

Ah, good.  She’d thrown the girl a little.  Being predictable was far too close to being dead.  “I take portraits, informal pictures of interesting people.  Your tattoos are beautiful, and they’d look spectacular in a black-and-white photo.”

“Are you any good?”

Newsweek had named her the photographer of the decade last year, but that didn’t seem to impress anyone under fifty.  Jennie went with the easy answer.  “I am.  Very.”

“Will you show me the pictures?”

“Of course.”  And we’ll see if they give you a bit of a different mirror to look in.

“Okay.”  Lizard paused for a moment, and then peeled off her shirt, leaving only the thin straps of a tank covering the truly glorious art on her arms and shoulders.

Jennie looked at the designs, a fantasy of soft curls and intricate detail.  A less tough-looking set of tattoos she had never seen.  She grabbed her camera off the top of the fridge.  “Tell me about your designs.”

Well used to relaxing a subject, she kept up a casual conversation while she worked, gently moving her tattooed fairy through some different poses to better show off the art.  She began with some close-in shots of the tattoos, and then as Lizard began to relax, started to include her face.  Such amazingly expressive eyes.

In the zone, Jennie moved and talked, waiting for the perfect shot.  It came as they were winding down, and Lizard rested her head on her arms on the table.  Morning light streamed in behind her, leaving shining blonde hair and eyes in shadow.

Jennie moved in and caught the moment she wanted.  She’d taken over three dozen pictures, and she’d develop a third of those, but this was the one.  Those sad and seeking eyes, lying cradled on arms covered in art.

For a gallery show, she’d have titled the portrait Vulnerable.  And that little tidbit she’d be keeping to herself for a while.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: A little warning next time, perhaps?

-------------------------

Jennie dear,

I’m terribly sorry about your surprise visitor, although not altogether unamused.  Our Lizzie (I cannot possibly call that sweet child Lizard) has a fierce need to choose for herself, even if it is just the time and place of her arrival.  I trust it is a trait you will recognize well.

Lizzie is the first student in our new pilot program.  While it is fairly unusual for our community to leave a witch in the hands of the regular justice system, it does happen.  We’ve established some credibility with the state’s judges in the hopes of convincing them that WitchLight offers a viable community service placement for some of our young people.

While I’m not above using magic to get what I want, in this case we’ve put our organizational reputation on the line instead.  Don’t let us down, Jennie.  Jail is a terrible place.

That said, our Lizzie most certainly needs some direction in her life.  She’s had a rough start.  It’s up to us to help her choose a better future.

You have significant latitude in how you operate.  I’d appreciate regular reports, but we asked you to serve because of your creativity.  Use it.

I believe that setting her up with a space of her own is a necessary, but risky, step.  Our Lizzie has a distressing tendency to acquire roommates of highly dubious character.  You needn’t worry about the previous jerkwad—while he’s a sad specimen, he poses no threat to either of you.  The next jerkwad, however, may be less harmless.  Let’s see if we can steer our girl to brighter ground, shall we?

Melvin would like you to know that he didn’t assign Lizzie to you.  I did.  He selected your other student.  Expect her at 2 p.m. today—she’ll be right on time.

Walk in the light,

Vero

Chapter 3

Elsie nodded in approval at the excellent instructions in her hand.  Just another bit of evidence that WitchLight was a well-run organization.  Exactly what she needed to help herself get back on track.

Being a witch was complicated, and everyone needed an extra bit of guidance from time to time.  WitchLight offered the opportunity for three months of service under the auspices of a mentor.  While they’d been somewhat unclear on her guide’s credentials, she had been assured all WitchLight staff had high standards of professionalism and confidentiality.

Which was important, when you were a therapist and somewhat concerned about your ethical boundaries.

She slowed her car down for a moment and checked the directions again.  0.3 miles to the next right turn.  Excellent.  Almost there.

Not that getting wrapped up in your clients was a bad thing, but seven years of psychology training had made very clear that a certain distance was mandatory.  Therapists listened, empathized, offered questions that might expand a client’s thinking.

They didn’t act.  And lately she’d been fighting off the strangest urges.

She’d almost kicked Mr. Monroe out of her office last week simply because he’d requested twice-weekly sessions.  Worse, she’d had the most unprofessional need to tell him to grow up, move out of his mother’s house, and find something to do with his life.

Then there was sweet little Jenna, whose parents wanted her to have some help building self-esteem.  When her mother had complained about lack of progress, Elsie had been hard-pressed not to point out that she and Jenna’s father were the source of the problem.  In a very loud voice.  The kind that might be mistaken for yelling.

She never yelled.  That would be beyond unprofessional.

So, she’d done what every therapist does when faced with a professional crisis.  She’d consulted her own therapist.

He had listened, nodded, and asked gentle questions—he was a very competent psychologist.  He’d carefully nudged her to see that her issues were a classic case of transference.  Her clients weren’t taking action in their own lives, so she felt a counterbalancing need to act.

Which, as her therapist was quick to point out, was a noble instinct.  She just needed to find an outlet other than interfering in her clients’ lives.

Most satisfied with that conclusion, she’d carefully researched and compiled her top three options.  WitchLight had stood out as a clear winner, offering an opportunity to serve others while perhaps taking advantage of her small witch talents.  That had tipped the balance against fundraising work for the United Way.  It would be fun to be a witch again.

She was trying very hard to forget her outrageous third choice—a month-long workshop in trapeze flying.  It wasn’t hard to recognize the poor judgment of an impending mid-life crisis.  Lord knows she’d seen it in enough clients, although thirty-two seemed rather young to be suffering such a fate.

Seriously, trapeze flying?  Clearly a very strong signal from her psyche that if she didn’t find a mature and responsible outlet for her need to do something, she’d end up jumping into something truly crazy.

Needs shouldn’t be repressed.  Any good psychologist knew that.  They could, however, be channeled.

She pulled over to the curb, looked at the instructions in her hand one more time, and nodded in satisfaction.  She had arrived, and with a comfortable five minutes to spare.  Elsie Giannotto was always on time.

The house she’d arrived at looked somewhat out of place in the neighborhood of bungalows—a modern-looking two-story home of wood and glass, and pretty, but slightly over-run, gardens.  Her mother would enjoy tending to the flowers.

Earth magic or not, Elsie had never enjoyed playing in the garden.  It always made her feel… tense.

Not unlike how she felt now.  She sighed and reached for her bag.  Sometimes being a competent self-analyst could be a pain in the neck.  It was entirely normal to feel nervous at the beginning of a new venture.

Imagine if she’d chosen trapeze flying.

Holding her bag and the folder with her carefully crafted suggestions on how she might serve WitchLight best over the next three months, Elsie made her way through the gardens and up to the front door.

She checked her watch.  One minute to 2 p.m.  Perfect timing.  She reached up to the purple fairy-wing knocker on the door and paused.  Purple fairy wings didn’t fit her perceptions of an ideal mentor, but perhaps she was being hasty in her judgments.  She rapped on the door three times and waited.

In moments, she heard clumping footsteps, as if someone were running down the stairs.  The front door popped open, and Elsie gaped in surprise.

The young woman who had opened the door was covered head to toe in tattoos and an amazing assortment of piercings.  The bandana on her head looked like it might have been there for a month, and the leather jacket thrown over her shoulder was entirely disreputable.  It did, however, fit the juvenile-delinquent scowl of its owner.

Elsie prided herself on accurate first impressions.  This couldn’t possibly be her mentor.  Even a far less-competent organization than WitchLight couldn’t have made an error of that magnitude.

She looked down at the paper in her hand.  “I’m here to meet with Jenvieve Adams, if you would be kind enough to let her know I’m here.”

The blonde hellion turned around and yelled down the hallway.  “Hey, Jennie—I think we have the other one.  What do you want me to do with her?”

The other one?  Elsie’s heart bottomed out.

“The same thing I did with you, child,” said a disembodied voice from the back of the house.  “Invite her in.”

~ ~ ~

Jennie slid the sheet of biscuits into the oven and tried to brush some of the excess flour off her hands.  Hopefully the cooking lesson had accomplished two things—a little bonding with Lizard, who really was an excellent cook, and some serious bonus points from her husband, if she could replicate the biscuits he had swooned over a couple of hours ago.

He was a pretty adaptable guy, so she hadn’t expected him to react badly to Lizard’s arrival, but after the biscuits he was ready to adopt the girl.

Lizard was still fairly suspicious, but she’d been willing to go to the store for more bacon.  They were entirely cleaned out, and bacon seemed like a required ingredient in a really good biscuit sandwich.

Jennie looked down at her hands.  Oh, well—a little flour wasn’t going to hurt anyone.  She listened as two sets of footsteps echoed in the hallway.  Lizard’s clomp—the girl had a hundred ways to make herself look and sound tougher than she was—and the clipped beat of high heels.

Make that sensible heels.  Jennie took in the new arrival as she hung back in the doorway of the kitchen.  The perfectly conservative career woman.  Oh, Lord.  What had Melvin done to her?

While she could feel shock and dismay oozing out of the woman’s mind, her face showed nothing but polite interest.  “Hello, I’m Elsie.  You must be Jenvieve—am I pronouncing that correctly?  I believe WitchLight has assigned you as my mentor.”

Jennie choked back the urge to be a punk and reached out with a handshake of welcome.  “I am, but please call me Jennie.  Easier to say, and I’m more likely to answer.”  She waved toward a chair.  “Have a seat.  In a few minutes, I can offer you a passable biscuit if you’re hungry.”

More polite interest, coupled with leaking distress.  “Are you a chef, then?”

Lizard, who’d been leaning against the wall, snorted, but said nothing.

Jennie hid her grin.  “I’m getting a lesson, actually.  Lizard here is a terrific biscuit maker.”

Finally, the polite interest cracked.  “Really?”  It came out in a squeak.

Jennie brushed flour off her countertop.  It hadn’t been a particularly tidy lesson.  “Apparently the trick is to grate frozen butter into your flour.”  Then she took pity on their new arrival and tried to find safer ground.  “Tell me a little about yourself.”

“Oh!  I’m so sorry.”  Elsie frowned.  “Did WitchLight not pass along my profile?  I sent them quite a detailed one.”

“There was a small delay in the paperwork, I believe.”  Jennie was fairly sure she’d never get Elsie’s profile.  “Why don’t the three of us sit here while the biscuits finish baking and get better acquainted?”

Elsie turned white.  “The three of us?”

Curse Melvin and his sense of humor.  “Yes.  The two of you have been assigned to me for the next ninety days.  Elsie, meet Lizard.  Lizard, Elsie.”

To a mind witch, Elsie’s reaction was clear as day.

As was Lizard’s mind-hurled response.  Supercilious snot.

Jennie let a hint of her amusement leak into her mind response.  Pugilistic brat.  She counted it a sizable victory when Lizard’s lips twitched.

Lizard raised an eyebrow from her place against the wall, stance slightly less combative.  “What’d you do?”  At Elsie’s wordless confusion, she elaborated.  “How come you have to do the WitchLight program?”

Concern pooled in Elsie’s eyes.  “It’s not required.  I was looking for an opportunity to serve others, and I look forward to making a closer connection with other witches.”

Lizard burst out laughing.  “Gee, that’s kind of different from the marketing pamphlet I got.”

And the one she’d gotten, Jennie thought dryly.  Vero’s a tricky witch.

She could see Elsie working very hard to reassemble her professional armor.  Acting from instinct, she moved back and reached quietly for her camera as her two new recruits faced off.  Go ahead, Lizard—stir her up a little more.  If they were going to help Elsie, they needed to know who she was under that suit.

“Have you been required to participate in WitchLight?” Elsie asked, reaching desperately for her manners.

“You could say that.”  Lizard snickered.  “This is my court-mandated community service.  You can put whatever pretty words you want on this, but in my world, we’re witches on parole.”

Jennie watched through her camera lens as shock hit Elsie’s face, followed in quick succession by disbelief, panic, and then a single burst of genuine laughter.  Long years of experience had her preserving each on film.

And then watching in regret as Elsie’s face shut down again.  Armor back on.  This one would be a tough nut to crack.

Elsie folded and re-folded her hands on the table.  “While I’m sorry to hear that, I assure you I’m not here under duress.”

She pulled files out of her bag and handed them to Jennie.  “Here is a copy of the personal profile I sent, along with a skills self-evaluation and a list of the types of service opportunities I feel might be a good match with my talents.  I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I thought it would save time if you had some background.”

Supercilious snot indeed, thought Jennie, after making sure her mind barriers were firmly in place. Then she took a deeper look at Elsie and gave herself a good, quick mental kick.  Elsie was in over her head, and less adaptable than Lizard.  They could work on change tomorrow.  Today needed to be about welcome.

She reached out for the files.  “Come.  Let me show you to your room.  I’ll take some time to look at your paperwork, and give you a chance to settle in.”  And we can both regroup.

Lizard levered off the wall.  “I’ll go get that bacon.”  After a pause, she looked at Elsie.  “Do you need anything from the store?”

Jennie raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Lizard scowled.  I don’t kick dogs or pull the tails off bunnies, okay?  She’s scared.  I reserve the right to kick her when she gets back to being a prissy know-it-all.

The student had gotten there faster than the teacher.  It was going to be a very interesting next few days.

Jennie reached for Elsie’s arm to lead her upstairs, and took the opportunity to do a basic power scan.  She was guessing air witch—with the notable exception of her nephew Jamie, most air witches leaned a little bit toward the know-it-all camp.  However, apparently this day was destined for surprises.  No air power, minor earth talents—and crap, crap, crap.

Elsie Giannotto was a fire witch.  And since she was currently practically sparking, not a very well-trained one.

Not funny, Melvin.  Not funny at all.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Well, they’re here.

-------------------------

Dear Vero,

I expect it amuses you to have sent me two such entirely different students.  Lizard (I will persist in calling her that until the girl decides differently) might be more challenging on the surface, but I suspect it is Elsie who will have me pulling my hair out before this is done.

I’m sure Melvin is chortling.  Don’t encourage him.  At least there was only one of me.

Well, a status report.  They’re both here, entirely suspicious of each other, me, and WitchLight, not necessarily in that order.  Lizard will stick because she has to.  Elsie will likely stick because I’ll bet she’s never consciously quit anything in her life.  Perhaps I’m wrong.  It won’t astonish me if she comes out of her room with a well-drafted and polite exit plan.

Know that I’m sorely tempted to join Lizard in making hay with Elsie’s ordered life.  However, I’m wiser than our punk fairy in at least one respect—I suspect we’re dealing with a fire witch.  And never having seen a fire witch quite that bottled up, some seriously repressed magic.

Even I’m not dumb enough to mess with a repressed fire witch in a house made of wood.

It seems that WitchLight’s strategy is to throw all of us together and see what happens, but if you have any background on Elsie’s magic, that would be appreciated.  My elemental powers are weak, and my assessment may have been off base.  One of tomorrow’s tasks will be to call in some backup on that front.

I will admit to not being entirely sure of your cleverness in assigning Elsie to me.  See, Melvin?  I’ve grown up—there was a time I wouldn’t have said as much even under duress.

A mind witch, even one with some past traumas—that I can handle.  A fire witch who’s had her genie in a bottle for decades?  Would it not make more sense to assign her a mentor who could help her learn to free and control her magic?

My feeble powers are no match for fire magic out of control—and yes, I’m aware that may sound like a bit of an excuse.  But after an hour in my kitchen, it seems fairly evident that she’s either going to blow or drive herself totally insane.

And my weakness lies in hoping the former happens before she presents me with another of her folders.

I have pictures to go develop.  Perhaps those will hold some answers.  At the very least, it’s a quiet, dark room.  Yes, you’re correct—I’m heading for my cave.  I have some thinking to do.

Blessed be, and then get me some answers.

Jennie

~ ~ ~

Busying her hands with the long-familiar task of preparing chemicals and trays, Jennie let her mind wander.  It was time to stew a little, and her darkroom was her very favorite place to do that.

Most photographers these days had gone entirely digital, but she just couldn’t get into quite the same funk over a computer screen.

And she sorely needed her cave.  After firing off her slightly panicked email to Vero, she’d rescued her sadly burnt biscuits, then sat down for a half-hour with Elsie’s obsessively neat file folder.

She now knew her student was a professional therapist, well respected and thorough, and suffering from a bit of a self-imposed ethics crisis.  Elsie had grown up a witch, but in a home where that meant a little extra skill with the tomato sauce.  Her mother had minor earth talents and had diligently trained those same skills in her daughter.

In twenty-three pages of paperwork, there was no mention of fire magic.  And given the excruciating detail of all the rest of Elsie’s documentation, Jennie had to conclude that she truly didn’t know—which seemed highly unlikely—or she was in deep denial.

Neither option suggested smooth sailing ahead.

Also, she could hardly park the two girls in her spare bedrooms and wait for a fire to start.  She had ninety days, and two witches to guide. Melvin had pulled off miracles in that same timeframe.

Judging the timing on autopilot, Jennie began lifting photographs out of the last emulsion and hanging them on her drying lines.

What to do, what to do.  First, she needed help.  She needed a stronger fire witch to do a decent assessment of Elsie—Nell or Jamie would be obvious choices.

Next, she needed somewhere to put Lizard and Elsie during the day.  A “service opportunity.”  She looked around her darkroom.  They weren’t coming in here, either of them.

Melvin had handed her a camera and brought out a need and a creativity she hadn’t known existed.  What did her students need?

Elsie—a chance to lighten up.  She was nearly as prissy inside her head as out.  No, it was more than that.  She needed a chance to meet the part of herself she’d tightly bottled up.  Magic was a piece of that, but maybe there was a more gentle way to open that door—something a little more subtle than throwing a match on a bonfire.  And something fairly persistent.  No one let go of their most cherished self-beliefs easily.

She picked up the picture of Elsie’s sudden laughter, the single moment when she’d finally been prodded out of her shell.

Jennie grinned.  Elsie needed a serene and stubborn invitation to life—and she knew just the woman to provide it.

That left Lizard.  As Jennie pulled her best photograph out of the tray, it was Lizard’s eyes that spoke the picture’s truth.  Vulnerability.  This was the girl that cooked breakfast unasked, fondled big words in her head, and cut a break to a stranger.  All tucked behind a wall of scowls, piercings, and tattoos.

She needed someone to deal with the facade while taking enough care with the girl behind the tough.  And if Jennie followed her deepest instincts, Lizard needed a challenge she couldn’t resist.  One that called to the blonde fairy with the sensitive eyes.

Jennie hung the best portraits of each of her students side by side.  Lizard’s seeking eyes next to Elsie’s unexpected mirth.  A most unlikely pair.

But perhaps, not an entirely accidental one.

A slow grin crossed Jennie’s face.  She needed an apartment for the two of them, and a challenge for Lizard.  She knew just the person who could help her with both.

With a last satisfied look at her pictures, Jennie left the darkroom.  Time to call in some favors.

Chapter 4

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: Well, they’re here.

-------------------------

Jennie dear,

Since when have you been frightened by a little fire?  Melvin’s theory is that you’re more afraid of Elsie’s rather prim persona than whatever magic she’s tamping down.  Prove him wrong, my dear—it does get tiresome that he’s almost always right.

We’re a bit embarrassed to admit we didn’t assess her powers.  She seemed such a put-together young woman—with some issues, to be sure, but we believed them to be of the psychological kind.  She’s far too firmly attached to her lists and plans, and you seemed the perfect person to shake things up a little.

I stand by that evaluation, but a little fire magic thrown into the mix is definitely going to make the shaking up a necessarily more delicate maneuver.

We’d be happy to help find an appropriate trainer for the magical side of things, but I think you’re related to most of them.  Young Jamie would be an excellent choice, if you can drag him away from that gorgeous pregnant wife of his.  It’s a true shame his Nat isn’t a witch.  She would be a magnificent one.

I assume you have some thoughts in mind to keep your unlikely duo busy for the next three months.  I look forward to hearing more about them.

Best of luck,

Vero

~ ~ ~

Lauren watched in astonishment as her best friend Nat inhaled her third bread roll in two minutes.  They weren’t kidding about the appetites of pregnant women.

Nat looked up and blushed.  “Sorry.  I’m suddenly starving all the time.  It’s like the morning-sickness switch turned off and the eat-like-a-teenage-boy one turned on.  I had four helpings of lasagna last night.  Even Jamie was impressed.”

Lauren laughed.  Nat’s husband was used to witch-sized appetites, but not in his yoga instructor wife.  “I’ve repaired the damage you did to my ice-cream stash the last time you were over.  Pregnancy might be worth it just to eat like that.”

Nat grinned and grabbed another bread roll.  “Jamie says fire-witch babies need more calories than normal babies.”

“Yeah, you stick with that story.”

Their waitress arrived with a second basket of rolls and the guest of honor.  Lauren reached out as Jennie sat down.  “If you want a roll, grab it now.  Nat’s vacuuming anything that resembles food.”

Jennie chuckled.  “One day it will be you with a babe in your belly, my dear, and then you’ll be more sympathetic.”

Lauren rolled her eyes for form.  “Everyone always sides with the pregnant chick.”

“Just you wait.”  Jennie’s eyes twinkled.  “You’ll be a part of Nat’s birthing circle.  There’s a very good reason we spend nine months honoring pregnant mamas.  Trust me, they earn it.”

Nat’s smile was loopy and full of sunlight.  “I can’t wait.”

Jennie patted her hand.  “I have a little project for you in the meantime.”

“I knew it.”  Lauren tapped the menu.  “I want one of their tiramisu desserts as a bribe.”

“Maybe it’s just Nat’s help I need.”

In five months of being a witch, Lauren had learned to roll with the goofiness and general teasing.  “It could be expensive—she’ll probably want six desserts.”

Nat didn’t even bother to look offended.  She just nodded and grinned.

Jennie chuckled.  “You might want more than one yourself.  Let me tell you what I have in mind.”

As they nibbled on bread rolls and waited for their lunches, Jennie filled them in on her latest assignment.  Lauren had never heard of WitchLight.  Not a big shock—since moving to Berkeley, she’d been catching up on twenty-eight years of living as a non-witch, but there were still a lot of holes in her education.

She leaned back, enjoying the story of Jennie’s misspent youth.  She suspected it was the short version.  “So, some guy at WitchLight gave you a camera to keep you out of trouble?  What was he, psychic?”

Jennie laughed.  “No.  As far as I know, Melvin has no precog.  He claims it was simple desperation.”  Her face softened.  “Whatever it was, he deeply shaped the woman I became, and I’ll always be grateful.”

Tears slid down Nat’s cheeks, and Lauren handed over a napkin.  She’d learned that pregnant women also cried over cheesy commercials, cute babies in strollers, and chocolate chip cookies—one stereotype that was apparently all too true.

Nat sniffled and touched Jennie’s hand.  “What can we do to help?”

Lauren studied the two of them, considering.  She wasn’t going to be quite as easy a sale.  Well, probably she was, but any good negotiator knew better than to agree before the deal was on the table.  She might be the realtor to Berkeley’s witch population now, instead of Chicago’s elites, but she was still a terrific negotiator.

I’m asking the much larger favor of her, Jennie sent dryly.

Lauren hid her grin.  Taking advantage of a pregnant woman, are you?

Yup.  I don’t think there’s much she can’t handle, even with a fire-baby in her belly.

Well, that was definitely true.  Nat could find a path through anything, which stood her in good stead now that she’d married into Witch Central.  Her serenity rarely wavered.

Nat rolled her eyes.  “Whatever you two are talking about, let it go.  I’ll be fine.”

Lauren laughed.  Two mind witches at the table, and Nat was more tuned to thoughts and emotions than either of them.

Jennie reached into her bag and pulled out two photographs, laying them down on the table.  “These are my first two students.”

Lauren looked at the pictures, caught first, as always, by the sheer artistry of Jennie’s work.  Two young women—one in a bandana and tattoos, with soft, sad eyes.  The other could easily have been a colleague—professionally stylish and caught in a moment of laughter.

Nat reached out and touched the laughing face.  “She doesn’t laugh often, does she?”

Jennie beamed in approval.  “Not at all.  You always see what matters.”

Nat shrugged.  “It’s right there in the picture.”

Lauren stared.  She still couldn’t see it.  She reached toward the other photo.  “Why the sad eyes?”

“The official story, or my guess?”

Lauren inhaled blissfully as the waitress delivered plates of pasta heaven.  The smell alone was worth the trip.  “A little of both.”

“The background I know says she’s had a fairly traumatic past.  Nothing really awful, but a lot of manipulative people in her life, and not enough who cared.  She’s a mind witch, so she felt all those things deeply.”  Jennie paused for a bite of linguine.  Her mind oozed pleasure.  “My guess—she has an innate desire to help others and she’s never had a healthy outlet for it, one where her efforts were appreciated.”

Nat nodded.  “She feels worthless.”

Jennie smiled.  “Again with that magic intuition of yours, Nat.  You’re exactly right.  She needs a purpose.”

Lauren was starting to catch up.  “And you’re thinking we can help with that.”

“Exactly.”  Jennie touched the two portraits.  “I’m hoping to assign one of them to each of you, as sort of an intern.  Just during work hours.”  She grimaced.  “Then I could really use your help, Lauren, finding a place for the two of them to live.”

That was a curveball.  “You’re going to have them live together?”

“Yup.”  Jennie’s eyes twinkled.  “You might find something where the neighbors aren’t too close by.”

Witches didn’t always make the best tenants.  Lauren sighed and pulled out her phone to make a note.  She’d find them something.  Then Jennie’s first request sank in.  “Wait a minute.  You want one of them to work for me?”

Jennie grinned.  “That’s right.  And the other with Nat.”

Lauren gazed at the two portraits.  Blondie with tattoos and piercings, or the woman in a suit who never laughed.  No contest.  She pointed at the pictures.  “Can I have this one?  Please?”

“I think that was Jennie’s plan.”  Nat laughed softly.  “I also think she underestimated you.”

Jennie blushed.  “I did, and I’m sorry.  I thought I might have to talk you into my girl with the tattoos.”

Lauren looked at the pictures again.  “You’re not so far off.  In Chicago, yeah, I might have taken some convincing.”  She grinned.  “But this is Berkeley, and most of my clients are witches.  What are a few piercings?”

“Besides,” Nat said, “she needs to help people in a really tangible way.  You find people homes.  She’ll totally dig that.”

Jennie shook her head, laughing.  “Want my job with WitchLight, Nat?  You’d be a star.”

“Nope,” Nat mumbled around a huge mouthful of spaghetti.  “I hear you have to be old to get that job.”

The look on Jennie’s face was priceless.  And how Nat managed to swallow her spaghetti while laughing that hard, Lauren would never know.  Marriage to Jamie was letting her best friend’s sense of humor loose more publicly.  Go, Jamie.

So, her real estate office was about to acquire an assistant.  Lauren looked down at the photos one more time.  Blondie for her, and Suit Girl with Nat.  That would work—Nat could get anyone laughing.

Jennie touched the second picture and looked at Nat.  “Elsie, here—I think she needs yoga.  She’s all in her head, and she’s got some of her magic locked up tight.  I’ll ask Jamie to work with her on that, but first, we need to get her to breathe and feel and move.”

Nat grinned.  “Done.  Can I make her scrub yoga mats, too?  The smell still makes me nauseous.”

Lauren laughed.  Nat had the cleanest yoga mats in Berkeley since getting pregnant.  Her sense of smell was becoming legendary—even students who brought their own mats faced the lemony spray bottle.

She looked down at the picture.  Elsie would have no idea what had hit her.  Then the other photo caught her attention one more time, and she looked back up at Jennie.  “My student—what’s her name?”

Jennie snickered.  “Lizard.”

“Seriously?”  Lauren stared in disbelief for a moment, and then waved over their waitress as Nat dissolved into giggles.  “This is definitely going to cost you more than one tiramisu.”

Jennie rolled her eyes.  “Just send me the bill for your ice-cream stash.  Three months’ worth.”

Lauren grinned.  That was an acceptable bribe.

~ ~ ~

Jamie turned to his four-year-old sidekick in the back seat.  “Ready, partner?”

Aervyn grinned.  “Fireman Walker, at your service.”  He unbuckled his car seat and picked up the red fireman hat off the seat beside him.

Jamie laughed and hoped this was a good idea.  Testing a fire witch could be tricky business, and a second witch to act as fire control often came in handy.  However, a four-year-old was always unpredictable backup, even when he was the strongest witchling in the west.

He opened the door for Aervyn and dumped the fire hat on his head.  “Remember, dude, your job is to make sure we don’t burn down Aunt Jennie’s house.”

Aervyn rolled his eyes.  “I know how to do a training circle, Uncle Jamie.”  He grinned.  “Besides, if we burn down her house, she might not make me any more cookies.”

“You’ve got a point there.”  Jamie pulled empty Tupperware containers out of the trunk.  Jennie was part of the massive witch brigade keeping his pregnant wife supplied with cookies.  His job was transport.  And keeping four-year-olds and other sneaky beings out of her cookie stash.

Easily the worst moment of his marriage thus far had been Nat’s devastation when she found out he’d eaten the last snickerdoodle.  He might’ve come to test a couple of witches, but he wasn’t leaving without a snickerdoodle resupply.

Aervyn stood at the front door and waited.  Jamie walked up behind him, balancing a stack of empty containers.  “You going to knock, superboy?”

“Nuh, uh.  I mind-yelled.  Aunt Jennie didn’t hear, but someone else did.  She’ll let us in.”

Well, that answered one assessment question.  Clearly someone was a mind witch with fairly powerful projection skills, if they’d managed to push an answer back to Aervyn.  Most people couldn’t mindspeak through walls, himself included.

He figured their mind witch was the cute blonde who opened the door, since the first thing she did when she spied him was to slam down her mental barriers.  She smiled at Aervyn, however.  “Hey.  You must be the kid who likes snickerdoodles.”

He grinned.  “I do, but we hafta save some for Auntie Nat.  She gets awfully sad if we don’t.  I think it’s cuz of the baby in her belly.”

Jamie watched in appreciation as Aervyn wrapped the blonde around his little finger in ten seconds flat.  Man, he wished he was still four and adorable.

The girl looked up at him and snickered.  Huh.  He hadn’t expected her to be able to pick up his stray thoughts with her barriers that tight.  You have some nice training, he sent.

Stay out of my head.

Damn.  How come he always got the prickly witches to test?

Aervyn watched the two of them with interest.  Can I test her, Uncle Jamie?

She might not want you in her head either, little dude, but we’ll give it a try.  Let’s make it to the kitchen first, huh?

Four-year-olds could still be distracted by cookies.

Jennie looked up as they entered the kitchen.  “Hello, my boys!  You’re just in time.”  She held out two cookies, still steaming.  “Fresh out of the oven.”

Aervyn bit into his and danced around like an Irish step dancer on speed.  “Hot, hot, hot!”

Jennie laughed.  “Hasn’t anyone taught you a cookie-cooling spell yet?”

“Oh.”  Aervyn giggled.  “I didn’t think of that.”  He waved a hand negligently at his cookie and then crammed the rest in his mouth.  “Wow, these are the awesomest.”

“Lizard made them.”  Jennie pointed to his blonde companion.  “She’s an awesome cook.”

Aervyn’s eyes gleamed.  “Really?”  He turned to Lizard, ready to make a new friend.  “So, are you the fire witch?”

She grinned.  “Nuh, uh.  Are you?”

He nodded, mouth still half full of cookie.  “Yup.  I’m pretty much every kind of witch.  I’m a’posed to help test you.”

Jamie met Jennie’s eyes and grinned.  Okay, she’s not going to be a challenge.  She’s clearly a well-trained mind witch, and a strong one—she heard Aervyn from outside.

I think she’s had lots of reason to practice, and not all good ones.  Jennie began restocking his Tupperware containers.  But I agree with you.  I think her magic is solid.  She’s a water witch as well, if I’m not mistaken—very minor talents, though.

Jamie looked at Aervyn and sent a quick message.  The answer came back in seconds.

Yup, she is.  And she’s nice.  I like her.

Jennie smiled.  You have a good heart, kiddo.

Aervyn grinned.  “Can my heart have another cookie?”

Jennie reached into a basket and pulled out a biscuit stuffed with egg and bacon.  “How about a sandwich first?  Lizard made these, too.”

Jamie drooled and put on his best puppy-dog face.  They smelled like heaven.

Jennie laughed and handed out more biscuits.  Aervyn grabbed Lizard’s hand and pulled her to the table.  “How did you get such a cool name?  Does it hurt to get a ring in your nose?  Why is the dragon in your tattoos smiling?”

“He still hasn’t learned that he gets more answers if he actually stops talking.”  Jamie spoke quietly in Jennie’s direction as he watched the two at the table.  “She’s really suspicious of me, but those two are going to be in love in about three more minutes.”

Jennie smiled.  “Good.  She needs some uncomplicated love in her life.”

If that’s all she needed, there was plenty of that to go around.  “We’re having a water-balloon fight on Saturday.  Dibs for her on my team.”

Jennie laughed.  “You might need reinforcements.  I hear the terrible trio has worked up a secret plan.”

No way was he losing his title of water-balloon king to nine-year-old triplets, even if they were his nieces.  “Just bring her by.  She’ll be on the winning team, I promise.”

He looked around, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be testing two witches.  “Where’s your other student?”

Jennie looked pained.  “On a trip to the corner store looking for tofu.”

Jamie wiped biscuit crumbs off the counter and shook his head.  “Crazy woman.”

“Not nearly crazy enough.”  Jennie sighed.

Huh.  Whoever this woman was, she was clearly causing his aunt some consternation.  Speaking from long experience involving everything from flying plastic snakes to teleportation accidents, he knew that was actually fairly difficult to do.

He reached for her hand.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll figure her out.”

Jennie grinned.  “That’s Nat’s job.  We just need to make sure she doesn’t burn anything down in the meantime.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow.  “Nat’s job?”  How had his wife managed to get tangled in this since he’d seen her at breakfast?

“Elsie’s going to do an internship in her yoga studio.  I just had lunch with Nat—it’s all set.”

A fire witch in his wife’s beloved studio?  Shit.  “Can’t she get Lizard instead?”

Jennie grinned.  Gotta love a family where piercings and tattoos are easier to place than a woman in a suit.

Jamie thought she was joking until he heard steps in the hallway and looked up.  Who the heck wore a suit to go to the store for tofu?

The stranger who had just entered the kitchen stuck out her hand.  “Hello, I’m Elsie Giannotto.”

Italian fire witch?  That figured.  “Hi, I’m Jamie.”

Jennie took the grocery bag from Elsie’s hands.  “Jamie is one of our best witch trainers.  I asked him to come here to assess you and Lizard.”

Elsie cocked her head.  “I submitted a full talents profile to WitchLight.  I can get a copy if you like, but my magic is fairly minor.  A little earth talent, just like my mother.”

Great.  A fire witch in denial.  He opted for a professional approach and reached out a hand.  “We just like to be sure—sometimes talents are missed.  Do you mind if I do a quick scan?”

The polite mask on her face never flickered and neither did her mind.  Maybe she really didn’t know.  “I’d prefer not to, thank you.  No offense intended, but I don’t know you or your credentials.  I applied to WitchLight for their service opportunities, not for magical training.”

She showed the first signs of distress.  “I’m sorry—I made that quite clear in my profile.  It’s a bit disturbing that no one seems to have read my paperwork.  I put significant effort into making sure it was complete and thorough.”

Well, hell.  Jamie’s ethics were sometimes flexible, but you didn’t scan people who had specifically refused to be scanned.

Now what? he sent to Jennie.

Now we send her to Nat.  And we go very, very slowly.

Jamie scowled.  He was not at all excited to have an untrained fire witch anywhere near his pregnant wife.

I’m not either, Jennie said.  I’ll set up a rotation of witches in her yoga classes for the next few days.  We’ll make sure she’s got magical backup in case all hell breaks loose.

Crap.  Just what he wanted—lots more yoga classes.  Jamie sighed.  Sign me up for the morning shift.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: The plan—the short version.

------------------------

Dear Vero,

I’m glad to hear you think highly of Nat—I’ve asked her to take Elsie on as an intern.  There’s no one better to help guide Elsie out of her head and back into her body.

Since she currently won’t permit us to work with her magically (she declined Jamie’s assessment), non-magical paths will have to do.  We’ll take appropriate precautions—there will be a larger-than-normal contingent of witches rotating through Spirit Yoga’s classes in the coming days.  Jamie’s coordinating that as we speak, and I’ll be there daily as well.

I’m less worried about my other placement.  Lizard will be interning in Lauren’s real estate office.  Lauren’s a flexible and creative woman, and a talented mind witch.  I think she’ll be able to help Lizard find a sense of purpose without being distracted by surface impressions.  At the very least, it will introduce Lizard to more of Berkeley’s witch population, and perhaps give her a different community in which to drop anchor.

I’ve also asked Lauren to help find my two students an apartment.  It’s entirely possible—perhaps even probable—that they’ll kill each other within the week.  The thought does keep me up at night.

However, they’ve each, in their own ways, ended up in a comfortable, and very unhealthy, rut.  Nat and Lauren will surely shake them out of their comfort zones during the day.  I’m hoping they’ll do the same for each other when they return home at night.

I know the value of a dark cave to crawl into—but I think it’s necessary to take away any semblance of their old world for a while.  Living with each other ought to guarantee that much.  I hope.

Melvin took an enormous risk when he put a camera in my hands.  This is my attempt to pay that forward.  I expect they’ll be as ungrateful as I was.

Hold us in your thoughts,

Jennie

Chapter 5

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: The plan—the short version.

-------------------------

Dearest Jennie,

You’re a brave, brave woman.  Melvin sends his congratulations, and wishes to know if you desire a set of body armor.  His old set might fit you in a pinch.

I am impressed by your placement for Lizzie.  Not that I ever doubted your ability to see past her outer surfaces, but I think you’ve picked something that might truly tap into her need to care for others, but in a more healthy way.  Helping a family find a home is a delightful form of service, and maybe one that will give our Lizard a taste for the value of a real home as well.

My only concern is in leaving Elsie in Nat’s hands.  Natalia is an amazing woman, and an inspired choice, I think.  But putting a pregnant non-witch as the first line in dealing with a repressed fire witch sounds like a very tricky path to walk.  However, I trust the witching community will keep Nat safe—she is one of ours.  Tell Jamie that I have a couple of good friends who would be happy to take a monitoring shift during Nat’s seniors’ yoga classes.

I’m sure the next few days will be eventful ones for you.  We’ll be waiting to hear.

Blessed be,

Vero

~ ~ ~

Jennie walked out of her den, wishing she felt a little more like Vero’s brave woman.  Hopefully the placements would be satisfactory to both women, but she was entirely sure the living arrangements were going to be poorly received by both.  As might the aquamarine pendants in her hands.

She squared her shoulders and stepped into her kitchen.  Once more, into the breach.

“Good morning, you two.  Lizard, breakfast smells lovely again. Thank you.”

Lizard shrugged.  “No big.  You had some stuff sitting in your fridge.  I don’t do yogurt.”

Jennie looked at the crisp waffles, fresh strawberries, and mountains of whipped cream.  Then she looked at the bowl of yogurt in front of Elsie, and gave thanks that she didn’t have that kind of self-control.

Someone needed to tell Elsie that one of the serious side benefits of letting your magic free was the ability to eat pretty much anything you wanted.

Jennie took a few moments to make an artistic whipped-cream face on top of her waffle.   One of the best parts about being a grandma was rediscovering the fun of playing with your food.  Yes, she was procrastinating.

She carried her breakfast treasure over to the table and had a seat.  “I’m glad you’re both here.  I wanted to talk about your service assignments, but first I have a small gift for each of you.”

The blue stones in the pendants glinted as she held them up.  “These are given to every WitchLight student as a small sign of our commitment to you.”  She touched the one around her neck.  “They contain some gentle spells to help clear and open all of our minds to the work ahead.”

Elsie took her pendant.  “I hope spellwork isn’t required for a good working relationship, but I appreciate the gesture, thank you.”

Her other student looked like the pendant might bite.  “Not my style.”

It certainly wasn’t.  Jennie bit back her grin.  “Feel free to carry it in your pocket.”

“Probably got a freaking homing beacon inside,” mumbled Lizard, shoving the necklace in the pocket of her leather jacket.

Trust could take a while to build.  Jennie opted to change the subject.  “And now, onto your assignments.  I hope you’ll be happy with the placements I’ve arranged for you.”

Lizard snorted.  Like it matters if I’m happy.

Feel free to be rude out loud, child.  But yes, it does matter.  Just like this divine breakfast matters.  Jennie nodded in approval as the girl’s face lost its combative scowl.  Her mental barriers didn’t budge an inch, but it was a start.

Elsie set her spoon down neatly beside her bowl.  “I’m looking forward to learning more about our internships.”

Jennie reached over to the counter and grabbed a pair of photographs—one of Spirit Yoga, and one of Berkeley Realty.  “I have two lovely women looking forward to meeting you.

“Natalia Sullivan owns Spirit Yoga, and she’s looking for someone to help at the front desk and with some of the lifting and cleaning, since she’s pregnant.  She also has a yoga-teacher training program with an empty slot, if that would be of interest.

“Lauren runs Berkeley Realty, which serves most of the witches in town, along with other clients looking for homes in the Arts District and core neighborhoods.  The office is growing, so she’d like some help with showings and interviewing prospective clients.”

Jennie sat back and watched in amusement as Elsie reached for the picture of Berkeley Realty.  Good.  She was glad to be not quite that predictable.  Reaching forward, she slid that photo over to her blonde chef.

“Lizard, you’ll be interning with Lauren.  She’s expecting you at ten o’clock this morning.  The bus runs right to her office, or I’d be happy to loan you my moped.”

The girl looked up in shock, quickly covered with a scowl.  “I think you’ve confused me with someone who wears a suit.”  She slid her eyes Elsie’s direction.

Elsie nodded.  “I have to agree.  There’s a certain first impression required in a real estate office, as in most professional settings.  And I’ve never done yoga.”  She paused, looking slightly uncomfortable.  “I’ve never been overly skilled at physical activities.  Surely it makes more sense to switch our placements?”

Jennie smiled and spoke gently.  “I’ve no doubt you could be an asset in Lauren’s office, Elsie, but that’s not why you came to WitchLight.  You wanted help finding your inner compass.  I think you’ll find Nat a most excellent teacher for that.  Yoga’s simply a tool.”

She watched as Elsie’s face shifted back into studied politeness.  Damn, she hated that look.  She continued more briskly.  “I’m going to ask you to trust me for a week.  You’ll each have weekly meetings with me, and if you feel the placement isn’t appropriate at that point, we can certainly discuss changes.”

Elsie nodded in acceptance and stood up from the table.  “I’ll need to stop downtown and acquire some appropriate clothing for yoga, then.  When is Natalia expecting me?”

“Ten o’clock, and I think you’ll find everything you need in her store.”  Jennie sighed inwardly as Elsie walked away, and then decided she really couldn’t leave it to Nat to break the worst of the news.  “If you swing by Lauren’s office at the end of the day, she’ll have the keys to your new accommodations.  It’s close to both of your new workplaces, and it’s fully furnished, so I think you’ll have everything you need.”

Elsie’s face froze in horror.  “Both our workplaces?  We’re going to be living together?”

Jennie smiled.  “Yes.  I think the two of you could be quite good for each other.  I hope you’ll give it an honest effort.”

Elsie gaped, then looked at the clock and turned and left the room, her face blank and her mind radiating angry disbelief.

Jennie turned to look at Lizard.  “Well?”

More scowls.  “I’m not cooking her breakfast, and I don’t own a suit.”

“It will be up to the two of you to work out the division of chores.”  Jennie waited until the girl met her gaze.  “You get to create a home from scratch.  And while Elsie might not be your ideal roommate, she’s not a jerkwad.  You have some choices to make.  Choose wisely.”

She stood up from the table.  “As for a suit, this is Berkeley.  I have a closet upstairs you can raid, but if you show up in a suit, you’ll be hopelessly overdressed.  Come.”

Lizard stood up to follow her.  Thank goodness for small mercies.

~ ~ ~

Elsie paced up and down the narrow room and took deep, calming breaths.  She always told her clients that it was best to avoid making decisions in a moment of high emotion.

You didn’t come from a family of Italians without learning that lesson young.  Her father’s relatives were always launching themselves into some kind of drama or another.

So no matter how badly she wanted to march downstairs, throw her WitchLight paperwork—that no one seemed to have read!—in Jennie’s face, and walk out the door back to her normal life, she would wait until she was calmer to make her decision.

While she believed in the value of keeping your commitments, WitchLight had seriously misrepresented their services.  First, she had significant reservations about Jennie’s qualifications.  Whatever credentials the woman might have, clearly she didn’t understand professionals and their needs.

Yoga and cleaning duties were hardly going to help her develop some clarity about her ethical obligations—which was why she had sought out WitchLight in the first place.

Not that she was demeaning yoga.  She often recommended it to her clients to promote relaxation.

And not that she was demeaning cleaning, or reception duties, or any other of the menial tasks needed in a well-functioning world.  But she had three months.  Just three months, and clearing her calendar for that amount of time had practically taken an Act of God.

Elsie pressed her palms against the sides of her head.  More and more often now, she could practically feel the sparks flying inside her when she felt this way.  She’d come to WitchLight for help, not a juvenile-delinquent roommate to fan the flames.

Good Lord, she was letting all this make her crazy.

She flopped down on the bed, indulging in a moment of sloth since no one was watching, and took three deep breaths.

The situation just needed a bit of problem solving.  She always told her clients to try to step into the other person’s shoes.  So what on earth would have caused Jennie to put her two students into shared living accommodations?

Carelessness?  Financial restraint?  Spite?

Elsie took one more deep breath and let it out, trying to ease the rubber bands squeezing down on her head.  As she blew out, the answer came to her.  In her anger, she’d overlooked the obvious reason.  Lizard was clearly in need of a mentor, someone close to her own age who could act as a guide and role model.  Perhaps the conditions of her parole even required it.  Elsie smiled as the heat between her ears cooled down.

And now that she was thinking clearly, she could even acknowledge that Jennie’s plan might very well provide some opportunities to practice better ethics choices.  Guiding Lizard to some appropriate life choices, without crossing the line into interference, was an interesting challenge.  Perhaps Jennie wasn’t entirely on the wrong track.

Her placement still seemed absurd, but once again, clear thinking was most helpful.  Jennie was just a mid-level manager, and Elsie knew how to deal with those—go above them, or go below them.  First, she would talk to Natalia and see if there was a more beneficial way to structure her placement at Spirit Yoga.  If that failed, she’d go to the top of the WitchLight organization.

She grabbed her phone and checked the time.  Excellent.  She had a calm mind, a plan, and just enough time to look for a more appropriate set of clothing before she was due at the yoga studio.

~ ~ ~

Maybe prison would have been easier.  It was hard to have a fashion crisis when you wore inmate uniforms.  Lizard stared at the contents of the closet in front of her, full of clothes left behind by Jennie’s daughters.

Terrific.  Just what she needed.  A job in a freaking office and hand-me-down clothes.

Probably a better deal than Elsie’s, though—catering to some high-maintenance, pregnant yoga chick.  Stick-up-her-butt girl had totally earned that “service opportunity.”

Maybe she should just wear her holey jeans.  That way, hotshot-realtor lady would know what she was getting.

Jennie’s words floated into her head.  You have some choices to make.  Choose wisely.  She scowled one more time and stood up.  Damn.  Maybe the old woman was getting to her.

She started randomly pulling hangers out of the closet.  Might as well get it over with.  Probably nothing would fit, anyhow, unless Jennie’s daughters were undersized sticks too.

The first few hangers hit the bed in a pile.  Random black stuff.  Then a lime-green skirt caught her attention.  It had one of those crooked edges at the bottom… she racked her mind for the right word.  Asymmetrical.  That was it.

She fingered the soft material for a moment and then tossed it on the bed.   The skirt was flirty and cute, and she just wasn’t that kind of girl.

However, girls with office jobs and nothing to wear didn’t get to be all that picky.  First she needed to figure out if any of this stuff would even fit her.  She was a totally crappy seamstress, and no way was she going to be able to alter something by 10 a.m.  Duct tape was her usual standby, but it didn’t seem like the right way out of this particular mess.

She peeled off her jeans and tank and started working through the pile.  Ten minutes later, she sat down on the bed, totally suspicious.  Every last thing fit her, down to three pairs of shoes.  And not all of it made her feel hideously uncomfortable.

Lizard prided herself on a high-quality bullshit detector, and right now, it was going off, big time.

She opened her door and stomped down the stairs, finding Jennie on her computer in the den.

Jennie looked up.  “You look very nice, dear.  I’m glad you found something to wear.”

Lizard looked down at the black pants and soft gray tank.  Wasn’t her style, but it looked pretty good.  And no way was that an accident.  She looked back up at Jennie.  “Why’d you do this?  What do you want?”

“Why did I do what, child?”

“Get me all these clothes?  I’m not stupid.  No way were these just hanging out in your spare closet.”

“Busted.”  Jennie smiled, one of those soft grandma smiles that Lizard already knew meant she was about to say something frightening.  “I called in a couple of favors.  I hope you like them.”

Favors.  That was a world she understood.  “And I suppose you want me to believe there are no strings attached.  Just some nice clothes for poor little Lizard.”  She could feel the bile rising in her throat.  Dammit, she’d been sucked in, just for a few hours.

“Just one.”  Jennie turned back to her computer, and then looked up again.  “Well, two.”

Time to find out if she should have chosen prison instead.  “And they are?”

“One, you give today an honest try.  I’m not asking you to lose the attitude—just soften it a little.  Pretend it might actually work out, just for the day.”

Lizard nodded.  Fine, she could probably fake that.  “And number two?”

“Drop by some biscuits later this week.”  Jennie grinned.  “Mine aren’t as good as yours, and I need my husband to clean out the garage.  I’m pretty sure he’ll do that for a couple of your bacon biscuit sandwiches.”

Lizard could tell she was staring.  She tried to get her chin back up to its normal position.  No way this was real.  “You want to trade several hundred dollars’ worth of very nice clothes for a decent attitude for the day and a bribe for your husband?”

“Yup.”  Jennie nodded.  “It’s worth it, trust me.  You haven’t seen the state of our garage.”  She looked back at her computer screen, clearly done talking.

Lizard stared a moment longer, then headed back upstairs.  It was a very, very weird day.   She had a bus to catch, and apparently she had clothes to pack first.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: The plan is in motion.

-------------------------

My dear Vero,

Don’t be at all surprised if you get an official complaint from Elsie by the end of the day.  She seems like the type to file an official complaint.

I talked to both of my students about the plan this morning.  It didn’t surprise me that Elsie felt she was better suited for Lauren’s real estate practice.  It saddened me that Lizard agreed.

I think we’ve maybe made some progress on that front.  She busted me on our little plan to provide her with a wardrobe, but I don’t think she’s entirely displeased.  She looked quite lovely on her way out the door, and perhaps she’ll even be willing to keep an open mind today.

Elsie is a different story.  She walked out on the meeting, which I think was the only choice left to her other than a display of actual temper.  Yes, I had a training circle up. I’ll ask Jamie and Aervyn to put a longer-lasting one in place for me as I experiment with goading that girl into some actual feelings.

I read that last sentence and am somewhat ashamed of myself, but I’ll leave it be.  It’s an honest expression of how I feel.  I don’t much like Elsie—or rather, I don’t much like the shell that is all she will let anyone touch.  I’ve met people who were that constrained on the outside before, but very rarely does it match what I pick up from their minds.  She can’t even be human in the privacy of her own head.

In my mind, I know it’s a defense, and there’s a young woman inside who must be hurting, and yearning.  But she’s like a whiny child or a puke-green chair—no matter how much I understand the reasons for their existence, they get on my nerves.

That, and in her classy, professional way, she was mean to Lizard.  Yes—I know the dangers ahead of me down that path.  I need to find empathy for both of my students, and I’m aware that Lizard is well skilled in eliciting the empathy of others, although I don’t think it’s intentional.  Lauren is a smart-enough mind witch to guard against any subtle manipulation.  Hopefully, so am I.

Tell Melvin you didn’t pay him nearly enough.

Walk in the light,

Jennie

Chapter 6

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: The plan is in motion.

-------------------------

Jennie dear,

If it felt easy at this point, we would be most concerned.  You’re doing beautifully.

Both of your students are excellent at shaping how others see them.  Elsie wants to be respected, but doesn’t expect to be liked.  Lizzie wants to be liked, but doesn’t expect to be respected.

You’ve already managed to challenge our Lizzie by respecting her.  One out of two is an excellent record for your first couple of days on the job.

Smart witches don’t do it all alone.  You’re a smart witch.  If anyone can find their way to the core of Elsie, it will be Natalia.  The more I think on that placement, the wiser I think you’ve been.  There isn’t a woman born who is less impressed by a suit, or more impressed by an honest heart, than our Nat.

As for an official complaint, Melvin assures me we have no such department.

One step at a time,

Vero

~ ~ ~

Lizard got off the bus and shook her shoulders.  That had been totally strange.  Little old ladies had smiled at her, and no one had freaked when the two-year-old climbed onto the seat beside her and started tracing his finger over her arm tattoos.

Man.  All she’d done was stash the leather jacket and a couple of eyebrow rings.  And comb her hair.  People were seriously shallow.

She pulled the business card Jennie had given her out of her pocket.  The real estate office should be right across the street.  Nope.  Scratch that.  Right behind her.  Hopefully a good sense of direction wasn’t a job requirement.  She could get lost in the dairy aisle at the grocery store.

Pausing at the door, she surveyed what she could see of the inside.  Holy crap.  This was one fancy place, and not in a boring office kind of way.  Cool, curvy furniture, and a lime-green wall covered in black & white photography.

Awesome.  If she ever wore that asymmetrical skirt thingie, she’d match the wall.

Not that she expected to actually spend any time in the front office.  There had to be an ugly back room somewhere where they hid totally unqualified interns.  Probably one with a year’s backlog of filing stacked up.

“Are you going in?”

Lizard jumped about a foot at the voice behind her.  “What?”

“We’re going inside to meet with Lauren.  She’s our realtor.”  The woman grinned cheerfully and patted her very pregnant belly.  “We don’t have much time to find a house, but everyone told us she’s the best, and I think they’re right.”

Lizard nodded inanely.  She had no idea what to do with the cheerful pregnant chick who stood alone and talked about “we.”

At that moment, the door popped open and a woman stepped out who looked exactly like the face on the business card Lizard still clutched in her hand.  “Great, you’re both here.  Come on in!”

Lauren led them into what felt like a cozy living room.  Then she disappeared, leaving Lizard leaning against a wall feeling hopelessly out of place.

The pregnant chick grinned.  “I’m Thea, by the way.  I think she’s gone to source us some ice cream.  She’s like the perfect realtor—she even makes sure Bean gets his daily dose of Chunky Monkey.”

She had no idea who Bean was, but any guy who liked Chunky Monkey couldn’t be all bad.  Gingerly, she held out her hand.  “I’m… Lizard.  I’m gonna be helping out around the office a little bit.”

Thea squished a pillow and wedged it behind her back.  “Cool.  What will you be doing?”

She had no flipping idea.  “Filing or something, I guess.”

Thea laughed and crossed her legs.  “Damn.  Don’t make me laugh.  It makes Bean jiggle, and then I have to pee every two minutes.”

Bean was the baby?  People named them before they were even born?  Poor kid—that was totally the kind of name that would get you beat up on the playground.

Lauren walked back into the room, holding three containers of Ben & Jerry’s.  She handed one to Thea and held out the other two.  “Do either of these work for you?  If not, the freezer’s got lots of other options.”

Lizard tried not to drool.  “Either’s fine.”

Lauren handed her a pint and pointed to a chair.  “Have a seat.  Lizard’s your name, right?”

Lizard nodded and waited for a scowl.  A frown.  Any sign of disapproval.  She even dared a quick mindlink.  Nothing.

“Well, it looks like you’ve already met Thea and Bean. They’re our first clients today.  Let’s get started, shall we?”

With that, Lauren sat down, and in between bites of ice cream, had a nice friendly conversation with Thea.  They talked about Thea’s work—she was a freelance graphic designer—where her family and friends lived, and what kinds of food she liked to eat.

Lizard shrank back in her chair, ate her pint of Triple Caramel Chunk, and listened in stupefied silence.  First, what the heck was she doing in the room with an actual client?  And second, what did Bean’s love of Indian curry have to do with finding a place to live?

A half hour later, her pint was empty and Thea was scheduled to look at some houses the next morning, all without anyone ever talking about stuff like bedrooms and bathrooms and how much freaking money anybody had to spend.

And Lizard hadn’t said a word.

Lauren breezed back into the room after showing Thea to the door.  “I’m sorry about that—I thought she was coming at eleven.  I think she maybe got the time mixed up.  I’d hoped to have a chance to talk with you for a bit first before I sprang a client on you.  Thanks for rolling with it.”

It had been an accident.  Okay, she wasn’t supposed to actually meet clients after all.  That made more sense.  Lizard stood up.  “So, where’s the filing?”

Lauren looked blank.  “What filing?”

“Don’t real estate offices have lots of paperwork and stuff?  I figured that’s what you’d want me to do.”

“Ugh.  Sounds like a job from hell.  We have a little bit of paperwork when there’s an actual contract to sign, but practically everything’s done on the computer.  I’ll show you how to do all that eventually, but let’s do some of the fun stuff first.”

No filing?  Lizard was totally lost at sea.  “What fun stuff?”

Lauren grinned.  “We need to find Thea some houses to look at tomorrow.”

We?  “Don’t you need to know how much money she has?”

“I know that.”  Lauren pointed at her computer screen.  “First rule of real estate—get any serious homebuyers pre-approved by the bank.  Thea needs to be able to move fast once we find her the right home, so that’s already been done.  She has up to six hundred thousand to spend.”

Six hundred thousand.  Lizard couldn’t even compute that much money.  “What’s that buy, a freaking mansion?”

Lauren laughed.  “Not in this town, but it’s a fine budget. I think we can get her a nice place for less than that and help keep Bean in popsicles.  Rule number two of smart real estate agents—don’t max out your client’s budget unless you absolutely have to.”

That made no sense.  “Don’t you get a bigger commission if they buy a bigger house?”

“That’s how dumb real estate agents think.  If you spread your clients too thin, they have less money to spend on everything else in their lives.  A year from now, two years, the happier client will be the one in the less-expensive house.  And happier clients refer more business.”

Lizard was impressed in spite of herself.

Lauren reached under the table and pulled out a huge binder.  “Here are all the current listings for Berkeley.  Usually I do this on the computer, and I’ll show you how to run a search later today, but for now, why don’t you flip through and see if you can find me three or four listings that might be a good fit for Thea and Bean?”

And how the heck was she supposed to do that?  “All I know is how much she can spend and that she likes ice cream.”

“I don’t think you’re that unobservant.”

Lizard could feel her hackles rising.  She glared down at a listing sheet.  “This just says stuff about how many bedrooms and what kind of flooring the house has.  You didn’t ask her any of those questions.  How am I supposed to know what she wants?”

Lauren smiled.  “Put yourself in her shoes.  Single, pregnant, working from home.  What kind of place to live would make that easier for you?”

“One with a built-in maid and cook.”  Yeah, because those were so easy to find.

“Exactly.”

Huh?  “There are houses that come with cooks?”

Lauren stood up, shaking her head.  “Nope—at least, not in that price range.  But you’re right about what would make life easier for Thea, so get creative.  Find a house with a grandma next door or a great little take-out place down the street.”

Lizard just stared as her new boss walked out of the room.  One part of her head—the smart part—thought this was the biggest pile of crap ever.  But a tiny little dumb-ass corner thought it might actually be kind of fun.

Yeah.  Because witches on parole were supposed to have fun.  She snorted and started flipping pages.  At least it beat filing.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Lauren McCready <lauren@berkeleyrealty.com>

Subject: She likes ice cream.

-------------------------

Hey Jennie,

Well, I think Lizard’s in shock at the moment.  I’m pretty sure she expected to be locked in a closet with two decades of old files, or something like that.

She arrived at the same time as my very bubbly, very pregnant client.  Said not a word the whole time the client was here.  I have her looking through listings now.  We’ll see if she was at least listening to what Thea said.

In her favor, she finished her whole pint of ice cream.

We shall see.

I’m catching Nat’s noon yoga class today, at Jamie’s request, and because I’m totally curious about Elsie.  See you there?

I’ll keep you posted,

Lauren

~ ~ ~

Nat heard the chimes on Spirit Yoga’s front door and looked at the clock.  Her new intern was prompt.  She unwound from full lotus and waited for Elsie to find her.  The studio’s class space would be a nice, comfortable place to get acquainted.

After several minutes, and no Elsie, she got curious and walked over to the short corridor connecting to the front reception area.

A young woman with dark brown hair sat in the chair nearest to the front door.  From the neck down, she looked like she’d just stepped out of a Yoga Journal ad.  Her face…  Nat felt her post-yoga glow slipping.  She knew that look of icy disapproval very, very well.

She gently laughed at herself.  This was her new intern, not her mother.  Pregnancy hormones were messing with her brain again.  Smiling, she stepped into the front room.  “Hello, you must be Elsie.  I’m Nat—welcome to Spirit Yoga.”

Elsie stood and reached out a hand.  “It’s nice to meet you.  I was told you would be meeting with me at 10 a.m.  My apologies if I’ve arrived at a different time than you were expecting.”

Subtle, well-aimed putdown.  Nat could feel her spine straightening.  She gestured to the sign on the front counter that asked people to wander down to the back studio if reception was unstaffed.  “I was hoping you’d come join me in our classroom space.  Perhaps we can head there now.  Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.  I hope my attire is appropriate—I didn’t have much time this morning to find anything else.”

Nat smiled, hoping to get past the initial bumpiness.  “Yoga gear isn’t hard to find in Berkeley.  You look lovely.  I take it you’re new to yoga, then?”

“I am.”  Elsie looked around as they entered the studio space.  “Physical activities don’t come naturally to me.  I’ve often suggested it to my clients as a form of relaxation, however.  I hear that it can be quite soothing.”

“At times.”  Nat popped up into a quick handstand.  “Or energizing, or motivating, or a hundred other things.  One of the joys of yoga is how many different ways it can support healthy living.”

Elsie watched with a kind of horrified disapproval that got Nat’s back up again—until she saw a flicker of longing in Elsie’s eyes.  Well now, that was very interesting.  Buried under the ice, some small part of her new intern yearned to turn upside-down.

Nat breathed deep to find her center and studied Elsie with a more open mind.  Hmm.  It was gone, whatever that flicker had been.  All that remained was the same look of professional disdain her mother used as a weapon.

But what mattered wasn’t what was on the surface.  Nat had far too much practice engaging with the kind of professional armor Elsie was wearing, and she’d chosen long ago to be a noncombatant.  It was the flicker that mattered—the flicker she wanted to learn more about.  And for that, she had the very best of tools.

She had yoga.

Talk over tea wasn’t what was needed here.  Time for Plan B.  Heading for the corner, she grabbed two yoga mats.  “I have an all-levels class at noon that I’d love for you to join.  Let me walk you through some of the basic poses now, and that way the class should feel a bit more comfortable for you.”

Elsie’s eyes were oddly flat.  “I wasn’t aware I would be expected to do yoga.”  And another flicker.  Fear this time.

The art of yoga was in reaching for the unsaid.  Nat ignored Elsie’s words and spoke to the fear.  “Those clothes you’re wearing were made to do yoga.  Nothing is required here, but I’d ask you to try.”  She quickly reassessed where to begin and got down onto her knees on the mat.  “This first asana is called child’s pose.”

With the ease and sureness of long experience, Nat walked her reluctant student through the most basic, and most powerful, of yoga’s lessons.  Breathe.  Let go.  Be.

Well, Elsie could breathe.  Sort of.  The rest was going to need a lot of work.

Nat smiled gently as she sank into the embrace of her breath.  That was fine.  This was work she knew how to do.  And if breathing in child’s pose didn’t get the job done, there were always handstands.

~ ~ ~

Lauren was half a block from Spirit Yoga when she ran into Jennie coming out of the coffee shop.  “Good timing.  How was your first morning with Lizard?”

Lauren laughed.  “Checking up on us already?”  She nodded toward the studio.  “Are you coming to class?”

Jennie shook her head.  “Jamie’s taking this shift, but I’d appreciate your observations as well.  I’m worried about Elsie—she’s far too contained for her own good.”

And Jennie didn’t much like her, Lauren thought.  That was interesting.

Your mindreading skills are coming along very nicely, sent Jennie dryly.

Cripes.  “Sorry.  It wasn’t intentional.”

“It probably wasn’t you.”  Jennie sighed.  “My mind gets a bit leaky under stress, and it bothers me that I really can’t find a lot of common ground or things to like about a student of mine.  However, that’s a problem for me to tangle with.  Just keep your eyes open in there and tell me what you see.”

“Can do.”  Lauren grinned and saluted.  “Any other instructions?”

Jennie laughed.  “Not for the moment.  And you never did tell me how it went with Lizard.”

“I’m not sure yet.  I asked her to find a few properties that might be a fit for the client we met with this morning.  When I left, there were papers and maps and little sticky notes everywhere.  I have no idea what she’s doing, but she’s working hard at it.  I hope she cleans up as well as she spreads out.”

“How does her mind feel?”

“Focused.  Interested.  That’s as deep as I checked.”

“Excellent.”  Jennie smiled.  “For Lizard, those are two really good things.  Keep me posted.  And now you’d better run, or you’ll be late for class.”

Lauren pulled her bag back up her shoulder and gave Jennie a quick hug.  Another fun day in Witch Central.  My life used to be so normal.  She could hear her trainer’s bubbling laughter as she dashed toward the studio.  Nat seriously frowned on late students.

Lauren slid into the back row of the class beside Jamie.  He was scowling, which generally meant it was an impromptu hip-openers class, or Nat was doing handstands again.  Smile—you’re going to scare away all the real yoga students.

Only one I want to scare.  Jamie nodded hello.  Scan the awkward brunette in the front corner, and then scan Nat.

She settled onto her mat and did as he’d suggested.  The brunette, who must be Elsie, was absolutely fuming.  A surface-level scan wasn’t enough to pick up all the details, but suffice to say that Elsie was seriously unhappy with Nat, yoga, WitchLight, sticky mats, and pretty much everything else in the known universe.

It was her scan of Nat, however, that caused Lauren’s eyes to fly back open.  Wow.  They’d known each other for over ten years, and she’d never felt her best friend this disturbed.  She was usually a potent force for serenity in the universe.  What has Nat so riled up?

Guessing it’s the brunette.  Or pregnancy.  And I don’t know which one scares me more.

A pissed-off fire witch, or a pregnant woman on the warpath.  Yeah, tough choice.  Yeeks.  It was going to be a very interesting class.  Lauren debated the ethics and decided that keeping Nat safe was paramount.  I could probably take the edge off Elsie’s temper.

Jamie shook his head.  Nah.  If she’s going to blow, I’d rather she does it while I’m here.

That was a lovely thought.  Nat was moving the class into the opening sun-salutation sequence, and Lauren stood and followed along automatically.  So what happens when fire witches blow, exactly?

It usually involves scorch marks.  Jamie let loose a very long-suffering mental sigh.  I’m going to experiment a bit, see if I can push her a little without needing the fire extinguishers.

Why did little boys and big ones always feel compelled to play with matches?  Lauren shook her head and kept her eyes open.

In a few minutes, it was clear what Jamie was trying to do.  She wiped the sweat off her forehead.  This isn’t supposed to be hot yoga, dude.

He grinned.  Yeah, but are you monitoring our fire witch?

Taking care of what she should have done in the first place, Lauren set a gentle monitoring channel in place with both Nat and Elsie.  Jamie was right—Elsie was much more relaxed than when the class had started, both mentally and physically.  Her yoga poses actually somewhat resembled a flow now.  Nat, however, was feeling decidedly nauseous.

Lauren opened her eyes again in concern.  Yeah, Nat was turning a little green and walking toward the back of the class.  She stretched into downward dog between Jamie and Lauren and spoke very quietly.  “Please tell me it’s one of you heating up my room, and not my new intern.”

“Guilty,” Jamie said quietly.  “It seems to be relaxing her, though.  I’m pushing a fair amount of fire power through the room, and thanks to the distraction the sun salutations are providing, she’s not really resisting.”

“She’s using magic?”

He shook his head.  “No, but she’s not actively pushing it away, and that’s a start.  It calls to her.  She’s definitely a fire witch.”

That’s right—they hadn’t actually known that for sure.  “Good experiment,” Lauren said.  “Now turn it off.”

Jamie moved smoothly into warrior pose, following Nat’s fluid moves.  “Why?”

Scan your wife, you idiot.  She’s ready to puke.

Jamie turned sheet white, and the temperature in the room instantly dropped twenty degrees.

Nat giggled and walked to the front of the room.  “Air conditioning must have kicked in.”  A couple of witches in the room snickered.  Nat winked at them and kept the class rolling.  “Glide your right hand toward the front of the room and tip into triangle pose.”

A couple of movements later, the “air conditioning” had found a happy medium.  Most of the class calmly followed Nat through the familiar asana flows.  Elsie was back to her original self-righteous agitation and stiff-jointed motions.

Lauren monitored, and pitied Nat.  She’d gotten off really easy with Lizard.  Elsie was a piece of work.

She needs our help, Jamie sent as Nat instructed them all to lie on their backs on the floor.  You don’t have elemental power, so you don’t know what it’s like to fight it, and she’s been doing it for a long time.  That would make anyone cranky and irritable.

Huh.  Okay, so how do we help her?

We trust Jennie, we trust Nat, and we make sure there’s a witch here every freaking hour of the day.

Okay, then.  Lauren stretched into a gentle backbend and grinned at Jamie.  After months of religious yoga attendance, very few poses stymied him anymore, but backbends were his nemesis.  If you’re here all day, she’s gonna do handstands.  That was his other nemesis.  Not because he had trouble being upside-down, but because it gave him heart failure to watch his pregnant wife doing it.

Jamie just smirked.  I have you on the schedule for hip openers tomorrow.

Dang.  There was just no getting the last word against a guy that had grown up with four brothers and sisters.

Chapter 7

Lizard touched the shiny laptop with reverence.  Oh, to be the owner of such a fancy toy.  She mostly used the computers at the library, and they were total clunkers compared to this baby.

She’d spent almost an hour with the listings binder, a map, and the phone book, cursing the inefficiency of looking things up the hard way, when Lauren had walked by on her way to some yoga class and quietly dropped her laptop on the table.

Lizard suspected it had been some kind of test.  She didn’t care.  Two hours of work with Google Maps, Yelp, census data by neighborhood, and teaching herself to use three different real estate search sites, and she had a shortlist of six properties for Thea.

Three were pretty good.  The other three were probably way off, but hey, it was her first day.

She looked up from the laptop as Lauren walked into the office, a brown paper bag in her hands.  “Hey, Lizard.  I hope you like bagels.  I got two with the works.”

After two hours of locating all the good Indian restaurants in town, she was starving.  She couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually brought her food.  “I eat anything.  Thanks.”

“Great.  I’ll grab a couple of sodas and then you can show me what you’ve got.”

Lizard jumped up.  “I’ll get them.”  She suddenly needed an outlet for her nervous energy.  Frack.  What did she care what some suit thought of her stupid list of houses, anyhow?  “Don’t touch anything.”

Lauren chuckled.  “I wouldn’t dare.”

Crap.  She’d made a huge mess all over the office, obsessed over a fancy map with little colored dots just like some overeager kindergarten student, and generally been an idiot.  Nice one there, Lizard.

By the time she got back with a couple of drinks, she was ready to sweep her mess under the table and pretend she’d farted around for three hours.  She wasn’t prepared to find her new boss scrolling around her customized Google map.  She wasn’t supposed to touch anything.  “That’s just something dumb I was trying.”

Lauren looked up.  “Feel free to be this kind of dumb any time.  Walk me through what you did here.”

Suddenly Jennie’s voice leaked into her head.  Pretend it might actually work out, just for the day.

Lizard stuck out her chin and met Lauren’s gaze.  “I just put some of the stuff on a map that might be good for Thea.  Restaurants, parks, things like that.”

Lauren stared down at the map.  “Why are the restaurants different colors?”

Yup.  Total kindergarten idea.  “Well, I looked up if they were any good, and if they delivered, and how close they were to some of the houses under half a mil.”

“Okay.  And the parks?”

Lizard could feel her cheeks getting red.  “I used Google Earth and zoomed in on the parks.  The ones in purple have stuff for little kids to play on.”

“And the bigger shaded areas?”

They could just shoot her now.  “Census data.  Those are the neighborhoods with the highest number of retired seniors still living in their homes.”

“Get out.”  Lauren looked up.  “A grandma.  You’re trying to find Bean a grandma.”

She of all people should know it didn’t work that way.  “Sorry.  Totally stupid idea.”

“Stupid’s only started coming out of your mouth just now.”  Wow, Lauren could look totally bad-ass.  “Sit.”

Lizard sat.

“Pretend your map isn’t stupid for a moment and keep talking.  What did you do next?”

“I took the listings in her budget, and I put the good ones on there.  Those are the blue dots.”

Lauren handed over a bagel sandwich.  “Okay, so you have a visual map with listings, services, and amenities suitable for our client.  Then what?”

Our client.  Lizard had no idea why that made her belly feel totally funny.  Besides, this was where her great and wonderful plan fell apart.  “Then I just kinda guessed.”

Lauren nodded like that was something smart people did every day.  “So what’d you come up with?”

Damn Jennie and her stupid promises that sounded easy.  Lizard handed over six listings.  “These ones.  I think the top three might be okay.  The other ones are pretty stupid.”

“Enough with the stupid already,” Lauren said absently, flipping through the sheets.  She slowed down on the last two, reading the listings carefully.

Lizard gulped soda and tried not to puke.

Lauren handed back the sheets.  “These look good.  There are contact numbers for each agent on the top right of each sheet.  Can you reach out to them and set up appointments between 9 a.m. and 2 p.m. tomorrow?  We’ll need about thirty minutes at each listing, with a break for lunch.”

She’d dropped onto an alien planet where people spoke English, but didn’t make any sense.  “But they’re just some stupid guesses.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow and pulled a piece of paper out of her bag.  “Be careful who you’re calling stupid.  Here’s my list of five properties for Thea—I ran a search this morning before I left.”

Lizard ran her finger down the list.  She knew the freaking MLS numbers by heart now.  Dang, there were four matches with her list.  Maybe she wasn’t a total loser at this.

Her finger stopped at the last choice on Lauren’s list.  Crap.  “You don’t want this last one.”

“Okay.  Why not?”

How to get fired from your new job in less than four hours.  “Because the nice yuppie guy across the street is running a meth lab in his basement.”

This time both of Lauren’s eyebrows went up.  “Good to know.  Take that one off the list, then.”

Lizard nodded dumbly.

Lauren stood up.  “Let me know if you have any trouble reaching any of the other agents before the end of the day.  Oh, and fire off the six listing IDs to Thea, if you don’t mind.  She might enjoy looking through the online photo galleries for the properties before we go see them tomorrow.  Tell her that if any of them don’t feel right, she can just let you know, and we’ll take them off the list.  Less walking for the pregnant mama that way.”

Six listing IDs?  Gulping more soda, Lizard tried to find her voice.  “But there’s only four on your list.  Without the meth house, I mean.”

“Sure.  And the two you found.  Set up that little blue bungalow as our last stop tomorrow, if you can.”  And then Lauren was gone, clicking footsteps headed down the hall to her back office.

Lizard set her drink down slowly on the table and took several deep breaths.  She pulled out the listing for the little blue house.  Dang.  She’d really liked that one.  Lauren must just be leaving it on the list to try to make her feel better.

Thea would probably like one of the first four houses anyhow.  They were all pretty good.

And her guesses hadn’t all totally sucked.  There came that weird feeling in her belly again.  Probably gas.

She picked up the phone and tried to pretend she knew how to call people in suits.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Lauren McCready <lauren@berkeleyrealty.com>

Subject: Holy shit.

-------------------------

Hey Jennie,

Can I keep her?  Like forever?

She’s a genius.  A freaking real-estate prodigy.  In three hours, with no experience, she picked four homes on my match list for the client, eliminated one, and found two more.  I’ll bet my license the client’s going to take the little blue bungalow she found—it’s perfect.

There’s the little issue of her thinking all her ideas are stupid, but I think Thea’s going to give that a big kick in the teeth when she sets eyes on that bungalow tomorrow.

I never did ask.  What’s supposed to happen when the ninety days are up?  Because really—if she’s half as good at this as I think she’s going to be, I’m prepared to arm wrestle whoever’s supposed to get her next.  And to think they were going to lock her up.  Fools.

I’ll deduct a week from the ice-cream stash you owe me.

Later,

Lauren

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: lauren@berkeleyrealty.com

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Re: Holy shit.

-------------------------

Dear Lauren,

I think it would be very intriguing for our Lizard to have someone fight to keep her.  In what I understand of her life, I don’t think that’s happened a whole lot.

I’m delighted things have started off well.  Perhaps a small word of caution—to those raised in less security than you were, sometimes success can be more scary than failure.  Anticipate some bumps in the road ahead as Lizard occasionally tries to prove that she’s stupid.  Trust that marvelous intuition of yours.

She has some prodigious talents, and finding a good home for some of them would go a long way to brightening her future.  There is, however, no obligation beyond the ninety days—and in some ways, it might be preferable to end your time together then.

Lizard has survived this far by turning herself into someone people want to take care of (not very well, unfortunately).  You’d do her the biggest favor of all if you expect her to stand on those two surprisingly capable feet.

I struggle to take my own advice with her—I’m guilty of being tempted to just tuck her under my wing.  You, however, have a knack for offering just enough help, and not one drop more.

It’s part of the reason putting Lizard and Elsie in the same house worries me.  I trust Elsie to be obnoxious enough that Lizard will resist her guidance, but that could easily backfire.

I will, however, avoid calling it stupid.  That is yet to be determined :-).

Keep the ice cream—you’ll earn it,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

If she made it to the end of this day, she was never setting foot in a yoga studio again.  Elsie sat at the front counter of Spirit Yoga and counted all the ways in which this day, this placement, and the intended plan for these three months of her life had gone completely and entirely off the rails.

First, she’d spent most of the day contorting her body into hopelessly weird positions—and with far less grace than pretty much anyone else in the room, including the dark-haired guy in the back row who never seemed to go away.

He watched her.  It was… creepy.  She was a trained psychologist.  Creepy was on the list of things she was trained to recognize, and there was no way this guy came to three hours of yoga every morning just to clear his chakras.  She’d seen him somewhere before—she just had no idea where.  Her inability to remember faces had always been a bit of a professional embarrassment.

Second, no one was letting her talk.  It seemed like every time she opened her mouth, there was some other menial task to do.  She’d been wiping windows, rolling yoga mats, and tagging merchandise ever since class let out an hour ago.

It hardly seemed unreasonable to want to actually have a conversation about her new placement, did it?  Elsie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  She’d spent an hour fuming.  Now she was contemplating the very real possibility that no one wanted to talk to her.  Neither were at all like her.

“Hard first day?”

The gentle question almost cracked her in two.  Then she opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with creepy guy.  God.  It was the day from hell that was never going to end.  “It’s been an adjustment.”  And how did he know it was her first day?

He grinned.  “I’m Jamie.  We met in Jennie’s kitchen a few days ago.  I’m the obnoxious witch who wanted to test you.  I’m also married to Nat.”

Ah.  How embarrassing to forget where she’d seen him before.  She wasn’t at her best lately.  At least if he was married to her new boss, it explained why he’d been hanging around class all morning.  “It’s nice to see you again.”  Not.  Really, she just wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide.

He leaned over the counter, clearly misreading all her body language.  “I’m glad you’re here to help her out.  There are all kinds of little jobs to do to keep this place running smoothly, and I keep thinking she should put her feet up a little more now.”

Of course.  Natalia was pregnant.  Now she felt like a first-class heel, whimpering about washing windows and rolling mats.  Then again, her new boss managed backbends and sun salutations just fine.  Elsie frowned.  “Pregnancy isn’t an illness.  Many women work right up until they give birth.”

“Is it some kind of secret female code?”  Jamie rolled his eyes and grinned.  “My sister beats me up for suggesting pregnancy might earn a woman a few minutes off her feet, my wife pats my head, and you’ve just hardly arrived and you’re already on their side.”

Elsie smiled in spite of herself.  He was irresistible, just like a toddler with a sticky face.  “Modern Woman Handbook, page fifty-three.”

He leaned over a little further and whispered, “Any chance you could snag me a copy?  I’m having a daughter in six months.  Have mercy.”

“Sorry, they’d take away my membership card for that.”  She took pity on him.  “But I will make sure I do the windows from now on.”

He grinned.  “My work here is complete.  I’ll be back in the morning for sunrise yoga.”  He grimaced.  “And hip openers.”

That sounded… uncomfortable.

He laughed as he walked away.  “You have no idea.”

She turned as two students walked out of the changing rooms and tossed their towels her direction.  Unbelievable.  That had to be the fifth towel in the last hour that had failed to be placed completely in the bin.  You wouldn’t think adults would need instructions about such things, but clearly they did.

She turned to the snazzy little laptop sitting on the front counter and nodded in satisfaction.  Spirit Yoga needed some additional signage, and she was just the woman for the job.  Clear communication was one of her strengths.  It was about time she got this internship moving on a far more effective track.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Jamie Sullivan <jamie@enchantersrealm.com>

Subject: We need more fire witches.

-------------------------

Aunt Jennie,

I know we’ve got a bunch of water and earth witches on fire-patrol duty, but I think we might be heading at this all wrong by nudging Elsie and waiting for her to blow.  I just spent a few minutes talking with her.

When I first showed up, she was fuming—same way she’s been all day.  I lit a fire globe in my pocket, and she immediately softened up.  There’s actually a really nice person under all that cranky, anal-retentive stuff.  She was even pretty funny for a minute or two.  As soon as I shut off my fire globe, she got cranky and compulsive again, so it wasn’t just my charming personality.

I’ve seen trainee witches like this before, where nearby power flows help them to regulate.  Usually it’s the opposite, and she’d be really antsy in the presence of active fire magic—but that’s twice today I’ve seen the opposite.  It opens her, gives her a little breathing space to let go of that awful persona she’s layered on top of her repressed magic.

Hell, let’s be honest—it turns her Mr. Hyde back to the nice Dr. Jekyll.  Lizard has that exactly right.

What do you think of the idea of a rotation of fire witches in there tomorrow, quietly working with power?  Minor stuff—light globes, maybe a few candles.  That, combined with Nat’s yoga, just might get us somewhere without having to scrape our witch off the walls.

At the very least, it will liven up yoga class.  I’ll fill Nat in.

Today was worth at least a dozen cookies.  The kind with the mint frosting inside.  Tomorrow might require a truck full.

Not sure how I got roped into this,

Jamie

~ ~ ~

She felt… Lizard searched her mental banks for the right word.  Discombobulated.  That was a good one.  It had been a very weird day.  Not all bad, and surprisingly unboring.

Not that she had much of a choice, but this might not be a terrible place to come back to tomorrow.  And in her world, anything that didn’t suck was pretty good.

She’d spent the afternoon with Lauren learning how to use the realtor-level access to the listing databases.  There was all kinds of uber-cool stuff in there—way better than the public information.  You could take a house and look at the sales all the way back in history.  She wondered if people knew they were paying a million dollars for a house that sold for fifteen thousand a few decades ago.

Clicking shoes in the hallway had her sitting up a little straighter.  Lauren was pretty okay, but she was still the boss.

“Good, you’re still here.”  Lauren sat down in one of the easy chairs.

Where else would she be?  “Do I have working hours, or something?  I wasn’t sure when you were open.”

“It can vary quite a bit, because lots of clients want to see properties on evenings and weekends.  It would be great if you could be here most mornings and help me pull together listings—you’re a genius with that computer.  The rest of the time, maybe we can use some flexible hours?  I don’t want to overwork you, but if you can move your hours around a bit, the work will be more interesting.”

Lizard nodded dumbly, her mind still frozen at the word “genius.”  People just didn’t say stuff like that about her.  Ever.

Lauren laughed.  “Sorry.  I’m sure it’s been a long, strange day for you.  We can talk about the schedule more tomorrow.  Can you be here by eight in the morning?  We can prepare the files for Thea and talk a little about what I do in a showing.”

That’s right, Lauren was going to show Thea all the houses in the morning.  Hey, she’d kind of be in charge of the office then.  She could pretend to be a big-wig real estate agent.  Or at least, a map-making genius.  She grinned.  “Yeah, I can be here early.  Want me to bring you a biscuit?”

“Oh, yeah.  I’ve heard your biscuits are legendary.”  Lauren reached into her bag.  “Here, I’ve got some things for you.”  She pulled out a set of keys, a piece of paper, and a card.

She held them out to Lizard one at a time.  “Here are the keys to your new house.  It’s one half of a little duplex, just a few blocks from here, so an easy walk.  It’s all furnished, but let me know if there’s anything you need.  Here’s a map on how to get there, and here’s a housewarming present from me.  Jennie says you like to cook, so this is a gift card to my favorite online grocery store.  They deliver, and they carry every flavor of Ben & Jerry’s.”

Frack.  She was so going to cry.  Any minute now.

She grabbed the stuff and bolted.  “I’ll be here at eight.  Bye.”

Nobody got to see her cry.  Not ever.

Chapter 8

It looked like one of those questionable, slightly seedy neighborhoods.  The kind realtors called “artsy.”  Elsie sighed, and wondered if her day from hell was ending, or just truly beginning.

The neat map in her hand was a positive sign.  The handwritten note that had come with it, indicating that her new house keys were currently in Lizard’s possession, was terrifying.

She was going to have a juvenile-delinquent roommate.  One who clearly needed firm guidance and probably had a bevy of unsavory friends who would want to sleep on the couch.  The first order of business was going to be some ground rules.

Sigh.  Even to her own ears, that sounded a bit inflexible.  Rules might not be the best way to kick off a new relationship.  Elsie looked around, seeking… something.  A way to start off on the right foot with Lizard, if that was possible.

She spied a corner store.  Rather worn, just like the neighborhood, but perhaps they’d have something that could pass as a peace offering.

Three minutes later, she walked out with a brown paper bag bearing two pints of ice cream and a big rainbow candle stamped with the Chinese symbol for harmony.

The shop owner had assured her the candles were wonderfully effective.  She was trying very hard to ignore the persistent little voice inside her head that would have insisted on buying the candle even if it had worn the Chinese symbol for hellfire and damnation.  It was pretty, and she’d wanted it.

She never made impulse purchases.

Perhaps she was just a little nervous.  Change was something most people found challenging, even if they had a good toolset to manage transitions.  She needed to remember her tools.  Common sense.  Rational thinking.  Patience and a firm sense of boundaries.

She checked the map in her hand one last time.  Yes, the left half of the little green duplex was her new home for the next three months.  It was nicer than she’d expected, with some pretty flowers in the front yard and a well-tended tree.  Some child probably enjoyed clambering in its branches.

Elsie shook her head.  Did children even climb trees, or was that just one of those bits of childhood mythology that people believed in, but never actually did?

She headed up the walkway and spied a little basket with a note on top sitting by the door.  Bending over, she caught a whiff of fresh bread.  The note read,

Hello new neighbors,

I trust you’ll like the cottage, and if you need anything, just knock next door.  I left the door unlocked and a few things in the fridge for your first night.

Welcome, and blessed be.

Caro

Elsie opened the door carefully.  She didn’t expect criminals to have discovered the unlocked door, but you could never be too careful.  Reaching behind her, still on high alert, she picked up the basket.  There wasn’t a person alive who could resist still-warm bread.  At least, that’s what she told herself as she tore a piece off the end.  And then a slightly larger piece.

She felt the pull of the house the moment she stepped over the threshold, still chewing.  It shouldn’t have been a calming house.  Riotous color spilled from the walls, the artwork, and what she could see of the living room furniture.  Flowers and crystals fought for space on tables, books spilled out of shelves, and soft knitted blankets draped over everything from the rocking chair to the banister.

A Feng Shui consultant would have a conniption fit.  Elsie’s inner decorator would have agreed.

For some reason she utterly couldn’t explain, she didn’t care.  She sat in the rocking chair, fingered the bright orange knitted throw, and nibbled on another piece of warm bread.

If this was temporary insanity, it felt surprisingly nice.

~ ~ ~

Lizard strolled down the funky little street and marveled.  The Berkeley Arts District—it even sounded fancy.  Well, not fancy, exactly.  Interesting.  Eclectic.

She walked past one house with a couch on the front porch and a drum set in the yard.  The next one had a cute toddler chasing bubbles and a really lazy dog.  She stopped in front of the third one and double-checked the map in her hand.

Yup.  This was her new home.  The tears she’d finally gotten under control threatened to start leaking again.  There were freaking flowers in the yard, and a little fairy sculpture.

Then she saw the black bag sitting by the front door and remembered the sucky part of the deal.  Her new roommate.

However, Elsie didn’t seem like the type to be into drugs, or friends with benefits, or any of the other stupid stuff people seemed to think came along with being roommates, so how bad could it really be?  And she got to live in this house.

She eased her way up the walk and in the open door.  The colors hit all at once.  It was like living in the middle of a very happy explosion.  Reds and oranges everywhere, with a touch of purple or blue every so often so that your eyes didn’t hurt.

The gorgeous blanket hanging over the stair railing looked like a family heirloom, and the walls were covered in the abstract dance of some mad artist.

Then she smelled fresh bread, and sniffing out the source, got her second serious shock of the day.  Elsie sat in what must be the living room, in a rocking chair, with a hunk of bread in her hand and a dopey smile on her face.  Elsie.  Stick-up-her-butt girl.

That must be some magic bread.

Elsie held out the basket.  “Want some?  It’s scrumptious.”

Ooh.  Good word.  Lizard reached tentatively for the food and kept her eyes on Elsie.  Maybe she was into drugs.  The bread was good—maybe they had a bakery nearby.  “Where’d it come from?”

“Neighbor.”  Elsie chewed and swallowed, and then leaned over for a piece of paper on the floor.  “I think our landlady left it.”

Lizard read Caro’s note.  Sounded like she lived next door.  That might be good if they had leaky pipes or the fridge didn’t work, or something.  “I’m gonna go check out the kitchen.”

Elsie jumped up from the rocker.  “Oh!  Ice cream.  I forgot to put the ice cream in the freezer.  I’m such an idiot!”  She grabbed the brown paper bag and flew down the hall.

Lizard blinked.  It must be drugs.  Maybe this whole volunteering for WitchLight thing was a scam and she was just a druggie witch fresh from rehab.

Oh, well.  It was hardly her job to keep Elsie off the dope.  And if it made her ditzy and happy, that was a definite improvement.  However, druggies tended to eat anything that resembled food, so she’d better go see what else Caro had left for them.

Landlords leaving gifts.  Weird.

She was halfway down the hall when she heard the knock on the front door.  Since no one knew they lived here yet, it was either Caro, or Elsie’s dealer.

Sighing, she headed for the door.  Either way, it seemed like she was the designated responsible one.  Elsie’d better not eat all the food.

~ ~ ~

Jennie gave Lizard a thorough once-over when the girl opened the door.  She didn’t look too traumatized.  Good.  “Hello, my dear.  I brought you some food for tonight, and a couple of housewarming gifts.”

“What is it with witches and food?”  Lizard stepped aside to let her in.  “The landlady left bread and some other stuff, if Elsie hasn’t eaten it all already.”

Jennie snorted.  Elsie had turned down bacon-biscuit sandwiches in favor of yogurt.

Yeah, that was before she got some of the good drugs.

Jennie wasn’t sure who the mindspeaking surprised more, her or Lizard.  It was a nice sign of trust, but the content was a tad disturbing.  Elsie got drugs?

Must have.  Lizard shrugged.  She’s totally weird.

It seemed this wasn’t going to be a nice, simple stop to drop off some food and bath towels.  In spite of that, Jennie smiled as she stepped into the house.  It bore the unmistakable stamp of Caro’s talents with both yarn and paintbrush.  Lots of red and orange—it was like being nestled inside a cozy hearth fire.

Which is about what you’d expect from a landlady who was both fire witch and artist.  This side of the duplex normally served as a B&B.  She had no idea how Lauren had convinced Caro to rent it for three months.

They’d have to try really hard not to leave scorch marks.  Although as landladies went, Caro would understand them better than most.

Lizard stood at the doorway to the kitchen, motioning impatiently.  Whatever was up with Elsie, it clearly pre-empted art appreciation.  Jennie stepped into the small, bright space and gaped.

Elsie had set up a banquet—of the kind a five-year-old might make.  There were torn hunks of bread, a big sunflower in a soda bottle, and strawberries sitting in mismatched teacups.  Elsie currently had her finger in the bowl of whipped cream that Caro had likely provided along with the strawberries.

She looked up in delight.  “Jennie!  I didn’t know you were going to have dinner with us!  Caro left some sandwiches, too, but the strawberries looked so yummy, I thought we could start with those.”  She held out the bowl of whipped cream.  “Here, want some?  It’s delish—I think it came from a real cow and everything.”

See?  Lizard’s mental voice just sounded resigned.  Gotta be drugs.  And it’s getting worse.

No, said Jennie slowly.  I don’t think it’s drugs.  But she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what it was.  Jamie had emailed her that the presence of fire flows was calming to Elsie.

Give me just a moment, Lizard—I’ll be right back.  Jennie stepped back into the hallway.  She was a very weak fire witch, so she couldn’t sense elemental magic through walls.  She was, however, a much stronger mind witch.  Carefully directing a channel, she reached out to the house next door.  Caro, you there?

Hey, Jennie.  Your two girls settling in okay?  For Caro, that was gushing conversation.

They are.  Are you working with power, by any chance?

Yes—a little fire magic.  Is there a problem?

Not at all.  Jennie thought for a moment.  Maybe Caro could help make Lizard and Elsie’s first night a little easier.  Do me a favor, and leave a fire globe burning tonight?

Sure.  Anything else?

Jennie chucked.  Caro had never been a bubbling conversationalist, but she was as solid as they came.  No.  And thank you.

Carefully checking her mind barriers, Jennie turned back toward the kitchen.  Time to do some learning about who Elsie was when she wasn’t repressing every ounce of likability.

And to try to reassure Lizard without having a big, long discussion about Elsie’s magic.  The ethics of this were a bit sticky.  With Elsie unaware, or fiercely denying, her fire talents, it wasn’t clear how to navigate this with Lizard.  The girl had a right to know she was living with a fire witch—there were some very real hazards involved—but perhaps not tonight.

Caro’s fire globe would likely keep Elsie gooey and lovable for the evening, and the two roommates could perhaps get off to a decent start.

She stepped into the doorway and tried not to giggle.  Elsie had whipped cream on her nose.  Where was her camera when she really needed it?

Lizard looked up from her chair at the table, still suspicious.  “What, did you have to contact the Batmobile or something?”

Jennie’s lips quirked.  “Or something.  I’ll put the food I brought into the fridge and you can eat it tomorrow night.  It’s lasagna, made with some of Jamie’s world-famous tomato sauce.”  She looked at Lizard.  “Jamie is Nat’s husband—she’s the owner of Spirit Yoga, where Elsie is doing her placement.”

“Oh, is he the cute, creepy guy?”  Elsie wiped breadcrumbs off her face with her sleeve.  “How come all the sexy ones are married and happy about it?”

Oh, boy.  Jennie figured now wasn’t the time to mention Jamie was one of three identical triplets.  That kind of information could wait until Elsie wasn’t punch-drunk on the fire power next door.  “How was your first day with Nat?”

“I suck at yoga.”  Elsie wrinkled her nose.  “I’m not used to sucking at things, and I tried really hard and everything, but mostly I think it just made me tense.”  Her voice got prim for a moment.  “I wasn’t expecting to do several hours of yoga.  Perhaps I need to have a conversation with Natalia about that.”

Uh, oh, Lizard sent.  Mr. Hyde’s coming back.  I’m out of here.

Sit.  Jennie pinned her with a look.  “And how was your first day?”  Caro was probably done with whatever active fire magic she’d been doing.  Time to see how that affected Elsie.

“Okay.”

Teenager.  “Minimum of five-word answers required, especially when I bring you food.”

“It was probably pretty okay.”

Perspicacious punk.

Lizard didn’t even hesitate.  Pulchritudinous wench.

Jennie bit back a grin.  Good grief, she didn’t even know what that one meant.  Sounded thoroughly insulting, however.  “I hear you’re a mapping genius.”

“Checking up on me?”

“I assume she checks up on both of us regularly,” Elsie said.  “It’s to be expected of a mentor.”

Interesting.  The words were the old Elsie, but the tone was a lot more relaxed.  Her head felt less squeezed, too.  Jennie shook her head.  “I’m available whenever either of you need me, but I’m not in the business of looking over anyone’s shoulder.”  Unless you need it.

She turned back to Lizard.  Time to plant a seed.  “In this case, Lauren was checking in with me.  She wondered what your plans were when the ninety days are up.”

The girl had a decent poker face, but her mind lit up with emotions like a Christmas tree.  Surprise.  Disbelief.  Skepticism.  And a tiny trickle of hope.  She shrugged.  “I dunno.”

Think on it.  You have more choices than you think you do.  And that was enough pushing on one student for the night.  Time to nudge the other one.  “Elsie, you might go upstairs and see which of the two rooms would better meet your needs.  I’ll help Lizard clean up in here.”

It disturbed her that Lizard didn’t protest.  Too used to leftovers and being told what to do.  But when Elsie came back downstairs, she’d selected the bedroom that shared a common wall with Caro’s side of the duplex.  And she had the orange knitted throw in her hands.

Fire magic called to Elsie—she just didn’t know it yet.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Some interesting times ahead, I think.

-------------------------

Dear Vero,

I’ve just come from a quick visit at Lizard and Elsie’s new home.  They’re settling in nicely, I think, which is more than I’d dared hope for.

Lizard had a good first day.  I’m well aware that probably means there’s trouble coming, but a good beginning is still worth celebrating.

And then there’s Elsie.  Where to start…

Jamie discovered that Elsie is calmed by the presence of active fire magic.  That’s not the usual response, but not unheard of, either.  I arrived tonight while Caro must have been working some sort of spell next door, and the transformation in Elsie was remarkable.

Actually, it was damn funny.  She was sweet, and silly, and absolutely immersing herself in every sensory experience possible.  Exactly the opposite of the woman we’ve seen up until now, which is probably not a huge surprise.  As Caro backed off on her spellwork, Elsie’s personality returned more to normal (or at least, what seems normal on short acquaintance).  She also gravitated to the small bits of fire magic in the house, and I’d guess she’s currently curled up in bed with one of Caro’s hand-knit blankets.

Lizard is a bit freaked out, but rolling with it.  For now, I haven’t told her that Elsie is a fire witch.  That weighs on me, and needs to be remedied, but I’d far rather Elsie figures it out first.

I have no idea if Elsie will remember any of this in the morning, and I’m not entirely sure how we explain it even if she does, but that’s a problem for a new day.

Ready for bed,

Jennie

-------------------------

To: jamie@enchantersrealm.com

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Re: We need more fire witches.

-------------------------

To my very smart nephew,

That’s an important discovery about Elsie you made today.  You’d have much enjoyed seeing the impact of Caro doing fire magic next door.

I’m not yet sure how to use that—I need to sleep on it.  But any fire witches you can round up and persuade to come to yoga tomorrow would be appreciated.

Perhaps I can buy you and Nat breakfast after sunrise yoga, and we can make a plan.

I’ll be baking cookies all weekend, so feel free to come pick up your payment in person.  Sidekicks welcome.

(And you got roped into this because you love your wife.)

Sleep well,

Aunt Jennie

Chapter 9

Elsie sat down at the breakfast table and sighed.  They were going to have to discuss some house rules.  It simply wasn’t appropriate to leave half-eaten chunks of bread and smears of whipped cream on the table overnight.

Unsanitary, and not a good start to the day.  She was a firm believer in getting the day underway right.  A threatening migraine suggested this day’s start was already in serious trouble.

Lizard shuffled into the kitchen, wearing a long T-shirt and not much else.  Starting the day right wasn’t on her priority list, judging from the unkempt hair and bare feet.  Perhaps this was an area where Elsie could serve as a suitable mentor.

“Good morning, Lizard.  I thought that since we’re going to be living together for the next few months, we could use breakfast as a time to connect and share learning.”  That should sound suitably non-threatening.

“Good morning, Mr. Hyde,” mumbled Lizard, rummaging in the fridge.  She backed out with a half-consumed bowl of whipped cream and a jagged crust of bread.

Elsie had no idea what her roommate was talking about, but at least her suspicions about the mess from last night were confirmed.

Hoping to make her point in subtle fashion, Elsie got up and fetched a plate and cloth napkin.  The house was really furnished quite well.  She set the plate in front of Lizard.  “Would you like some yogurt smoothie to go with that?  I made it fresh this morning.”

“Was that the obnoxious noise that woke me up?”

It had been rather loud, but she could hardly be blamed for eating a healthy breakfast.  “My placement involves a sunrise yoga class this morning, so I needed to get an early start.”

Lizard looked out the window.  “Sun’s already up.”

Indeed it was.  “I believe it’s a somewhat imprecise term for an early-morning yoga class.  I have some suggestions for Natalia on how she might adjust some of her class names to better reflect their content or timing.”

Her breakfast companion raised an eyebrow.  “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to get your input.”

Elsie rubbed her temples and took a deep breath, trying her best to be a good role model.  “It’s important to make a good first impression.  A yoga studio is unfamiliar territory for me, but I’m striving to figure out how I might be useful.”

No answer from Lizard, so Elsie dug deep for patience and tried a more direct approach.  “Were you able to offer Lauren some assistance yesterday?”

Shrug.

Even if Elsie hadn’t woken up with a headache, she’d have finished this conversation with one.  “Would you like to brainstorm some skills you might have to offer?  I’m sure you don’t have any office experience, but there might be something else you could do for Lauren.”  Elsie tried desperately to think of an example.  “Lay out snacks for a client meeting, perhaps.”  Although, considering the state of the kitchen table, that might be a poor choice.

“I have skills.”  Lizard suddenly looked rather fierce.

Elsie reminded herself that some people found it difficult to accept help from others.  “Of course you do.”  Although she personally was out of ideas as to what those might be.  Obviously the girl wasn’t real estate material.

“I made a map.”

“A map?  Like a map of the town?”

Shrug.  “Sort of.”

“Don’t real estate agents already have maps?”  Perhaps she could guide Lizard to seeing the obvious flaws in such an activity.

Shrug.

Elsie raised her fingers to her temples one more time and suddenly realized she was doing exactly what had brought her to WitchLight in the first place—stepping too far over the boundary between therapist and someone who needed her help.  This was a test.  It was time to take a step back.  Her job was to model appropriate behavior, and no more.

She reached behind the chair for her bag and file folders, already carefully assembled for the morning.  “I need to head in now.  I’m going to work on some updated signage for the yoga studio today—to streamline customer behaviors.  I think it will make a real contribution.”

She grabbed a chair as her head felt suddenly woozy, like it had doubled in size with no warning.  So strange.  Not her usual headache pattern at all.  “Have a great day, Lizzie—I hope your maps knock Lauren’s socks off.”  She leaned over and stuck her finger in the bowl of whipped cream.  “This stuff is so addictive.  See you at dinner.”

As she walked away, she had the most uncomfortable feeling someone was laughing at her.  It took all the way to the corner for her head to feel normal again.

~ ~ ~

Nat took her husband’s hand and grinned.  He looked so cute when he was half-awake.  “It’s sweet of you to come to sunrise yoga, but really, you could have slept a little longer.  I know Elsie’s fire magic worries you, but I can’t imagine it’s going to suddenly go off in the middle of 108 sun salutations.”

Jamie groaned.  “Don’t remind me.”

“And no slacking just because you’re in the back row.”  If he was going to be overprotective, the least she could do was give his energy flows a good workout.

He snorted.  “My energy flows work just fine, thank you very much.  At least, you thought so last night.”

She loved the light mind connection he often kept open between them.  Knowing he was hooked in, she didn’t bother to speak, and instead replayed one of her favorite bits from their beach walk the night before.  She had sand in some odd places this morning.

He just grinned.  “You sure you don’t want to play hooky and head to the beach again today?”

It was tempting.  “Some of us have responsibilities.”  She reached for the door of Spirit Yoga, surprised to find it unlocked.  Elsie must have arrived early.

“You gave her a key to the place?” Jamie muttered under his breath.

Nat squeezed his hand.  “She puts enough restrictions on where she can go and what she can do, without me adding any more.  If space to move is what she needs, she’s welcome to mine.  Anyone is—you know that.”

He kissed her head.  “I’ll go get changed.  If she’s reorganizing your filing cabinet, don’t blame me.”

Silly man.  She didn’t have a filing cabinet.  Looking around the front reception area, she decided Elsie was likely in the back studio space.  That was a hopeful sign.

She wandered back to discover her intern bent over the floor with a roll of bright green tape.  There were little bits of tape all over the floor.  “Good morning, Elsie.  You’re up early.”

Elsie jumped to her feet and brushed her hands on another catalog-worthy yoga outfit.  The woman knew how to shop.  “Hello, Natalia.  I wanted to apologize for yesterday.  This is a novel environment for me, and I didn’t handle the transition at all well.  You’ll be happy to know I spent the evening reviewing my actions and thinking about ways to make myself more useful to you.”

Nat tried to find her voice.  “That’s lovely.”  She hoped.  “Yoga is all about finding where we’re stuck and stretching through those places.”  Wow.  Since when had she turned into one of those preachy yoga people?

Elsie beamed.  “I noticed during classes yesterday that the room is often quite full, and I thought some guidance might increase the efficient use of space.”  She looked down at the roll of tape in her hand.  “It was surprisingly tricky to find what I needed at 6 a.m., but I thought the green color was a nice match with your design philosophy.”

She’s trying, Nat reminded herself.  She’s made a real effort, even if it’s rather misguided.  “Let’s see how it works this morning, shall we?  I usually take the first few minutes before class to meditate and set the tone for the day.  Would you like to join me?”

A flicker of fear again.  “I find sitting still rather difficult.”  A glance at the back of the room, so far blessedly tape-free.  “Perhaps I can finish quietly while you sit up front?”

“No” jumped automatically to her lips, but Nat resisted and looked around at Elsie’s tape marks.  Any movement, done with intention, could be meditative.  “That’s fine.  I’ll encourage you to think about your breathing as you tape.  In and out, listening to the sound.”

Elsie looked utterly mystified.

Nat smiled and touched her shoulder, trying to speak her intern’s language.  “That way you’ll be joining me in setting the proper environment for our morning class.”

Elsie smiled happily and pulled off another piece of tape.  Nat looked up as her husband slipped into the room and took his usual position in the back row.  That was strange—he usually snuck in at the last possible moment.  She giggled quietly as Elsie headed toward him with tape in her hand and a frown on her face.  Clearly Jamie hadn’t used his space efficiently.

However, he was a big boy, and he could handle her tape-wielding intern.  She had ten minutes and a need to find her center.  Breathing deeply, she dropped onto her mat and into quiet mind.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.

When the first students began to enter a few minutes later, Nat ended her meditation and opened her eyes.  Something had changed.

She looked around, struggling to bring her rational mind back online.  Her husband still sat on his mat in the back row, little-boy grin on his face.  Elsie was still taping.

No, wait.  She was untaping.  With a goofy grin on her face, Elsie was pulling up some of her nice, linear indicators and sticking them back to the floor.  She looked up at Nat.  “It’s so much nicer this way, don’t you think?  Kind of an organic flow.”  She beamed in approval as two more students entered the class and lined up their mats with a green mark.

Nat looked at the random splattering of green tape on her floor in stupefied silence.  Then logic kicked in, and she stared at her husband.  This had “witch” written all over it.  What on earth had he done?

~ ~ ~

Thea spun around the living room of the little blue bungalow.  “You’re sure we can close by my due date?”

Lauren grinned.  Very pregnant dancers were a fairly unusual happening in the normal course of her day, and she loved a happy client.  “I can’t see any reason why not.  It’s vacant, you’re pre-approved, and the listing agent’s a pro.”

“Whee!”  Thea rubbed her belly.  “Did you hear that, Bean?  We’re going to have a home.”  She danced off into the kitchen.

It was a good morning.  It would have been a better morning if the star of the show had bothered to show up.  Where the heck was Lizard?  Thea had insisted on going straight to the blue bungalow—she’d fallen in love with the online photo gallery.  Lauren never argued with client instincts.  It had taken all of thirty seconds in the house to know she’d be writing up an offer today.

And that was before she’d handed over Lizard’s map with all the cool, color-coded neighborhood features, and the nice lady next door had popped over with a glass of lemonade for the mama-to-be and volunteered to babysit any time Thea needed an extra pair of hands.  Not very many houses came with a built-in grandma next door.  Lizard had totally nailed that one.

What did you do with an assistant who had such fabulous skills—and couldn’t even get herself to work in the morning?  Being an agent was more than matching clients and properties.  You needed confidence, negotiation skills, and reliability, and Lizard had gaping holes in all three.

Lauren would swing by the office as soon as she could.  If Lizard hadn’t shown up yet, it was time to put out a lost-witch alert.  She mentally reviewed her scheduled afternoon meetings.  Nothing that couldn’t be shuffled around if they needed to put together a search party.

However, she wasn’t sure you went hunting for a lost adult, especially when she was presumably lost by choice.

Thea bounced back into the room.  “Totally sure.  Let’s do this thing.”

“Fantastic.”  Lauren looked around the living room.  “Let’s head over to the office, where we have actual chairs to sit on.”

“And so you can check up on Lizard?”

Perceptive client.  “Yeah.  I don’t know what’s held her up, but she’s new to the job, so maybe she just got confused about the time or something.”

“But you don’t think so.  You’re worried about her.”

Very perceptive client.  Lauren tightened her mental barriers.  “Not enough to stop us from getting your paperwork filled out.  What do you like to eat when you’re celebrating?”

Thea grinned.  “Food.”

~ ~ ~

Lizard hopped on the #125 bus and dropped her fare in Freddie’s slot.

“You riding with me today, girlie?”

“Am.  That okay?”  Sometimes Freddie had a supervisor on board, and then he couldn’t let her fill a seat for hours.

“Sure is.  No eyes today.  Haven’t seen you for a bit.”

She plunked down in the seat behind and across from him.  Eventually she’d drift to the back, but he liked a bit of conversation in the morning.  She’d spent a lot of warm and fairly content days hiding out on his bus, starting back when he’d still had hair on his head and she usually couldn’t come up with the fare.

He reached into his duffle bag and handed her a bottle of water.  “What you running from today?  Another jerkwad?”

Trust Freddie to put his finger right in the middle of her crap pile.  “Nah, not today.  I got a decent gig.”

“So why you here?”

She sighed.  “Because I’m stupid, Freddie.  I can’t give them what they want.”

“You ain’t stupid, girlie.  But you go ride at the back of my bus and have yourself a little sulk, if that’s what you need to do.”

She scowled.  It wasn’t sulking if you were right.  “You think I’m office material?”

“You mean like dress up in a suit and bow to ‘da man?’”

“Nah.  Hip and groovy office.  Boss is a woman.”

“She good people?”

“Yeah.”

“You running from good people?”  Freddie rolled his eyes.  “Girlie, you supposed to run from the jerkwads.”

Lizard laughed.  “That’s why I’m stupid, and you’re driving the bus.”

“Well, go on then.  Have your sulk.”

She dug in her backpack and handed him a brown bag.  “Biscuits.  Sausage and grape jelly.”

“You know the way to a man’s heart.”

She made her way to the back of the bus and tucked into a seat.  With her leathers and eyebrow rings all in place, she’d likely have the row to herself for a while.

It was time to think.  And that was freaking hard to do in a cozy little house with matching furniture and non-pin-up-girl art on the walls.  She needed some space.

The rumble of the bus under her butt wasn’t as comforting as usual.

Maybe a little something to do with the fact that it was now well past eight o’clock.  Meaning her new boss knew she was AWOL.  No Lizard along for the Thea-and-Bean house tour today.

They’d have been nice about the stupid blue house.  Because they weren’t jerkwads.  But she wasn’t real estate office material, and if they weren’t gonna do something about that, she would.

So she’d do what she always did on Freddie’s bus.

She reached into her pocket for her notebook and brushed against something cool and delicate.  What the heck?  She pulled out the necklace from Jennie and stuffed it straight back in her pocket.  She’d forgotten about that.  Definitely not her thing.  It belonged to the same girl who could wear the flirty skirt and do real estate showings.  A sign from the universe.

Back to bus riding.  She flipped open the little notebook where she wrote down cool words and their meanings, and picked one at random.

Surreal:  having the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream

Ha.  That was pretty much her life right now.  A weird druggie trip.

She leaned back against the side of the bus and let the words jumble around in her head for a bit.  This one came fairly quickly.

Sometimes they let you out

And the world isn’t the same place you left,

Or you took the wrong door

Following the map in your head

That’s never gotten you anywhere good.

One step, another—

The reality’s wrong

A surreal moment

In a messed-up life.

The words soothed her.  They always did, just like riding around on a bus loop to nowhere.  She cracked open the bottle of water from Freddie and took a sip.  Then she flipped to a new page.

Sagacious:  having or showing acute mental discernment and keen practical sense

Well.  That was easy.

Sagacious—not Lizard.

Chapter 10

Jennie watched her breakfast guests arriving.  Thirty years of marriage gave you good relationship radar.  Whatever Jamie and Nat were discussing, it was serious, and her nephew was squirming.  Interesting.

She waved them over to her table.  Squirming could be done over a nice plate of bacon and eggs.  Or a bowl of yogurt and fruit, in Nat’s case.

“Good morning, Aunt Jennie.”  Jamie sat down and picked up his menu.  Jennie hid a grin.  Hiding was going to get him exactly nowhere, and he always ordered exactly the same breakfast.

The waitress stepped over, offering him a momentary reprieve.  “The usual, guys?”

Jennie nodded.  “Yes, please, Clarice.”

“I’ll take a double order of bacon.”  Jamie handed over his menu with obvious reluctance.

Clarice snickered.  “Early morning yoga?”

“Is that worth extra bacon?”  Nat grinned.  “I’ll have some of that, and pancakes with fruit and chocolate sauce.”

“My babies liked chocolate, too.”  Clarice winked at Nat.  “I’ll tell my man to put some extra on those pancakes for you.”

Damn, bacon sounded good.  Jennie snagged Clarice’s arm as she turned to walk away. “ I’ll have extra bacon, too.”  She laughed as Nat raised an eyebrow.  “If sunrise yoga earns you extra bacon, hip openers when you’re over fifty surely qualifies as well.”  That class was after breakfast, but hopefully that little detail could be overlooked.

“Just make sure you show up, then.”  Nat’s eyes twinkled.  “That class is my hardest to fill, but it’s such a gift to your body.”

Ha.  Bacon was a gift.  Hip openers were sheer hell.

Jamie turned puppy-dog eyes on his wife.  “If I make extra chocolate sauce for you, will that get me out of trouble?”

“Nope.”  Nat patted his hand.  “But with Jennie here too, at least there will be two of you in the principal’s office.”

Uh, oh.  Jennie had no idea what they’d done, but she didn’t like to squirm before breakfast. And Natalia Smythe Sullivan, gentle and serene yoga teacher, could make anyone squirm if she put her mind to it.  Fortunately, it was a very infrequent occurrence.

She looked over at Jamie.  What’d we do?

Nat frowned.  “No mindspeaking, you two.  Let’s keep this conversation where the non-witches can hear it too.”

Jennie grimaced.  “Busted, and my apologies for that.  What’s on your mind, Nat?”

“Witch ethics, and the small ways use of power can slide into murky waters.”

Ouch.  “I assume you’re talking about more than a little mindspeaking with a fellow troublemaker.”

“Yes.”  Nat paused for a moment.  “I know that I don’t have a lot of experience with fire witches, especially one who hasn’t accepted and embraced her talent.”

Jennie reached across the table as Nat paused again.  “I asked you to mentor Elsie—that gives you every right to speak up.  You think we’ve crossed a line.”

Nat nodded.  “Using fire power to calm her is… well, in an emergency, a necessary thing.  But it changes who she is, and I think she ought to have some say in that.”

Jamie sighed.  “I’m the worst offender.  I used it in yoga class today so she didn’t put me in a little green-taped straight line.”

His wife giggled.  “Trust me, if I were a witch, I’d have been sorely tempted to do the same.”  She explained Elsie’s morning shenanigans.

Figures, Jennie thought.  Skip sunrise yoga and miss out on all the fun.  “I’m not saying I disagree with you, Nat—but you use plenty of tools in your classes to encourage calmness and relaxation.  How is this different?”

Jamie winced.  “Tried that line already.”

“You give him heck, sweetie.”  Clarice dropped off their plates and winked at Nat.  “If it’s really bad, you eat all his extra bacon.”

“I earned it.”  Jamie cuddled his plate to his chest.  “I did sun salutations at 6 a.m.”

Clarice tapped him on the head with a menu.  “And I was out chasing a pig for your bacon at 4 a.m.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and handed Nat a piece of bacon.  “Everybody happy now?”

Clarice walked away laughing.  Jennie nudged her own bacon a little further away from Nat.  She remembered pregnancy cravings all too well.

Nat turned toward Jennie.  Nuts.  Clearly they weren’t out of the doghouse yet.

“The difference,” Nat said, chewing on her bacon, “is that people who come to my yoga classes are agreeing to participate.  Elsie has no idea you’re messing with her mind.”

“In fairness,” Jennie said, “we’re not messing with who she is.  We’re freeing her a bit from the tight leash she has herself on.”

“Letting her be more of who she truly is,” Jamie added.  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Nat swiped another piece of his bacon.  “It’s a very good thing.  It’s my life’s work, in many ways.  I hope yoga helps each of my students get a little closer to who they’re meant to be.”

Jamie nodded, looking more sure of himself.  Silly boy, Jennie thought.  She’s about to take you down.

Nat leaned forward.  “But it has to be a choice.  Her choice.  Some of my students choose to stay in their uptight, hip-locked little worlds.  It saddens me, but it’s their life.”

Very neatly done.  Not only was Nat making Jamie squirm, but the boy was practically guaranteed to show up for hip-openers classes for the foreseeable future.

Nat turned back to Jennie.  “And you believe in choice.  You gave Lauren plenty of opportunities to decide what kind of witch she wanted to be.  Why is Elsie not getting the same chance?”

Squirming was not as much fun when it was your butt doing it.  “This sounds feeble even to my ears, but because Elsie isn’t the woman Lauren is.  That shell she’s built doesn’t have the skills to find the woman inside.”  Nat couldn’t know it, but messing with minds against their will was very painful ground.  Jennie sighed and admitted the worst of it.  “And making her a little nicer for a few minutes helps me remember why I want to help her.”

“She’s hard to like.”  Nat swirled a chunk of pancake in the maple syrup on her plate.  “I find her far too much like my mother, and that brings plenty of my own demons into this too.”

Jamie and Jennie ran into each other reaching for Nat’s hand.  Jennie grinned and backed away.  Husbands first.

“She’s not your mother,” he said, handing over his last piece of bacon.  “But magic has made her shell firmer than most.  And it’s not just her shell.  She’s that uptight inside her own head—she can’t even let her thoughts be free most of the time.”

Nat nodded.  “And you think it will take magic to undo it.”

“I do.  But that doesn’t mean we have to do it without her consent.  The easier path isn’t always the right one.  I’ll talk to her after classes today.”  He put up a hand when Nat started to protest.  “That much is my call.  I won’t put a building full of students at risk.”

Jennie met his gaze and resisted the urge to mindspeak.  “Aervyn loves the bookstore next door.  We’ll be there if you need us.”

Nat frowned.  “Why?”

“Because he’s got enough power to douse your studio from that distance if her magic gets loose.”  Her husband’s eyes were very serious.  “Consider him your own personal fire extinguisher.”

Nat paled.  “You can’t do that?”

Jamie shook his head.  “Not if she gets really mad or really scared, or has more firepower than we think.  We’re not taking that chance.”

Jennie watched as Nat tangled with the realization that witch ethics sometimes had very tangible consequences.  “You’re still right, Nat.  She needs to know, and I’ve been aware of that for several days now.”

“I was wrong too.”  Nat took a deep breath.  “I assumed you were both overlooking her rights, and I should know better.  Witches are complicated—there are more things to balance, more consequences.”  She touched her belly.  “This is going to be hard, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes,” Jennie said softly, thinking of the little fire witch growing in Nat’s belly.  “But I can’t think of anyone better equipped to handle it, witch or non-witch.”  She waited until Nat looked up.  “And Elsie is very lucky to have you in her corner.”

Her phone beeped.  Incoming message from Lauren.  Lizard didn’t show up this morning.  What do we do?

Jennie shook her head.  Terrific.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: We have a problem.

-------------------------

Dearest Vero,

Well, as I’m sure you won’t find the least bit surprising, things have managed to upend themselves quite nicely today.

First things first.  Lizard is missing.  I recall taking a flyer or two myself in my first weeks with Melvin, so I’m not sure how concerned to be.  Disappointed, surely—Lizard is currently missing her first big real-estate success.   And will probably still be gone for this afternoon’s water-balloon-fight rematch.

I’m also disappointed in myself for not truly expecting this and preparing for it.  I imagine my rather inopportune comment to her last evening about having a real future with Lauren scared her silly.

Oops.

As you and Melvin have some experience with this sort of thing, is there anything we should be doing other than waiting up with the lights on?

And then there’s our Elsie.

It seems to be a day for feeling somewhat inadequate.  Nat called Jamie and I on the carpet this morning, in that steel-silk way she has, and on behalf of a woman she struggles to like.

We’ve found that active fire magic in her vicinity calms Elsie—and Nat made it very clear we’ve crossed a line doing that unless and until it’s invited.  You’d think it’s a lesson I wouldn’t need to spend any more of my life learning.

I applaud her ethics, and her driving need to empower those around her and free them to live their lives.  I also applaud her willingness to face down two witches and make us look in a very uncomfortable mirror.

However, it’s damned inconvenient.

Jamie drew the short straw.  He gets to tell Elsie she’s a fire witch.  Expect fireworks.

Eating lots of humble pie today,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: We have a problem.

-------------------------

Jennie dear,

Melvin is impressed.  He didn’t make you run for over a week.

Lizard’s an adult woman, but she’s also on parole, which makes this a bit tricky.  For now, let’s assume she’s simply gone off to think a while, and give her the space to do that.  Let us know if she’s not back by midnight, so we can figure out how to handle our report to her parole officer.

If she’s not back by morning, we’ll send out an all-hands witch alert, but Melvin predicts it won’t come to that.  This time.

As for Elsie, I continue to be most impressed by our Natalia.  She’s right, of course—but you’re not wrong.  Ethics rarely come in such convenient black-and-white shades.  Melvin is quite sure you will walk this particular line as well as any witch alive.

There is risk in pushing on a fire witch, and value in protecting those around her.  So listen to young Nat, and heed her advice—but remember that she’s never seen the devastation an out-of-control witch can wreak.

Natalia speaks with deep truth from her experience.  Add in the deep truth of yours, and you will have much wisdom to work with.  We wish you luck, and we’ll have our fire extinguishers handy.

Blessed be,

Vero

~ ~ ~

Nat walked in the door of Spirit Yoga and stopped in shock.  A neatly lettered sign had been posted right above the door handle.  Enter quietly—inside voices, please.

Jamie looked over her shoulder.  “Uh, that’s new.”

Yes, it was.  Nat opened the door and walked into her studio, shock moving quickly into dumbfounded hysteria.  There were signs everywhere.

On the front desk—We appreciate your respectful and efficient movement in and out of common areas, including the changing rooms.

By her small store of yoga gear and apparel—The correct equipment and clothing are an essential part of a good yoga experience.  Shop wisely.

By the hamper for used towels—Please place your towels neatly in the bin so others may enjoy a more orderly and odor-free time here at Spirit Yoga.

Jamie let out something that sounded suspiciously like a snort and pointed to the hallway entrance to the class space.  “That one’s my favorite.”

Yoga is a time of contemplation.  Please arrange your thoughts accordingly.

Nat turned on him in rare fury.  “You think this is funny?”

He turned to look at her.  “Nat.  Honey.”

She took one deep breath, then a second.  It didn’t dampen her anger any, but it did remind her he wasn’t the appropriate target.  She was about to have a very clear talk with her new intern.  “Go get us some coffee.  Bagels.  Anything.”

His eyes darkened.  “You don’t drink coffee.”

“It’s my studio she violated.  It’s me she’s going to have to deal with.”

He held up his hands.  “You deal with her, but I’m not leaving.  If you’re about to poke at a fire witch, I’m sure as hell going to be nearby.”

She turned on her heel.  “It’s going to be a lot bigger than a poke.”

There were only a couple of places Elsie could be hiding, and it didn’t take long to locate her, taping signs onto the front of every locker in the men’s dressing room.  Nat didn’t stop long enough to read them.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Elsie spun around.  “Oh, darn.  I was hoping to get this done before you got back from breakfast.  I hope it was okay to come into the men’s changing room.  I noticed yesterday that they’re definitely in need of additional communication about Spirit Yoga’s expectations.”

Spirit Yoga’s expectations?  Nat started ripping down signs, and then stopped as fury kicked even harder.  “This is my studio, Elsie.  Mine.  My job to provide clearer expectations to anyone who needs them.”  She struggled for breath, reaching for the serenity that anchored every day of her life.

“Of course,” Elsie said, puzzled.  “I was only trying to help.”

“No.”  Nat lined up toe-to-toe with her intern.  She had no idea how long Elsie had been getting away with this kind of garbage, but it was going to stop, right here, right now.  “You were trying to remake this space—my space—in your image.  That’s Not. Your. Job.  Your job is to open your mind and heart and learn.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”  Elsie’s face was white stone.  “It’s only a few signs.”

Nat jabbed at the signs.  “This is the kind of crap that turns people into uptight, stressed, out-of-touch cogs in a wheel before they stumble into my studio.  This is what I fix, not what I cause.”

Elsie picked up the torn signs.  “Stress comes from not knowing what to do.  Clear communication reduces stress.”

“Stress comes from doing things that make our souls smaller.  Instructions like these belittle people.”  Nat watched her intern’s fingers scrunching the rescued paper and tried to rein in her temper.  “And they miss the entire point of yoga.”

Elsie’s voice edged up toward frantic.  “How can there be a point to lying like a lump on the floor or standing like a tree?”

“The point?”  Nat had the insane urge to punch a locker door.  “The point is to learn to live with roots inside yourself, instead of a thousand stupid rules to guide your day.  Who are you without your rules, Elsie?  Who would you find if you had the guts to just lie still and let go?”

The papers in Elsie’s hands went up in flames.  Then all of Elsie went up in flames.

Nat looked around in terror for a blanket, a towel—anything to use against the raging fire.  Then she dove for her intern—and crashed into an invisible brick wall.

Back off, Nat.  My turn now.  Her husband’s quiet voice and gentle hands stopped her as firmly as the brick wall had.  He touched her cheek, a world of love in his eyes.  “I’ve got it contained.  The fire won’t hurt Elsie.  Give me a second and I’ll get it put out.”  He turned back to the flames raging in her changing room.

She’d pushed a fire witch to the point of combustion.  Nat managed to sink to the floor relatively gracefully as all the bones in her legs dissolved.  What had she done?

~ ~ ~

Jamie moved toward Elsie, rapidly forming a vacuum spell to put out the fire.  His wife was a serious bad-ass.  Fortunately, if a ten-foot fireball was the biggest thing Elsie could produce, she clearly wasn’t a very powerful fire witch.

No time for elegant magic.  He waved his hands once and the fire beating against his containing spell vanished.  Then he dropped the wall, stepped to Elsie’s side, and spoke very gently.  “Are your hands okay?  Usually fire witches aren’t burned by their own magic, but we should check.”

Elsie held out her hands in stupefied horror.  “I’m an earth witch.  Just a little plant magic.”

“Earth witches don’t start fires.  Trust me on that.”  He wrapped an arm around her quaking shoulders, and checked in on his wife.  She looked as shaken as he’d ever seen her, but patted her belly and nodded.  His girls were fine.

His new fire witch, on the other hand, was very close to meltdown.  He reached out with a careful mental probe.  If she’d permit the connection, he could clear her channels some—ease the fraying that was fueling her panic.  Her mind exploded in fear the instant she subconsciously sensed his incoming link.  Okay, that wasn’t going to work.

Jamie backed away a step, uncertain if it was the right thing to do.  Nothing about Elsie was inviting closer contact, and he didn’t want to make things worse.  She looked okay.  A few scorch marks on her clothes, and singed eyebrows, but nothing serious.

It was her head that was still in crisis.  He tried to throw her a mental life-preserver.  “We can train your magic, Elsie.  Lack of control is pretty typical for beginners, but you can learn, just like you did with your earth magic.”

“I was tested.”  Her mind still pummeled his with disbelief edging on panic.

He kept his voice low and calm.  “Sometimes testing is inaccurate, or not all magical powers emerge at the same time.”

He could feel her mind resisting.  And at the core of it was something to do with her mother.  Murky waters.  Jamie cast a quick containment circle again and pushed as gently as he knew how.  “Your mom is an earth witch, right?  Some talent with plants and cooking?”

She stood frozen, mental guards on high alert, but Nat was nodding in approval, so he kept going.

“Your mom would have recognized your earth talents.  She made sure you got tested, and trained, which was the right thing to do.”  He repeated comforting facts Elsie already knew, trying to ease her back into the rational thinking where she found safety.

“She might not have seen signs of emerging fire powers or known them for what they were.”  Jamie wasn’t convinced, but for today, it didn’t really matter.

“And those would be what, exactly?”  He was pretty sure she was going for her usual snooty tone, trying to find her feet.  She missed by a mile.

“Temper tantrums, irritability, risk-taking behaviors.”  And eventually unintended fires, but weaker fire witches sometimes didn’t get that far.  “Some parents mistake it for typical teenager stuff.”  Direct hit.  Something in there rang true in Elsie’s head.

Her laugh sounded numb.  “Mom always said that was just my Italian side coming out.  When she and my dad divorced, it made her really unhappy when I acted that way.”  She stared at the wall, her mind a jumble of unhappiness.  “In the end, I think it helped me to grow up, to mature more quickly.  I learned to control my temper and make wiser decisions.”

Jamie felt a stab of sympathy for the misunderstood child, and the teen who had learned to parrot such garbage.  “You don’t grow out of magic.”  She’d just learned to repress the symptoms.

“How can you be sure?”  Her eyes were a lake of hurt as she held tight to her last shreds of denial.  “Maybe it was just typical teenager stuff.”

Sometimes it really sucked to be the messenger.  He pointed at her shirt.  “Random scorch marks are a pretty big giveaway.”

Elsie sucked in half the air in the room as she looked down in horror at her yoga tank, then at Nat.  “Oh, God—did I hurt you?”

Jamie moved in to comfort and then backed up again as panic flared in Elsie’s mind.  Damn it—this was still far too touchy for his liking.  “She’s fine.  We were waiting for this, Elsie.  We suspected you had fire talent.  There’s a reason I’ve been taking six hours of yoga class a day.”

“You expected this?”  Elsie’s eyes blazed, and then her hands raked thin air as the second punch landed.  “You put out my fire.  Oh, God—I started a fire.  How dangerous am I?”

Jamie shook his head as Nat got to her feet.  They were almost there—he could feel Elsie’s denial wilting.  “Your fire talents are fairly minor.  You wouldn’t have made it to adulthood undetected, otherwise.”

She let loose one short laugh of disbelief.  “This was minor?”

“Yes.  And as angry as you were, that would have been about as big a fire as you can produce.”  He waited until she met his eyes.  “But as you just proved, even a minor fire witch can be dangerous.”

Elsie stared at the scorched ring on the floor.  “I can hardly argue that, can I?”

The sad helplessness in her mind filled the room—but the denial was gone.  And she had no idea what to do next.

He needed to give her something to hold onto.  Words weren’t his forte, but if talking would help her process this, he would talk.  “You might have more training than you think.  How does it feel when you do earth magic?”

She frowned, struggling to understand where he was headed.  “I don’t particularly enjoy it.  I know many witches find magic soothing, but I never have.”

“It’s common for power flows to play off each other.  If the person training you was unaware of your fire talents, it’s likely you pulled both power streams unintentionally.”  At least, that’s what would happen if the person training you had only rudimentary skills and a closed mind.

Elsie squeezed her eyes shut and opened them back up.  “Meaning what?”

“Meaning you tried to do earth magic with a blend of earth and fire power.  Fire power tends not to be very flexible that way, so you would have gotten a lot of friction and bounce-back.  It wouldn’t have felt very soothing, but it likely means you already know most of what you need to know to control your magic.”

He could hear her rational thinking coming online.  “Mom always talked about earth power feeling cool and solid.  Mine never did.”  She wrapped her arms around her waist.  “And my bloomed flowers always ended up pretty wilted.”

He could feel her sadness, and Nat’s.  His wife, leaning quietly against the door, understood all too well what it was to fail parent expectations.  “We can teach you how to separate the flows.”

Elsie nodded quietly, her face calm, and her mind in shreds.  “I would appreciate that.  Good training is important.  One of the first rules of magic.”  Her words came out almost by rote.

Jamie saw the channel backlash coming just before it hit, and caught her as she swayed.  Her mind blew wide open, one line swirling through like a record stuck on repeat.  Who are you without your rules, Elsie?  Who are you without your rules?  Trust Nat to hit the line drive that had finally smashed through.

And trust his dopey morning self to stand around chatting with a witch about to get hit with emergence backlash.  Crap.  Finally free to reach for her mind, he executed the simple sleep spell every witch trainer kept handy.  Time to call in some backup.

He looked over at Nat.  “I’ll get her home.  Can you page Jennie and ask her to meet us there?  Caro too, if possible.  No rush—I knocked her out to minimize the channel shock.  She’ll sleep for at least the next couple of hours.”

Chapter 11

Jennie stepped out of Elsie’s room and closed the door.  A little food, a little more channel clearing, and the shell-shocked girl was sleeping quietly again.  They’d let her rest until morning.  She looked over at Caro.  “More excitement than we bargained for.  Sorry about that.”

“No matter.”

“She’s befriended your orange knitted throw.  Reminds me of my grandsons and their blankies.”

Caro smiled.  “Lots of fire magic in that one.”

Jennie motioned down the stairs.  “Let’s go sit with the others, shall we?  We need to put together a bit of a plan.”

They walked into the living room together.  Jamie moved to the floor to make space for Caro and her knitting needles, and Jennie tucked herself in beside Nat.  Lauren entered moments later with a tray of tea and sandwiches.

The comforting smell of chamomile wafted through the room, and Jennie could hear the whoosh of exhalation beside her.  She touched Nat’s arm and wished they had a healer present to offer a little stress relief.  Several people in the room could use it.  “I hear you were very impressive.”

Nat massaged her temples.  “Lauren calls it my once-every-five-years temper tantrum.”

Jamie shook his head and reached for his wife’s hand.  “Temper, yes.  But not a tantrum.  Your studio, the whole vibe there, grows out of who you are.  She walked in and tried to change it.”  He grinned.  “You faced down a fire witch and had her shaking in her boots.  Remind me not to make you mad.”

Jennie could feel Nat steadying, but there was still a strong thread of distress.  “She reminds me of my mother.”

Ah.  Personal demons.  “That doesn’t make what you did wrong, Nat.”

“It made me push a lot harder.  I took pretty good aim at her.”

Jamie shook his head again.  “No.  You took aim at her shell, and you were fearsome.  But do you remember what you asked her right before things went up in flames?”

Nat just stared.

“You asked who she was without the rules.  Who she would be if she had the guts to let go.  You asked the right questions, Nat.  You were mad as hell, and still trying to build her up, to stand for her, even if you had to decimate that obsessively ordered shell of hers to do it.”

Tears formed in his wife’s eyes.  “Thank you.  I needed to hear that.”

Her nephew was a very smart man.  Jennie wrapped an arm around Nat’s shoulders.  “So now that she’s done the hard part, what do the rest of us need to do?”

Jamie grinned.  “I put out the fire.  Someone else’s turn now.”

Jennie rolled her eyes.  “It sounds like it was a baby fire, even if Elsie doesn’t think so.”  She sobered.  Witch trainers were used to unintentional fires, but the aftermath could be tricky.  “I don’t think the next steps will be so easy.”

“My turn,” Caro said, her knitting needles clacking.  “You all need a break.  They can spend tomorrow with me, and you can have them back on Monday.”

Caro and Jamie were the two most talented fire witches in the room, and Jamie’s wife needed him—it hadn’t been a baby fire for Nat, either.  It was a very generous offer, and not an easy one.  “It’s going to be a tough day, Caro.  We don’t know how Elsie’s going to react to what happened today.”

“What, you think I can’t handle a just-hatched fire witch and a runaway?”

Jamie snorted.  “If you can handle the three Sullivan boys, you can handle anything.”

Caro smiled and gestured in the general direction of upstairs.  “I’ll teach her to knit.  Both of them, if you want.  Useful life skill.”

Well, that was easy.  Caro had a way of getting a conversation through to its endpoint rather quickly.  Jennie mindsent her gratitude.

Lauren spoke up for the first time.  “There’s the little matter of locating the runaway before that can happen.”

Jennie shook her head.  Her aquamarine pendant had been vibrating slightly for the past few minutes.  “I think she’s on her way back.  Now might be a good time to figure out what to do when she gets here.”

“Maybe not much,” Jamie said, shifting gears with the ease of a witch long used to chaos.  “I assume a big reaction is what she’ll expect.”

Lauren nodded.  “That works for today, but I need a plan for Monday morning, too.  Clearly I pushed too hard.”

Sometimes experience paid off.  Jennie remembered all too well what it had been like to slink home, and how totally unexpected Melvin’s reaction had been.  Time to take a play out of his book.  “Maybe we didn’t push hard enough.  I think we made it too easy for her.”

Eyes widened in surprise, but everyone waited her out.  Except Nat, who was nodding in approval.  “She’s used to having to earn things.”

“Right.”  Jennie picked up the tray of sandwiches and passed it around.  “She’s used to having to earn affection and attention.  And she’s never gotten respect.  When she got all three at once, with no strings attached, I suspect she panicked.”

Lauren frowned.  “Are you suggesting we attach strings?”

“No.  But she needs to fight a little harder for who she wants to become.  Our job is to create an environment where that’s possible.”

Lauren was still looking mystified.

“Was your first real estate job easy?”

“Heck, no.  I was young, and female, and it was a good old boy network in the office.  I had a good mentor, though.”

Perfect.  Jennie grinned.  “And did she clear obstacles out of the way for you?”

Comprehension dawned in Lauren’s eyes.  “Not ones I could see, and I’d have been mad if she had.  She gave me tools and opportunity.”  Her eyes twinkled.  “She made me work hard for them, though.  Her expectations were crazy high.  But the first time I closed a big sale, she was the person waiting when I walked in the office door.”

“Exactly.  Lizard is a different person than you were—she doesn’t believe in herself nearly as much as I’m sure you did.  But she’s more capable than she thinks.  Give her a chance to earn some self-respect.  Make her work hard for it.  We don’t need that, but she does.”

Nat spoke softly.  “And then all of us can give her the affection freely.  A safe place to stand while she figures out the rest.”

Wise words.

“Girl likes big words.”  This from Caro, who’d taken a short break from knitting to nibble on a sandwich.

Jennie nodded slowly.  She wasn’t sure how that fit into the current discussion, but Caro rarely made casual conversation. “Occasionally I catch a word in her mind.”

“She sits in this living room and plays with them in her head.  Only time her mind is leaky.”

Jennie grinned.  “She called me a pulchritudinous wench.  I still haven’t looked it up, but it sounds pretty bad.”

“She’s a rare one.”  Caro’s laughter was totally unexpected.  “Means ‘pretty.’  You should try crosswords.  Good for your vocabulary.”

Jennie just shook her head as everyone else joined in Caro’s mirth.  Punk girl had totally yanked her chain on that one.

They all quieted in unison at footsteps outside the door.  Jamie grinned.  Does she know how hard it is to sneak up on a room full of mind witches?

Be nice, nephew mine.  I seem to remember you trying more than once, and your mama is a very capable mind witch.  Jennie watched as Lizard came into view.  The girl was definitely slinking.  Tail between her legs and ready to kick and scream because of it.

Lizard looked around the room, spewing defiance.  “What?  It was Saturday.  I went out.  You can’t make me work on Saturday.”

Time to surprise her.  Jennie stood up and headed for the door.  “Congratulations.  It seems you managed to cause the least trouble today.”

Lizard looked poleaxed.  “What?”

“Elsie tried to burn down Nat’s yoga studio this morning.”  She leaned in to kiss her student’s cheek.  “Glad you’re back safe and sound.  I’ll drop by in a couple of days for our first weekly meeting.”

She heard Lauren right behind her.  “See you at work Monday.  Your turn to bring breakfast.”

Jamie’s mental laughter had them both grinning on the way out the door.  She looks like you hit her with a two-by-four.  Nicely done, ladies.

Jennie grinned.  Not bad, given the way the day had started.

~ ~ ~

Jamie crawled into bed beside his wife and cuddled her in close.  She had candles burning in the room—vanilla, and something more flowery he didn’t recognize.  It was Nat’s idea of conversational ambience.  After several months of marriage, he was starting to get the signals straight.  Mostly.  He waited quietly—she would talk when she was ready.

Nat laid a hand on her belly, and then linked her fingers with his.  “Tell me about fire witches when they’re young.”

Ah.  He’d wondered when they’d get to this.  “Every witch is different, but there are things we watch for.  Fire witchlings tend to be pretty vibrant—lots of energy and emotional swings.  It depends on what other powers they have—earth magic can steady the emotional stuff.”

Nat nodded.  “That makes sense.  Like chakras.  One in isolation is very different than several working together.”

He’d take her word for that.  Months of intensive yoga and he was still pretty confused on the whole chakras deal.

“Isn’t Elsie an earth witch too?”  She reached for her ever-present water bottle.  He resisted the urge to teleport her the darn thing—doing so usually got him in trouble.

“I suspect that’s why she was able to repress both her magic and her natural personality as well as she did.”

“It was a smart thing you did, pulling her back to a time when she could remember those feelings.  The truth of those would have been harder for her to deny.”

“Witch training manual, page three.”  Jamie grinned and kissed his wife’s head.  “Childhood memories are strong, and I figured she hadn’t been living in her head her whole life.  Air witches can do that, but fire and earth witches tend to be very physical, seek out a lot of sensory input.  They like to taste, touch, smell things.”

Nat giggled.  “You don’t say.”

Jamie tried to remember that they were supposed to be talking right now.  He settled for shifting Nat slightly and beginning to rub the lithe muscles of her neck and shoulders.  “The giveaway for Elsie is that she can’t meditate.  She’s learned to quiet her outer body, but true stillness is hard for any fire witch.”

“There’s more than one way to meditate.  She’d be drawn to moving meditations.  Still mind, active body.”  He could hear Nat’s grin, and tried manfully not to think about some of his preferred ways to seek a still mind.

She leaned back and touched his hands.  “So she ended up very different than she’s meant to be, just because she tried to keep her mother happy?  And all those rules and compulsions are how she keeps all the plates spinning?”

“Something like that.”

“Did her mom really not see her fire talent?”

Trust his wife not to miss anything.  “It’s unlikely.  Even a very average fire witch probably sparked a time or two, and accidental fires are hard to miss.”  Maybe intentional squelching, maybe just denial.  It would be up to Elsie to decide if she ever wanted to find out.

Nat leaned back against his chest.  “So how do we raise our little girl so she doesn’t have to fight so hard to be who she is?”

He shrugged.  “It’s not so hard as all that.  Let her explore, play in the mud, make mistakes.”

She chuckled.  “In other words, let her run loose with her cousins?”

Pretty much.  “Yup.  And unlike Elsie’s mom, we’re not in this alone.  If we do anything terminally dumb, there are lots of people who will line up for the opportunity to bonk me over the head.”  He paused for a moment, appreciating the woman he’d married.  “However, you’ll probably be at the front of the line.  You’ve got amazing instincts, Nat.  And less capacity for denial than anyone I know.”

She turned around to face him.  “Must be all those hip openers.”  The glint in her eye said they were done talking.  About time, even if it meant he had to go to hip-openers class in the morning.  He’d also learned a lot in the last few months about unspoken promises.

~ ~ ~

Jennie sat in her darkroom and pondered the pictures emerging in the liquid baths in front of her.  As always, she saw things with her camera lens that her eyes could manage to ignore.

Lauren looking at the clock as they sat in the living room waiting for Lizard to return.  A self-confident woman and witch, not much shook their favorite real estate agent—but this had.  It was the classic image of parent waiting for the teenager out past curfew.

Jennie smiled.  Lauren had been helping out with witchling training a fair amount, but she’d yet to experience the stages of parenting that prepared you for the teenage years.  The helpless frustration would be more surprising for her.

And so would the love.

Lauren was keeping her feelings under very tight wraps, but the camera had found them.  Good.  It would probably take love not to strangle Lizard before this was done.

Nat’s eyes told a story as well, and one Jennie was deeply sorry to have put there.  Sadness and guilt weren’t what you wanted to see in a pregnant mama’s eyes.  For the umpteenth time in the last week, she regretted having pulled Nat into this.

And for the umpteenth time, the answer was the same.  WitchLight needed Nat—Elsie could be in no better hands.  And what WitchLight didn’t manage to dredge up, motherhood would.

Jennie knew why she’d picked Nat.  Her niece-by-marriage’s all-seeing heart and quiet will had always reminded her of Melvin.  She had a strong sense that one day, far in the future, the woman holding the reins of WitchLight just might be a non-witch.

Selecting Lauren had been a rational choice.  Selecting Nat had been an instinctive one.

She was just terribly sorry that Nat’s first student so resembled her mother.  Karma deserved a good, swift kick in the butt for that particular piece of work.

Then she looked at Jamie’s picture—relaxed and handsome until you looked at his eyes.  If anyone was going to go a round with karma—or Nat’s mother—it would be Jamie.  Nat might have grown up without steadfast love, but she had it now.  And between them, they would roll with parenting a baby people were already speaking about in whispers.

She reached into the developing fluid for the next picture, ready to hang.  Elsie, asleep in her bed, face still bearing traces of shock, and fingers wrapped in Caro’s orange throw.  Fire talent rarely emerged quietly.  Fortunately for this particular witch, her talent wasn’t likely to send an entire building up in flames—but the kick to her mind and heart wouldn’t be any gentler.

And if Jamie was right, and this was all tied up in a mother’s love and a father who left… the steps ahead would not be easy ones.

Working on autopilot now, she hung the next picture.  Lizard—the prodigal witch returns.  Angry, embarrassed, and—

Jennie stopped in shock.  She’d entirely missed it.  This time, truth wasn’t in the eyes, it was in a clenched fist.  Clutched in Lizard’s fingers was the distinctive silver chain of her aquamarine pendant.  Well, well.   It was her old guide’s magic that bespelled every WitchLight pendant.  And since Lizard wouldn’t be caught dead with something that pretty in her hand on purpose, Melvin must have meddled.

Ha.  It was time to go to San Diego to visit her grandbabies anyhow.  She’d just make an extra stop while she was there.  Time to pay her mentor a visit.

Chapter 12

Lizard walked downstairs on Sunday morning ready to kick something.  Stupid witches.  Take a hike for the day and they barely notice.  No one cared.  Story of her life.

She walked into the kitchen and stopped dead.  A large woman with a wave of black hair down her back stood with her fists buried in a lump of dough.  She nodded toward a second lump sitting on the table.  “You can knead that one if you’ve a mind to.  French bread or buns, take your pick.”

Lizard’s traitorous stomach growled.  “Who are you?”

“Caro.  Missed me last night, did you?  You’ll be spending the day with me.  When you’re done with the bread, you might cook up some bacon.  I hear you’ve a nice hand with it.”

What was this, house arrest?

You’re smarter than that, girl.  And that dough’s waiting on you.

Another freaking mind witch.  Her life was suddenly crawling with them.  Lizard moved automatically to the ball of dough on the table and began to knead.  It was stretchy and smelling of yeast, and just needing a few minutes of work to turn it into silky perfection.  The smell of herbs coming from the center island tickled her nose.  “Oregano in yours?”

Caro nodded.  “Figured we’d have ourselves some pizza later.”

Lizard began shaping her dough into rolls, and then paused when she heard footsteps on the stairs.  “Did she really start a fire in the yoga studio yesterday?”

“Her magic’s a little unruly yet.”

Magic?  Elsie was a fire witch?  She lived with a torch and nobody had bothered to tell her?

You know now.  And you’re overworking that dough.

Lizard slammed down her mental barriers.  When danger was approaching fast, it never paid to telegraph your moves.

Elsie walked into the room and stopped dead.

“Food’ll be ready in a bit,” Caro said.  “Then we’ll have ourselves some magic lessons.  I’m your trainer for the day.”

“I’m well trained in the principles and practice of magic,” Elsie said.  “My mother believed strongly in proper education.”

“Good.”  Caro set her ball of dough in a bowl, covered it, and slid it in the fridge.  “That will make learning to control your fire magic easier.”

“I’m an earth witch.  I don’t have fire magic.  I’m not sure what happened yesterday, but there must be some reasonable explanation.”

Lizard backed toward the hallway, trying to be invisible.  She’d seen a fire witch go off once.  It hadn’t been pretty.

“Earth witches don’t set fire to things,” Caro said.  “And I don’t want you burning my house down, so it’s more lessons you’ll be getting.”

“I wasn’t the only witch in the place.  It can’t possibly have been me.”

“You got something against being a fire witch?”

Elsie was getting seriously steamed.  “I’m not a fire witch!”  Which might have been easier to believe if sparks hadn’t flown out of her fingers.

Caro waved her hand at the door.  “You want to spark, go outside.  I like these floors.  Worked hard on them.”

Lizard slunk the final couple of steps to the hallway.  Exiting seemed like a very smart plan.  Not you, said Caro’s voice in her head.  You get started on the bacon.

You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.  She’s a torch!

That’s an ugly word, girl.  You’ve got better.  Caro’s eyes were dark steel.  The kind you didn’t mess with.

“I don’t spark.  I don’t want to spark.  This can’t be happening.”  Elsie was babbling.

“Sit.  Have some breakfast.”  Caro pulled a tray out of the oven.  She was like a large gravitational force, insisting it was just a normal Sunday morning.

Elsie vibrated, but she sat.  Lizard shrugged and started on the bacon.  This must be some kind of crazy punishment for running off yesterday.

The smell of fresh-baked cornbread invaded her nose, and she sighed.  Whatever.  At least the food would be good.

~ ~ ~

Elsie felt like she was holding onto sanity by a very slim thread.  Her head was tense and itchy, and she had eaten breakfast in abject fear that fire might come out of her fingers again.

Fire.  Her fingers.

That was insane.

She sat gingerly in the corner of the couch where Caro had said to wait.  Couches were flame retardant.  She hoped.

She was an earth witch of mediocre talent, not a fire witch.  All the appropriate scans and training had been done when she was a child.  She’d heard the stories about witch talents lying undiscovered, but that happened to people who grew up in non-witching families.

Lizard came in and leaned against the wall.  They’d both been told to wait.  Elsie had no idea why they were both complying.  While she tried to respond to any reasonable request, her roommate had made a career out of disobedience.

Elsie closed her eyes against the squeezing pain in her head.  Moments later, it eased considerably, and her head felt puffy instead.  She opened her eyes to find Caro standing in the doorway, a ball of light on her palm.

When Caro saw her looking, the light globe disappeared, and the pain came streaming back as her head shrank back to normal size.  “Active power helps your head.  Time you learned to do that for yourself.”

Elsie stared.  “You want me to make a ball of light?”

“Nah.”  Caro shook her head.  “Too much risk for sparking, and like I said, I worked hard on these floors.  Like to keep them looking nice.”  She reached into her voluminous bag and pulled out two balls of yarn, each run through with a pair of needles.  “Knitting’s easy, and reasonably safe.”

She tossed one to Lizard.  “Come sit down.  You might as well learn too.”

The other she threw to Elsie.  A ball with two pointy sticks wasn’t the easiest thing to catch, particularly when you were practically catatonic.  And couldn’t catch even on a good day.

Caro sat down between the two of them on the couch and began to walk them through casting on stitches.  As soon as she picked up her yarn to demonstrate, Elsie’s head eased again.

Which was welcome, and also deeply disturbing.  “Are you using fire magic while you knit?”

Caro nodded.  “Yes.  So will you.  It’s the most intuitive way to let a trickle of magic flow.”

It was bliss to have her head stop itching.  Elsie fingered her ball of yarn.  So pretty, the lovely oranges and reds all mixed up like that.  And so soft.  She rubbed it against her cheek, careful to take the needles out of the ball first.  They were too pointy to cuddle.

Lizard’s eyes narrowed as she watched.  Then she pointed her needles at Caro.  “It was you.  You’re why she was acting like a druggie the first night we were here.”

A druggie?  Elsie giggled.  Surely not.

“She’s really sensitive.”  Caro sighed.  “I’ll lower the volume a bit.”

Elsie felt her head contract a little, but not back to painful levels.  She tried to focus on what Lizard had said.  It seemed important.  “I acted strangely when we moved in?”

“Ooooh, yeah.”  Lizard snickered.  “You ate bread right off the loaf, and dipped your finger in whipped cream.”

Not possible.  Elsie Giannotto had excellent table manners.  “I did not.”

“You did, and then you were disgusted by the mess the next morning.  Guessing Caro turned off her fire drug.”

Caro frowned.  “It’s not a drug, girl.  Show some manners.  And pay attention to your yarn—you’re dropping more stitches than you’re managing to cast on.”

Elsie looked at her own yarn, wondering what the heck a dropped stitch looked like.  Whatever Caro was doing kind of felt like a drug.  Made her head feel all floaty.

“Not a drug.”  Caro sounded very certain.  “The drug is the rope you’ve tied around yourself.  Runaway here has it all backwards.”

Elsie frowned.  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You will.”  Needles began flashing beside her.  “Work on your knitting.  The yarn will call to your magic.”

She stroked the yarn.  It really was quite irresistible.  “What am I making?”

“For now, a practice swatch.  After that, it’s up to you.  Nat’s baby will be a little fire witchling.  You might make her a blanket to sleep on; she’d find that very calming.”

Lizard snickered.  “I thought only grandmas knit baby blankets.”

Caro’s needles picked up speed.  “You got something better to do, girl?”

Elsie focused on her needles and yarn.  It was preferable to the rest of the jumble in her head.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Caro Genady <caro.knits@gmail.com>

Subject: Doing fine.

-------------------------

Jennie,

A progress report, as requested.  Not much to say.  Lizard’s a sloppy knitter, but a fine baker.  I’m making us some sandwiches from her bread.

Elsie has been knitting beside me for an hour now.  Her magic flows into the yarn.  Her earth-witch training must be solid—she handles power well.  Her mind is a mess.  That will be the bigger challenge.  She’s trussed herself up like a roped calf at a rodeo.

I’ve stepped away to see if she can keep power flowing into the yarn.  I would expect so.  A decent first day’s work.

Told Lizard to use that mind magic of hers and have a listen.  With respect, of course.  There’s caring in that girl, and the need to poke a stick at a snake.  Elsie might need both.

I believe that’s all,

Caro

~ ~ ~

Lizard scowled at Elsie, still studiously knitting at the other end of the couch.  Listen to her mind, Caro had said.

Ha.  She wasn’t the one that needed freaking magic lessons.  And the last thing she wanted to listen to was the mind of her multiple-personality-disorder roommate.

Hmm.  That was an interesting thought.  How did stick-up-her-butt Elsie and drunk-on-fire-power Elsie live in the same head?  Lizard dropped into light mind connection.

And snorted.  Elsie’s mind was like a knitting video on permanent rewind.  Needle in, yarn up and over, pull yarn through.  Needle in, yarn up and over…  No wonder her knitting actually resembled something square-like.  Lizard held up her own pathetic attempt.  There were holes big enough to stick her thumb through.

“I could help you with that.”  Elsie was looking at Lizard’s practice swatch.

Great—stick-butt Elsie was back.  “Who says I need help?”

Friendly snickers.  “Not me.  Maybe you could turn it into fingerless gloves or something.”

Lizard blinked.  Whoa.  Elsie with a sense of humor?  She stuck a few more fingers through her knitting.  “Not unless you know someone with nineteen fingers.”

“Probably just means you’re less compulsive than I am.”  Elsie squinted at her knitting.  “Maybe I should have you teach me how to make holes.”

Still in light mindlink, Lizard could tell she was serious.  Then she literally felt the switch.  Stick-butt Elsie looked over.  “I believe you’d be more successful if you applied more concentration.  Knitting is not for the undisciplined mind.”

Holy crap.  Stick-butt Elsie’s mind felt like the inside of a sardine can—really tight, and everything in straight lines.  Yikes.  Lizard dropped out of mind connection.  No way she wanted to be hooked up with that.

Imagine how she feels, living with that all day long, sent Caro, stepping back into the room.  “Sandwiches are ready.  Got some lemonade, too.  Come on back to the kitchen.”

Lizard looked over as Elsie put down her knitting and stood up.  Frack.  She can’t knit and eat, can she.  We’re eating lunch with stick-butt.

Perhaps that will motivate you to help her find ways to live in peace with her magic, said Caro dryly.

Well, yeah.  Even druggie-girl was preferable to stick-butt.  Lizard pondered whether she knew any fire witches that needed some place to crash for a while.

Caro eyed her.  Ethical means of encouragement.

Mind-witch landlords could be a real pain.

Caro laughed.  “That we can, girl.  That we can.”

~ ~ ~

Jennie sighed in bliss as her nine-year-old grandniece slathered something cool, luscious, and smelling lightly of mint on her face.

“Thanks for doing this, Aunt Jennie.”  Ginia paused to wipe some goop off Jennie’s ear.  “I’ve been practicing on my sisters, but their skin doesn’t really need any help.”

Nat giggled from a nearby lounge chair.  “Are you calling us old, cutie?”

“Nope.”  Ginia sounded suspiciously like she was trying not to laugh.  “If I did that, you’d frown and make my goop move around too much.”

“Brat,” Lauren said.  “So we can’t eat cookies while this stuff is on, right?”

Jennie sagged even further into her chair as Ginia started on her hands.  “I wouldn’t.  Guessing this stuff doesn’t taste as good as it smells.”

More giggles from Ginia.  “It’s not supposed to taste good.  Now hold still—I’m going to activate the spells in the face goop.”

“Which will do what, exactly?” Lauren asked.

“Just a light calming spell in yours.  Auntie Nat’s has an extra spell to help balance her skin oils, because pregnancy can make things go a little wonky.”

Jennie hid a grin.  The child could still use a little work on her bedside manner.  “And mine?  Do I have extra wrinkle removal, or something?”

“Wrinkles are beautiful.”  Ginia hit full lecture mode in three words.  “They show where your face has been and the interesting life you’ve lived.  You should be proud of them.”

She wasn’t about to disagree with that.  She had indeed lived an interesting life.

Ginia laid a hand gently on the top of Jennie’s head.

“I call the power of earth to heal,

The wisdom in this face to seal.

Bring calm and light, and ease of stress

Moments free from all distress.

Gifts of healing, grown by me,

As I will, so mote it be.”

Jennie felt her entire spirit softening, stress washing away in gentle waves.  She mindsent her thanks.  That’s lovely, child.  You’ve gotten much stronger.  She’d become a nicely competent healer in a very short time.

“Aunt Moira and Sophie are good teachers.”  Ginia laid a moist towel over Jennie’s eyes.  “Now shh, and I’ll go activate Nat and Lauren’s spells as well.”

“So, tell us about that interesting life of yours,” Lauren said.  She sounded vaguely nervous.

Scared of a little face goop? Jennie teased gently.

If it were just face goop, your mind wouldn’t feel like putty now.

Point well taken.  She was feeling mighty relaxed, and not opposed to offering some distraction.  She’d arranged this little session with their student healer for Nat’s benefit, but there were shadows of guilt under Lauren’s easy competence as well.  There was more than one way to relieve stress, and while Ginia worked one path, she could take another.

“I think it took about a week in the WitchLight program before I bolted the first time.”  Jennie spoke slowly, trying not to dislodge too much of the goop.  She could feel both Nat and Lauren’s minds sharpen.  Good, she had their attention.

“That’s right, you told us you were a WitchLight student,” Nat said.

“That’s how it works,” Ginia said calmly.  “WitchLight students eventually become guides.  Did they send you the pendants, Aunt Jennie?”

“They did.”  She explained for the benefit of her other two listeners, who hadn’t grown up in Witch Central.  “Guides are always sent aquamarine pendants just before their students show up.”

“They could try email,” Lauren said dryly.

Jennie grinned.  “They do that, too.”  Now was probably not the time to mention that WitchLight also chose guides who hadn’t been students.  She’d let Vero spring that little surprise on Lauren when the time was right.

Nat groaned in soft pleasure.  Ginia must have activated her spells.  “So were you a criminal mastermind, or just a witch in need of a little direction?”

Ginia giggled.  “Mostly the criminal part.”

“You know this story, do you?”  Jennie wasn’t all that surprised.  Witches weren’t big on privacy.

“Yup.  I wanna know what you did to that man, though.  Mama wouldn’t tell—I think she didn’t want to give Aervyn any ideas.”

That was probably prudent.  Four-year-old superwitches didn’t need bad examples to follow.

Go back to the criminal part, Lauren sent.  Inquiring minds want to know.

Jennie started at the beginning.  “I was twenty-three and full of myself.”

Ginia giggled.  “Dad says all smart girls need to go through that phase.”

“He’s right, but I had a particularly bad case of it.  I was a solid mind witch, and thirty years ago, not everyone was fond of strong women.”

Lauren snorted.  “There are still some of those around.”

“There are, and I got in the habit of hearing a little too much of what they were thinking.  I’d listen in, and then I’d take them down a notch, using their own thoughts against them.”

Jennie paused in memory.  “Most of them deserved it, and I used that to justify my behavior.  Pretty soon listening turned into planting thoughts, and then into actively manipulating emotions.”

It settled her soul that not an ounce of judgment came from any mind in the room.  “I’d crossed the line, way across, but it seemed like it did some good.  Some of those men weren’t such jerks after that, and other girls started to stand up for themselves a little more.”

“It sounds like your heart was in the right place,” Nat said softly.

Jennie grimaced.  “No, and that was the problem.  I did it because I was a cocky witch, and I could.  I did it to knock those men down and to build myself up.  One day, an obnoxious professor at the university totally embarrassed one of my friends during a class.  I used my mind powers to make him strip off his clothes and dance naked at the front of the lecture hall.”

“Eww,” Ginia said.  “Did people laugh at him?”

“They did, but it was a lot more serious than that.”  Jennie hoped this wasn’t hopelessly inappropriate to be telling a nine-year-old.  “He got arrested and put into a mental ward for a while, since he couldn’t explain why he’d acted so strangely.  It took a lot of fast work by a couple of lawyer witches to get him out, but he lost his job, and things were really difficult for his family.  Many people assumed he was a bit crazy for a long time after that.”

“I know it was bad to use your powers on him, but Mama says he was a creep.”

More than even Nell knew, but that little bit of the story Jennie planned to keep to herself.  Definitely not for nine-year-olds.  “Using power to push other people around is wrong.  It was wrong for him to push women around, and it was wrong for me to use my magic to push him around.  I certainly didn’t feel that way at the time, though.  My family realized I’d gotten way too comfortable using my talents to manipulate other people.  So they did what they could to make the situation right, and they sent me to WitchLight.”

“Mama said they had to make you go.”

“Yes.  And I was a furious witch when I showed up on Melvin’s doorstep.”

“Melvin?”  Lauren giggled.  “Sounds like an accountant or something.”

“He is, actually.  Or he was—he’s retired now.”  Jennie grinned in memory.  “I figured he was a wimp, and that I could lean on his mind a little and get exactly what I wanted.”

“Nope.”  Ginia spritzed something cool on her face.  “Mama says you were tough, but Melvin was tougher.”

And how.  “The first time I tried to mess with his mind, he hit me with a freeze spell, and we had our first conversation.”

Lauren sounded amused.  “About ethics?”

“Nope.  About accounting.  He read me three months’ of ledgers from one of his clients and made me do all the adding in my head.  Every time I got it wrong, he would very patiently start over.”  She still had math nightmares.

“So,” Ginia asked, “how come it was bad for you to use your power on that other guy, but it was okay for Melvin to freeze you?”

Ah, ethics could be so tricky.  “Because Melvin did it to help me and to protect himself.  Remember, I tried to use magic on him first.”

“So witches can’t be wimps, but we need to do it for the right reasons?”

Jennie laughed.  “If I’d understood that at twenty-three, my girl, I wouldn’t have gotten myself into such a big mess.”

“Curiosity is killing me,” Lauren said.  “What happened after he unfroze you?”

“He gave me a year’s worth of ledgers and told me there was an error somewhere.  My job was to find it.”  Which might have been easier if the ledgers hadn’t been in Braille.

Nat started laughing.  “You were an apprentice accountant?”

“I was.  And a more hopeless apprentice there has never been.  I lasted a week before I packed a bag and tried to leave town.  Melvin tracked me down at the bus stop.”

Lauren sounded confused.  “And we just waited in the living room for Lizard to come home?”

“She wasn’t really trying to leave—or at least, that seemed like a reasonable guess.  Melvin correctly figured that I’d never come back.”

“You love him,” Nat said.

Trust Nat to see through to the important things.  “I do.  In a very real way, he set me on the path of my life.”

“What did he do?” Lauren asked.

“He made me a deal.  He pulled an old camera out of his bag.  Told me that if I wanted out of WitchLight, he would make it happen.  I just had to take an acceptable picture.  One picture that met with his approval, and I’d be free.”  And she’d been too young and dumb to be suspicious that a blind man just happened to have a camera in his bag.

“You took the deal, I assume?”

“I did.  The camera called to me, even back then when I’d never used one.  But mostly I thought he was a doddering old man and it couldn’t be that hard to take one decent picture.”

“How long did it take?” Nat asked, quietly amused.

“Nine weeks.”  She could remember every frustrating day.  “Within two weeks, I could make that camera sing.  Two more, and I was taking decent portraits.  And always he would smile and tell me it was a nice picture, but it wasn’t the one.”

Jennie heard the click in Lauren’s mind as she finally made the connection.  “The picture that made you famous.  Terrible Sanity.”

“That’s the one.”  It was a photograph etched on her soul.  “The man I’d tormented was still locked up in the mental ward at that point.  They were awful places thirty years ago, especially for someone that was entirely sane.  He was released days later, but his eyes will always haunt me.”  He had thanked her for coming to visit.

“He was locked up for nine weeks?”  Nat sounded horrified.

“No.  For four.”  Jennie sighed and swallowed her pride one more time.  “It took me five more weeks to show Melvin the picture.”

“What happened to him?” Nat asked.

You’re a tough one, Jennie thought.  Very few people had ever been brave enough to ask her that.  “He started a private school for troubled kids.  He’s retired now, but the school still does wonderful work.  I go take pictures of the students every year.”  It was an odd kind of penance, but one she’d come to treasure.

“You told him.”  Jennie had never heard quite that tone of respect in Nat’s voice.  It brought instant tears to her eyes.

“Yes—I did.  It took me almost three years to do it, and Melvin was waiting when I walked out of his house.”

Ginia touched her forehead gently.  “He helped you to be awesome.”

The highest of compliments.  She’d have to remember to share it with Melvin.  “Indeed he did, my girl.  And if one solemn little accountant could do that for the woman I was, then the wisdom in this room can surely help Lizard and Elsie find their awesome too.”

“Sure,” Ginia said, with all the confidence of a nine-year-old who had never been lost.  “It’s what witches do.”

Chapter 13

Elsie walked into her first yoga class of the morning irritable and itchy.  The greasy odors emanating from the kitchen when she’d left home hadn’t helped.  Her peaceful morning routine was in tatters, and now she got to do yoga with old people.  Delightful.

She had nothing against old people.

Or yoga.

But neither of them were part of her peaceful morning routine.  And in times of stress, routines could be very soothing.

Sitting quietly at the front of the class, Nat opened her eyes and smiled in welcome.  “Good morning, everyone.  As promised, this week is going to be a little different.  We’re going to try a form of mindful meditation that many of you will remember from your childhoods.”

She stood and picked up a large, shallow basket, placing it in the center of the room.  “I want you to slowly make your way over and check out this wonderful collection of yarn.  Take your time—explore the textures and colors, and pull out a ball that calls to you.”

Elsie watched as one little old lady after another oohed and ahhed and went back to her mat clutching a colorful ball.  She felt Nat’s hand on her shoulder as a circular knitting needle was laid down on her mat.  “I’m hoping you’ll join us.”

Irritation flared.  “Knitting is hardly part of yoga class.”

“Any mindful movement can be yoga.  I believe you’ve already had some experience of that this weekend.”

She’d knit until her fingers were gnarled little sticks.  And while it admittedly made her head feel better, she could hardly knit twenty-four hours a day.

So instead of being a brat, let us help you.  Elsie jumped ten feet as a voice spoke inside her head.

“Sorry about that.”  Jamie didn’t sound at all apologetic.  “I forgot that you aren’t used to mindspeaking.”

Nat rolled her eyes and spoke to the class.  “We’re going to do this as partner work.  I’d like for you to share a mat with someone else, please.  If you’ve never knit, or your skills are very rusty, please seek a partner who is willing to guide you.”

Nat leaned over and spoke quietly.  “Perhaps you can do me a favor, Elsie, and see if you can get some of the basics through his thick skull.”  She handed Jamie one of the circular needles.

Reverse psychology was hardly going to work on a trained psychologist.  Elsie fumed.  These amateur attempts to manipulate her were deeply annoying.

You set fire to her studio.  I’d say she’s being remarkably accommodating with you.  The voice in her head didn’t startle her quite as much this time.

Oh, God.  Somehow, in the chaos of her morning, she’d forgotten about that horrendous detail.

Jamie lit a fire globe in his cupped hands.  Breathe.  She’s trying to make this easy for you.

Elsie could feel her head expand in the presence of Jamie’s magic and tried to get to her feet.  Not here.  She didn’t want to be drunkly stupid where other people could see.

Jamie grabbed her hand and made his globe tiny.  Sorry.  Not trying to make you silly—just trying to avoid panic.  I won’t do this when you can’t see it.  His mental voice sounded sheepish.  I promised my wife.

He snuffed out his baby firelight and handed her a ball of yarn.

Do a little knitting, just like Caro showed you.  That works just as well as firelights.

Elsie gritted her teeth and started casting on stitches.  At least she didn’t have to embarrass herself falling over in tree pose this way.  And as a self-aware woman, she could freely admit that knitting did seem to help her head feel better.

The circular needles were a pleasant surprise—much easier to use than the straight sticks.  Less to drop.  She glanced over at Jamie and gaped in shock.  There was already an inch of knitting hanging off his needle.  He grinned at her.  Shh.  My wife doesn’t realize all fire witches learn to knit.  We’ll just pretend you’re a really good teacher.  Oh, and don’t pull on your yarn so hard—you’re making it way more difficult than it needs to be.

Story of her life.

Elsie frowned.  That was a strange thought—and not at all accurate.  While she had clients who repeatedly chose the hard road, she prided herself on a well-directed life.

Jamie nudged her ribs.  “Keep knitting.”

She started her hands moving again.  And discovered things sped up considerably as soon as she stopped yanking on her yarn.

First irony of fire magic—it works better if you’re gentle with it.

A back corner of Elsie’s brain muttered that he was a really, really annoying man.

Do you feel how your channels are more open now?  Your head should feel more connected, less itchy.

Elsie jerked and dropped a stitch.  “How do you know my head itches?”

Jamie took the yarn from her hands, fixed the mistake, and handed it back.  “Happens to anyone who doesn’t use their magic regularly.  Fire witches get twitchy a little faster than most.  Keep knitting.”

The motions were more automatic now.  She’d almost made it around the circle.  Jamie had practically created a hat already.  That suggested an awful lot of practice.  God.  She really didn’t want to have to sit and knit all day long.

Jamie grinned.  There’s an alternative.  He produced another baby firelight on his palm.  Discreet enough to fit in a pocket, and you won’t have to carry your bag of knitting everywhere.

Her inner debate didn’t last long.  It was a reasonable suggestion, and the firelight bore little resemblance to flames shooting out of her fingers.

Set down your knitting, but keep picturing the steps in your mind.  Jamie kept up the quiet click of a competent knitter.

She closed her eyes and tried to visualize.  Needle in, yarn over and around, pull the stitch through.  Needle in…

Gentle on the yarn, there.  He sounded highly amused.

She scowled and kept going, trying to do as he asked.

Nice.  Now do a few more stitches, and then picture a little firelight sitting there on your palm.  It will feel a bit warm, but it’s just a friendly little light.

Suddenly this all felt very familiar.  Her mother had trained her to bloom flowers much the same way.  A simple visualization, and a trickle of power to her palm.

Elsie held out her hand and pictured a ball of light.

Nicely done.  Jamie’s approval was surprisingly welcome.  You might want to make it a bit smaller, though.

She frowned.  It wasn’t any bigger than the one he’d made.

His mental laughter jiggled her firelight considerably.  Open your eyes, Elsie.

She did.  And yelped at the sight of the soccer-sized ball in her hand.  Clamping down control, she vanished the light and looked around the room in concern.  That had been far too obvious a display of magic in a public place.

Relax.  They’re all knitting.  And he was right, they were—except for one little old lady who grinned and flashed a ball of light on her own palm.  Other than that, quiet chatter and heads bent over needles—no one had seen her oversized display.

Now try again.  This time, keep your eyes open.

She tried.  Multiple times.  Her ball of light stayed stubbornly huge.

~ ~ ~

Lizard paused at the door to Berkeley Realty.  This was flipping crazy—she didn’t belong here.  She looked down at the brown paper bag in her hand.  Lauren was probably one of those health-nut types who ate yogurt for breakfast.  Too bad.

“Good morning,” Lauren said, stepping up beside her.  Then she leaned down toward the bag and sniffed.  “Please tell me you plan to share whatever’s in there.”

“Don’t you eat yogurt or something?”

Lauren snorted.  “Before or after my Ben & Jerry’s?”

Oh, yeah.  She’d forgotten about her boss’s ice cream addiction.  “They’re biscuits with sausage and fried onions.  They’ll make your breath smell.”

“We need to get one thing straight.”  Suddenly Lauren was all serious and stern, and more than a little intimidating.

About time shit hit the fan.  Lizard prepared her sulky, not-listening face.

“You bring something that smells that good into this office, you have to share.  House rules.”  She leaned against the doorway, blocking Lizard’s entrance.  “Deal?”

Witches made some really stupid deals.  “Okay.”

Lauren moved aside.  “Great.  Let’s get to work.”

Sometimes when the other shoe was hanging around waiting to fall on your head, it was better to give it a big yank.  She followed her boss into the kitchen.  “Aren’t you gonna give me the ‘I let you down’ speech?”

“Nope.”  Lauren grabbed a couple of plates, tossed them on the table, and practically drooled into the bag.  “I’d say that’s fairly obvious, but you’re new here, so I’ll cut you some slack.  You let a client down, and that’s less excusable.  You let yourself down, and that’s probably the worst of it.”

Do-gooders always had lines like that.  “What, I missed my chance to see you guys laugh at my stupid maps?”

Lauren just looked at her for a moment.  “No.  You missed your chance to watch Thea’s face and feel her mind when she walked into that little blue house you found.”

It was hard to make fun of a pregnant chick.  “She’s nice.  She probably said something nice.”

“Mmm.  Nope.  She was speechless.”  Lauren worked on inhaling her biscuit and pointed at the bag.  “You got more in there, or should I make this one last?”

“There are more.”  You’d think she put crack in the biscuits or something.  And no surprise Thea hadn’t liked the house.  “I told you it was stupid.  You’re the one who decided to take her there.”

“Yes, I did.  Which means we have paperwork to do this morning.”

There was paperwork for stupidity?

Lauren got up, grabbed two folders, and plunked one down in front of Lizard.  “This is the standard sales contract we use in this office.  You’ll see the offer Thea made on Saturday, and the counter-offer, which she wants to accept.  She’ll be here in an hour to sign the counter, and then we have a mostly done deal.”

Lizard looked at the top sheet of paper in stupefied silence, Lauren’s words floating in a distant fog.  341 Jefferson Ave.  That was the address of the blue bungalow.

She looked up.  This had to be some kind of evil joke.

Lauren mindspoke very gently.  She loved it.  I wish you’d been there to see it.

Frack.  Just.  Frack.

Lauren touched her hand briefly.  “She did a happy belly dance all around the living room.  It was quite the sight.”

Lizard took a deep breath.  “I’m glad it worked out.  She’s nice.”

Another folder landed in front of her.  This one was two inches thick.  “Current listings within walking distance,” Lauren said.  “I want you to call the agents, get the lock-box info, and take yourself on a tour of all of them as quickly as possible.”  A phone landed beside the folder.  “And stay in touch.”

Lizard blinked.  It was a mag phone, and there were a crapload of sheets in the folder.  “All of them?”

“Is that a problem?”

Not if she wore hiking boots.  “What am I looking for, exactly?”

“Whatever you need to make better maps.”

This whole freaking morning just kept getting weirder.  “What?”

“You did amazing things on my computer, but there’s no substitute for field work.  Thea’s so deeply in love with that map you made that she wouldn’t give it back.  I have three more clients all looking to buy in the same general area as she did.  I want you to check out the houses, check out the neighborhood, make me some more of those pretty maps.  Client profiles are in the folder, too—feel free to ask me if you have any questions.”

Her head was ready to explode, but she preferred to lose her cool in private.  “Do you want a list of properties for them, too?”

Lauren shook her head.  “Not for now.  I think we maybe moved a bit fast on that last week, so let’s just stick to the maps for now.”

Lizard felt the oddest sensation bubble up in her gut.  It wasn’t a comfortable one.

“Fine.”  She grabbed the folder, walked out of the room, and closed herself in the bathroom.  Only damn place in the whole office with a locking door.

~ ~ ~

Jennie walked into Lizard and Elsie’s home with sushi rolls, drinks, and chocolate cheesecake.  Their turf, her food.

Time for their first weekly meeting, and hopefully a chance to reset things a little after the chaos of the weekend.  Chaos often served a purpose, but she was about to catch a plane to San Diego to go cuddle her grandbabies for a few days, and she could at least try to leave things on level footing.

With witches, that was always a fairly precarious state.

Lizard looked up as Jennie walked into the kitchen.  Lovely.  The girl was back to her suspicious delinquent mask.  That wasn’t an altogether auspicious start.

She heard the echoes of Lizard’s mind picking up “auspicious.”  Caro was right—her student had a definite fascination with big words.  And they both needed to firm up their mental barriers.  It was easy to get lazy when you had long relationships with most of the mind witches in your life.

Elsie walked into the room and looked at her phone.  Still running to a clock, Jennie thought.  Ah well, sometimes you didn’t get to pick the starting place.  You only got to say which way you stepped.

She reached into her takeout bag and unloaded sushi rolls and drinks.  One look at Lizard’s face was enough to realize her mistake.  Well, crap.  “Don’t eat raw fish, kiddo?”  And damn it, that was her second mistake.  The girl might look fourteen, but she was a grown woman.

“I’ll eat anything.”

Jennie frowned.  This wasn’t headed anywhere good.

Then Elsie totally shocked her.  “I think we have leftovers from yesterday.  I’d prefer a sandwich, myself,” she said, turning to the fridge.  Not true—it was very hard to lie to a mind witch—but bless her for trying.

Lizard scowled, a hairsbreadth away from blasting her roommate.

She’s covering for you, girl.  Does that happen often enough you really want to push it away?

It took a moment, but Lizard stood down.  Probably shouldn’t poke a fire witch, anyhow.

Good.  Crisis averted, at least the first one.  And tiny signs of progress between her two students.  Jennie tucked the sushi rolls back in her bag.  “I’ll take a sandwich, too, and I brought chocolate cheesecake for dessert.”

Time to pretend she was actually feeling competent as their guide.  “I asked you to meet me for lunch today to kick off our regular weekly meetings, and also to give you an assignment.”  A middle-of-the-night inspiration, no doubt triggered by memories of her time with Melvin and his one “simple” task for her.  “I’ll be leaving for a few days, and I wanted you to stay busy.”

Elsie laid a plate of sandwiches in the center of the table and looked interested.  “I have to say, I’m surprised we haven’t had regular assigned tasks up until now.  I assume you’d like me to continue magic lessons with Nat’s husband.”

Jennie tilted her head.  She wasn’t aware those had been started—a lot of busy witches this morning.  Go, Jamie.  “And how are those going?”

Elsie blushed faintly.  “It will take some practice.”

Well, well.  Apparently a chat with her nephew was in order.  “Magic almost always requires practice.  You’re a well-trained earth witch, so I expect you’ll make fine progress.  The task I had in mind for you, however, is a different one.  I want each of you to do a good deed for someone else this week—something they appreciate.”

“Ah.  You’d like us to seek out an opportunity for service.”  Elsie nodded approvingly and reached for a sandwich.  “That shouldn’t be a problem.  I can think of several things Nat should appreciate.”

Jennie touched her hand gently.  This was the tricky part.  “I don’t want you to do something that should be appreciated, Elsie.  I want you to do something that is appreciated.  A small difference, but an important one.”

Her student frowned, clearly not seeing the distinction.  “I believe I can handle that.  It will be nice to focus on the real goals of my WitchLight experience.”

Lizard snorted.  “Last time you tried to ‘help’ Nat, you set her studio on fire.”

Ooh, well aimed—obnoxious, but accurate.  Jennie threw up a very fast training circle and sat back to see what her fire witch would do when poked.

Elsie stayed true to her old form and stuck her nose a foot in the air.  “Those of us who learn from our mistakes aren’t doomed to repeat them.”  She turned to Jennie.  “Would you like written reports of my experience and what I’ve learned?”

Melvin would have fallen over laughing if she’d tried any such thing, but Jennie opted for the easy way out.  “That would be lovely, dear.”

Liar.  Lizard smirked and continued to eat her sandwich.

Careful, or I’ll ask you for written reports as well.  Jennie grinned at Lizard and reached for another sandwich.  Punks, she knew how to handle.  “Now tell me about how your placement’s going.”

Lizard scowled.  “I have to hike all over Berkeley looking at houses and making maps.  It would take three people to do everything I’m supposed to do this week.  My feet already hurt.”

Jennie hid a smile.  Well done, Lauren.  Well done.

A cell phone beeped.  Everyone looked around in confusion until Lizard reached into her pocket.  “Must be Lauren.  I think she’s trying to keep track of me.”

“Hardly a surprise,” Elsie said, but without the edge Jennie would have expected.

Lizard looked at her phone and snickered.  “Nice one.”  She pulled out a notepad and began to write.

Curiosity overcame Elsie.  “What are you doing?”

“Caro sent me a cool word,” Lizard said absently, still writing.  “Persnickety.  It feels bumpy when you say it.”

Elsie frowned.  “It would be more useful to learn what it meant.”

Lizard was still writing.  “Oh, I know what it means.”  She looked up long enough to grin at Elsie.  “Excessively precise and attentive to detail.”

Jennie nearly snorted lemonade out her nose.  Caro had a very warped sense of humor.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: We shall see.

-------------------------

My dearest Vero,

I hope I’m not deluding myself, thinking things are somewhat back on track as I head off to San Diego for a few days to visit my grandbabies, and to stop in to see the two of you.

I had my first weekly meeting with my students today.  I may meet with them separately in future, but for now I cling to the idea that the two of them might yet play a useful role for each other.  Elsie is still very much preoccupied (or perhaps imprisoned) in her own head, but Lizard is beginning to show some softening toward her roommate.

Or perhaps I delude myself yet again and see what I wish to see.  Maybe next time I’ll bring my camera—often its lens sees what I can’t.  Or won’t.

Following in Melvin’s footsteps, I’ve given them a first task—a “lens” different than the usual way they see the world.   I don’t know that I’ve chosen with nearly his wisdom, but I hope it will keep them busy while I’m gone, at the very least.  We shall see.

However, contemplating these things, I’ve come to a realization.  Clearly I’m a very slow learner.

Tell Melvin, after all these years, I think I finally understand what he wanted from me that day.  I’ve spent thirty years taking pictures of others as they truly are.

And realize I’ve really been taking pictures of me as I truly am.

It’s a humbling thought, and a somewhat scary one.  I’ll go rock some babies for a while and contemplate the meaning of some of those pictures.

Well, this appears to be an update that’s more about me than I expected.  Clearly WitchLight stretches its guides as thoroughly as it stretches its students.  While I’m perhaps not entirely grateful this time, either, I’ve not yet bought a one-way bus ticket.  Consider it progress..

I’ll kiss the babies for you.

See you soon,

Jennie

Chapter 14

Lauren had barely sat down at her desk when her office phone rang.  Cripes, it was eight o’clock in the morning.  Clients usually waited a couple more hours before calling.  “Good morning, Berkeley Realty.”

“Morning.  I’m looking for a Lauren McCready.”

“Speaking.  How can I help you?”

“This is Officer Ortig with the Berkeley Police Department.  I’ve got a teenage troublemaker in the back of my car right now.  Caught her skulking around one of your listings.  Says she knows you, so I called the number on your For Sale sign.”

Lauren reached for her coffee and took a big swig.  She wasn’t truly functional until after the second cup, and this was still the first.  “Sorry.  Officer Ortig, right?  Which listing is this?”

The policeman rattled off an address.  Yes, that was one of her listings.  “And you arrested someone trying to break in?”

“No ma’am.  Casing the joint, though.  Said she was just looking in the windows, but I’ll bet my badge she’s got a record.  Seen her kind before.”

Caffeine was hitting her brain.  “Does she have a name, Officer?”

“Nope.  All she’ll give us is her street name.  Lizard.  It’s always the smallest ones with the toughest names.”

Crap, crap, crap.  Lauren gulped more coffee.  “Officer, can I get you to just wait there?  I’ll be there in five minutes.”  She didn’t give him time to answer.  Most negotiations were better carried out in person.

She bolted out of her office, coffee in one hand, car keys in the other.  The address was only two blocks away, but she wasn’t about to show up sweaty and out of breath.  And her new car was a very professionally spiffy ride, which would hopefully impress Officer Ortig.

When she climbed out of her car two minutes later, it was clear not much impressed this particular police officer.  She put on her best snooty-realtor face and stepped forward.  “Good morning, Officer.  I believe you’ve accidentally detained my assistant.”

Now she’d managed to surprise him.  “Your what?”

“She’s my new intern.  I asked her to take a look at some of our listed properties, get a feel for the neighborhood.”

Ortig snorted.  “You got to be kidding me.”  He opened the back door of his cruiser.  “Get out here, kid.”

A very pissed-off Lizard climbed out of the back of the car and stood, arms folded.  She was dressed in head-to-toe delinquent—ratty jeans, even rattier leather jacket, and truly disreputable Doc Martens.

Lauren saved the lecture.  “This is indeed my assistant, Officer.  She’s here following my express instructions.”

Ortig just shook his head and pulled Lauren off to the side.  “Did you run a criminal reference check before you hired her?”

“She came with excellent references.”  It wasn’t precisely a lie—Jennie was a well-respected member of the community.

“Of course she did.”  Ortig wasn’t buying it.  “Save me from freaking do-gooders.  Next week, you’ll be calling us when she robs you blind.”  He waved at Lizard.  “Go.  And try using the front door next time.”

Lauren decided an empty house was as good an exit route as any.  Pulling out her lockbox codes, she dragged Lizard up the front steps, and moments later, through the door.

Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath.  Jennie was going to owe her for this.  Big.  “What was that all about?”

“Asshole cop tried to arrest me for doing my job.”

“Why didn’t you just come inside instead of peering in the windows?”

Lizard scowled.  “Didn’t have time.  I was supposed to be at the house down the street ten minutes ago.  I should get going.”

“Nice try.”  Lauren stayed parked in front of the door.  “The house down the street can wait.  So you were taking a peek in the front window, and a cop drives by and loads you up in his cruiser?”

“No.  He did that because he said I had a bad attitude.”

“And did you?”

“He asked what I was doing.  I told him it was none of his business.  It wasn’t.”

“So let me get this straight.”  Lauren wished desperately for more coffee.  “You were peeking in the windows of an empty house in the wee hours of the morning, dressed like a kid ready for trouble, and you couldn’t bother to tell the cop you’re my assistant until after he dumped you in the back of his cruiser?”

Lizard stuck her chin out.  “I had to start early so I could see fourteen bleeping houses today—I have the appointments all lined up.  I wore these shoes because they’re the only things I own that my feet won’t die in when I hike a hundred miles, and the skirt looked really stupid with the shoes, so I changed.  And if you and the cop don’t think I look like I work in an office, that’s not my freaking problem.”

Lauren blinked.  That was the longest speech she’d ever heard from Lizard, and it even made a weird, twisted kind of sense.  A smart realtor knew when to backpedal.  “Okay.  What’s the next house on your schedule?”

Damn, the girl didn’t even have to look at a list.  “The white Craftsman remodel on McGee.”

“Who’s the agent?”

“Michael Pollard.”

Lauren pulled Mike’s number up on her cell.  “Morning, Mike.  My assistant was going to tour your listing on McGee this morning—does it work if we move that to tomorrow?”

She waited just long enough for Mike’s okay and then hung up.  Realtors didn’t chit-chat.  “How long until your next viewing?”

Lizard looked at her phone.  “The green one cancelled, so an hour and ten minutes. Why?”

“That’s long enough.  Just barely.”  Lauren grabbed her hand.  “We’re going shoe shopping.  Jennie’s a marvel, but she’s never had to walk ten miles in sucky shoes.  We’ll fix that, I’ll drop you off long enough to change, and you’ll make your nine o’clock showing looking like a professional.”

She considered it a major victory when Lizard just stared.

~ ~ ~

Elsie walked into Spirit Yoga singing under her breath.  It was going to be a good day.  She’d had the house to herself for breakfast—a delightful change from recent days.  After practicing all night, her firelight was down to the size of a grapefruit, and she had the perfect idea for her first assignment.  Jennie would be pleased, and perhaps this whole WitchLight experience could get back on a more sensible track.

Now she just needed to find that cute husband of Nat’s and ask for his help.  Unlike Lizard, she was well skilled at recruiting other resources when she needed them.

Fortunately, the man she needed was standing at the front counter talking to his wife.  Perhaps they could both be of use.  “Good morning!  Can I borrow you two for a moment?  I could really use your help for a little project.”

Nat grinned.  “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

“Indeed I am.”  First things first.  Elsie turned to Jamie and focused on her palm for a minute.  The ball was a little bigger than some of the last ones she had made at home, but she was in a hurry.

“Impressive.”  Jamie smiled.  “You’ve been practicing.”

“For hours.  I’ve blocked off two hours every evening, so perhaps you can give me some additional exercises to try.”

He nodded.  “I can.  Maybe I’ll bring Aervyn by one day this week and we’ll show you some fancier stuff, or you can always ask Caro for help.  She hasn’t got Aervyn’s power, but her skills are top-notch.”

Elsie frowned.  “He’s the little boy I’ve seen you with?  Is it possible to have well-trained magic at such a young age?”  The mix of small children and fire magic seemed… unsettling.

Jamie snorted.  “He can make a firelight the size of a pea.  He could also send half of Berkeley up in flames.  When you have that kind of power, early control is important.”

Half of Berkeley?  Elsie stared at her fingers in sudden fear.

“Not to worry.”  Jamie patted her hand and grinned.  “I think we’ve already seen the biggest fire you’ll ever make.”

Nat rolled her eyes.  “You have such a way with words, husband of mine.”  She reached under the counter and came up with a plate of cookies.  “I think what he’s trying to say is that your power is more easily controlled, so steady practice is all you should need to handle your talents responsibly.”

Control, practice, and responsibility.  Those were the kinds of words Elsie understood and appreciated.  She smiled at Nat, glad they’d reached a place of effective communication.

“I stand corrected.”  Jamie snagged a cookie.  “So, what’s this project you’d like our help with?”

“I have an assignment,” Elsie said, while mentally explaining to her traitorous stomach that yogurt was a perfectly adequate breakfast.  “Jennie has asked me to find an opportunity to help someone in a way they will appreciate.”

“Interesting,” said Nat, her eyes twinkling.  “Why do you think she’s given you that particular assignment?”

Elsie smiled at the shared joke.  “She’s tricky, isn’t she?  I think she realizes that not everyone has the capacity to appreciate things that are good for them, so it’s useful for me to spend some time honing my assessment skills.  What kinds of service will be both useful, and perceived as useful?”

Jamie snorted.  “It might be a little simpler than that.”

He subsided when Nat elbowed him.  Elsie watched the interaction with interest.  Perhaps she could offer them some marital communication tips at some point in the future.  She filed that away as a possibility for an extra-credit task.

“I’ve decided to assist Lizard’s vocabulary development.  She has a fascination with large words, and keeps a small notebook where she writes them down.  Given her spoken language, I can only assume her environment has been somewhat deficient in linguistic stimuli.”

Jamie had the oddest look on his face.  Perhaps she hadn’t been clear.  “I want to provide Lizard with a more word-rich environment.  Perhaps you’d be interested in seeing some of the research—it’s a well-studied intervention.”

Nat covered her husband’s hand and smiled.  “It’s an interesting idea, Elsie.  How did you want to go about it?”

A good breakfast really could change an entire day for the better.  She leaned forward to share the truly thoughtful part of the plan.  “Caro texted Lizard a word yesterday, and she seemed to really appreciate that.  Since she seems open to that type of enrichment, I hoped to expand it.”

Jamie cleared his throat.  “You want to text her words?”

“Well, not just me.  I was hoping this was an activity other witches might find engaging as well.  It’s always nice when a project can have benefits on multiple levels.”

His face was back to looking very odd.  “You want to launch the Witch Vocabulary Improvement project?”

That was an excellent name.  Perhaps he was catching on after all.  “Exactly.  The two of you are more well-connected in the witching community than I am, so I was hoping you could help me get the word out.”

Elsie had the oddest sensation of giggles ringing in her brain, but no one in the room was laughing.  Very strange.  Nat put a cookie in Jamie’s hands.  “It sounds straightforward.  You’d like us to ask people to text interesting words to Lizard, right?”

A very good morning, indeed.  Elsie reached into her bag for a set of pamphlets.  “I’ve made these sheets with simple instructions and Lizard’s phone number, along with some suggestions on how to find appropriate words, and encouragement to embrace this as a self-improvement activity as well.”

Jamie pulled out a cell phone.  “Not necessary.  There’s a very good informal network here in Witch Central.  I’ll put the word out via text message, and I think you’ll be very happy with the results.”

Elsie looked down at her pamphlets in mild disappointment.  She’d put a lot of effort into getting the wording exactly right.  However, a good project manager knew when to let other team members step up.  “Thank you.  I appreciate your help.”

She turned to Nat.  “I feel like we’ve taken a real step in working together this morning.  What would you like me to do next?”

Nat smiled.  “Hip-openers class starts in ten minutes.  If you can make sure Jamie actually attends, that would be great.”

Elsie smiled back.  It was good to be needed.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Lauren McCready <lauren@berkeleyrealty.com>

Subject:  The good news…

-------------------------

Hey Jennie,

I’m the designated reporter for today.

The good news is that Lizard didn’t actually get arrested by the police, just detained.  Sigh.  She was peering into one of my listings, trying to do exactly what I asked her to do.  Unfortunately, she did it at 7 a.m. dressed like a troublemaker, and Officer Ortig jumped to the obvious, if unfortunate, conclusions.

In an attempt to give her a challenge and start teaching some of the basic skills of a real estate agent without actually practicing on real clients, I’ve set her a task that will really suck unless she does some prioritizing and negotiating.  Provided nothing but the basic tools— I did equip her in better shoes for hiking.  The silly girl has scheduled forty-two viewings in four days.  I’m exhausted just thinking about it.  I’ve already had two phone calls from agents who would be happy to hire her if I don’t.

She has no idea what impressions she makes—the good kind or the bad.

I just had lunch with Nat.  She said to let you know that Elsie showed up happy and singing this morning, and proceeded to sign them all up for a “text big words to Lizard” campaign.  Which I think is actually a pretty cool idea, but Nat’s convinced Elsie is doing it for all the wrong reasons—the kinds that seek to improve Lizard, rather than help her to feel connected and appreciated for who she is.

I’ve learned to never disagree with Nat when she’s this sure.

I hope those granddaughters of yours are thoroughly entertaining you with all of their baby cuteness.  Enjoy the break.  I’m sure we’ll manage to find a new crisis by the time you return.

We’ll try to keep the rest of the day non-reportworthy.

That’s all for now,

Lauren

~ ~ ~

Lizard walked up to the ugly gray house and grimaced.  Mostly the houses were empty, but this time the agent had insisted on showing up to give her a personal tour.  Ugh.

Clicky footsteps behind her suggested the other agent had arrived.

“Hello, I’m Lilia Rodgers.  So nice to meet you.  You’re Lauren’s new assistant, aren’t you?”  The perky blonde blew past Lizard’s outstretched hand, used her lockbox code, and let the two of them in the door.  “I’m so glad she sent you to my listings.  We’re all so happy Lauren has joined us here in Berkeley’s real estate community.”

Lilia obviously hated Lauren’s guts.  That somehow made Lizard feel better.

She took a look around at what she could see of the house from the entryway.  Huh.  It looked kind of run-down.  Not what she’d expected from the price tag.  Maybe that’s why it wasn’t selling.

Lilia gestured toward the back of the house.  “Come right this way.  Let’s start with the best feature.  This house has a wonderful yard, just perfect for a family.  It needs a little work, so you’ll have to use your imagination.”

It was a big, concrete slab with thistles.  And dog poop.

“What do you think?”  Lilia’s smile was perky, but her mind poked sharp little barbs of heat.  Nasty woman.

“I think you should tell your client to clean up the dog poop.”

Lilia’s smile never wavered.  “We do for real showings, of course.  This is just a professional courtesy.”

Bull.  She’d insisted on showing up, even though Lizard was perfectly capable of letting herself into the house.  Mean blonde chick had an agenda.

Leading the way back into the house, Lilia started a rundown of the kitchen’s features.  She made forty-year-old appliances and cracked linoleum floors sound hip and retro.

And somebody had seriously Photoshopped the listing pictures for this place.  If that wasn’t illegal, it was seriously stupid.  Buyers were going to be cheesed if they weren’t expecting all this old crap.

Lizard interrupted the non-stop flow of words.  “So, how many viewings has this house had?”

Lilia sniffed.  “Showings, please.  Viewings are for dead bodies.”

Frack.  So she hadn’t swallowed the how-to-talk-like-a-real-estate-agent book yet.  Deal.  Lizard abandoned all pretense of listening and wandered through the rest of the main floor herself.  Overpriced dump.  She was done here.

“I think you’ll agree that the upstairs rooms are nicely laid out for a family.”  Lilia pointed down the hall, clearly trying to drag them toward the stairs.  “A master and two smaller rooms that would make ideal guest rooms, or a wonderful space for music or crafts.”

Or, you know—kids.  Lizard rolled her eyes.  “I have another showing to get to.  I think I’ve seen all that I need to here, thanks.”

Lilia’s face suddenly turned evil-third-grade-teacher mean.  “I make sure that all my trainees learn to check out a house thoroughly, top to bottom.  It’s part of our job as agents to make recommendations based on complete knowledge of a property.”

This woman wasn’t just dissing her any more.  “Lauren encourages me to use my judgment.  Maybe I’ll grow out of it once I get more experience, but right now I don’t plan on recommending a house with dog poop and faked pictures to anyone.  Especially when it’s overpriced.”

It was probably immature to snicker at Lilia’s guppy-faced shock.  Whatever.

Lizard let herself out the front door and headed left.  It likely wasn’t the right direction for her next listing, but she needed to get out of range of Lilia’s clicky heels.  Too much evil perkiness for one day.

She hit the corner and pulled out her phone to check her map.  Incoming text message.  Lizard tapped to open the message and stared.  Languid.  Tabitha.  Huh?  Then she realized she’d missed several incoming texts while she’d been hiking.

Execrable.  Govin.

She snorted.  That one pretty much described the whole scene with Lilia and the ugly gray house.

Ambidextrous.  Mia.

Yeesh.  Her phone had fallen into the middle of a crossword convention or something.  She glanced at the words again, and her fingers itched to pull out her notebook and write some of them down.  However, if she did that, she’d be way late for her next showing.

Or, if there was another dumb agent in her way, it might turn into a viewing.  She’d be glad to provide the dead body.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: lauren@berkeleyrealty.com

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Re: The good news…

-------------------------

Hello Lauren (and Nat),

I’m glad Lizard had you to stand for her.  That was probably a fairly novel experience.  Should you cross paths with our local police department again and aren’t able to resolve things by sheer force of personality, you might ask for Officer Lopez.  He’s a talented air witch and a very good cop.

And forty-two listings?  On foot?  Quite the slave driver, are you?  Let me know if she needs some encouragement to protest.  I’m sure we have any number of witches who can gently push her in that direction.

I’m not surprised our Elsie missed the mark on her first assignment.  Let’s let it play out.  It will weave some threads of connection for Lizard, and that’s a good thing, even if it’s purely accidental.  And Elsie will likely discover that herding witches is a lot harder than she thinks.

My grandbabies are delightful.  Eliza is a little chatterer, Trin is a girl on the move, and Chloe is a night owl just like her grandma.  I’m having a wonderful time.

And now it’s time for bed.  I’m off to see Vero and Melvin in the morning.

Much love,

Jennie

Chapter 15

“A most humble welcome to our home, young lady.”  Melvin reached up and gently traced Jennie’s face before embracing her in a hug.  “Do come in.  Vero has some delectable cookies made, and she hasn’t let me sneak even one.”

Jennie had good reason to know just how sneaky a blind man could be.  “I can smell the fresh mint—has she made those mint chocolate chip ones again?”

“Indeed.  Some for you, and some for that young grand-nephew of yours to grab.”

Aervyn was teleporting cookies all the way from San Diego?  Jennie grinned.  They were really good cookies.  “Is Nell aware he’s pilfering from your kitchen?”  Being mama to the most powerful witchling in several generations was tricky work, but not much got past Nell.

Melvin chuckled.  “I believe she gets a ten-percent cut off the top.”

“And what have you two got your heads together laughing about already?”  Vero’s voice still carried both the silk and the volume of her operatic training.  “Bring the girl into the kitchen, Melvin—I can hardly come out there with flour all over me.”

Jennie stepped into the back room and snorted.  “You’d never let something as pesky as flour loose in your kitchen.”  She grinned as big arms wrapped around her, and because it was expected, tried to sneak a cookie.

Vero’s chest shook with laughter even as she ported the cookie in Jennie’s hand back to the plate.  “I suppose that husband of mine put you up to it.  Sit down at the table and use nice manners, and you might just get a couple.”

Melvin, Jennie noted, was already seated and looking innocent as a lamb.  She moved to the fridge.  “Milk for everyone?”

“Bah.  Vile stuff.”  Vero shuddered.

It had been thirty years since Vero last performed onstage, but she still held tight to the professional singer’s distrust of anything that might hamper her vocal chords.  Jennie smiled and pulled some loose tea out of her bag.  “Ginia’s making some of Moira’s tea mixes now, and creating some blends of her own.  She said this one’s soothing to the throat, and to the fingers.”  Arthritis pained Vero on occasion.

“A lovely gift, thank you.  Now go sit down with Melvin, and take some cookies with you.  The man has no patience.”

The man had more patience than practically any other living being, and they both knew it.  Jennie sat down and reached for her old mentor’s hand.  “Been meddling again, have you?”

“Mmm.”  Melvin bit into a cookie.  “I have no idea what you mean, my dear.  She was coming back, and you knew it.”

“Hoping and knowing are two different things.”

He smiled.  “Indeed they are.”

“Did you charm my pendant when I tried to hop a bus to Las Vegas?”

“It’s not quite as effective when the pendant in question is riding in the bottom of a backpack.  And you had a destination in mind—our Lizard just needed to run for a bit.”

Jennie helped herself to a second cookie.  “Got all that off a pendant in her pocket, did you?”

“Not at all.”  Melvin smiled gently.  “My power wanes these days.  I got it off the one around your neck.  You’re a fine judge of character, my dear—you always have been.”

Jennie laughed.  “If that were true, we’d never have met.”

Vero joined them at the table.  “You judged that man entirely correctly, Jennie.  It’s what you did with your knowledge that was the problem.  He was absolutely the discredit to mankind you believed him to be.  And thanks to you, the second half of his life was much different.”

A fact that had always made her squirm.  “That doesn’t make what I did any less awful.”

Melvin patted her hand gently.  “It does.  And one day, when you’re as old as I am, perhaps you’ll believe it.”

Not as long as she had his picture hanging just outside her darkroom.

“Put up the other picture, Jennie.”  Melvin’s voice had a thread of steel.  “It’s time.”

She knew the picture he meant.  The one she’d taken the day they’d let the man out of the mental ward, and he’d seen his daughters and his wife waiting for him.  The moment where disbelief touched hope—the beginning of the rest of his life.

Vero topped off Jennie’s glass of milk.  “I never argue with him when he takes that tone with me.  You’re smart enough now to do the same.”

Jennie laughed softly.  “We’d never win, would we?”  She lifted Melvin’s hand to her cheek.  “You know, I thought I came here to talk about my students.”

He smiled.  “Haven’t we?”

She frowned.  Melvin often spoke in riddles, and he didn’t always explain them.

He chuckled and tugged her hair.  “Help them find their second picture, Jennie, my love.  And hope they aren’t quite as stubborn as you are.”

~ ~ ~

It was so much easier when the houses were empty.  Lizard glowered at the crowd pouring into the Addison Street open house.  It was a new listing and even her inexperienced eye could see why it was popular.

Nice yard, cute house if the listing pictures did the inside any justice, right across the street from a park, and a quick walk to downtown.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Lauren stepped up beside her shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, I like to check out the houses too.  You going in, or just scouting the outside?”

Lizard scowled.  “I check all the insides.  I just like doing it when they aren’t quite so full of people.  Easier to see the actual house.”

“So don’t pay attention to the house right now.  Half of real estate is the properties.  The other half is reading people well.”

Huh?  You want me to mind read?

Just a light scan.  The same kind you usually have running when a stranger walks into the room.  You have good training—you know how to pick up outer mind thoughts only.

Lizard’s heart twisted a little.  “My grammie taught me.  She was pretty big on that whole ethics thing.”

“So use what she taught you.  How do people react when they first see the house?  What appeals most, and why?  Learn about this house from the people inside it.”

Memories pushed forward, whether Lizard wanted them or not, of her and Grammie people-watching together.  Her favorite spot had been the beach, seeing whether the little kids were about to get their toes caught by the waves or not.  Usually they guessed wrong inside their heads.

Lauren smiled.  “Some of the potential buyers are here with agents.  A lot of the agents guess wrong inside their heads, too.”

Checking out the competition—now that made sense.  “Those must be the sucky agents.”

“Not always.  Some agents have good instincts and mostly guess right the first time.  Being a mind witch helps with that.  But some agents are flexible enough to figure out the right answer even if their first guess is wrong.  They’re usually fine agents, too.”

Somehow they had made their way inside the house.  Lauren steered them over to a quiet corner in the dining room.  How many minds can you comfortably scan at once?

Memories of Grammie wouldn’t let her lie.  Three.  Maybe four.

Lauren raised an eyebrow.  Really.  You’ve been holding out on us, have you?

Grammie said I was a decent mind witch.

“More than decent.  Let’s see what you can do with it.”  Lauren nodded toward the door.  There’s a couple coming in the door right now with their agent.  Monitor the three of them.

Usually when she was monitoring three heads, it was badly behaving jerkwads and their friends.  The young couple was a nice change.  Excited, happy, and not too gooey.  Instant like of the house, but worry.  It wasn’t really in their price range.  Their agent was friendly and professional—and absolutely positive this was the house for them.

Within sixty seconds, it was very clear what was going to happen.  The agent, genuinely sure this was the perfect match, was going to unintentionally pressure the young couple into making an offer.  One high enough to leave them feeling scared, even with all the excitement.

Lauren leaned over.  “If you’re their agent, what do you do?”

It felt like a test.  “Wouldn’t most agents just close the deal?  The clients really like the house.”

“They do.  And with all the people here, they’re going to have to add thirty grand to that offer to make it stick.”

That was serious money.  “They can’t afford that.”

“Bank says they can.”

Lizard snorted.  “People in suits are idiots.”

Lauren grinned.  “Not all of us.  Now quit avoiding my question.  They’re your client, and you’re this close to getting yourself a nice, cushy twenty-thousand-dollar commission.  What do you do?”

Twenty thousand dollars?  Holy frack.  Trying not to let her eyes fall out of her head, Lizard watched the young couple begin to tour the dining room.  The guy kept reaching out to touch things—the rehabbed wood trim, a small crack in the corner he could repair.

They were fixers.  And this house didn’t need much fixing.

Lizard spoke quietly.  “There’s a green house down the street.  Bad paint job, old carpet, needs some maintenance.  Yard’s a disaster.  But same layout, a lot cheaper, and the neighbor says the owner’s getting out of the rental business and just wants to sell it.”

Lauren’s eyebrow went up at the last bit.  “Getting intel from the neighbors?”

Crap.  That probably wasn’t legal.  “Sorry.  I guess that’s not a good idea.”

“Are you kidding me?”  Lauren grinned.  “The inside scoop is gold in real estate.  You did good.  Now go tell their agent.  Quietly, while the clients aren’t paying attention.”

Lizard’s jaw hit the floor.  “Why?”  In her world, when you found a leg up, you kept it.

“Two reasons.  One, it will help the sweet young couple stay financially solvent, and that’s a nice thing to do.  And two, their agent is one of the power players in this town, and she’ll owe you a favor.”

She didn’t swim with sharks.  “So you tell her.  She can owe you the favor.”

“She doesn’t bite.  Usually.  I’d say you have about ninety seconds before you’re too late.”  And then Lauren turned and walked out of the room.

Lizard ran through every single one of Grammie’s best curses as she walked across the room to the dumb agent and shoved the listing for the green house in her hand.  “Here.  Same house, needs fixing.  Commission’s almost as big.”

Then she bolted for the door.

Freeze.  Lauren’s mental voice was full of laughter.  You don’t get to cut and run every time life makes you squirm.  We still need to go check out the upstairs.

You gotta be kidding me.  Lizard turned around to locate her boss.

No.  Lauren stepped out of the hallway shadows.  And while you lacked a certain elegance there, I think it worked.  You might try actually introducing yourself next time.

Details.  She started up the stairs, resigned to a little more time in the crowd of real-estate lemmings.  It wasn’t until she walked into the master bedroom that she was totally positive it had been stupid to stay.

Lilia Rodgers, snooty agent from hell, stood at the foot of the bed chatting with another agent.  They both turned when Lauren and Lizard entered the room.  “Well, finally checking out the entire house, are you?” Lilia asked.  “Rookie mistake,” she whispered to the other agent, loud enough for people on the main floor to hear.  “Judged one of my listings by the first room.”

Lauren grabbed Lizard’s arm just before she leaped.  “I see you’ve met Lilia.”  She’s slime.  Don’t let her provoke you.

You think I should let her get away with this?  Damn.  Lauren wouldn’t last two flipping minutes in a serious fight.

No.  But there are six agents in this room.  Instead of getting mad, try getting even.  You’re smart, and you’re not very big.  No way you win all your fights by scratching everybody’s eyes out.

Lizard mentally kicked a wall.  And then she plastered on a don’t-mess-with-me grin.  “We’ve met.  I toured her listing over on Bancroft.  The one where someone in her office must have doctored the listing photos.”  She turned to the agent standing by Lilia.  “Rookie mistake.  It’s just so hard to find good help.”

This time when she headed for the door, it was with her head held high.  And if the agents in the room behind her were any indication, dog-poop house wasn’t going to sell any time in the next decade.

~ ~ ~

“I don’t see the point.”  Elsie was beginning to doubt Jamie’s competence as a trainer.  His initial lessons had been very helpful, but now he seemed bent on adding some very childish twists to her magic.

“It’s just an experiment.”  Jamie tossed a firelight gently from hand to hand.  “Rhyming spells are very helpful for some witches—they can help integrate your use of magic.”

“Integrate” was one of those words used by people who lacked precision.  “I don’t understand.  I’ve made excellent progress on the tasks you’ve assigned.”

“You have.”  Jamie paused for a moment.  “But those tasks are supposed to help you get comfortable with using your talent on a less-conscious level.  In many ways, magic is instinctive—we just layer our minds on top to give us better control.  You have the layering part totally down, but your intuitive sense of the magic isn’t quite there yet.”

Doing magic by instinct sounded rather primitive and not very desirable.  Elsie reminded herself that not all teachers were capable of meeting every student’s learning needs.  Perhaps she’d gone beyond what Jamie could comfortably instruct.

A blaze of anger in Jamie’s eyes was all the warning she got before a wall of flame encircled the two of them.  “Fire is primitive.”  He spoke through gritted teeth.  “The lacking here is not mine, Elsie.”

She gasped for breath as the fire vanished, heart pounding in her ears.  “That was hardly necessary.”

His grin was not at all reassuring.  “No.  But it was fun.”

Lizard walked in the back entrance, a box of pizza in her hand.  “I guess I’m at the right house.  Do the neighbors never notice the ten-foot flames shooting from the back yard?”

Jamie waved in welcome.  “That’s why we’re at Nell’s instead of at my place or yours. Aervyn’s magic can be fairly visible.  The neighbors here are either oblivious, or witches themselves.”

Lizard shrugged.  “If you say so.”

Jamie took the box from her hands and settled it on the grass.  “Thanks for the pizza delivery, by the way.  Do you mind if we keep working on our magic lesson while we eat?  Elsie only has an hour on her schedule this evening.”

Lizard seemed to find that rather funny.

If tolerating rudeness was a required part of her magic lessons, they were going to get tiresome very quickly.

Jamie leaned back with another one of his not-reassuring grins.  “So, rhyming spells.  You have the basic firelight drill down, and the next step is to add movement.”  He held out his hands and began tossing a small firelight hand-to-hand, glancing at Lizard as he explained.  “Many witches find it helpful to use a small rhyme to help guide the movement.”

“Just like skipping rope.”  Lizard watched the dancing ball in fascination.

“Exactly.”  Jamie stopped and grabbed a slice of pizza.  “Okay, Elsie, you try.”

She frowned, wondering exactly how she was going to eat such messy, gooey food.  It didn’t appear to have come with either forks or napkins.  “I don’t have a rhyme worked out yet.”

“You’re not supposed to.  Figure out a starting line and then just go.”

Her college English classes hadn’t extended to impromptu poetry, but she felt somewhat pressured to succeed at the silly task.  Holding out her hands, she visualized a small firelight and began.

“Dancing, dancing ball of light,

Bright and pretty in the night.

Up and down and side to side,

…”

Lizard’s snicker didn’t help, but she really couldn’t think of a good rhyme for “side.”  This was a truly ridiculous exercise.

“You have to let your brain loose a little,” Jamie said, waving a hand covered in pizza grease.  He raised an eyebrow at Lizard.  “Wanna try?”

Elsie frowned.  “She’s not a fire witch.”

“Doesn’t matter.  There’s a variation called Push Words that doesn’t require her to use any magic.  I’ll spell the ball so it will respond to either of us.  It’s kind of like a simple game of catch, but you use a rhyme to catch it and throw it back.”

Lizard put down her pizza and held out her hands.  “Game on, pizza man.”

Jamie wiggled back several feet, tossed the firelight in his hands a couple of times, and then grinned and began.  “Dancing, dancing ball of light.”

“Ready flame, burning bright.” The ball landed softly on Lizard’s hand and headed back to Jamie.

He grinned in approval.  “Lift and fly, a steady arc.”

“Baby dragon’s snorting bark.”  The ball flew back at Jamie a little faster.

“Carving, curving in the night.”

“Flaming tail of speeding light.”  This time Lizard’s return quickened noticeably.

Jamie wiggled his eyebrows.  “Zooming, zinging through the air.”

“Turn around and singe his hair.”  The ball hurtled back straight at Jamie’s eyebrows.  An inch before his nose, it dissolved in a rainbow of small fireworks.

Jamie rolled his eyes at Lizard.  “Punk.  You’re pretty good at that.”

Lizard shrugged and picked up her pizza, but even Elsie could see her eyes gleaming.  “Next time, I wanna come up with the first lines.”

Jamie laughed.  “Not a chance.  I like my eyebrows just the way they are.”

Elsie stared hard at her piece of pizza.  Her head was itchy again, there were still no napkins, and the feeling in the pit of her stomach felt far too much like jealousy.  Of what, exactly, she wasn’t entirely sure.  It was only a silly child’s game.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Jamie Sullivan <jamie@enchantersrealm.com>

Subject: Reporting as ordered.

-------------------------

Hey Aunt Jennie,

Nat’s asleep, so I’m tonight’s designated reporter.

Lauren reports that Lizard’s a stronger mind witch than we might have thought, and fortunately comes equipped with solid ethics.  She monitored three minds at once in a crowded room today, and did it respectfully.  Tried to bolt, too, but I think Lauren’s setting down some firmer expectations, and Lizard stuck around.  For today, she’s counting that as a win.

I met with both your students tonight—I wanted to see how a third party affected Elsie’s training, and have somebody to share my pizza, since Elsie still won’t touch anything gooey.  First fire witch I’ve ever met who has an aversion to melty cheese and licking their fingers.  I even sprung for the really good stuff—no dice.

Her magic is competent now.  Her talents are fairly small, and she’s no longer a danger to anyone.  But she still runs back to that locked fortress of hers any time the world calls to her senses, or asks her to play.  It didn’t help that I got mad right before the pizza arrived, kicked up a wall of fire, and threw her right back into what Lizard calls “stick-butt Elsie.”  She still thinks the point is controlling her magic from a safe distance, rather than enjoying and embracing it.  Nat says that extends to her heart as well—she shies away from the unpredictable nature of connection with others.  Shakes her foundation of rules too much.  I’m smart enough not to argue with my wife.

Which leaves us with the question of how we get Elsie to come out and play.  It’s clear she has NO IDEA how to get there, and my bag of tricks doesn’t extend much beyond pizza and goofy magic.

Nat says it’s not going to happen in small steps, so, apparently, we’re going to meddle.  Or rather, you are—girls only.  There’s an intervention scheduled for Saturday night, involving ice cream, wine, and a bit of truth-telling.  I suspect it will be Nat doing most of the latter.  Consider it your welcome-back party.

Enjoy your baby practice.  We want you totally up to speed when our little girl arrives.

Over and out,

Jamie

P.S.  Forgot to mention—Lizard can rhyme like nobody’s business.  She nearly singed my eyebrows playing Push Word for the first time.  Maybe I’ve gotten lazy playing with Aervyn, but I used to be the Push Word king.  I’d love to know more about what goes on in that head of hers.

They’re an odd pair, these two of yours.  Both in cages.  Elsie lives behind the bars of her own competence, and Lizard’s trapped by her sense of incompetence.  They could learn from each other.  I expect you’re miles ahead of me on that one.

Chapter 16

Six more houses to go, her feet were numb, and her brain was throbbing.  Lizard stopped and made more notes on her awesome-cool iPhone app.  Way faster than scribbling things in her notebook.  This block had lots of cafe tables outside, people sitting around chatting, and about a million dogs.  The big, friendly kinds, not the little, yappy ones.

Oh, and she had to add the tip from the funny old guy about the hole-in-the-wall diner around the corner.  Skanky decor, best breakfasts in town.

She was getting better at collecting all the right data her first trip through a neighborhood.  Which was good, because if she had to do any more repeats, she might as well start training for a marathon.  Her maps were starting to look kinda cool.  At least working on those at night only made her eyes bleed, while her feet got time off for good behavior.

The neighborhood was getting more upscale as she walked.  More flowers in the front yards, less tricycles.  Snootier cars, too.  She kept moving and took notes as she went.  Her thumbs were freaking sore, too.  An incoming text made her grin.

Sonorous.  That would be my children.  Nell.

Frazzling.  Also my children.  Nell.

Okay, three days in a row, and this was no longer an accident.  Cautiously, she texted back.  Do I know you?

Kinda.  I’m Nell—Jamie’s sister and Lauren’s friend.

Her “weird” detector was going off.  However, it seemed like the witches-messing-with-her-life kind of weird, not the slimy-guys-on-the-Internet kind.  Um, why are you all texting me words?

We heard you like cool words.  Want us to stop?  I think my oldest son is looking up synonyms for “gross” right now.  You might want to quit while you’re ahead.

Lizard grinned.  Nah.  Tell him to look up “purulent.”  Totally gross.

Thanks a lot.

She nearly missed the big, fat For Sale sign on the lawn of the house she was walking by.  Crap.  Gotta go.  At the next house.

Adios. Nell.

Witches were so strange.  An old pro with lockbox codes by now, Lizard let herself in. And froze.  She wasn’t alone.  She could sense a presence, even before the stairs started creaking.  Eyes darting, she reached for the door handle behind her.  Time to get the hell out.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, said a giggly and very young voice in her head.  I landed upstairs by accident.  Mama sent me with milk and cookies.  She said you might like a snack.

Huh?  Lizard stared as Jamie’s nephew walked into the room with a glass of milk in one hand, and a bag, presumably of cookies, in the other.

He handed her both.  “The cookies are really good.  I helped make them.”

She took them numbly.  Small boys didn’t hang out in deserted houses.

He grinned.  “I can’t spell yet, but my word is ‘nincompoop.’  I like it because it has poop in it.”  He waved.  “Mama said I should come straight back home and not be a nuisance.  Bye!”  And he was gone.  Vanished.  Just like Star Trek, only faster.

Holy shit.

Her phone beeped in the dead silence of the house.  She juggled milk and cookies to pull it out of her pocket.  Nell again.  Did anyone happen to mention that my son Aervyn can teleport?  Sorry if we freaked you out.  Enjoy the cookies.

Lizard slid down the door into a heap on the floor.  Cops trying to arrest you for no good reason—yeah, that was the story of her life.  Little witch kids beaming in with snacks?  Not so much.

Another beep from her phone.  Wacky.  Aurelia.

She started to laugh and texted back.  Hysterical.  Lizard.

~ ~ ~

“Let go of the need for correct postures,” said Nat’s soothing voice.  “Vinyasa is about flow, about process.  Find the grace between the asanas, how one pulls on you and calls your body to the next.”

Elsie frowned.  She much preferred standing poses, where there was a desired shape for your body and plenty of time to get there.  Vinyasa was just a fancy name for yoga dancing, and she’d never been a dancer.  Too imprecise and random.

We’re doing the same movements over and over, sent Jamie dryly.  Not exactly random.

“Is there some reason you can’t just talk to me, instead of mind speaking?”  Elsie realized she was gasping for air.  Nat was really pushing them.

You might have extra breath for that.  I don’t.  Jamie sounded positively grumpy.  He hadn’t been pleased to be pulled into Elsie’s private yoga lesson.  She sensed some underlying tension between him and Natalia.  Pregnancy often triggered marital difficulties—she really needed to quietly recommend a good counselor.  Perhaps the next time she was alone with Nat.

“If the two of you are done squabbling,” said Nat, serene and clearly not gasping for air, “perhaps you might focus a little more on your flow.  Jamie, you’re feeling the music just fine, but your form stinks.  Elsie, your form is decent, but your feel for the music is non-existent.”

“It’s not the music I’m accustomed to.”  It was really annoying to keep having to defend her life choices.  Surely she wasn’t the only person in the universe who preferred classical to odd, New Age music.

Jamie paused long enough to look at his wife.  “Nat, throw on that new playlist I made for you.”

Nat walked over to the music system in the corner.  On her hands.  A trick some little part of Elsie’s brain desperately wanted to try.

She knew she was in trouble the instant the music started to play.  Opera had always been a weakness—one she indulged in while very alone.  It had always made her mother sad.

Nat raised an eyebrow at her husband and then swept her arms to the sky, beginning their Vinyasa flow sequence yet again.  Jamie groaned and followed, albeit with significantly less enthusiasm.  Elsie tried to close her ears and copy their movements.

“Listen to the voice,” Nat said.  “Breathe in as it goes up, out as it comes back down.  Follow the breath of the singer.”

Elsie shook her head, amused.  Nat was obviously unaware just how long trained opera singers went between breaths.  The next upsweep of their arms coincided with a particularly lovely up-scale in the aria, and Elsie could feel her arms catching the glorious crescendo of sound.

“That’s it,” Nat murmured.  “Join the flow of music in and out of her heart.”

It was a glorious aria.  Eleven minutes and fifty-two seconds of musical passion.  When it finished, Elsie let her heart hunger for just a moment.  And then shut childish desires back up where they belonged.  “Thank you for attempting to accommodate my musical tastes.  I’d be happy to provide a playlist for our next lesson together.”  Perhaps some nice Beethoven sonatas.

“Why do you lock it away?” Nat asked softly.  “It was beautiful, what you touched there.”

Her head felt like it was shredding.  She gave the only answer she had.  “I enjoy opera, and I’m glad you found my performance acceptable.”

Elsie was utterly confused when Nat bolted out of the room.

~ ~ ~

Jennie stepped into the hallway of Spirit Yoga and nearly got bowled over by the owner—a most unusual experience.  And Nat’s mind shook with grief.  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Nat sucked in air.  “She gets to me.  And I keep letting it happen.”

Jennie didn’t have to ask who.  “Of course you do.  It’s how you’re made, and why you’re so very good at your life’s work.”

“We were doing flow yoga.  I’ve been doing private classes with her, to allow me to better focus on what she needs.”  Nat’s breath still stuttered.  “Jamie must have picked up something from her mind, and he had me put on an opera track.”

Jennie was picking up more than enough from Nat’s mind to understand the original purpose that track had served.  She wasn’t at all surprised by the passion in the young couple’s relationship, but she was more than a little shocked that her nephew liked opera.  “How did Elsie react to the music?”

Nat’s smile was beautiful.  “It unlocked her.  Her rigidly perfect poses dissolved—I’ve never seen anything quite like it.  You could see her heart soar right along with the music.  I’ve never seen someone sink into music quite so completely.”

That was a very interesting observation to file away for later.  For now, Jennie had something more important to chase.  “What made you sad, then?”

“She completely shut down after.  Right back to the totally obnoxious Elsie we first met.  It was painful to watch.”

Ah, the complicated lines of responsibility.  “It’s not your job to keep her open, Nat—no matter how wise and wonderful you are.  You can only issue the invitation.  The choice, as you so rightly reminded us, must be hers.”

“Her heart knows the choice, but her mind can’t see it.”  Nat paused a moment, calmer now.  “She needs words.”

“She needs data.”  Jamie stepped up behind his wife and squeezed her shoulders.  “You’re right—she isn’t comprehending the choice yet, in any language she understands.”

Jennie eyed her nephew.  He had something up his sleeve.  “Just what do you have in mind?”  Jamie was an excellent and innovative witch, but he occasionally had the heart of a four-year-old boy.

He grinned.  “Since I’m apparently excluded from tomorrow’s girls’ night festivities, I’m just going to give her a little push beforehand.  See if I can plant a few questions in her mind before you all cross-tackle her.”

“Open her up a little.”  Nat nodded slowly, then found half a smile.  “I think I can help with that.”

Elsie didn’t stand a chance.  “Well, let me go check in with our fire witch.”  Jennie reached for Nat’s hand.  “You’ll be first in line to help her if and when she can’t keep that door locked any longer.  She’s got no idea how fortunate that makes her, but I do.  Thank you.”

Nat spoke very softly.  “What if she can’t get there?”

It was entirely too possible.  “I don’t know, my wise girl.  We’ll do what we can to help her—and trust the heart that heard the music.”  She turned to Jamie.  “I had no idea you had were a fan of opera, nephew mine.”

Young people were so cute when they blushed.  Jennie giggled as she walked back to the studio to check on Elsie.

She stuck her head in the door very quietly, not wanting to disturb any meditation or resting poses.  Elsie sat quietly on her mat in lotus, eyes closed, hands resting in her lap.

It looked like classic Elsie—proper, exact, and in control.

But in her mind, an aria played.

~ ~ ~

For the second time in an hour, Jennie nearly collided with someone.  This time it was her other student, looking at a handful of computer printouts and muttering.

Jennie hid a smile.  This was a far cry from the Lizard who had shown up on her doorstep at 2 a.m., all prickly attitude.  “Good afternoon.  It looks like you’re working hard—do you have time for a small break?”

“Welcome back, Jennie.”  Lauren stepped out of the back hallway.  “And yes, she does have time.  She’s been working like a maniac for almost a week now.”

Not like I have much freaking choice.  Lizard’s thought was plenty loud enough for both Jennie and Lauren to hear.  Which was interesting, because Lizard’s training was good enough to keep those thoughts quiet if she chose.  Well, semi-audible complaining was one way of trying to get your universe to change.  Not the way they were waiting for, but perhaps it was progress.

“Come back to the kitchen with me then,” Jennie said.  “We’ll have some tea and catch up a little.”

Lizard scowled.  “I have another house to see in less than an hour, and these maps still aren’t right.”

“So we’ll catch up quickly.”  Jennie laid a hand on her student’s shoulder and pointed her in the direction of the kitchen.  Lauren waved and headed out the front door.

Jennie motioned Lizard to the table.  “Have a seat.  I’ll get the tea started.”  Lauren’s kitchen was small, and tea supplies easy to find.  “So how have things been going while I’ve been gone?”

“Fine.”

It was like making an after-school snack for her teenage daughters all over again.  And years of experience had taught Jennie how to deal with one-word answers—you had to ask questions one word couldn’t answer.  “What was your favorite thing that happened in the last couple of days?”

Clearly that was the weirdest question Lizard had been asked in recent memory.  “I dunno.”

Jennie sat patiently and stirred her tea, using her very limited air magic to waft relaxing chamomile through the room.

Lizard grinned suddenly.  “Aervyn brought me cookies.  Scared the crap out of me when he ported into an empty house I was checking out, though.”

Trust small boys to find a way to connect.  “Were they Nell’s Nutella cookies?  Those are legendary.”

“Uh, huh.  Gotta find a recipe for those.”

You’ll be able to ask her yourself tomorrow night, thought Jennie.  However, for now, girls’ night could remain a surprise.  “And how did Nell and Aervyn know where to find you?”

Lizard shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed.  “Not sure, but it probably has something to do with all the texting.”

It was Jennie’s turn to look confused.  “What texting?”

“You don’t know?”  Lizard frowned.  “I figured it must be something you did.  Witches are texting me words all the time.”

Ah.  Elsie’s project. Time to tread very carefully.  “That sounds like fun.”

Teenage shrugs.  “Maybe.”

Jennie spoke teenager fluently.  The less they said, the more important it really was.  “Who has the best words?”

Lizard cracked another grin.  “Aervyn’s word was ‘nincompoop.’  And another one of Nell’s kids is finding all the synonyms for ‘gross.’”

“Mmmm.”  Only witchlings could make pus and goo the foundation of a friendship.  Time to join the fun.  “That’s a pulchritudinous skirt you’re wearing today.”  It really was quite lovely—a chic blue print that showed off a nice set of knees.

Lizard blinked and then giggled, her cheeks a little red.  “Grammie wouldn’t let me swear when I was little.  She had this big old dictionary, and she showed me how to use it to look up words that sounded bad, even if they weren’t.  That one worked every time.”

“I’ll bet,” said Jennie dryly.  “Well, if nothing else, the witchlings will be insulting each other more creatively now.”  Grammie sounded like she’d been an interesting woman.  If Lizard succeeded in finding her feet, those early roots were going to be a big part of why.  Tapping into those memories was a very nice, if unintended, side effect of Elsie’s little project.

Remembering Lizard’s schedule, Jennie decided to push this little visit along.  “So, how did your assignment go?”

Back to teenage scowls.  “Didn’t start it yet.  Don’t I have a week?”

“Feel free not to leave it until the last minute, dear.”  How many times she’d said those words over the years.

Lizard got up and rummaged in the cupboard, coming back with a couple of cookies.  “Last of my stash.”

Food offerings were just one of the many ways Lizard squirmed herself off uncomfortable hooks.  With some of the people in her life, that was just a smart way to survive, but it wasn’t necessary today.  Jennie kept her voice nonchalant.  “Changing the subject, or trying to wrap up your assignment?  Because Nutella cookies are pretty much guaranteed to be appreciated.”

Clearly the second possibility hadn’t occurred to Lizard.  “No.  Just giving you a cookie.”

“I didn’t think you’d find this assignment particularly difficult.”  Not precisely true, but not entirely false, either.  Mind witches had trouble lying, but they could beat around the bush.

“Doesn’t seem like people need my help.  Maybe the maps, but that’s work.”

Jennie decided it was time to give Lizard’s worldview a little shove, and ironically, Elsie had given her the tool to do it.  “Pull out your phone.”

Lizard looked utterly confused, but she reached for her phone.

“Slight change to your assignment, and it will only take you fifteen seconds.  Message your contact list.  Ask how you’ve been helpful this week.”  When Lizard squirmed, Jennie applied the look that had always worked on her teenage daughters.  “Use your thumbs, girl.  Get moving.”

It was a close call, but after a few more moments of staring, Lizard started typing into her phone.

It took about ten seconds for replies to start flooding in—Jennie could hear all the pings.  Lizard grinned at the first reply, frowned at the next.  Then she just sat there staring at her phone in abject shock.

Jennie leaned over and patted her hand.  “You know how to help people in your sleep.  Your real assignment is to learn to value the help you give.”  And if you ever need a reminder, it will be sitting right there on your phone.

She stood up and dropped off her tea cup at the sink.  Her work here was done.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Readying for tomorrow.

-------------------------

Dear Vero,

I miss the both of you already.  It was so good to see your faces, and to remember that however old I get, there’s still someone to tug my hair and set me straight.  Tell Melvin I’ve hung the second picture, right beside the first.  I’m not entirely comfortable with it yet, and that’s perhaps as it should be.

Sometimes darkness is easier than hope—and that’s a good reminder as I return to my students.

Our Lizard is being gently tugged into a friendly mob of witches, although she doesn’t know it yet.  I trust that tomorrow night, the message will be clearer.  I did discover that those words she loves so much lead straight back to the grandmother who loved her so much.  Jamie says she can rhyme like no one he’s ever seen.  I wonder if perhaps Lizard already has her “camera,” and we just need to encourage her to use it.

I believe we may have found a key to Elsie as well, although she still feels like a woman at risk of permanently locking the door.  Music calls to her—opera in particular.  I know that’s a love you understand well, so any ideas are most welcome.  So many people are waiting if she’s willing to open up.

Tomorrow will be an interesting day, and not one of my making.  We have some excellent meddlers in our midst.

All my love,

Jennie

Chapter 17

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: Readying for tomorrow.

-------------------------

My sweet Jennie,

You’ve brought tears to Melvin’s eyes.  He’s waited a lot of years for you to put that picture up.  Learn from his patience—much as it frustrates me sometimes, the most important steps are well worth waiting for.

He is equally proud that it has never occurred to you to take the first picture down.

You shine a bright light on your own soul—and that perhaps makes it difficult for you to understand those who can’t, or won’t.  With all respect to the excellent meddlers of Witch Central, if tomorrow night is not entirely successful, remember that you can always try again.  And again.

I’ve asked Melvin about the words and the music.  As you know, he has a particular talent in finding the keys to unlock hearts.  He’ll think on it some—there’s no rushing genius or old accountants.

Aervyn will be collecting some extra cookies from me today—a small offering for girls’ night.  Melvin claims his bespelling powers weaken these days, but the cookies come with his best clarity spell baked in.

Enjoy your evening,

Vero

~ ~ ~

Nat opened her eyes slowly and looked at her only student.  Elsie sat on her mat, eyes closed, legs in comfortable lotus, a small firelight on each palm.  Her face looked relaxed, her breathing was steady, and her unshakable self-control was firmly in place.

This morning, Nat planned to shake.  Hard.

She remembered her husband’s words of the night before.  “Someone needs to tell her the truth, Nat.”  And somehow, with that single sentence, she’d been elected.

She’d never found words to be a particularly effective means for truth-telling.  So today, she was pulling out her best tool.  Yoga.  The kind of yoga that would give Elsie’s control a very big kick in the karma.

It was time to begin.  “One more deep breath, and then open your eyes.  Your meditation is coming along very nicely in such a short time.”

Her student beamed.  Competence was critically important to Elsie.  “The firelights help.”

Indeed they did.  Jamie was a very smart witch.  “Since we’re on our own today, I thought we could experiment with some more advanced poses.”

Elsie frowned.  “I’m not sure I’m ready for anything too difficult.  I still haven’t mastered a number of the more basic asanas.”

“Has anyone?”  Nat smiled.  “Yoga is about the process, not the achieving.  Sometimes it’s fun to challenge yourself.  It can be freeing.”

Elsie glanced pointedly at the firelights still on her palms.  “Freedom isn’t always the best of ideas.  Some things need channeling and careful guidance.”

Interesting.  Clearly her student was smart enough to realize that there were big stakes on the table today.  Points to her, but Nat planned to win the game.  Far too many people in Elsie’s life had run up against her rule-bound spine and folded.  Not today.

Nat stood up, radiating confidence and challenge.  She trusted in that and called to her student’s inner desire.  She’d seen it once—just a flicker.  “Here’s where we’re headed.”  She kicked up into a graceful handstand, and then rotated in place until she could see Elsie’s face.  She looked horrified.  “We’ve already done some nice shoulder-opening asanas, so let’s begin the process of introducing your body to upside-down, shall we?”  Dropping back to the floor, she held out her hand in invitation.  “We’ll start over at the wall.”

They worked through the basic introductory poses.  Just as Nat had expected, Elsie was physically ready for handstand.  She had the necessary flexibility and strength, and a nice sense of vertical when she was upside-down.  With a wall present, she was a natural.

One more exercise at the wall, and then they’d see if Elsie’s mind could handle handstand.  Nat positioned her hands about a foot away from the wall.  “The next step is to kick up into full handstand.  You need very little kick—it’s mostly about stretch and core strength.  Do several partial kick-ups to get a feel for positioning your hips over your hands, and then add the last little bit and bring that second leg up.”

She’d built the progression slowly enough that Elsie looked confident, calmly placing her hands and running through some of the preliminaries.  Some students crumpled at this stage, but those with good core strength and inner fortitude usually did fine.  She grinned as Elsie experienced truly upside-down for the first time.  Now she could see the flicker.  Good—they were going to need it.

Generally she started partner work at the wall, to build trust.  Today she’d purposefully skipped that, to increase the impact of what came next.  It was a constant fascination for Nat that some students felt very comfortable relying on a foot against the wall for balance, but panicked when asked to trust the arms of their partner to deliver the same stability.

She walked to the center of the room and gestured Elsie to join her.  “Now the true fun begins.  We’re going to repeat exactly the same exercise you did against the wall, but I’ll be supporting you at your hips, and you’ll use my shoulder to balance against.”  It was actually far more stable than solo handstand against a wall, but very few believed it.  “First you’ll partner me, so you get a feel for what we’re trying to do.”

Elsie’s face was back to horrified.  “Is it safe—with the baby, I mean?  What if I knock you over, or something?”

Nat nodded solemnly.  Pigs would fly first, but she could work with this.  “Partner work is an act of trust.  I trust you to keep my baby safe and to help me find a soft landing if we fall.”

“But I don’t know how to do this.”  Elsie was a quarter-inch short of panic.

“Of course you don’t.  You’ve never done it before.”

Her intern’s voice was practically a screech.  “How can you trust me to do something I’ve never done before?”

Nat put her hands on Elsie’s shoulders to drive her reply home.  “I trust who you are, not what you can do.  This isn’t about your skills.  It’s about your soul—who you are and who you can be.”  She smiled and spoke to the flicker deep in her student’s heart.  “You don’t let her out to play very much, but there’s an Elsie Giannotto who wants to be upside-down, who wants to be trusted before the task is clear.  I’m calling that Elsie to come play with me now.”

She backed up two steps and put her hands on the floor, putting her trust in the power of yoga.  With quiet instructions, she walked them through partnered handstand in the middle of the room.  Breathe.  Hold.  Flow.  Elsie’s breath hitched, but her hands were sure.

After breathing in the joy of upside-down for a couple of minutes, Nat dropped back down to the ground and mentally crossed her fingers.  “Your turn.”

The magic of yoga had caught enough of a foothold.  Elsie’s eyes were huge, but she put her hands on the floor, and her kick up into handstand practically floated.

And her face in the mirror?  Pure exaltation.

Nat grinned and prepared for the backlash that would come as soon as Elsie’s feet hit the floor.  No matter.  It was a good start.  Tonight, they’d finish the job.

~ ~ ~

She freaking quit.  Her feet just couldn’t take it anymore.  Lizard yanked open the door to Berkeley Realty.  It was day four of tromping all over hell and back to look at some dumb houses, and Lauren could just stuff it.  Even criminals got a lunch break.

Sneer on her face, she went looking for her boss.  And discovered an empty office.

Frack.

She collapsed in a chair behind the front-office desk and considered her options.  Riding the bus didn’t have a lot of appeal today—for starters, she’d have to lift her butt out of the chair and actually walk to the bus stop.  Her feet were officially on strike.

Going home and taking a nap sounded pretty good, but again, there was that walking problem.  Maybe Aervyn would give her a lift.  Teleporting sounded pretty cool.  However, asking a cute kid to aid and abet a criminal probably wasn’t all that cool in happy-happy witch land.

If she had half a brain, she’d have just limped home in the first place, rather than coming back to the office like some miserable lemming.  She laid her head on the desk, then jerked it back up again as the door chimed.

She stared at the young couple walking in the door.  What, did Lauren find homes for every pregnant woman in Berkeley?  And speaking of, where the heck was she, if she had a meeting scheduled?

By now the couple had made their way over to the desk.  Crap.  Pregnant women were supposed to sit down, right?  Lizard pointed at the chairs and tried to imitate a snooty receptionist.  “If you’ll just have a seat, I’ll see if Lauren is ready for your meeting yet.”  Which was code for texting her to tell her to get her butt back to the office.

The young woman smiled.  “We don’t have a meeting.  Thea’s in our birthing class, and she loves the home you guys found for her, so we thought we’d see if you might be able to help us out, too.  Are you Lizard?  She says you made her awesome map.  I’m Julie Mills, and this is my husband, Jack.”

Now what the heck was she supposed to do?  They were nice, they were very pregnant, and they were looking at her like she might actually have any idea how to find them a house.  And her boss, the woman who actually knew how to do this crap, was off getting her nails painted or something.  “Um, Lauren’s not available right now.  Maybe you could come back at a time when she’s here?”  Not that she had any idea when that might be, or anything.

Julie winced and smiled ruefully.  “We’ve been walking for an hour.  Any chance we could just sit here and wait?”

Lizard was not sitting in some room staring at strangers for hours, but she could hardly kick them back out on the street—not with her feet throbbing in sympathy with Julie’s.  She cast around for some topic of conversation.  “What kinds of food do you like to eat?”

“Julie will eat anything right now.”  Jack laughed, earning him a mock glare from his wife.  “But when she’s not pregnant, we love getting fresh stuff from the farmers’ market, or fish tacos at one of the little stands downtown.”

Lizard picked up a pen and started taking notes.  At least she wouldn’t look stupid.  She tried to remember what else Lauren had asked Thea and came up empty.  Crap.  She sucked at improvising.  “Do you have lots of stuff?”

Julie looked a bit surprised.  “You mean, do we need a big house?”

Well, yeah, that probably would have been a smarter question.  Lizard rained mental curses down on Lauren’s head.  “Sure.  Maybe not just stuff—maybe you want lots of kids, or a home office, or something.”  She remembered one particularly annoying agent’s house tour.  “Or like a sewing room or a place for the piano.”

Julie giggled.  “I totally can’t sew.”

Lizard grinned.  “Me neither, but duct tape works pretty good.”

Her husband groaned.  “Don’t encourage her.  She already thinks every problem in the universe can be solved with Velcro.”

“It can.”  Julie winked.  “And for right now, we’re thinking a small house.  A yard would be nice, but nothing that would be too much work, because I’m lazy.  I like to look at flowers, but I don’t want to have to take care of them, you know?”

“A garage.  For my tools.”  Jack grinned.  “Because I’m not lazy.”

And then Lizard squirmed in her chair, because she just knew.  The little white Craftsman bungalow, second on her list yesterday.  Low-maintenance yard, flowers peeking over the fence from the gardening geniuses who lived next door.  Two big bedrooms, walk-in shed at the back, needed a few repairs.  Walking distance to the Friday farmers’ market and three blocks from Thea’s new house.

Only one possible deal-breaker.  “How do you feel about chickens next door?”

Jack frowned and shrugged.  “Really fresh eggs?”

Check.  She totally had a house for them.  In the alternate universe where she was an actual real estate agent, not the totally unqualified hired help.  Time to get rid of the Mills before she said anything else really stupid.  She tried the snooty receptionist again.  “Thank you.  I’ll pass this all on to Lauren and she’ll give you a call if we have anything appropriate.”

Julie looked confused and glanced at her husband.  He shrugged again.  “Okay, thanks.”  He took out a card.  “Here’s where you can reach us.”

They weren’t moving.  Lizard put a get-lost look on her face.  It usually worked when people wanted to sit beside her on the bus, and it worked on the Mills too.  She collapsed onto the desk as they walked out moments later.  What a flipping disaster.

Then the freaking door chime went off again.  Lizard counted to three and reloaded the get-lost look.

“Nice to see you, too,” said Lauren dryly.  “I saw a young couple walk out of here—is that the look you used to scare them off?”

No.  She’d taken care of business while Lauren goofed off somewhere.  Lizard reached down, yanked the listing folder out of her backpack, and rifled through until she found the one for the white Craftsman.  She slammed it down on the desk in front of Lauren.  “This is the house they need.  Right size, right neighborhood, petunias next door.”  She’d heard all about the petunias from the little old lady who obsessed over them.

Lauren sat down.  “Okay.  Nice job.  Anything else you think they should see?”

Lizard considered the listings folder for a minute, and pulled out two more.  “These.  Haven’t seen the second one yet.   Looks okay, though.  But they’ll want the Craftsman.”

“Okay.”  Lauren took the additional listings.  “I got a phone call from Annette over at West Coast Realty, asking if you wanted to reschedule your walkthrough this morning.”

Maybe for next month.  When her feet could move again.  “Couldn’t get there fast enough, so I bailed.”

Lauren nodded slowly.  “That kind of thing happens all the time in real estate.  Late clients, or they love the first house you showed them, or someone’s cat died.  But you need to call and let people know.  Annette’s a friend of mine.  You work in this office, you represent me and Berkeley Realty.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”  Her temper flared.  “What kind of idiot thinks I’m office material?  I don’t know how to do this stuff, so I’m gonna screw it all up, and you’re going look like crap for having such a stupid assistant.”

“You’re partly right.”  Lauren nodded.  “You didn’t ask for this.  But Jennie’s not an idiot.  And screwing up isn’t a problem.  If you do, just make it right.  If you can’t do something you promised, let someone know.  That’s all.”

Lauren stood up and walked over to the hallway.  “And you have one thing totally wrong.  So far, everybody’s pretty jealous of my assistant.”

~ ~ ~

Jamie waved good-bye to Caro and walked over to the other side of the duplex.  Time to shake up a fire witch.  He looked at the container in his hand, borrowed from a friend who worked with special-needs kids.  Sensory Integration and Praxis Test Kit.  Having spent the afternoon reading, he actually knew what that meant.  More importantly, he knew it was a very well researched and validated test.

In Elsie-speak, that meant it was a reliable source of information.  Maybe it could crack part of her wall that yoga and fire magic couldn’t touch.

He knocked and waited politely to be let in.  When Elsie opened the door, he tried to look innocent and non-threatening.  “Good afternoon.  Nat called to say you wanted to meet here for our magic lesson today.”  That was fine.  It didn’t bother him to bring the fight to her turf.

“I thought that might be convenient for you as well, since you live close by.”  Elsie stepped back so he could come in.  “I’m getting ready for a quiet evening at home.”

Jamie tried not to grin.  She wasn’t going to get one, that was for sure.  But at least he could keep the magic lesson low-key.  “I wanted to run some simple tests on you today, if you don’t mind, to explore exactly how your fire talent affects some of your other basic skills.”

He went over to the dining room table and opened up the test kit, pulling out crayons, blocks, and the sheaf of forms needed for evaluation.

Elsie nodded at the forms in approval.  “It looks like quite a rigorous test.”

“Peer researched and statistically validated.”  His friend Tabitha had said those were the magic words to convince a psychologist a test was a good one.

She beamed.  “I had no idea witches used validated research tools.”

Not usually, but whatever worked.  Solid hit and a runner on base.  “I’ll want you to be using a moderate level of fire magic as we do the test.  You’ll need at least one hand free, so maybe a firelight, instead of knitting.”

She produced a small fire globe with impressive speed.  No one could fault her dedication to practice.  “Will this do?”

“Nice.”  Jamie reached into his test kit.  Tabitha had helped him work out an order for the exercises.  Elsie was very bright, and at some point she was probably going to catch on to what he was doing.  He wanted the most important test results in the bag before that happened.  He also set up a small video camera.  That wasn’t strictly part of the test, but he wanted irrefutable evidence.

He pulled out a piece of sidewalk chalk and drew a line on Caro’s floor.  “I want you to walk over to that wall, following the line as closely as you can.  Then turn around, close your eyes, and walk back.”

Elsie laughed.  “I’m terrible at these sorts of proprioceptive tests.”

Jamie grinned and slid a couple of chairs further out of the way.  “I’ll yell if you’re going to bang your shins on anything.”

A look of careful concentration on her face, Elsie walked the line to the opposite wall, then turned around, closing her eyes.  And walked back—carefree, easy, and every step exactly on the line.

He touched her hand to stop her and she opened her eyes, clearly surprised to be back where she started.  That video was going to come in handy.

Not wanting to give her a lot of time to think, he moved to the next test.  “Close your eyes one more time, and I’m going to draw a shape on the back of your hand.  I want you to draw the same shape after I do.”  Tabitha had recommended sticking to non-visual tests for the most part—adults often learned to use their sight to compensate for their other senses.  Elsie copied his shapes with speed and precision, three times in a row.

It wasn’t until the third test that Elsie’s brain got in the way.  Jamie tossed a ball to her right hand, and she caught it easily.  Then he tossed a ball to her left hand, and she moved out of the way.  “I can’t catch very well, and definitely not on that side.”

He tried to decide the best order to push her buttons.  “Let’s see if it’s different while you’re using fire power.”

Elsie frowned.  “Magic is hardly going to improve my catching skills.”

“Why not?”

She looked slightly embarrassed.  “My hand-eye coordination has always been somewhat poor.  It’s not uncommon.  And it has nothing to do with magical—”

Jamie threw two balls as she got partway through her sentence.  She neatly caught one with each hand, and then gaped at him.  He threw another one with all the speed he’d learned as a Little League pitcher, straight at her nose.  She snagged it with her right hand even as she ducked.  That wasn’t in the test, but he was pretty sure it would help to make his case.

She stared at the ball in her hand.  “I can’t catch.  I’ve never been able to catch.  I was always the kid picked last for any kind of ball sports.”

“Never been able to walk a straight line with your eyes closed either, right?”  Jamie clicked a couple of keys on the computer attached to his video camera.  And kept his eyes on Elsie’s face as she watched herself do exactly that.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

He wasn’t letting her off easy.  This was too important.  “Do you want the psychobabble explanation, or the witch one?”

She looked down at the ball in her hand.  “Both.  All theories are potentially useful.”

Man.  Living with that robot voice in your head must be pure hell.  “According to my good friend Tabitha, who is both psychologist and witch, fire witches generally have excellent sensory integration.  That’s all that stuff like hand-eye coordination.”

Elsie nodded slowly.  “Yes.  I test relatively low on those types of tests.”

Jamie pointed at his computer screen and tapped the ball in her hand.  “Not when you’re using fire power, you don’t.”

“It shouldn’t be connected.”  She stared at her hands again.

He felt momentary pity at shaking the foundations of her world so thoroughly.  “When you repressed your fire magic, it’s not all you repressed.”  He paused, hopeful that her very sharp mind could pick up the thread and follow it.  The more of this she worked out for herself, the less mad she might be at the messengers.

Elsie sat down slowly on a chair.  “I didn’t repress my fire magic.  I was simply unaware of it.”

“Repression doesn’t have to be conscious.”  Or so Tabitha had assured him.  “You shut off your magic, Elsie—and a lot of other things along with it.”  He tossed a ball hand-to-hand.

A somewhat hysterical giggle escaped.  “You mean I might not have been a baseball failure if I’d been using my fire talents all these years?”

The urge to comfort was huge.  Instead, he pushed one more time.  “It’s more than that.  Most fire witches are seekers—they crave connection.  With people, with experiences that fill their senses, with activities that hold some risk.”

Elsie was already shaking her head.  “That’s exactly the opposite of who I am.”

Jamie hurled another fastball at her nose, and met her wide eyes as she caught it.  “It’s the opposite of who you think you are.”

Chapter 18

Elsie closed her bedroom door and sighed in anticipation.  One night a month she allowed herself to totally indulge.  Chocolate, a trashy novel, and a bubble bath.  Since she shared the bathroom with Lizard, the latter wasn’t an option, but she had candles, new music for her iPod, and some really decadent chocolate caramels.  After her disaster of a magic lesson with Jamie, she deserved every second of the evening ahead.

She settled onto her bed with a groan, popped a caramel in her mouth, and opened her book.

She tuned out the clanging sounds coming from the kitchen during the first chapter.  She managed to ignore the knock on the front door as she started the second.

But there was no avoiding the sounds of a party crashing into her living room, the loud banging on her bedroom door, or the totally unfamiliar voice yelling through it.  “Hey, Elsie!  You’ve been invaded—impromptu girls’ night.  Come on down.”

Earplugs.  She’d forgotten to buy earplugs.  With a last, wistful glance at the sexy man on the cover of her novel, she went downstairs to face the music.  Or whatever that loud howling was.  Exactly how many people had invaded?

Walking into the living room didn’t really help answer that question.  There were people everywhere, and not all of them of the adult variety.  Lizard sat in the middle of the couch, shirt covered in flour, and a really confused look on her face.

“Freeze!”  The same unfamiliar voice rang out again, and by some miracle, everyone stopped moving.  “We’re scaring the guests of honor, people.  Let’s introduce ourselves, shall we?”

One of the smaller beings giggled.  “Mama, we’re not scary.”  She looked up at Elsie.  “I’m Ginia.  These are my sisters Mia and Shay.  We’re triplets.”

“I’m Nell,” said the owner of the unfamiliar voice.  “I’m Jamie’s sister, and parent to the terrifying threesome.”

Lizard perked up.  “Sonorous and frazzling Nell?  Thanks for the cookies.”

Nell scooted one of her daughters out of the way and sat beside Lizard on the couch.  “You’re welcome.  We brought more tonight, along with wine, chocolate, ice cream, and my girls to faithfully serve us.  What are you baking?”

“Biscuits.”  Lizard shook her head as if trying to clear it of fuzz.  “They’re in the oven.  For Caro and for lunches.”

“Thank you.”  Caro spoke up from the corner.  “We can eat mine tonight, though—I’m happy to share.”

Ginia grabbed her sisters and headed for the kitchen.  Clearly the biscuits were toast.  Elsie moved to the side to let them pass.

The stylish woman in the corner waved.  “I’m Lauren, and unrelated to everybody else.  Lizard’s interning with me.”  She gestured to the very pregnant woman beside her.  “And this is Thea.”  Lizard suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

Which left Jennie and Nat, whose friendly smiles somehow made Elsie really nervous.  Something was up.

Ginia and entourage returned bearing spoons and wine glasses.  Lauren got up from her chair.  “I’ll pour.  I have cranberry bubbly for those underage and pregnant, and wine for the rest of us.  Elsie, go ahead and take my seat—I’ll wedge in on the couch in a bit.”

She was being not at all subtly maneuvered, and there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about it without looking really rude.  So she sat.

Ginia sat down beside Lizard.  “We looked up more.  I like ‘discombobulated.’”

“How you feel when a party shows up on your doorstep.”  Lizard grinned.  “Tintinnabulate.”

Ginia pulled out an iPhone.  “Spell it.”

“T-i-n-t-i-n-n-a-b-u-l-a-t-e.  It means to sound like a small bell ringing.”

Ginia looked up and grinned at Elsie.  “Know any big words?”

Comprehension finally struck.  Her vocabulary project!  Obviously it had taken on a life of its own, encouraging others to expand their vocabularies as well.  “I’m glad to see so many people have been using their dictionaries.”

“Everyone but Lizard.”  Nell smirked.  “My kids have been trying all week, but I don’t think they’ve stumped her yet.”

“I didn’t know we were trying,” Caro said.

“Uh, huh.”  Ginia got up to help Lauren pass out bubbly drinks.  “We text Lizard a word, and she tells us what it means.  She knows all of them.”

“Really.”  Caro raised an eyebrow at Lizard.  “Unctuous.”

Lizard grinned and bit into a cookie.  “Slimy.  Like a snake-oil salesman.”

“Pedantic.”

“Someone who’s a show-off smarty-pants.”

“Cavalcade.”

“A parade.”  Lizard snickered.  “The kind that comes with real horse poop.”

“Impressive.”  Caro tilted her head respectfully.  “Let me know if you ever want to take up crossword puzzles.”

Elsie sat in her corner chair and stared.  She couldn’t have defined a single one of those words.  Lizard had the biggest vocabulary in the room?

She felt her world tilt sideways.  And the night was just getting underway.

Jennie came over and sat on the arm of her chair.  “Quite the vocabulary she has, isn’t it?  She’s not the kind of person you expect to have swallowed a dictionary.”

Elsie swam through swirling confusion.  “I guess that makes my little project rather useless.”

“Not at all.  Sometimes unintended results can be the best ones.”

Not in her world.  “My task was to do something she would appreciate.”

“She does.”  Jennie smiled and pointed at Lizard, deep in giggles with Ginia and one of her sisters.  “But perhaps for different reasons than you’d planned.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Lizard needs community.  You found a way to give her a taste of that.”

Elsie shook her head.  “No.  You all made something good come of this, but my efforts were totally misguided.”  That much was clear.

Jennie’s eyes were full of empathy.  “It happens to the best of us.  It’s too easy to think from the safety of our own perspectives.”  She slid a glass of wine into Elsie’s hands.  “But tonight’s not about thinking.  Tonight, try to simply experience.”

Elsie frowned as Jennie walked away, a deep sense of failure in her belly tangling with a deep sense of something else.  She just had no idea what the something else was.

~ ~ ~

Lizard backed up and contemplated her work for a moment.  “It might be a little lopsided.”

“Probably the wine.”  Thea looked down at the temporary tattoos on her belly and giggled.  “Or it’s just Bean’s head.  He can’t decide where he wants to leave it.”

Nell wiggled her still-drying toes.  “He’ll figure it out—most of them do.  At least you only have one in there.  The triplets were like being pregnant with an octopus.”

Lizard peeled off the last tattoo backing and jumped as a foot kicked her supporting hand.  “Maybe Bean doesn’t want a tattoo.”  She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d become the resident tat artist for the evening.  It had happened somewhere between rainbow toenails and the second batch of biscuits.

“I’m next.”  Nat sat down and wrapped her arm around Thea’s shoulders.  “I want one of the freehand henna ones like you did for Jennie.”

Nell gazed at Jennie’s belly, bearing a lovely “pulchritudinous” tattoo.  “You realize Aervyn’s going to want me to write ‘nincompoop’ on his belly now.”

Okay, that was kinda funny.  “Not my fault.  Blame that on whoever started this whole words thing.”

The room suddenly got oddly quiet.  The kind of quiet that set off alarm bells in Lizard’s head, even if it was a little fuzzy from wine and chocolate ice cream.  She surveyed the room—first with her eyes, then with a light mind scan.  Elsie sat in a chair outside the circle of chaos, a polite wineglass in her hand.  Her face was back in stick-butt mode—and her mind glowed with guilt.

Lizard flashed into survival mode and sent a probe toward Elsie’s head.

And ran straight into a block.  Not that way, girl, said Caro’s voice inside her head.  Use your words.

Words are the problem here, she sent back fiercely.  What the hell did she do to me?

Ask her.

Fine.  She had plenty of ways to deal, and not all of them were as easy to block as a mind probe.  Lizard got up and moved toward Elsie, edging toward the door at the same time.  It was always good to keep your options open.  She glared at Elsie, fists clenched in warning.  “Why is everybody sending me words?”

“I asked them to.”  Elsie’s voice was stiff, but her eyes were oddly pleading.  “I knew you liked big words, and I thought you might appreciate more of them.”

No way was that the whole story.  Too many edgy minds in the room for that to be true.  “Keep talking, shrink-girl.”

Ginia plunked down beside Elsie and took her hand.  “Mama says when you screw up, it’s better to just say everything all at once.”

“I didn’t screw up.  I misjudged Lizard, which is hardly a surprise.”  Elsie face was blank as she met Lizard’s gaze.  “Jennie assigned us a task this week.  I chose improving your vocabulary as my project.  It was in error, and I’m deeply sorry if I’ve offended you.”

Lizard fought for her anger.  It was far better than the alternative.  She almost got there.  Almost.  And then anger collapsed in the face of awful truth.  It wasn’t just Elsie.  “All this is fake.  I’m just a project to all of you.”

She swung toward the door and froze as Lauren stepped into the doorway.  Then her fists came up.  “I’m bigger than you think.”

Jennie’s voice carried a hint of steel and an ocean of empathy.  “Fight to be here, girl, not to run.  If you were just a project, we’d be a lot more willing to let you go.”

Lizard hated the way her voice shook.  “Like it’s going to matter to anyone if I leave.”

~ ~ ~

Jennie waited as the entire room sat silent, Lizard’s words hanging in the air.  Apparently they were meddling in more than one life tonight.  And every instinct said she wasn’t the person to step in.

“It’ll matter to you.”  Everyone looked at Thea in surprise.  She shrugged.  “Lots of people flake out when there are bumps in the road, and then they miss the good stuff.”  She patted her belly.  “Bean’s daddy flaked out on us.  We’ll be fine, but he’s going to miss all kinds of coolness because he took off when it got a little bumpy.”

Ginia giggled.  “Well, Bean’s kind of a big bump.”

It figures, Jennie sent to Lauren.  We have this nice plan to meddle all set up, and it ends up being guests and nine-year-olds doing the real work for us.

Lauren just rolled her eyes.

Ginia looked at Lizard.  “Elsie screwed up, but running away’s just dumb.”  She grinned.  “Smart girls get revenge.”

Jennie could feel her student’s nerves.  She was still precious close to bolting out the door.  Lizard scowled.  “What kind of revenge?”

Ginia’s grin was pure punk-girl-on-a-mission.  “I think Elsie needs a tattoo.”

And just like that, Lizard’s mind was laughing, her mental feet were back on the ground—and Elsie looked totally terrified.

Ginia was going to be a very scary witch when she grew up.  Jennie leaned over toward Nat and nodded in Elsie’s direction.  “She’s going to need a friend to survive this.”

Caro snorted.  “You’ve been away for a week—the least you could do is hold her hand for the first shift.  I’ll keep a containment spell up in case things get a bit hot.  Nat can sit here with her feet up.”

“Sounds good to me.”  Nat grinned and toasted Jennie with her drink.

If Caro and Nat were on the same team, it wasn’t worth trying to argue.  Jennie got up, pulled a chair over beside Elsie, and took her hand.  “It won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

Elsie eyed Lizard, readying her tattoo supplies, the way most people would look at an unsupervised pile of dynamite.  “How did this happen?”

“Breathe.  It’ll be okay.”  Jennie looked down at her own freshly decorated belly.  “And I hear the tattoos wash off eventually.”

Elsie shook her head, her mind firming.  “No.  I know I did wrong by Lizard, but this childish form of revenge isn’t the answer.  This isn’t why I came to WitchLight.”

Jennie mentally sighed.  Apparently she was the one that drew the truth-telling straw for the evening.  With a glance to confirm Caro’s easy attentiveness, she forged ahead, trying to channel Melvin’s gentle steel.  “Why are you here?”

Elsie’s brain practically spit paperwork.  “I’m here seeking some guidance with the ethics of my work.”

Bullshit, girl.  And it’s time to stop tap-dancing and call you on it.  “You’re here because your life feels flat and empty, and you don’t know how to let go of your rules enough to fix it.”

She saw the knife land deep in Elsie’s heart.  And could barely hear her desperately whispered reply.  “I have a very full life.”

Hating that it needed to be done, Jennie grabbed the knife handle and twisted.  As gently and privately as she possibly could.  If that were true, you would never have left it so willingly.

Elsie’s head snapped up, ice finally melting.  “I’m not looking for psychoanalysis.  Or a mind witch with poor manners.”

Temper was easier to deal with than despair.  “It doesn’t take a witch to read the loneliness in your eyes.”

“I’m not lonely!”  Every head in the room spun around as Elsie found her inner fire.  “I have no idea why you’re all here.  I didn’t ask you to come!”

“We’re here offering friendship,” Nat said, voice gentle.  She gestured around the room.  “A chance to add this to your life if you want it, if you can open to it.”  Jennie let out a breath.  Hand-off.  She wasn’t the front line any more.

Elsie’s breath jerked.  “I’m not lacking friendship.”

“The kind that accepts Elsie Giannotto, even when she isn’t perfect?”  The offer in Nat’s voice was clear to everyone in the room.  Except for the one who most needed to hear it.

“I don’t know who in your life has made you so wary of people who are organized and efficient.”

“My mother,” Nat said, eyes steely.  “And it’s not efficiency that offends me.  It’s keeping your heart hidden and keeping your distance from everyone else’s heart.”  Jennie sat back down.  Natalia Sullivan didn’t need anyone defending her.

Elsie seethed.  “New Age mumbo-jumbo.  I have perfectly healthy relationship skills.”

“Don’t lie to a room full of mind witches, girl.”  Caro spoke from the corner.  “Your fire magic tied you up in knots, made you grow that great big shell of yours.  Freeing your magic’s the easy part, and you’ve done it well enough.  Your choice whether you keep hiding inside that shell or not.  Looks to me like you’re trying to keep those knots all tied up.”

Elsie’s mind went cold as ice.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do.” To Jennie’s utter astonishment, it was Lizard speaking.  “Your head gets bigger when you turn on your magic.  Less tight.  More space.”

Elsie froze, a scared rabbit watching the hawk landing.

“It’s simple.”  Lizard shrugged.  “The rest of you needs more space, too.  Live a little.”  She held up her tattoo brush and grinned.

Jennie held her breath, as did every other mind witch in the room.  In the next few seconds, they would either win or lose—and the challenge had been issued by the most unlikely person in the room.

She felt the answer before she heard it.

“I don’t have…” Elsie’s voice sounded terribly hoarse.  “I don’t know...”

Lauren held out the container her hand.  “Start with ice cream.  It’ll keep you distracted while Lizard does her work.”

Ginia bounded over.  “Can we paint your toenails like a rainbow?”

“Mine, too.”  Nat grinned. “And then we can try handstands.”

Jennie laughed as Elsie clutched a container of Chunky Monkey and tentatively held out her toes.  It was finally time for a jailbreak.  Hallelujah.

“Haven’t won yet.”  Caro’s always calm voice poked a hole in her amusement.

“No.”  Jennie watched as Elsie got swallowed by happy witches on a mission.  “But we didn’t lose, and we could have.  It’s a beginning.”

Chapter 19

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: One life turned upside down.

-------------------------

Dearest Vero,

After last night’s festivities, I am now the proud owner of rainbow fingernails, several temporary belly tattoos, and a container full of Lizard’s divine biscuits.  They will undoubtedly be gone by lunchtime.

We had ourselves quite the gathering.  Lizard dove right in—I don’t think it’s in her to resist.  I’m pretty sure Nell’s girls plan to adopt her.  An adult she might be, but one that could use some good preteen giggling time.  I believe there’s another biscuit lesson in the works.

Lauren tells me they seem to be making progress at work, with frequent backward steps just to make things interesting.   With Lizard, I think it’s slow and steady steps that will eventually win out.  She didn’t run last night.  We’re all proud.  Perhaps it was your cookies.

With Elsie, slow and steady would simply give her yet another force in her life to resist.  We turned her upside-down last night—ganged up on her, more or less.  It was done with love and plenty of ice cream, but it was a mighty meddling in her life.  I hope we did it for the right reasons.  And I’m rather proud that the voice which may have gotten through to her, just a little, was Lizard’s.

I don’t know yet what we’ve wrought, but we’re sending Elsie forth in the world today with painted toenails, a belly tattoo, and a damn good handstand.  Oh, and an enlarged vocabulary.  Sometime between the root-beer floats and the second kitchen invasion, Lizard defined “purulent” for all of us.

I could have lived forever without knowing a word for seeping rivers of pus.

There is also an intervention, part two, in the planning stages, thanks to the nine-year-old meddlers-in-training in our midst.  The next generation of WitchLight talent is hosting Friday night karaoke.  I don’t know exactly what they’re planning, but I’m smart enough to get out of their way.

It was very good to see your faces.  It doesn’t happen nearly often enough.  Tell Melvin I miss his grumpy old soul already.

Love,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: One life turned upside down.

-------------------------

Dearest Jennie,

Melvin congratulates you—you’ve assembled a team of meddlers that far surpasses his talents.  There is as much wisdom in that as there is chaos.  His accountant’s heart always preferred to work alone, but your skill in recruiting others to your team impresses both of us.

He also says not to underestimate the upheaval you’ve caused in Lizard’s life.  Being thoroughly loved is a long-forgotten experience for her, and choosing to stay is a different and bigger task than choosing not to run.  That’s one of those poetic lines he pulls out every so often that I don’t fully understand, but have learned to respect.  I would say she controls her life by defining what she doesn’t want—not yet by having a vision of what she does want.

Aervyn has promised us some of her biscuits in exchange for his next cookie delivery.  Melvin is most pleased with the arrangement.

As for our Elsie—I have something in mind for her.  I need to think on it a little longer, but in the meantime, I wonder if perhaps she needs to be encouraged into a little intentional selfishness.  It is difficult to find pleasure until you know what pleases you.

All our best,

Vero

~ ~ ~

Lizard looked around the kitchen in disgust.  It looked like a frat-boy party followed by the Great Flour Wars.  Biscuit making under the influence of nail-polish fumes had been kinda fun, but obviously they hadn’t managed to clean up after themselves.

She heard Elsie’s footsteps on the stairs.  Frack.  Her tolerance for a mess was practically non-existent.  Scowl ready, Lizard waited for the explosion.

The last thing she expected was giggles.

“It looks kind of like I remembered it,” said Elsie, wiping a lime-green fingernail through a nearby streak of flour.  “Come on—I’ll buy you breakfast, and we’ll fumigate later.”

This whole Jekyll-and-Hyde thing was getting old, but Lizard didn’t turn down free breakfasts.  Ever.  “I know a cruddy little diner with the best scrambled eggs in town.”

Elsie raised an eyebrow, but her eyes twinkled.  “Sounds delightful.”

“Smells delightful.  Just keep your eyes closed.”

“We could do that much here.”

“Then I’d have to cook.”  Lizard grabbed her backpack off the newel post.  “Trust me, it’s worth it.  They do stuff to the bacon that should be illegal.”  The look on Elsie’s face was priceless.  “Should be.  As far as I know, there are no actual crimes committed in the preparing of their bacon and egg specials.”

Miracle of miracles—Elsie grinned.  Maybe she’d forgotten about the tattoo.  In the light of day, tattooing “persnickety” across her belly might not have been the greatest idea.  The flames around it were pretty, though.

It was a quick walk to the diner and the welcome smells of bacon grease and strong coffee.  Lizard tried not to laugh as Elsie studiously wiped off their table with little paper napkins dipped in her water glass.  She was pretty sure whatever graced the tabletops was permanent.

“If you don’t stop doing that, they’re never going to come take our order.”  Lizard pointed to the napkins.  “I have to be fast—I have to walk another hundred miles today.”

Elsie frowned.  “Why are you walking?  I thought you were helping Lauren with listings—isn’t that all computerized?”

Ha.  “She prefers the in-person touch.  Computers can’t tell you everything.  This diner’s not on any map.”

“You don’t say,” said Elsie dryly, frowning at her breakfast choices.  “And that matters for selling a house?”  She finally pointed at something and handed the waitress her menu.

Lizard ordered the daily special and then nodded.  “Yeah.  One of her clients is this single guy.  Cute, busy, can’t cook.  A house around the corner from this place is worth another ten grand to him.  And we look supercool for knowing that.”

More miracles.  Elsie actually looked impressed.  “So you’re scouting locations, then.”

“Something like that.  Except I’m supposed to hit twelve more listings today, and unless I swipe somebody’s motorized scooter, my feet are going to fall off by three o’clock.”

“There are other options.  Besides crime, I mean.”

Yeesh.  Swiping the scooter had been a joke.  Mostly.  They were hard to hot-wire.  “Like what?”

“You could ask for an improvement in your working conditions.  It’s reasonable for employees to speak up when they have an unmanageable amount of work to do.

Complain to Lauren?  “It’s my job.”

Elsie tilted her head, thinking.  “Does she know how hard you’re having to work?  Have you clearly communicated with her?”

“She’s the one that gave me the freaking folder of all the listings.”

“Perhaps she expected you to define a reasonable amount of work for yourself.”

In Lizard’s world, you did what people said, or you gave them the finger and took a hike.  You didn’t negotiate.  “So I’m just supposed to tell her how much I want to do?”  Maybe that worked if you were a fancy psychologist.

Elsie raised an eyebrow.  “You make it sound like I’m suggesting the impossible.”

How did you explain Planet Reality to people who clearly lived somewhere else?

Two plates thunked on the table in front of them.  The diner’s service was minimalist.  Lizard took one glorious sniff and crunched into a slice of bacon.  This was her kind of reality.

Elsie looked somewhat appalled.

Mr. Hyde was back.  Lizard scowled.  “What?”

“Well…”  She looked down.  “I generally use my fork.  That’s all.”

Lizard looked at the bacon in her fingers.  Her roommate had lived a really boring life.  “I dare you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I dare you.  Eat a piece with your fingers, and tell me it doesn’t taste better that way.”

“The method of eating is hardly going to change the taste.”

Lizard grinned.  “Double dare you.”

“This is childish behavior.”

“Yeah.”  She crunched on a second piece.  “Said by the woman who has lime-green nails.”  And a tattoo she’d hopefully forgotten about.

“That’s totally different.  It was a bonding moment, and there were actual children involved.”

“So pretend I’m a child.  It’s not a huge stretch.  I’m pretty immature.”  Lizard grinned and held out a piece of bacon.  “Live a little.”

Elsie scowled.  And sniffed.  And generally looked like she was about to eat worms.  But she took the bacon and managed to take three bites before obsessively wiping off her fingers.

Lizard was very proud.

~ ~ ~

Lauren sat looking at the listing for the white Craftsman.  She’d spoken with Jack and Julie Mills.  Lizard had totally pegged them—and if it weren’t for the prior relationship with Thea, she would also have totally scared them off.  They were going to need to have a little chat about client social skills.

Maybe some of the previous night’s lessons had sunk in and Lizard would stop bolting half the time the going got rough.  Being flakey was not a desirable skill in an assistant, even in funky downtown Berkeley.

She looked up as Lizard let herself in the front door.  “Good morning.  You’re in early.”

“Twelve showings.  I just need to grab the listings file—forgot it last night.”

Please let the girl figure out soon this was a totally evil task.  Lauren was beginning to feel like the Wicked Witch of the West.  Opening a light mind connection, she pushed a little further.  “I met with the Mills last night.  I’ll be taking them to several properties tomorrow morning.  Good catch on the Craftsman—it’s a nice possibility for them.”

She felt desire flit through Lizard’s outer mind, rapidly chased by a good-sized dose of delinquent attitude.  Sigh.  Well, if twelve showings in a day didn’t seem unreasonable enough, maybe she had to pile it on a little thicker.  Lauren grabbed the latest listing printouts off the desk and held them out.  “Here are four new listings.  If you can fit them into your tour, that would be great.”

Lizard almost blew.  Almost.  Just one more little nudge.  “Have a look—let me know which ones you think you can fit in today.”

She waited a beat as her assistant read.  Then two.  Ah, there we go—meltdown achieved.  Lauren looked studiously at the desk and tried not to grin.

“Are you freaking kidding me?  This house is halfway to San Francisco!”  Lizard waved the offending listing.  “I’d have to start walking at 4 a.m.!”

“Is that a problem?”  Lauren was very proud of her deadpan delivery.

Lizard stared for two full minutes.  Then she turned and walked out the door.

Lauren slumped over and banged her head against the desk.  Crap, crap, crap.  Maybe she just wasn’t cut out to have an intern.

~ ~ ~

Elsie rolled out her mat and began some limbering stretches.  If Nat planned to do handstands again today, she wanted to be ready.

It was hard to feel ready for anything energetic after an enormous plate of bacon and eggs.

Nonetheless, she had a mission.  It was time to explore the sensory side of her personality.  Perhaps not to the extent of the previous night, but all experiences could be healthy in moderate doses.  Clearly she’d neglected to provide her senses with enough exercise.

She leaned into downward dog and tried to focus on the smells and sounds in the room.  There was quiet chatter coming from the hallways—a higher voice and a deeper one.  Perhaps Jamie had walked Nat to work.  And the room smelled lightly of… something.

“Good morning—you’re here early.”  Nat walked to the front of the room and unrolled her mat.

It was her usual arrival time.  Elsie frowned, still trying to figure out the mysterious smell.  She shifted out of downward dog into a basic shoulder opener.  “Will we be working on handstands today?”

Nat smiled.  “Would you like to?”

“I—” Elsie stopped, realizing she had no idea.  “I don’t know.  I just wanted to do the right warm-ups.”

“I’m always happy to do handstands, but after last night, we might both appreciate a gentler day.”

Something in Nat’s tone caught Elsie’s attention.  “Last night seemed to be something you’ve done before.”  The tsunami of giggles and shared ice cream had happened too easily for it to be a rare event.

“Often.”  Nat settled into lotus pose.  “But I remember a time in my life when it wasn’t normal.  We pushed on you yesterday.  I know when that happens to me, it can make me feel a little unsure of my footing.”

Elsie fought the urge to give her standard psychologist response.  “It’s hard to imagine you unsure of anything.”

Nat laughed softly.  “I have a fire witch in my belly.  I feel unsure every day.”

“Having a baby is a big step.”  And that was another standard therapy line.  Elsie shook her head and tried again.  “What’s it like?”

“Waking up in the morning and trying to breathe in this change that grows in me, without losing track of Natalia Sullivan?”  She shrugged.  “Some days, it’s exhilarating and awe-inspiring and a total rush.  Other days, it scares me senseless.”

Nat got up and came to sit on the end of Elsie’s mat.  “Mothers aren’t the only ones who give birth.  There are lots of journeys of self-discovery that don’t end with a baby.”

In Elsie’s world, self-discovery was a carefully plotted process.  Was that such a bad thing?  “I guess I wasn’t expecting this.”

Nat patted her belly.  “Neither were we.”  She grinned.  “Sometimes you just have to roll with it.”

That was pretty much a totally alien concept.  Elsie smiled ruefully.  “I could use a few lessons on that whole rolling thing.”

Approval beamed in Nat’s eyes.  “I have a prenatal yoga class in an hour.  Why don’t you join us?”

She was going to do yoga with a metaphorical baby.  Well, that was definitely a new experience to add to her list.

~ ~ ~

“I think I’ll have a chef salad, thank you.”  Elsie’s lunch order didn’t surprise Jennie.  And after all the ice cream the night before, it was perhaps not a bad idea.

Lizard snickered.  “Chicken.”

Elsie raised an eyebrow.  “Care to join me in food that requires actual utensils to eat?”

“Lettuce isn’t food.”

Jennie listened to the exchange between her two students with growing surprise and no little amusement.   They were bickering.  Less than twenty-four hours after Elsie’s vocabulary-improvement disaster had exploded.  How lovely—and what strange timing.  Or maybe not.  Bickering required trust.

Elsie neatly buttered a slice of bread as the waiter walked away.  “Do we have an agenda for our meeting today?”

More snickers from Lizard.  “Agendas are for people in suits.  Lighten up.”

“I’m not the one practically wearing a suit today.”  Elsie grinned as her roommate scowled down at her skirt.  “And agendas are just something to help a meeting have shape.”

“Life is too short to live that way.”

Elsie thought a moment.  “Why do you do an outline before you start a tattoo?”

Lizard shrugged.  “I don’t always.  But if it’s a big design or a curvy surface, it helps the tat turn out right in the end.”

“Just like an agenda.”  Elsie bit into her bread and winked at Jennie.

Lizard stared for a moment and then smirked.  “Well, I can see how keeping Elsie Giannotto on the straight and narrow might be a hard job.”  She looked over at Jennie.  “‘Kay, what’s our meeting outline?  So we don’t color outside the lines or anything.”

Jennie shook her head, bemused.  The results of their meddling had taken some unexpected turns.  “Pretty simple, I think.  I have a second assignment for each of you, and then you can share whatever you’d like.”

Their faces held identical suspicion—the kind of momentary mirroring that made her hands itch for a camera.  She’d name the picture Unintentional Bonding.

“The last task was about serving others.”  Jennie paused as the waiter delivered their lunches.  Lizard’s burger smelled a whole lot more appealing than her lettuce leaves.  “This one is about serving yourselves.”

Elsie frowned.  “Isn’t service to others the point of a WitchLight experience?”

No, but now didn’t seem the time to head down that particular rabbit hole.  Jennie sighed.  It was a hole they would need to visit relatively soon, if her students didn’t manage to trip in it under their own steam. “I often find that we serve best when we understand ourselves first.”

They both stared at her now.  This had seemed like a good idea when she’d read Vero’s email.  Somehow, in the light of day, she was a lot less sure.

Since Elsie looked slightly less confused, Jennie started there.  “Your assignment is to find three things that bring you surprising pleasure.”  She smiled.  “Different ones than last night.”

Elsie turned a delightful shade of pink.  “Those were just some moments of indulgence.”

All too rare ones.  “Exactly.  Find more of them.  Ride a swing at the park, or smell the flowers, or get a massage from a hot guy.”  She’d bet a million dollars against the last one happening, but maybe the first two were possibilities.

She could feel Elsie’s mind pulling back.  “Well, I was planning to add some sensory experiences to my schedule.”

Jennie tried not to sigh out loud.  “Just remember—the assignment is to enjoy them.”

“Understood.”  Elsie pulled out her day planner and started writing.

Jennie hoped for the best and turned to her other student.  “Your assignment is a little different. I want you to ask for something you want.  Three times.”

She got the expected scowls.  “I know how to do that.”

Jennie met Lizard’s gaze.  Really?  Besides ordering a burger for lunch, what have you asked for lately?

“I want you to stop giving me dumb assignments.”

Jennie grinned.  She could fly by the seat of her pants as well as anyone.  “That’s just a convoluted way of saying you don’t want assignments.  You’re good at the ‘don’t wants.’  That’s not your assignment.”

Lizard glared at Elsie.  “Did you put her up to this?”

Elsie glared back.  “Hardly.  Did you?”

Lizard snorted, and then grinned.  “No, but I know a hot guy named Roberto who gives great shoulder rubs.”

“And I have a book you could read called The Successful Business Executive—How to Ask for What You Want and Get It.”

Well, well.  They were back to bickering.  Jennie tried to keep a straight face.  “I think those are both excellent suggestions.  You may find each other quite helpful in your tasks this week.  I suggest you get started as soon as you can.”

Twin looks of annoyed disbelief.  She really, really needed to bring her camera next time.

Chapter 20

Lizard exploded through the door of Berkeley Realty and slammed a listing on the desk.

Holy cow, thought Lauren.  Lunch with Jennie had obviously lit a fire under her intern.  She looked at the listing.  No surprise—it was the offending one halfway across town.  She tried to pick up where they’d left off earlier that morning.  “Is there a problem?”

“Yes!”  Lizard marched in circles around the office.  “I’m not a robot, or a marathon runner.  I need actual breaks for food and sleep, and I can’t do a good job on the maps if I can’t spend any time checking out the neighborhoods because I’m supposed to be somewhere else ten minutes ago.”

Well, hallelujah.  About freaking time.  “So what needs to change?”

Lizard stopped dead.  “What?”

“Obviously I asked for something unreasonable.”  Lauren shrugged.  “Clients do that all the time.  Our job is to figure out what we can actually deliver, and then get the job done.”  Come on, girl, keep going…

Lizard stared in total suspicion for an entire minute, brain whirring.  “So what would be reasonable?”

Nope, not going to solve it for you.  “That’s up to you to decide.  What do you need to get the job done well?”

“And what if you don’t agree?”

“Then we negotiate.”  Lauren grinned.  “Real estate’s all about the negotiation.  Here’s a hint—make a good case for your opening position.”

She held her breath and waited.  Nothing in the room moved.

Finally Lizard spoke.  “How many new listings are there in a week?”

“It varies.  In our usual neighborhoods and price range, usually five or six.  In a crazy week, double that.”

“So if I went to see one or two a day, I could keep up with the new listings.”

“Yes.” Lauren figured it wasn’t cheating to offer up her personal approach.  “I tend to go see two or three a day early in the week, because those are light client days.”

Lizard stared hard at a spot on the wall.  “I could schedule those for you.  And maybe go at the same time.  It would be efficient.”

Efficient?  What, was her intern channeling Elsie now?  Lauren tried not to roll her eyes.  “Sure.  I’ll show you how to pull the most recent listings out of the system.”

“Figured that out days ago.”

It had taken Lauren a week with a trainer to learn the user-unfriendly system, but she didn’t point that out.  No being nice to the interns—Jennie had drawn a tough line.  “Anything else?”

Lizard squirmed like a ten-year-old in the principal’s office.  “To do a good job with the maps, it would work best to have at least an hour for each listing, maybe two if it’s in a new area for me.  If I do new ones in the morning with you, and three old ones every afternoon, I’d be caught up on the pile in…”  She paused for a moment, clearly doing mental math.  “…about two months.  But half of those are really old listings, or on the edges of your usual territory.”

Lauren nodded soberly. “Low-priority listings.”  Dang, the girl could think when she finally got rolling.

“Right.  So maybe I won’t do all of those.”  Lizard just stood there shifting from foot to foot.  “That’s my opening position.”

Lauren deserved a medal for getting through this performance without laughing.  “Sounds fine.  Let me know when you’ve scheduled us to see the new listings.”

Poor Lizard looked like she’d walked into a wall.  “That’s it?”

Lauren grinned.  “It was a good opening position.”  She turned back to her paperwork.

And then her intern totally shocked her.  “Can I come tomorrow?  To see the Craftsman?”  She took a deep, stuttery breath.  “I’ll be there on time.”

Clamping down tightly on her mental cheering, Lauren nodded.  “Meet us here.  9 a.m. Now go—you’ve got houses to see.”

She waited until Lizard was all the way to the corner before she did the touchdown dance.  Now they were getting somewhere.

~ ~ ~

Elsie stood and contemplated the display window for Knit a Spell.  It was a feast of color, dominated by the reds and oranges Caro preferred.  Probably not a surprise, since she was the owner.  Jennie had said to start their new tasks as soon as possible.

No time like the present.

She’d taken to knitting late at night before bed, but she was almost out of yarn.  Time to pick some of her own.  The color and texture in the window suggested it would be a definite sensory experience.  Whether she would enjoy it or not remained to be seen.

The door popped open, and Caro stuck her head out.  “You coming in, girl, or you gonna stand outside all day?”

Elsie took a deep breath and jumped off the diving board.  “I’d like to pick some yarn.  For a project.”

“You’ve come to the right place.  Something in particular, or you just want to look around?”

Elsie walked through the open door and gaped.  Knit a Spell wasn’t a large space—and there was yarn everywhere.  On shelves, in baskets, hanging in lengths over the back of an old rocking chair.  “I thought I might work on a baby blanket, like you suggested.”

“Good beginner project.”  Caro handed her a ball.  “In a knitting store, you shop with your hands, not your eyes.  Look around.  Find the yarn that calls to your fingers.”

Elsie stared at the ball in her hands.  It was a gorgeous turquoise color, but seemed kind of… scratchy.  She held it up to her cheek.  Definitely not soft enough for a baby.  She neatly tucked the yarn back into its cubbyhole on the shelves and reached for another ball.  A mix of colors, this time, and quite a bit softer, but very thick.  The sample swatch was beautiful, but dense, and warm enough to melt a baby.

It wasn’t until she got to the felting yarn that she lost all practical sense.  There was a simple, over-the-shoulder bag sitting on top of a low shelf—mostly purple, with hints of green and orange and yellow thrown in.  She read the instructions on the conveniently displayed pattern.  Knit an oversized bag with big needles, throw it in the washing machine, and pull out your transformed creation.  That didn’t sound too hard.

“Felting’s very forgiving,” said Caro’s voice behind her.  “Perfect for new knitters.”

“I’m supposed to be making a baby blanket.”

Caro’s laugh was rich and low.  “So do that, too.”

She didn’t work that way.  Elsie moved away from the felting yarn, surprised at the spurt of disappointment.  “I need something really soft to use for the baby blanket.  Perhaps you can help me find something appropriate?”

“You’ll want fingering-weight yarn for that—cozy, but not hot.”  Caro led the way to the back of the store.

Elsie reached for a ball of wine-red yarn and rubbed it on her cheek.

Caro nodded.  “Good choice for a fire witch.”

“Not really a baby color, though.”

“Could be.  Would make a nice throw blanket to sit and read under, too.”

Elsie laughed.  “You must sell a lot of yarn, with all the ideas you have on how to use it.”

“Most knitters don’t need any help.”  Caro grinned.  “With newbies, we have to teach you the joys of a proper yarn stash.”

“Stash?”

“The piles of yarn we keep tucked away in our baskets and closets, and bring out to fondle and dream about every once in a while.  A world of possibility under our fingers.”  Caro’s eyes twinkled.  “I started this store when my stash wouldn’t fit in my house anymore.”

Elsie’s practical nature balanced on the precipice—and then toppled off, pushed by her inner knitter.  She cuddled the wine-red yarn.  “How much of this do I need?  And the purple felting yarn?”

Caro picked several balls off the shelf.  “Let’s just make you a pile on the table.”

Half an hour later, a small mountain of color covered the table, they’d debated the merits of straight versus circular needles, and three or four other customers had weighed in on her yarn choices.  Elsie sat down in a nearby chair and regarded the yarn heap with a dopey grin.  “I think that might be enough for now.”

Caro patted her shoulder.  “It’s never enough, but that’s a fine start.  We gather here and knit most afternoons at four, if you want to join us.  Lots of hands to help you learn.”

A few more minutes, and they had her yarn, needles, and instructions paid for and packed away in two large paper bags.  Elsie waved good-bye and swung out the door, dopey grin still in place.  She made it halfway down the block before she realized her first task was complete.

And also realized that had absolutely nothing to do with how happy she felt.

~ ~ ~

“I don’t understand where we’re going.”  Elsie surveyed her surroundings with suspicion.

Jennie kept her amusement quiet as they walked down the street together.  “I don’t really know either.  But Ginia sent out a witch SOS, so I figured I’d scoop up the two of you on my way.”

Lizard was rolling with things a little more easily.  “So it’s an emergency?”

“Not really.  Just some kind of fairly urgent need to gather a bunch of witches.  She specifically requested earth talents, so Elsie will likely be put to work magically.”

Lizard frowned.  “I’m no earth witch.”

Jennie grinned.  “We’re manual labor—we do whatever else needs doing.”

As they rounded the corner, it was clear where Witch Central had gathered—in an abandoned and ugly corner lot in what was a fairly sketchy neighborhood.  Ginia waved them over.  “Hey, Aunt Jennie.  Thanks for coming.  Did you bring a shovel?”

“No, dear.  But I’ll bet Jamie is smart enough to show up with more than one.”

Ginia giggled.  “He needs to help Aervyn with the playground.  You can help with that instead of digging holes for trees, if you want.  He could use your fire power.”

Not likely, if he had Aervyn helping.  And her fire talents were miniscule.  Jennie saluted her grand-niece.  “Not a problem—if you find me a shovel, I’ll be happy to help dig.”

Lauren stepped up beside her.  “I brought extras.”  She winked at Lizard.  “We mind witches always get the crummy work details.”

Ginia frowned.  “It’s not too many holes, and I bet we can get Aervyn to help once he’s done with the playground.”

Jennie hugged her shoulders.  “We’re just giving you a hard time, sweet girl.  What are we working on today?”

“We have to make this into a park by 10 p.m. tonight, or the neighborhood loses the space to a stupid parking lot.”  Ginia’s eyes carried signs of the warrior woman she would become.  “The developer waited until the very last minute to file his claim, so Uncle Jamie didn’t find out until an hour ago.”

Elsie frowned.  “Surely we can’t turn this into a park in less than four hours.”

“Sure we can.  Last one, we only had two hours.”  Ginia grabbed Elsie’s hand.  “Come on, you can help me grow plants.”

Lizard scowled at their retreating backs.  “If they can grow plants, how come we have to dig holes for trees?  Can’t someone just magic them?”

“Maybe.”  Lauren handed over a shovel.  “But that would be a big display of magic, and not necessary when we just need to dig a few holes.  The city provides the trees for free—all we have to do is plant them.”  She looked at Jennie.  “Where do we dig?”

Jennie mindscanned for her nephew.  Is there a plan for this park?  Moments later, a crude map appeared in her hands.  Show-off, she thought fondly.  Jamie had always been prone to using teleportation when walking a few steps would work just as well.

Lizard’s eyes widened, but she just leaned over and squinted at the map.  Then she looked around the vacant lot.  “It’s a dumb layout.”

It had obviously been done quickly, but it seemed to have all the necessary parts.  Trees, playground, path.  Jennie raised an eyebrow.  “How would you change it?”

“Put the playground where it can be shaded by the trees.”  Lizard started pointing.  “Tall trees there—get them out of the grassy area so kids can kick a ball or something.  Put the bushes on the edges to catch loose balls and keep stupid people out of the park.  If you put them at the back like that, the druggies will just hang out there.”

Jennie could hear Lauren’s mental laughter.  I told you she was a genius with a map.

Well, let’s not waste genius, shall we?  Jennie paged Jamie.  This time he showed up via ordinary methods.  “Lizard has a better plan for how to lay out the park.”

“Okay.”  He shrugged and looked at Lizard.  “What do you want to do?”

She looked at the ground.  “It’s just a stupid idea.”

“Not a problem.”  He grinned.  “Half the ideas around here are pretty dumb.  I’m currently trying to convince Aervyn we don’t need a swimming hole at the bottom of the slide.”

Lizard snickered, and then repeated what she’d just told Jennie and Lauren.  Jamie listened, nodded, and looked around for a moment.  Then he put his “I’m The Boss” cap on Lizard’s head.  “Awesome.  You’re in charge.  I’m heading up playground detail, Ginia’s team is on plants, and Jennie’s chief digger.  Just tell us what we need to do.  The trees will be here in an hour.”

He turned and headed back to the playground area, where Aervyn stood bouncing gleefully.  Lemme know if I’ve totally freaked her out.

Jennie just shook her head.  Trust Jamie to turn someone’s world upside-down in ten seconds flat.  She picked up a shovel and looked at Lizard.  “Where do we dig?”

Her student looked like she’d taken a ride inside Popeye’s spinach can.  “I can’t be in charge.”

“You’re wearing the boss hat.”  Lauren shrugged.  “I’d take advantage of it, if I were you.”

It took a few beats—and then Lizard’s grin was a mile wide.  “I guess it beats digging.”  She turned on her heel and headed toward Jamie and Aervyn.  “I’ll be back in a sec on the trees,” she called back to Jennie.  “Gotta move the playground first.”

Jennie looked around in bemusement.  “Lizard’s in charge of witch herding, and Elsie’s over there singing to flowers with Ginia.  I didn’t see either of those coming.”

“It seems to be going pretty well.”  Lauren grinned.  “Other than the two of us being the only ones with shovels in our hands.”

Jennie laughed.  “Welcome to the glamorous side of being a WitchLight mentor.”

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Going far too well.

-------------------------

Dear Vero,

Today has been very successful.  I might just be a paranoid old woman, but that scares me a little.

Taking a page out of Melvin’s book again, I have assigned my students new tasks, ones that I hope will help them find their true path forward during their time with WitchLight.  Elsie’s assignment is to explore sensory experiences, Lizard’s is to take the risk of asking for what she wants.  After the debacle of last week’s tasks, I didn’t expect a lot of progress.  They’ve both surprised me, and done it in just a few hours.

Apparently Lizard returned to work after our lunch and made not one, but two requests of Lauren.  Then she came with me to one of Jamie’s SOS calls, and bulldozed two dozen witches into doing her bidding.  It was a wonder to behold, even if the girl knows far too much about life in seedy neighborhood parks late at night.

Caro reports that Elsie had a splendid time in her yarn store this afternoon, and left with bagfuls of knitting and a delighted mind.  She also rather enjoyed an impromptu time of earth magic with Ginia this evening.  Evidently she has a particular talent with daffodils.

A very good day—and I sit here waiting for the other shoe to fall.  I’m not sure why.

One tired tree planter,

Jennie

Chapter 21

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: Going far too well.

-------------------------

Dear Jennie,

First, be careful who you are calling an old woman.  As someone who was an adult when you’d just barely hatched out of the egg, I’m not willing to relinquish my title of “old” and move on to “ancient.”  You’ll just have to wait in line.

Second, enjoy the happy days.  Yes, in all likelihood, sometime soon, things will head in reverse for a bit.  It’s the nature of the work.  If this were easy, it wouldn’t need some of the wisest minds and hearts in the witching world to get it done.  Unlocking lives is a high calling—and yes, we know you don’t think you volunteered.  In this, as in many things, perhaps a little more time will change your perspective.

In the meantime, your students are making progress.  Jamie posted pictures of the beautiful park you all created, with appropriate credit to our Lizard.  If Lauren isn’t careful, she’s going to have some competition for her intern.  It sounds like she’s left everyone a little dazzled.

And Elsie is exploring Caro’s love affair with yarn, is she?  How lovely.  Melvin knits less these days, but I still curl up often with a throw or pillow he’s made us over the years.  It’s comforting.  It sounds like Elsie’s instincts aren’t entirely missing in action.  Good—she’ll need them for the road ahead.

I hope you got a good night’s sleep,

Vero

~ ~ ~

Lauren pulled her car up to the curb at the white Craftsman and paused.  “You want to give them the tour?”

Frack, no.  Lizard shook her head and handed over the custom map she’d spent hours making.  “I’m just here to watch.”

“Fair enough.  You’ve probably spent more time in this house than I have, though, so feel free to mention a feature I miss.  Mindsend if you’re feeling really shy.”

It wasn’t shy to keep your mouth shut when you didn’t know anything.  Lizard reached for the door handle as the Mills pulled up in the car behind them.

Put a light mindlink in place, Lauren sent.  Their reactions in the next couple of minutes will tell you a lot.

Do you eavesdrop on all your clients?

Eavesdropping is about benefiting you.  This is about benefiting them.  Intent matters here.

It was way too early in the morning for an ethics discussion.  Lizard did as she was told and sent out some light monitoring links.  Jack Mills was a bit frustrated at the size of the parking spot.  His wife was feeling sleepy and a little nauseous.  Lizard suddenly regretted her morning helping of bacon biscuits and tightened up her barriers a little more.

Lauren frowned.  I didn’t realize you had empathic talents as well.

Just great.  Her boss was monitoring her head too.  Lizard tried to wipe the scowl off her face as she trailed Lauren over to greet the Mills.  No point scaring them first thing in the morning.

Jack beamed at both of them.  “We’re so excited to see this house.”

Well, one of them was.  Julie Mills was smiling, but her mind was worried.  Excited, too, but the worry ran deeper.  It disappeared, however, as soon as Lauren opened the front door.  Jack took a few moments to look around.  Julie fell in love.  She saw baby toys littering the hardwood floor and baby toes running down the long hallway.

Lauren grinned.  When one-half of the client loves a place, what do we do?

That wasn’t covered in the Intern 101 manual.  Work on the other half?

Nope.  Lauren shook her head.  Julie will be a far more effective salesperson now than we could ever be.  We just get out of the way.  She quietly walked into the living room and stood in a corner.

Gotta love a job where you made money holding up a wall.  Lizard edged into another corner and tried to make like wallpaper.

A few minutes later, Jack stuck his head into the room.  “Do you know if the bathroom is big enough to install a full-sized bathtub?”

Lizard stared at her boss, and her boss stared studiously at some lint on the windowsill.  I don’t freaking know how big a bathtub is!

Me neither.  It’s not what he’s really asking.  They want to know if they can make the bathroom comfortable.  Go on back, help them dream a little.

Who the heck dreamed about bathtubs?  Lizard stomped down the hall, and then realized she was making Jack nervous.  That probably wasn’t fair.  Lauren was the nutcase sending an ignorant intern to the front lines.

Julie nearly ran her over coming out of the small bedroom.  “Jack, you’ve got to see this.  I think we can get up into the attic—there’s a rope ladder and everything.”

Oh, crap.  Even she could figure out that very pregnant women and rope ladders shouldn’t mix.

Jack stared at the rope ladder in consternation.  “I don’t think that thing will hold my weight, sweetie.”

His wife’s smile sagged.  “I wanted to know if we could build a play space up there.  I used to play in this room under the eaves at my babysitter’s house—it was my favorite space to hide out.”

Grammie’d had a room like that.  A hideaway in the attic.  They’d played together for hours, or made up poems.  Lizard pulled out her iPhone.  “I’ll go up.  Maybe I can take pictures and then you can see what the space looks like.”

Nice one.  Lauren grinned.  And better you than me.  Remember to breathe through your nose.

Lizard stuck her head in the attic opening and sneezed.  Too late.  It was a grimy, dingy, dusty space.  And even as she began to take pictures, she could see the finished room in her mind.  A wondrous treehouse, with windows on all four sides, and nooks for reading and drawing treasure maps.  She’d forgotten about the treasure maps.  Grammie had been Queen of the Pirates, and there’d always been lost gold—or at least, chocolate chip cookies—to seek.

She backed carefully down the ladder and showed her pictures to Julie and Jack.  They showed polite interest, but that was all—they couldn’t see it.  Pulling out her notebook, she began to draw.  “It could look like this.”  She felt the moment when vague attention ignited into desire.  Julie saw it first, but her husband wasn’t far behind.

Congratulations, said Lauren’s voice inside her head.  I think you just sold a house.

What about the bathtub?  Lizard kept drawing.

Homes are about dreams, not about bathroom fixtures.  You found the dream, the hidden treasure in this house.  Who wouldn’t want that room?

Lizard looked down at her notebook.  Yeah.  Even she wanted the room.

Julie looked at her husband and grinned.  “So, how do we make an offer?”

Lauren moved off the wall and started talking contracts and paperwork.  It was mind-numbing.  And it was making Julie nervous.  Her worry was back, and without probing deeper, Lizard couldn’t tell why.

I see it too, Lauren sent.  She stopped her paperwork spiel and touched Julie’s hand.  “Talk to me.  How are you feeling about this?”

“I’m not sure.”  Julie’s face wrinkled.  “I love the house.  I can see us living here, and being happy.  But it’s really expensive.”

Lizard bristled.  It was an excellent deal, well within the price range of comparable homes.

Listen closer, Lauren sent.  “It’s in the range of what you were pre-approved for.”

Julie nodded and took her husband’s hand.  “That only works if I go back to work at least part-time, or Jack works longer hours.”

“I’ll do it,” Jack said.  “We’ve talked about that.  Whatever we need to do to have a home for our baby.”

Julie shook her head wistfully.  “When I think about us in that awesome room Lizard drew, I see the three of us.  Not me and the baby waiting up late for you to get home.”  She rubbed her belly.  “Babies need daddies, not houses.”

Lizard looked at the drawing in her hand.  They were going to throw away the dream.  Somebody else was going to buy this house and put in a stupid sewing room or something.

They could be convinced.  She could feel it.

Pulling out a copy of her map, she went to stand between the two of them.  “It’s got some other nice features.  You can walk to the farmers’ market from here, and the next-door neighbors have petunias and chickens.  Bet you could get fresh eggs.  Here’s the nearest playground, but it’s a little run-down.  The one over this way is way better—it has a toddler splash area and everything.”

She could feel them shifting.  “The grocery store over here delivers if you ask them nicely, and this is the best Vietnamese restaurant in town.  Five more minutes and you’re downtown for fish tacos.”  She racked her brain for anything else that might help convince them.  It wouldn’t take much more.

Lauren smiled.  “Why don’t you two take a walk over to that Vietnamese restaurant?  Have some food, rest your feet, and do some thinking.”

Lizard bristled.  She almost had them, she could feel it.  And if they were left alone, they’d chicken out.  She could feel that, too.  Isn’t it important to get an offer in right away?  Before they change their minds?

It needs to be their decision.  You’ve done a good job.  Now stop pushing.  Lauren gracefully escorted the Mills out of the house.  She turned back to Lizard.  “Go ahead.  I can feel you’re mad.”

“I thought your job was to sell houses.  They were almost there!”

“Yes, they were.”  Lauren smiled a bit ruefully.  “I didn’t realize you knew how to be so convincing.”

“It’s the right house for them.”

“Maybe.  And maybe they’ll be happier in a little apartment somewhere with lots of time to spend together.”

Bullshit.  Having a daddy around wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  “They’re gonna walk away.”

Lauren nodded.  “Probably.”

Freaking useless waste of time.  Lizard ripped the drawing out of her notebook and crumpled it.  “I’ve got better things to do with my time than come up with useless maps and decorating ideas for stupid clients who aren’t actually going to buy anything.”  And the stupid bosses who let them.

“You did good work.”  Lauren sighed.  “Lots of real estate is about putting in the time, putting in the hours, and watching the deal evaporate.”

Lizard threw her notebook at the wall.  “It evaporated because you let it.”  So much freaking work.  And Grammie would have loved that little room.

Lauren’s voice was very gentle.  “Our job is to support their dreams.  Not ours.”

“Get the frack out of my head.”  Lizard stormed out of the room.  The Vietnamese restaurant was only a couple of blocks away.  Lauren wasn’t the only one who could sell a house.

~ ~ ~

Crap.  Lauren stood frozen in the bedroom of the white Craftsman, rapidly debating her next move.  Lizard was clearly on a mission—and more than capable of talking the Mills into buying a house they probably didn’t really, deep-down want.  And while she could always refuse to fill out the offer paperwork, it would get messy.

Whatever space she’d tried to create for Lizard to find her way, Berkeley Real Estate was her baby.  And they weren’t going to war with a client in the middle.

Reaching for her phone, she ran out of the room.  Cars still went faster than feet, and she planned to beat Lizard to the restaurant.  “Hey Jennie.  Minor WitchLight emergency.  Lizard’s trying to sell a client a house, and I need to stop her.”

“Isn’t selling houses a good thing in your line of work?”

“Normally, yeah, but this is the wrong match.  Lizard worked really hard on it, so she’s mad we need to let them walk away.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.  “I feel like I’m still missing something.  Why does this matter so much to her?”

Lauren jumped in her car and pulled out one-handed.  “There’s more, but I didn’t probe.  Something about her Grammie and treasure maps.  Anyhow, no time to explain, but I wanted to let you know, in case she tries to run again or something.”

“Life is never boring.  Hip-openers class is about to start, but this once, I’ll leave my phone on.  Page me if you need me.”

Lauren chuckled.  “You just want an excuse to avoid hip openers.”  She spied Lizard on the sidewalk, marching toward the restaurant.  “Gotta go.  Found my witch.”

She jumped out on the curb and stepped in front of her intern.  “We need to talk.”

Lizard met her nose-to-nose, fuming.  “You told me to stop running.  I’m not running.”

“No, you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you get to do whatever the hell you want, either.”

“Says who?”  Lizard was all teenage troublemaker now.

“Says me.”  Lauren took a deep breath.   “My clients, my business.  And I say it isn’t okay to push my clients into something that isn’t in their best interests.”

“Who are you, their mommy?  They want this.”

Lauren wished briefly that life was more black and white.  “Partly.  But that doesn’t make it right.  Wants are tricky, and they want more than one thing.”

Lizard stood very still.  “Jennie told me to ask for what I want.  I want to sell the Mills that house and that attic and have them put my map of the neighborhood on their freaking fridge.”

Hard blow, and Lizard probably wasn’t aware she’d delivered it.  Lauren winced.  They’d been pushing on the poor girl to invest herself, to put what she wanted on the line.  Now she had, and they were an inch away from disaster because what she wanted just couldn’t be allowed to happen.

But God, she knew how Lizard felt.  “It’s the best feeling in the world when you sell a house, when you know people will be happy in the place you found them.  Today you showed me you have the soul of a realtor.”  She laid a hand on her intern’s shoulder and spoke as gently as she could.  “But the client needs to come first.  We can’t let what we want get in the way of that.”

“They don’t know what they want.”  Lizard’s eyes flashed fire.  “Both their minds are all waffly.  They could go either way on this.  Who says you’re right?”

Years of experience, but that didn’t even sound convincing to her ears.  “Sometimes you have to weigh the cost if you’re wrong.  Missing out on this house isn’t the end of the world.  Ending up in a property where you have to work too much to pay the bills—that would really suck for them.”

Lizard nearly hissed.  “Selling out on dreams is a lot worse than having to work hard.”

“Their dream isn’t in that house.  It’s in Julie’s belly.”  It was breaking Lauren’s heart to do this.  “And even if you’re right, we’ve pushed enough.  The decision needs to be theirs now.”

Lizard clenched the fist still clutching her rough drawing.  “You make me walk for miles and create maps and climb ladders and draw pictures.  All to try to sell a fracking house.  And then when it really matters, you won’t even let me talk to them.”

“You’ve got what they want too tangled up with what you want.”  Lauren wished it felt fair to block the pain and confusion streaming out of Lizard’s brain.  Instead, she opened a little wider and let it beat on her soul, hoping for a clue to help them out of this mess.

Instead she heard the clawing screams of a different mind descending into panic.  A mind she knew.  Elsie was in some kind of trouble.  She grabbed Lizard’s arm.  “Open your channels.  Can you hear Elsie?  Help me figure out where she is.”

Her intern yanked away, then froze as Lauren’s words sank in.  She closed her eyes for a moment, and then took off running.  “The new park.  She’s at the new park.”

Lauren followed hot on her heels, mind-yelling as she ran.  Jennie should be close enough to hear.

~ ~ ~

Jennie rounded the corner, not quite keeping up with Jamie and Nat.  She kept a lock on her student’s mind.  We’re coming, Elsie.  We’re coming.  She could feel the clawing panic, the desperate seeking for air, and the terrible fear.  Lauren, Lizard, and Caro were running in from the opposite direction.

Jamie arrived first and gripped Elsie’s shoulders as she clung to the swing-set pole and gasped for air.  Anyone know what’s going on?

Jennie arrived, badly out of breath.  “We’re here, and not a healer in the lot.  Jamie, can you find Ginia?  Port her here?”

“Not necessary,” Nat said, her voice an ocean of calm.  “She’s having a panic attack.  Scary as hell, but she needs mind witches, not a healer.”

“It’s awfully strong, Nat—are you sure?  She feels like her throat is closing.  Bee-sting, maybe?”

Lauren clipped into Jennie’s mindlink, and together they pushed into Elsie’s mind.  The jumble of emotion slammed into them.  She was disappearing.  No, she was fighting.  They were making her disappear.  Elsie gathered herself to scream.

Projecting as much calm as they dared, they unhooked.

“It’s us she’s afraid of,” said Lauren softly.  “She won’t let us link, and I don’t want to force it.”

“It’s not you.  It’s what’s inside her, trying to be free.”  Nat held Elsie’s face gently in her hands.  “Listen to my voice, Elsie.  Just my voice.  The air is already in you.  Let it soak in your skin, in through your hands and ears and eyes.  Push the fear out through your feet.  In with air.  Out with fear.”  She looked up at the group.  “Breathe with me.  In with air.  Out with fear.”

Elsie’s ragged struggle for air seared Jennie’s soul.  What had they done?

Jamie touched her hand, eyes always on his wife.  Nat needs us to be calm and breathe.  Feel her mind—she’s got this handled.

He was right.  Nat’s mind was entirely serene, focused only on her breath and her hands on Elsie’s face.  With implacable will, she pulled air in and out of Elsie’s panicked brain.  “In with air.  Out with fear.”

Jennie released a shuddering breath.  Out with fear.  She sat, magic useless, and tried to find air of her own. Somehow they had taken an obnoxiously competent psychologist and reduced her to a woman clinging to a steel pole in desperate search of air.  She clutched her pendant and wished deeply for a fraction of her mentor’s wisdom.  And then realized she held it in her hands.

She practically ripped the pendant from around her neck.  It was tuned to her, not to Elsie, but it would have to do.  As gently as possible, she wrapped Elsie’s fingers around the beating pulse of calm flowing out of the aquamarine stone.

Whether it was Melvin’s magic or Nat’s steady in-and-out that finally slowed Elsie’s panic, Jennie would never know.  But she listened with intense gratitude as Elsie’s scraping, screaming search for breath began to ease.  The sounds of someone drowning while surrounded by air would haunt her dreams for many nights to come, but the worst of it appeared to be over now.

Instinct moved her closer to Elsie’s side.  With air came tears.  Buckets and buckets of tears.  Jennie held, and rocked, and when the tears finally slowed, softly asked the question they all needed answered.  “What happened, my dear sweet girl?”

Elsie curled into her shoulder and whispered.  “I tried to ride a swing.”

~ ~ ~

Nat tucked a pillow behind Elsie’s head, and then handed her the cup of chamomile tea Caro had sent up.  There was a world of guilt in the living room below.  She would allow none of it up here.  Elsie had panicked, and until they worked out exactly why, guilt was hopelessly unproductive.

Nat hopped on the bed and curled her legs into lotus.  “Tell me what happened.”  She didn’t phrase it as a request.

“I went yarn shopping at Caro’s store yesterday.”  Elsie gazed into her tea and spoke in barely more than a whisper.  “It was enjoyable.”

Nat looked over at the mountain of yarn on the bedside table.  “Looks like it.”  She reached over and touched a ball of silky-soft moss-green wool.

Elsie smiled and pulled a couple of balls into her lap.  She sat gently stroking them.  “It was my assignment from Jennie for this week—to find things that bring me surprising pleasure.”

Jennie was a very wise woman.  “And did it?  The yarn shopping?”

“It did.”  She made it partway to a smile.  “I was up half the night knitting.  It made me feel brave, I guess, so I decided to try something new today.”

Ah.  “A ride on a swing?”

Elsie nodded.  “It was something Jennie suggested, and I wanted to check the flowers at the park anyhow.”

Nat just waited quietly.  It was one of her best skills.

“I don’t think I’ve been on a swing since I was a small child, but it came back very quickly.  I had these memories of flying high in the sun over a big meadow of flowers.”  Elsie shrugged.  “I’m not sure where it was, or if it was a dream instead of an actual memory.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter.”

Elsie continued, as if she were talking to herself.  “I could see the flowers we’d planted, and the sun was shining, and I think I got to swinging rather high.”

She put down her tea and pulled her knees up to her chest.  “And then I remembered that Elsie Giannotto doesn’t like heights, and… well, I don’t know what happened next, really.”

Nat watched Elsie’s fingers clenching in her balls of yarn.  “You had a panic attack.”  And no way was fear of heights the whole story.  She went on gently.  “The most common causes are severe stress and major life transitions.”

Elsie looked up.  “You seem well informed.”

“Voice of experience.”  The memories could still constrict Nat’s throat.  “I suffered from panic disorder in my teens.  That’s the repeated occurrence of panic attacks.  I’ve probably had over a hundred of them.”

Elsie’s eyes widened—in fear, and in respect.  “How did you stop them?  Why were they happening?”

Those were the right two questions.  Good.  Elsie would need her brainpower for the steps ahead.  “The cause was living a life where Natalia Smythe didn’t get to be who she needed to be.  For me, the cure was yoga.”

“No offense, but I’ve been doing a lot of yoga lately.  I’m not sure that’s the cure I need.”

Nat smiled—she’d come to the same conclusion.  “I don’t think so either.  Before the yoga, I did two years of therapy with one of the best anxiety disorder specialists in the nation.”

“Cognitive therapy.”  Elsie nodded.  “It’s the most common treatment.”

“For a thinker, I’m sure it works well.  But that’s not the way I learn.  I’ll be forever grateful to the assistant who figured that out and snuck me a brochure to her yoga studio.”  And had been summarily fired when Nat’s parents protested.

“You think I need therapy?”  Elsie’s giggle surprised them both.  “That would be… ironic.”

“Maybe.”  Nat grinned.  “But I think maybe you just need a different assignment.”

“Because the last one went so well?”  Elsie’s breath hitched.

“Jennie’s like me—she learns by doing.”  Nat tried to find words for what her gut knew.  “She was trying to help you figure some things out—explore some parts of who you might be—and she gave you an assignment that would work for her.”

Elsie nodded slowly.  “But that’s not how I learn best.  I like to think things through.  Collect data, analyze it.”  She frowned.  “Or at least, the old Elsie does.”

“So use that.”  Nat put back the ball of yarn she’d been holding.  “Collect data on Elsie Giannotto.  Learn from it.”

Elsie smiled quietly.  “That seems like odd advice from a yoga teacher.”

Nat grinned.  This was the paying off of a very old debt to the therapist who had sent her to yoga.  And it was right.  Her gut could feel it.  They’d all been trying to break down the old Elsie.  It was time to give her some respect.

Chapter 22

“Have mercy, Nat!” Lauren huffed as she followed her friend up the steep trail.  They had very different ideas about a nice spot to have breakfast.  Or a nice time.  She must have been delirious from lack of sleep when Nat had called at 4 a.m. with impromptu breakfast plans.

“The view from the top is gorgeous, and if you hurry, we’ll catch the sunrise.”

Not like there was a lot of choice.  Nat currently held breakfast hostage in her backpack.  And Dream Fluff’s apple fritters were worth it.  Probably.  Lauren tried not to trip on the rocks that littered the top half of the Claremont Canyon trail.  “So at what point in your pregnancy will you actually slow down?”

Nat giggled.  “It’s three-quarters of a mile—that’s hardly going to kill you.”

“Uphill.”  Lauren tried not to gasp for air.  “Three-quarters of a mile uphill.”

“You should come to my advanced flow class.”

“And learn to balance my chakras while standing on my head?  No, thank you.  I have enough problems balancing right-side-up.”

“Well, that,” Nat turned and grinned, “but I was thinking it would improve your fitness so a little hill climbing didn’t make you sound so sad and pathetic.”

Lauren groaned.  “You’re insulting me when I drove you for donuts at four in the morning?”

Nat patted her backpack.  “I got enough for you too.  I think.”

Her friend’s pregnant appetite was large and unpredictable.  “If there’s not, I’m eating Jamie’s.”

Nat giggled again.  “Those are back in the car.”

Lauren tried to think up a suitable retort, and then decided to save her air until they got to the top.  Which would be soon.  She hoped.

Hitting the crest of the ridge a few moments later did a lot to stimulate her sense of forgiveness.  There, stretched out as far as they could see, were Berkeley and the San Francisco Bay, glowing in the soft light of pre-dawn.  “Hey, look—you can see the Golden Gate Bridge this morning.”

Nat grinned.  “Jamie said the sunrise view was really nice.  It was beautiful in the moonlight.”

Lauren tried not to think about what her friend and Jamie had likely been doing under the stars on some deserted hiking trail.  “How come he isn’t up here with you now?”

“Apparently the bonds of marriage don’t extend to early morning hikes.”  Nat dug into her backpack.

Lauren laughed.  “Couldn’t wake him up, huh?”

“Something like that.”  Nat handed over an apple fritter.

Discovering Dream Fluff’s apple fritters had been one of the true pleasures of moving to Berkeley.  Lauren bit into the crispiness, melting into the fluff and real apple chunks hidden inside.  Total bliss—and when you were the first customers at 4:30 a.m., really, really fresh.

They sat together and ate themselves into apple-fritter stupor for a few minutes.  Their friendship had always included these moments of quiet companionship.  For Lauren, they were a break from the constant stream of people in a realtor’s life.  For Nat, they were her life—the chance to replenish the lake of serenity that powered everything she did.

Several fritters later, watching the early morning sun glint off the ocean in the distance, Lauren decided it was time to dig for the real reason behind the 4 a.m. call.  “You worried about Elsie?”

“A little.  We pushed hard, and she cracked hard.  But she’s smart, and I think she’ll find her way—she’s just going to need friends while she does it.”  Nat burped, giggled, and closed the fritter box.  “Are you worried about Lizard?”

“More worried about my ability to be who she needs.  She’s got some mad skills and a huge dose of insecurity, and I’m not always on the right page.  Yesterday was a train wreck.”

“Jamie says that’s probably what parenting will feel like.  Except when you start with babies, they run slower for a while, so the wrecks are in slow motion.”

Jamie was a smart witch.  “Yeah.  I don’t even know whether she’ll be at work this morning.  Her crisis got kind of sidelined when Elsie panicked.”

“She found something worth caring about.  That’s a good thing.”

Lauren sighed.  “So I keep telling myself, but I was the one who had to stand there and tell her she couldn’t have what she wanted.”

Nat grinned.  “You’re a softie.  You like giving people what they want.”

Only a best friend got to say stuff like that.  “Don’t let it get around.  I’m supposed to be the shrewd negotiator with the razor-sharp instincts.”

“How are Lizard’s instincts?”

That was part of why the situation was so twisted up.  “She’s got crazy-good instincts.  But she’s also got some glaring issues, and she’d have to do some pretty hard work to address them.”

“You think she could be a good realtor.”

“I do.”  Lauren shrugged, trying to keep her own wants out of the picture.  “But it would be a steep learning curve for her, and she’s going to need to want it.  I don’t know how to encourage her to figure out what she wants to do with her life.”

“So offer her a job.”

Lauren licked her fingers.  “I wish it were that easy.  Jennie wants Lizard to learn to ask for what she wants, and I think she’s right.”

Nat laughed quietly.  “You can’t ask for what you don’t know exists.”

It was too early in the morning to try to decipher pearls of wisdom, even Nat’s.  “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I get yoga students who desperately need a certain pose, or to work on a certain area.  They need to learn to breathe, or they need hip openers.  If I waited for them to ask for the right thing, we’d never get anywhere.”

Well, yeah.  Nobody sane would ask for hip openers.  “You’re saying they don’t know what would help them?”

Nat stretched toward the sky.  “They seek, but they don’t have a vision of what could be.  My job is to suggest possibilities, and then let them choose.”

“So I need to help Lizard see her choices?”  It sounded stupidly obvious, once she thought about it.  Clients often sucked at knowing what kind of houses would make them happy, too.  They got a lot better at it once they’d seen a few options.

Nat just smiled.

Lauren broke the last fritter in half, and handed the biggest piece to her best friend in the world.  “That baby of yours is a lucky girl.  You’re going to make a wonderful mama.”

They sat in fritter-induced silence for a few moments longer.  Just long enough for Lauren to realize they still hadn’t gotten to the real topic for the morning.  Huh.  Something had Nat more worried than a panic attack.  Lauren nibbled on the last of her fritter and waited.

“I’m worried about Jennie, and I wanted to know if I have reason to be, or if it’s just pregnancy hormones.”

They had a panicky psychologist, a delinquent flight-risk, and Nat was worried about the wise woman in charge?  Lauren tried to shake the last of the sleep fog from her brain.  “She felt pretty bad yesterday, but Elsie’s panic attack was awfully hard to watch.”  She wrapped an arm around Nat’s shoulders.  “We were catching some of what she felt like on the inside, too.  I can’t believe you got through those on your own as a teenager.”

“I did, and Elsie would have.”

“So, what do you think is up with Jennie?”  Lauren had long experience trusting Nat’s instincts.

“Well, the panic attack scared her, and I think she’s a little sorry to have dumped all of this on us.”  Nat exhaled slowly.  “But mostly, I think she’s trying to live up to Melvin’s legacy, and still trying to live down her own mistakes.”

“He made a big difference in her life.”

Nat pulled her knees up to her chest.  “He made the difference in her life.  And if she can’t do the same for Elsie and Lizard, it’s going to be very hard on her.”

“It has to be their choice.”

Nat nodded.  “Nobody understands that better than Jennie.”

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: veronica.liantro@witchlight.org

From: Jennie Adams <jennie.adams@bythelight.com>

Subject: Be careful what you wish for.

-------------------------

Dear Vero,

It has taken me all night in my darkroom to be able to write this email—to clear the emotion enough to be able to look into my own heart.

I think I erred deeply.  I believed we needed to push on Elsie, believed we needed to help her crack.  Right up until the point where I watched her clinging to a pole drowning in her own panic.  There has to have been a better way.  I don’t think I reached deep enough, found enough of my own empathy for her journey.  It scraped my soul.  It still does.

Did I break her for my own purposes?  Have I learned so very little in my life?

I hope not.  But that is the fear that is dogging me in the wee hours of the night.

Melvin has never told me anything but truth.  I need him now.

Love,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

The last people Lizard expected to see sitting on the little bench in front of Berkeley Realty at 7 a.m. were the Mills.  And no Lauren.  That figured.  She considered taking her still-burning need for a fight back down the block to the coffee shop, but Julie Mills was already making her way up off the bench, a smile on her face.  “Good morning.  You’re just who we wanted to see.”

Frack.  After yesterday, she was pretty sure Lauren didn’t want her talking to any clients, particularly these ones.  “I’m not sure when Lauren’s coming in this morning.”

Julie patted her bag.  “You’re the map wizard.  You’re the person we wanted to talk to.  It seems like you know the neighborhoods around here pretty well.”

Lizard opened the door and let them in.  Lauren couldn’t very well blame her for letting a pregnant woman sit in a comfortable chair.  “Would you like some coffee or something?”

“No, thanks.  We just had breakfast.”  She grinned.  “That bacon and egg joint on your map is my new favorite place to eat.  The baby and I thank you.”

Crap.  Now she had to sit down with them.  And not talk about the perfect house with the perfect attic that she wasn’t supposed to sell them.

Jack touched his wife’s arm, and she sighed.  “I guess I’m a bit nervous to ask.  I know you make a commission when you find a house for us, and we’re really grateful for all the hard work you put in…”

They didn’t want the house.  Stupid people.

“It just doesn’t make financial sense right now.”  Jack leaned forward.  “It’s a great house.  You found us exactly what we wanted—we just didn’t think carefully enough about our budget until the choice was right in front of us.  We wanted to apologize.”

That was kind of nice, even if they were total idiots for letting that attic go.  “No big.”  Lizard shrugged.  “I’m just the assistant, so Lauren’s the one losing the big bucks, I guess.”  Somehow that soothed her righteous frustration.

Julie looked at her husband again, practically burning to ask something.    He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  “Julie wants to know if you’d help us find a good apartment in the same neighborhood.  Some place to rent while we save up our money and see how this baby changes our lives.”

“We’d like to pay you a finder’s fee.”  Julie blushed.  “It’s not the big bucks, but we’d like to pay you something for your time.”

Lizard sighed.  Did they have to be so freaking nice?  “There’s a cool duplex for rent about two blocks south of Thea’s new house.  I don’t remember the address, but it’s a yellow house with a big apple tree in the front yard.  You can’t miss the sign.  It just went up a couple of days ago.”  She knew that because she’d helped hold the sign up while the cute guy with the really big dog hammered it in.  She started drawing them a rough map.  “Landlord’s name is Diego.  Tell him Lizard sent you.”

She knew she would live to regret the next part.  Only stupid weenies didn’t take money when it was offered. Maybe all the do-gooders in her life were contagious or something.   “No finder’s fee.  When you’re ready to buy a house, come back and see us.”

She looked up to see two happy Mills, and her boss standing right behind them, eyes full of approval.  Guts and class before 8 a.m.  Impressive.

Whatever.  The guy had a nice dog.  Just doing him a favor.

Lauren rolled her eyes.  Whatever.

~ ~ ~

Elsie Giannotto wasn’t afraid of information.  She repeated that to herself as she knocked on the door of Jamie and Nat’s home.  Data was information, and information helped to make good decisions.

She was grateful when Jamie answered quickly.  A good-sized piece of her brain was certain this was a bad idea.  “Good morning.  I was hoping you might have an hour to spend with me.”  She paused, most uncomfortable with the last part of her request.  “I need your help.”

He opened the door wide, apparently rolling easily with an unexpected morning guest.  “Sure—come on in.  What do you need?”

She pulled a CD out of her bag.  “I need you to help me run a personality profile on myself.”

He looked slightly embarrassed.  “I don’t actually know that much about psych tests.”

That much had been obvious when she’d researched the first test he’d tried to run on her and discovered it was calibrated for small children.  “It’s not someone with psychology training I need.  Is it true you can’t lie to a mind witch?”

Now he looked really uneasy.  “More or less—at least if we’re paying attention.  It’s possible to shade the truth some, or block our ability to read you at all.  Why?”

“The test you ran on me two days ago only focused on one small aspect of a person’s skills and preferences.  However, you made your point.  As did yesterday’s events.”  She tried not to squirm, well aware her acute discomfort was only going to get worse if he agreed to what she wanted.  “My skills and preferences might be somewhat different than I believe—using fire power might influence who I am.  There are some ways to explore that.  Psychological ways.”  Ones that she might be able to keep breathing through.

“So you want to do more tests?”

Bless him for not asking difficult questions.  “Yes.  You said fire witches usually seek contact with other people and sensory experiences.”

He shrugged and led the way back to the kitchen.  “Not always.  Caro’s a good example of an exception—she’s pretty solitary.”

Yes, but you only had to see her home or her yarn store to know Caro was deeply steeped in all her senses.  Elsie squared her shoulders and held out the CD.  “This is the Myers-Briggs personality inventory.  It’s a comprehensive measure of four core traits that, taken together, define personality.  One of them addresses sensory perception, and another looks at how we connect with other people.  I want you to ask me the questions and fill in my answers.”

He slid the disk into a laptop at the kitchen table, tipped up the screen, and scanned for a moment.  “This is multiple choice.  Why don’t you just fill in your own answers?”

“Because I’m a trained psychologist who uses this tool all the time in my practice.  I know what my usual answers are.”  She paused.  This was the sticky part.  “I need to know what my first, intuitive answer is while using fire power.  I need your help to try to catch that answer before my training overrides it.”

Jamie just looked at her.  Hard.  Then he nodded slowly.  “You’re a very brave woman.”

It wasn’t about bravery.  It was about truth.  “Can you do it?”

“I think so.  Lauren would be a better choice, though—her mind talents are stronger than mine, and she’d be able to respect your privacy more.  My talents are pretty clunky.”

That would have convinced the rational Elsie.  Elsie with the belly tattoo and mountain of yarn trusted Jamie.  “I learn a lot of secrets in my profession.  I trust your ethical discretion.”

He grinned.  “Millions wouldn’t.  Let’s get started, then.”  He sat down at the table and invited her to sit across from him.

Elsie sat and pulled out her knitting.  She hoped it would engage her fire magic and distract her rational brain.  That, and she was getting hopelessly addicted to the feel of yarn under her fingers.

Jamie nodded in approval and began.

It took several questions for him to stop rolling his eyes at her answers.  Several more to figure out it worked better if she just thought the answers, rather than trying to speak them.  And a solid thirty minutes before she was at all comfortable with him peering into her mind.  But they finally found a rhythm, and what she hoped were some honest answers.

She managed to keep the trained psychologist mostly bound and gagged until it was time to score the test.  Jamie gazed over her shoulder.  “This is pretty cool, actually.  I’d love to know if personality traits really do tend to run with magical talents.”

A fascinating study.  Not exactly something you could publish in a peer-reviewed journal, but an interesting question.  Elsie clicked on the final buttons to tabulate results.  And gaped at the computer screen.

“A little different than you expected?”  Jamie dropped a pint of ice cream on the table in front of her.

She groaned as her traitorous taste buds drooled.  Surely she’d had enough ice cream in the last week to fill her quota for a year.

Jamie handed her a spoon.  “No such thing as too much ice cream.  And now I’m out of your head—I promise.”  He sat back down across from her.  “Tell me about the test results.”

Elsie stared at the screen, trying to remind herself this was exactly what she’d wanted to know.  Some of the results were what she would have expected.  “The test looks at four basic personality traits.  Two of them haven’t changed.”

“And what do those two tell you?”

She was grateful he took the hint and let her cling to the rock of sanity a few moments longer.  “That I tend to be a person who makes decisions easily and based on rational thought.”

Jamie chuckled.  “That’s not exactly news.”

She shrugged.  “Well, it means those things are true for me, whether or not I use magic.”  And it meant she would find test results very convincing, whether she was using power or not.

His amusement vanished, replaced by fascination.  “Good point.”

Then he simply waited.

Honesty forced the rest of her answer.  “For the other two traits, I’m the exact opposite when I use power.”

“And those would be?”  His voice offered steady compassion.

She retreated to psychobabble in self-defense.  “It says I’m an extrovert.  I most naturally funnel my energies toward the outer world.   And I’m high on the sensing scale, which you already figured out.”

He frowned.  “English, please.”

With magic flowing, she was the kind of person that enjoyed girls’ night out and ate bacon with her fingers.  Elsie tried not to think about that as she highlighted two boxes on the screen and turned the laptop toward him.  “These are the simple summaries I give clients to explain the test results.  The green one is where I’ve always tested.  The blue one is me using fire power.”

Jamie read the two boxes.  And winced.  “Wow.  Those are really different.”

She just stared at a random point on the wall.  “Yeah.”

He waited a beat.  “What’s the rest of it?”

Elsie fought off tears.  “The four traits work together.  So even the two that haven’t changed, the other two impact how I use them.  It’s why I totally goofed with Lizard.  I’m not reading people accurately, even though I think I am.”

He chuckled.  “We all missed that one.  Even those of us who aren’t dealing with two competing personalities in our heads.”

She sucked in air as his casually delivered hammer whacked her nail on the head.  There were two Elsies.  The one she had lived with for thirty years—and the other one who scared her speechless and felt like a complete stranger.

Her eyes closed.  “Which of them is me, Jamie?”  Even she could hear the whispered anguish in her voice.

~ ~ ~

-------------------------

To: jennie.adams@bythelight.com

From: Vero Liantro <veronica.liantro@witchlight.org>

Subject: Re: Be careful what you wish for.

-------------------------

Sweet Jennie,

You have not erred at all.  Melvin offers this in comfort—imagine what he felt like, knowing you had gone off to the mental ward to visit the man you tormented.  He, too, believed it was necessary—right up until he felt the shudders in your soul as you took your picture.

And I will tell you what he won’t.  He has cried more tears in his lifetime over that moment than you ever will.

It is not easy to be the one who waits.  The one who hopes.  And the one who cannot choose.

The choice was Elsie’s.  And it’s a choice she would never have made without some fearsome meddling.  You didn’t do this alone, but you guided your team down the necessary path.  You walked Elsie to the end of the dock and invited her to jump.  And that, dearest Jennie, is the vast difference between what you did to her and what you did to the man you once controlled.  You left him no choice at all.  You created choice for Elsie, through the sheer force of your wisdom and your very sharp eyes.

Perhaps the small piece you missed was in not expecting her to wait to jump until she was alone.  Melvin says to remind you there was once another young woman who took a bus ride to a mental ward.  Alone.  And her mentor wasn’t expecting that either.

Ah, marvelous Jennie.  You are human.  You will fail.  But this is not one of those times.

Be gentle with yourself.  And then stop hiding in your darkroom and go be with the people who love you.

Our deepest love,

Vero

Chapter 23

Elsie patted her bag.  Coming up, one day of sensory activity in the company of other people.  The kind that wouldn’t scare her half to death.  She’d spent a dozen hours reading everything she could find on her magically induced personality type, and tried to consider what she would suggest to a client.

A day in Knit a Spell was her first self-prescription.  Or it would be, as soon as Caro arrived to open the store.  According to the brochure she’d picked up on her last trip, today was drop-in knitting.  Well, she planned to drop and stay.

Perhaps a common interest would help her connect more easily with strangers.  Knitters seemed to have fairly fluid boundaries, judging from how many had come to inspect her yarn pile during her last visit.  Elsie shook her head, suddenly amused at her own psychobabble.  They had seemed to be nice people.  She hoped spending the day with them would be fun.

“Good morning.  You here to knit?”  Caro bent her head down to unlock the door.

“I am.  If that’s okay.”  It suddenly occurred to Elsie that perhaps Caro wouldn’t want her underfoot all day long.

“’Course it’s okay.  The ladies will enjoy some fresh blood.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting.

It didn’t take very long to figure out exactly what Caro meant.  Nobody waited for Elsie to do the connecting. And nobody cared if she was an introvert, extrovert, or hippopota-vert.  They only cared that she was a knitter.

“Only two bags, huh?”  Helga was eighty, feisty, and the fastest knitter Elsie had ever seen.  “We’ll have to work on that.  It’s not a respectable stash until it has its own room.”

Tori, a twenty-three-year-old with a baby sleeping at her feet, giggled.  “Helga’s a yarn pusher.  When I started coming here a year ago, I thought she was kidding.”

Helga grinned.  “We got you fixed up right well, missy.  And that baby boy of yours looks very cute in his jumper today.”

The jumper was adorable.  “Is it hard to knit small things like that?”

Tori snickered.  “Uh, oh.  Now you’ve done it.”

Elsie tried not to cower as four women with knitting needles all surrounded her.

“Simmer down, ladies—we’re scaring her.”  Marion was a sizable British woman who disdained the circular needles as “newfangled gadgets.”  Half the converging crowd backed away.  She patted Elsie’s hand.  “Relax, sweetie.  We’re not asking you to fly on a trapeze or anything.  Just a little knitting.”

“Every little one deserves something lovely and hand-knit to wear.  It’s not overly difficult, and a good way to learn.”  Helga held out a couple of balls for Elsie to inspect.  “You use nice lightweight yarns for babies.  This one here is called baby yarn, but me, I like the hand-dyed sock yarns like this one.  More color and punch to them.  Babies like color.”

The figure-eight skein looked like a rainbow had exploded in a field of sheep.  Gorgeous slashes of color, one running into the next.  She tried, really tried, to resist.  And then touched the cloud-soft yarn and was lost.  “I’ll need some help.”

Marion pushed over a chair for herself, and a second one for Helga.  “Let’s start with a little hat.  Caro, ring her up for a skein of the rainbow painted, and one of the number three tiny circulars.”  She patted Elsie’s knee.  “I have some double-pointed needles you can borrow for the top.  Won’t take but a couple of hours, if you can sit with us a while longer.”

Tori giggled from her chair.  “They do it every time.  You did pretty good, Elsie—you made it a whole half hour before they had you going on a new project.”

Marion snorted.  “Tori only made it ten minutes, but she was easy pickings with a baby in her belly.  Come on over, Caro—you can show Elsie how to wind her skein.  You’ve got the touch.”

Caro grinned as she sat down.  “Did anybody tell you how much this stuff costs?”

Elsie had never hurt for money, but she considered good financial management an important life skill.  Then, copying Caro, she picked up her skein to begin winding and sighed.  “It doesn’t matter.  I don’t seem to be able to give it back.”

Caro chuckled and showed Elsie how to sling the loose yarn over the back of a chair.  “Nice work, ladies.”

“We do what we can.”  Helga chortled and high-fived Marion.

“You doing okay?” Caro spoke quietly as her competent hands showed Elsie how to wind a ball.

Elsie watched the colorful wool running through her fingers and onto the growing ball in her hands.  “I think so.”  She was going to have to add a line item in her budget for knitting supplies, but she had new friends, a project, and beauty in her hands.  All good things, according to her new personality profile.  It was a nice feeling.

Who was she kidding?  It was more addictive than chocolate.

~ ~ ~

The last time there had been an envelope on Lizard’s doorstep, it had been a notice of eviction letter.  This one was a letter—but the similarities ended there.

Dear Lizard,

It occurs to me that I haven’t made very clear what your options are at Berkeley Realty.  I’d like to rectify that now.  Attached you’ll find two job descriptions.  One is for an assistant.  The other is for a realtor-in-training.  I hope whichever one you choose, you’ll find the remainder of your WitchLight internship an enjoyable and challenging experience.

Know that I believe you have the talent and skill to do either.  You have already shown yourself to be a resourceful and hardworking assistant.  I also believe you have the courage that would be necessary to do the hard, soul-searching work to become a realtor.  What I don’t know is whether you have the desire.

I figured it was time to stop gently (or perhaps not so gently) pushing, and give you a choice.  Take the day off, rest your feet, think a little, and let me know what you’d like to do.

See you tonight,

Lauren

Lizard pulled off the paper-clipped pages with serious trepidation.  She didn’t do the kinds of jobs that had descriptions longer than “do whatever you’re told.”

These were a lot more detailed.  She looked at the one for Assistant.  There were a lot of fancy words, but it basically boiled down to making more maps, being nice to clients, and leaving the hard stuff to Lauren.  Other than the whole “uphold the reputation of Berkeley Realty for superior client service,” she figured it was pretty much what she’d already been doing.  With lunch breaks.

And a salary.  Jeebers.  For that kind of money, she’d be as client service-y as Lauren wanted.  Done.  Agreed.  Where did she sign?

Then she looked at the second job description.  The one where the money doubled.  Holy frack.  That was the kind of money where people expected sexual favors and crap.

Nah.  That wasn’t Lauren’s thing.

Lizard held the paper gingerly.  What did she want?  Because that kind of price tag had to come with some strings.

She read the page very slowly.  Oooh, yeah.  Lots of strings.  They were called things like “job requirements” and “developmental opportunities,” but they were fat, rope-sized strings.  Being responsible.  Being reliable.  Doing a decent imitation of an actual real estate agent.

And if she managed to pull it off, she’d get an all-expense paid trip through realtor school and a ten-percent cut of all future commissions.  Twenty percent when she qualified for her license.  All of that on top of more money than God.

There was only one place to go when crap fell from the sky, even if it was gold-plated crap. She needed to think.  She figured it was some kind of karmic sign when Freddie pulled up to the bus stop about thirty seconds after she arrived.

“You riding with me today, girlie?  Long time, no see.  You’re looking good—real fancy.”

Lizard looked down.  She’d dressed for work before she’d discovered the envelope on her front doorstep.  Skirts and fancy shoes weren’t her usual bus-riding attire.  “Got an office job now.”

“You running again?”  Freddie looked surprisingly disapproving.

“Nah.  Day off, and I got some thinking to do.”

He grinned.  “No better place for thinking than a bus.”

Probably she and Freddie were the only two people on earth who believed that, but whatever.  She tucked into a seat at the front—this time of day, the riding crowd would be light.  “You want bacon, or sausage and jelly?”

He chuckled.  “Have I ever changed my answer to that?”

Nope.  She reached into the bag for a sausage and jelly biscuit.

He chuckled again.  “Maybe today’s a good day for somethin’ new.  Gimme one of them bacon ones.”

Crap.  The whole world was changing on her today.  “You want lettuce on that, too?”

He looked properly horrified.  “You trying to kill me, girlie?”

She laughed.  Okay, maybe not everything had changed.  Leaning back against the seat, she bit into a sausage and grape jelly biscuit, contemplated her weird life, and let the words roll around in her head.

Some days the words sorted themselves out quickly.  Today they took three loops and a couple of concerned stares from the man driving the bus.  When she finally got the first line right, the rest came easily.

It’s my life.

Step right, or step wrong,

Grip the dangling strings or

Dance free and stupid.

Up gets you burned, down gets you stepped on.

Or maybe not.

A new world’s got new rules

And a dress code for your soul.

Chains not allowed.

The last line made her squirm, but it insisted on staying.

~ ~ ~

Jamie settled their new guests in the living room and went to fetch tea.  He brought back four mugs—Nat would be home soon.

Vero smiled when he offered treats along with the tea.  “Thank you, darling.  Are those Nell’s Nutella cookies?”

“They are.”  He grinned.  “And before you ask—yes, I swiped them.”

“Of course you did, my boy.”  She settled back into her chair with a smile.  “We didn’t give you any warning we were coming, did we?  And I’m sure Nell will find some suitable form of payback.”

She always did.  Jamie put Melvin’s tea down at his right hand, a cookie at his left.  “You’re always welcome, but what prompted the last-minute trip?”  He was well aware the two of them rarely left their San Diego home any more.

“Jennie needed us.”  Melvin bit into his cookie and sighed happily.  “So we came.”

Jennie?  Aunt Jennie?  “What am I missing? What’s up with Aunt Jennie?”

Melvin chewed contemplatively.  “I believe that’s for her to tell, if she chooses.”

Okay—when witches started keeping secrets, that was serious.

“Besides,” Vero said, “I heard there was a musical gathering this evening.  How could I not come?”

Jamie winced.  Karaoke night was probably not an opera star’s idea of a musical gathering.  Especially when it was run by nine-year-olds.

Vero set down her tea and let loose gales of laughter.  “My boy, do you really think I’m that much of a musical snob?”

Ouch.  Busted.  “I’m not sure triplet girls trying to sing Madonna classics qualifies as music.”

“Oh, what short memories you young people have.”  Vero was still highly amused.  “I seem to remember you and your brothers doing a very diligent imitation of The Boss when you were about that age.”  She paused a beat.  “Sadly, none of you can sing any better than my cat, but it was a lovely effort.”

Double ouch.  It was always hard to be a respected adult when people remembered him from back in his nose-picking days.

“Don’t tease him so,” Melvin said.  “It’s not his fault they chose one of your favorites to sing.”

Vero liked Bruce Springsteen?  Not that he wasn’t worth liking, but…

Now they were both laughing at him.  He gave in and joined them.  “The two of you are hard on a guy’s ego.”

“Only when he deserves it, my dear.”  Vero waved her tea mug royally.  “And now I believe my man has heard your wife coming home.”

Dang it, he was a mind witch.  How was Melvin out-hearing him?

Vero laughed again.  “That is a question for the ages.  My Melvin just knows things.”

Now he could sense Nat’s presence on the walkway.  She wasn’t nearly as tired coming home these days as she had been in the first trimester, for which he was grateful.

He met her at the door.  “Hey, sweetie.  Welcome home.  We have visitors.”

She grinned.  “And Nutella cookies.”

Pregnant noses had superpowers.  “I ported them from Nell’s house.  If you eat them, you have to help me do penance.”

“You did the crime.”  Nat kissed his cheek.  “But she has a fondness for small-boy pranks.”

Punked again, this time by his wife.  He motioned toward the living room.  Any more of a wait and two very old witches would be struggling up from their chairs.

Nat walked into the room ahead of him, kissed Vero, and then headed straight for Melvin.  “You came.”

Jamie’s frowned.  “Did you invite them?”  It figured his wife had a hand in this.

“No.”  She shook her head, eyes still on Melvin.  “But you would have known Jennie needed you.  Thank you.”  She knelt down in front of him, putting his hands on her face.  They communed together in silence for a moment.

“Two wise ones.”  Vero’s eyes crinkled as she spoke softly to Jamie.  “We’re very lucky they chose us.”

“Yes, we are,” Jamie said.  And wondered what the heck he’d missed about his favorite aunt.

Chapter 24

If you wanted an evening of glitter, giggles, and a lot of noise, there was no more sure way than putting three nine-year-olds in charge.  Jennie looked around Nell’s back yard and laughed.  “Did you put the magical barrier bubble up?”

“Oooh, yeah.”  Nell set down a plate of brownies.  “That was Aervyn’s job, with Jamie acting as backup.”

Several dozen witches with microphones could come up with any number of ways to disturb the neighbors.  Or scare them silly.  Jamie had spellcast an emergency bubble during Aervyn’s birth.  The ground had still rumbled and lightning had still flashed, but those outside the bubble had been buffered from most of the other side-effects of raging power streams.

Since then, it had come in handy whenever somebody threw a party in the middle of town and invited a bunch of witches.  Which happened reasonably often.

“Aunt Jennie!  Come test the sound system with us!”  The triplets stood on the makeshift stage, mikes in their hands.

Jennie clapped her hands over her ears.  Clearly the sound system was working just fine.

Mia giggled.  “Sorry, we forgot we were miked.  We won’t yell again.  Come on, we’re gonna do Summer Nights.  You can be Danny.”

Now there was a shocker.  Since a moment of insanity when the girls were about four, she’d always been Danny to their collective Sandy.  She rolled her eyes at Nell.  “One day they’re actually going to understand the lyrics to this song, and you’re going to give me grief.”

Nell snickered.  “Yeah.  But until then, you guys are really cute.  Aervyn’s been practicing greased-hair illusions just for you.”

Jennie gave in to the inevitable and headed for the stage.  Given the number of witches already in the back yard, this would likely get the party rolling, and the girls knew it.  She reached for her inner swagger and jumped up on stage, reaching for the fourth mike.  “‘Summer lovin’, had me a blast—’”

The girls came in right on cue.  “‘Summer lovin’, happened so fast—’”

“‘I met a girl, crazy for me—’”

“‘I met a boy, cute as can be—’”   Three sets of fluttering eyelashes nearly sent Jennie into uncontrollable giggles.

By the time they’d hit the chorus, half the back yard was singing.  She looked around, enjoying the off-key happiness.  And then her eyes landed on a wish granted.

Tears falling, she handed her mike to Ginia and walked off stage, gripping her pendant tightly.  Melvin’s arms were ready when she arrived.  She clung for a moment, marveling as always at the gentle strength that emanated from his elderly frame.  “You came.”

“Of course, my sweet.  Did you think otherwise?”

No.  In her heart of hearts, she’d known they would come.  “I’m sorry to have made you travel so far.”

“Nonsense.  We’re not dead yet.”  Vero gripped her hand.  “And we were promised music.”  She looked toward the stage and lifted an eyebrow.  “Aervyn doesn’t have quite your skill with Danny.  You need to mindsend him the words.”

Jennie followed her gaze and laughed.  Karaoke didn’t work quite as well if you couldn’t read yet.  She mentally pinged her nephew.  “Jamie will do it.  I’ll fetch you some drinks, or something to eat.”

Nat slid in by her right shoulder.  “Done.  Two plates of food, and I think Caro’s coming with drinks.”  She cupped Melvin’s face and grinned.  “I expect you to sing with me later.”

Melvin’s cheeks glowed pink.  “I’m not much of a singer, young lady.”

“Perfect.  You’ll make me sound so much better, then.”

Melvin’s laughter bubbled through Jennie’s soul.  She reached for his hand.  Thank you.

“One day, my dear, you’ll understand that it’s I who should be thanking you.”

She grinned.  “Still being cryptic, I see.”

“Of course.  Now, tell me what it is that the lovely Nat has brought on my plate.”

Jennie walked him through the food, neatly laid out in the four quarters that were the easiest way for him to navigate.  And then realized she hadn’t eaten in two days.

He lifted a hand up.  “Go.  Witches need to keep their strength up, even when hiding in their darkrooms.”

She smiled fondly at him.  He always knew.

~ ~ ~

Elsie walked out Nell’s back door and was assaulted by the noise.  How had she missed this cacophony from the street?  It was ear-numbing.  “You’re a woman who seeks out sensory experiences,” she mumbled under her breath.  “It’s not noise, it’s… amusement for your ears.”

The little boy she’d often seen with Jamie walked up and wiggled his fingers a little, and the sound suddenly got quieter.  Then he took off before she could thank him.

Jamie appeared at her side.  “Did Aervyn regulate the noise for you a little?”

“I believe so.”  She looked out at the chaos of sound and color in the back yard.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a karaoke party before.”

He laughed.  “You’ve definitely never been to one like this.  Can I take your bag, put it away somewhere for you?”

Elsie gripped it a little tighter, not exactly sure when a bag of yarn had become her security blanket.  “Not now, thank you.  I was hoping to speak with Nat—do you know where she is?”

“Right here.”  Nat popped up at Jamie’s elbow.  “Good to see you, Elsie.  Let me know if you need earplugs or something to eat that’s not fat or chocolate.”

Jamie snickered.  “There’s tofu and yogurt in the fridge.”

Did anyone in their right mind eat yogurt with the smells wafting through the yard?  Elsie clutched her hands, trying to stay on topic.  “I wanted to thank you, Nat.  I’m guessing studio fires and panic attacks weren’t what you signed up for when you agreed to be my placement.”

Nat’s eyes twinkled.  “I don’t think they’re what you signed up for either.”

Elsie’s breath let out in a whoosh of laughter.  “You can say that again.”  She reached into her bag, all the while mentally telling the old Elsie to sit down and be quiet.  “I made you something.”

She held out her little hand-knit offering and watched two sets of eyes mist over.  “It’s kind of uneven.  Helga says I’ll get better with practice, but—”  she took a deep breath, “first steps are the hardest.  You were there for me while I took mine.”  And she was offering up a little wool hat she was unreasonably proud of as thanks.  The old Elsie would have hidden it in the bottom of a closet.  She was pretty sure Nat would know that.

Nat held the little baby hat, with all its imperfections, as if it were spun gold, tears running down her cheeks.

Jamie hugged Elsie’s shoulders.  “Now you’ve done it.  Our little girl will probably go to kindergarten still wearing that hat.”

Elsie sniffled.  “I can make a bigger one.”

Jamie moved to hug his wife.  Then he winked at Elsie.  “Look out—the posse’s coming.  They can smell new blood from a mile away.”

She didn’t have long to wonder what he was talking about.  The triplets who had been responsible for her lime-green nails were now dragging her toward what looked far too much like a stage.  “I can’t sing, girls.  I don’t know the words.”

Mia giggled.  “They’re on a screen up there.  You just have to pick a song.”  They shoveled Elsie the last few steps up onto stage.  “You can ask for somebody to sing with you, if you want.”

Oh, no.  If she was going to thoroughly embarrass herself, she was going to do it alone.  And much to her surprise, it seemed like she was going to do it.  Something in her couldn’t say no to these particular shiny faces.

She reached for courage and turned to the list of song choices, reading through them in growing panic.  She never listened to popular music.  Her mother had insisted on the classics.  “I don’t know any of these.”

Ginia sat down at the computer.  “No problem.  Google has everything.  What do you know?”

Elsie desperately cast around for something she knew with actual words, and remembered a long-ago recital piece.  “Maybe ‘Morning Has Broken?’”

Ginia looked blank, but ran a search.  Moments later, she had the words up on the large screen that was acting as a teleprompter.  Mia handed over the mike.  “Ready when you are.”

Elsie stared out at the back yard and all the faces turned her way.  And then her newfound wisps of courage totally deserted her.  Slowly she lowered the mike, closed her eyes, and wished for an invisibility spell.

“Since when do we let people sing alone?”

Elsie’s eyes flew open.  She didn’t recognize the woman with the big voice making her way up onto the stage.

Shay protested.  “We tried to tell her, Vero!”

Vero smiled and turned to the audience, stage presence oozing out of every pore of her body.  “What are we singing, dear girl?  She squinted at the screen.  “Ginia darling, can you make that bigger?  My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

A few clicks and the words doubled in size.  Vero stared at the title and then beamed at Elsie.  “A most appropriate choice.”  She waved in Ginia’s direction.  “We won’t be needing the words, my dear.  I believe we both know them.”

She grasped Elsie’s numb hands and led her to the front of the stage, then turned so they faced each other.  Her eyes held kindness—and royal command.  “Why don’t you start us off?  I’ll do the harmony.”

Elsie would never know where she found the words, or the breath to sing them.  She was fairly positive not a soul in the back yard heard the first whispers of song coming out of her mouth.

And then Vero began to sing.  The lightest and quietest of harmonies to start, taking Elsie’s whisper and floating it up on a current of rich sound.

By the time they got to the third verse, Elsie believed it was morning.  She could feel the dewdrops under her feet, the light on her face, and the possibility of new beginning swirling through her soul.  She sang in the presence of greatness and felt her heart believe.

When they finished, the back yard was absolutely silent.  Vero held Elsie’s hands and nodded in approval.  “You sing well, my dear.  With elegant passion.  You will come see me in San Diego, and I will teach you to sing.”

Elsie just stared.  “I know your voice.”

Veronica Liantro, said Jamie’s voice inside her head.  Famous opera singer, baker of cookies, and co-leader of WitchLight.  Sorry about the lack of introduction.

Elsie’s breath hitched in shock, stuck on Jamie’s first three words.  More than famous.  She was holding hands with the best operatic alto of her generation.  As a small girl, she’d fallen asleep to the sounds of that marvelous voice drifting from the record player in her father’s art studio.  “My father called you an angel.”

Vero’s laughter rang in the silence.  “Anything but, my dear girl.”  She kissed Elsie’s cheeks, and then blew kisses to the crowd and walked offstage to the sounds of ear-popping clapping and laughter.

Elsie made it as far as the bottom of the steps before her legs gave out.  She’d sung a duet with Veronica Liantro.  At witch karaoke night.  This was definitely not the old Elsie’s life.

And she kind of liked the bits of the new Elsie she’d managed to find so far.

~ ~ ~

Lizard slunk in the gate to Jamie’s back yard, well aware she was late.  Strappy heels were hell to run in.  Probably why she’d never owned a pair before in her life.

She jumped as a young and very loud voice boomed out.  “Auntie Nat, Uncle Jamie—your turn!”  And jumped again as the theme track from Dirty Dancing blasted into the night air.

Lizard grinned as a laughing Nat got dragged up on stage by her husband, brownie still in her hands.  Jamie took care of the brownie by shoving it in his mouth, much to their audience’s glee.

A couple of minutes later, two things were very clear.  One, neither of them could sing on-key to save their lives.  And two—wow, could they dance.

Lauren appeared out of the shadows, grinning and holding out a brownie on a napkin.  She tipped her head toward the stage.  “That’s a good number to do at karaoke night if you can’t actually sing.”

Not if you couldn’t actually dance, either.  Lizard was seriously regretting the new shoes now—she’d probably break an ankle by the end of the night.

“Cute skirt.”  Lauren looked down.  “And awesome shoes.  What’s the occasion?”

Frack, couldn’t she at least get some chocolate and noise into herself before the big event?  She closed her eyes, reached into her bag for the lime-green folder, and handed it to Lauren.  “It’s my counter offer.”

She could feel Lauren’s mental surprise, but nothing showed on her face.  “Do you want me to read it now?”

Hell, yes.  Then maybe she could ditch the shoes.  Lizard tried not to squirm.  Real-estate professionals didn’t wiggle.

Lauren read carefully for a few minutes, and then looked up and closed the folder.  “Interesting offer.  Tell me why.”

Dang it, she was not going to squirm.  “Well, I think I can make a pretty good assistant, so that’s what I want to do four days a week.  Good for you, and not too crazy for me, so long as you don’t have any more hike-all-over-freaking-Berkeley projects in mind.”

Lauren grinned.  “Not at the moment.”  She tapped the folder.  “I’m more interested in what you want to do the fifth day a week.”

Crap.  She thought she’d made that part really clear.  “I want to follow you around.”

“I know what a job shadow is.  But this page doesn’t tell me why.”

Lizard hedged.  “Well, I don’t know half of what you do.  I thought this way, I could try it out.”  She shrugged.  “Maybe I’ll hate it.”

“You’re asking to follow me around to see if you’ll hate it?”  Lauren chuckled.  “Now there’s a good sales pitch.”

Triple crap.  “Maybe I’ll like it, but I figured I should see for myself.”

“Skeptical, are you?”  Lauren smiled.  “Not a bad quality in a real estate agent.”  She opened the folder again.  “The laptop’s a good idea—sorry, I should have thought of that already.  What’s the deal with the realtor course, though?  It’s not a difficult certification.  Work, but you wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

Lizard stuck out her chin.  “Is it required?”

“No.”  Lauren shook her head slowly.  “But I’d like to know why you’re taking such a strong position against doing it.”

Once a delinquent, always a delinquent.  “You have to have a high school diploma.  For the certification.  I couldn’t find one that didn’t need it.”

Lauren blinked.  “You didn’t finish high school?”

No, and she was tired of not getting even crappy jobs because of it.  “I flunked out.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow.  “What really happened?”  Then she stopped and held up a hand.  “Never mind.  I don’t need to know the answer to that.”

For some totally stupid reason, Lizard needed to give it.  “I got kicked out.  Because of the SATs.”

“What does high school have to do with the SATs?”

“They said I cheated.  Because I got too high a score.  I didn’t.  I didn’t cheat.”  And nobody had ever believed her.

“Really.”  Lauren paused a beat.  “How high did you score?”

“1600.”

“They kicked you out of high school for a perfect SAT score?”  Lauren started laughing so hard, she had to hold onto the fence.  “Idiots.  Bastards.”

Some nasty pile of ooze in Lizard’s soul quietly slunk away.  “You believe me?”

“Girl, I’ve seen your maps.  And your vocabulary.”  Lauren got her amusement under control.  “Good SATs will help, though.  I’m thinking you could skip high school and go straight to the community college here.  Fill in a few holes, maybe work on an associate’s degree or something.”

Yeah.  Because stuff like that happened on Planet Reality.  “I can’t get into college.”

“Why not?”

“I have no diploma, and a record.”  Being a dumb criminal didn’t look too good on a college application.

Lauren raised an eyebrow.  Jamie, get over here, please.

Jamie showed up in ten seconds.  “What’s up?”

“Lizard got 1600 on her SATs.  Can you get her admitted at Berkeley City College?  To do her GED or whatever else she might want to do?”

“Yeah.  Not a problem.  Aurelia works in admissions.”  Jamie stared at Lizard.  “1600?  Really?”

She stuck out her chin.  “I didn’t cheat.”

“Duh.”  Jamie rolled his eyes.  “And even if you’d wanted to, I’m guessing nobody else in the room got a perfect score.”

Lizard blinked.  Hard.  No one had ever had enough faith in her to bother to ask.

“Come see me tomorrow.”  He patted her arm and disappeared.

“Come see me first.”  Lauren tucked the folder in her bag.  “It’s a good opening position.  We’ll talk over the details tomorrow, but I think we can make this work.”

As Lizard wandered off in a daze to the rocking sounds of Hit Me With Your Best Shot, she had the distinct mental image of Lauren flipping somersaults.  Weird.  Clearly she needed some chocolate.

~ ~ ~

It was a pretty raucous evening’s entertainment for an old accountant.  Melvin could feel the bass of the music vibrating right up through his chair.  And the love in the place traveling through his heart.  His Jennie might have hit a bump, but she was surrounded by people who loved her.

“Ah, my love.” Vero patted his hand.  “You still worry too much after all these years.”

He smiled her way.  “It got you an evening out.  With music, no less.  That was a rather lovely duet you sang, my dear.”

She snorted.  “It was rusty, creaky, and just barely on key.”

“It was the Liantro magic—and you know it.”  He paused a moment, appreciating her.  “It’s not often you sing the supporting notes.”

She squeezed his fingers.  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you after all this time, it’s that the best work is sometimes done from the background.”

He chuckled.  “I’m not sure you went that far—it was still a stage.”

Her laugh was rich and deep.  “Yes, it was.  And I rather thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

She would have a student again.  He never thought he’d see the day.

Vero reached away for a moment and then put a box in his hand.  “It’s time for the quiet accountant to take the spotlight and do what he does best.  Where’s our small boy at?”

“Right here!” said a voice beside his ear.

Melvin reached out a finger to tickle the nearby ribs.  Aervyn’s giggles had always been full of magic.  “Will you ask everyone to pay attention, special boy?  I have a few things to say.”

No one ignored Aervyn’s mindspeaking.  Probably because they were aware that if you didn’t listen fairly quickly to his first request, he had a tendency to get a bit loud.

Melvin chucked as silence hit.  “Nicely done, and thank you.”

He could sense Aervyn settling at his knee, anticipating his next request.  It had been a true miracle the first time he’d been able to see the face of his beloved Vero through Aervyn’s eyes.  He would treasure every moment of tonight’s chance to “have his eyes on.”

He gazed at his wife for a moment, drinking the love shining in her eyes, and then spoke out to the waiting faces.  “If you’ll humor an old man for a moment, we have a couple of gifts to deliver.”  He touched the boxes in his lap.  “We’ve been remiss.  As she always does, Jennie has created something new from the old.  This is the first time a WitchLight guide has recruited assistants.  Nat, Lauren, we’ve brought two pendants to honor the commitment we’re grateful you’ve already made.”

He watched Jennie beam in approval as Nat and Lauren came forward and accepted their blue and silver teardrops.  It was the clearest signal he could send her.  She didn’t work alone.

That task completed, he looked out again at those gathered.  “Every WitchLight student is also given one of these special pendants.  They carry an aquamarine crystal and a few little spells to enhance the crystal’s natural energies.  They are a small gift to those on a large journey.”

Seeking Jennie’s face, he smiled.  “It’s a rare student who puts theirs on when they get it.  Many take a few days.  Some take weeks, and one memorable woman took over two months.”  The audience laughed, well familiar with Jennie’s story.  “Accepting the weight and gift it offers is a sign that you have accepted your true purpose, your true journey with us.”

To his utter delight, it was Lizard who held up her pendant first, dangling it from her fingers like day-old gym shorts.  “What kind of journey?”

Ah, such a skeptical heart.  She so reminded him of his Jennie.  “Many of us have chains on our souls, and a rusty old lock clamping them all together.  In my experience, putting on your pendant is a sign you have found the key to your lock, and are willing to use it.”

“And then we’re all free and easy?”  She sounded entirely unconvinced.

He smiled.  Just delightful.  “Not at all.  Call this the point of being unlocked, but not yet unfettered.”  He might be an accountant, but he fully understood the power of just the right word.

As did she.  Lizard’s eyes gleamed.  “So we’re still wearing the chains, huh?”

“Yes.”  Once again he sought Jennie’s face.  “And some of us insist on carrying around at least a link or two for a long time.”  He looked back at Lizard.  And waited.

She scowled at the pendant.  “It doesn’t exactly match my usual accessories.”

Melvin’s laugh rang out.  He could love this one like his own.  “You’re not the first witch to say so, my dear.”  He could hear Jennie’s quiet chuckles.  And the collective exhale in those gathered as Lizard slowly clipped the pendant around her neck.

It was a commitment to them all, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet.

One down.  One to go.

He turned to face Elsie, and said not a word.  With this one, he would either win or lose—there would be no persuading.

She asked only one question.  “And what does it mean for me?”

Ah, such wisdom in this one.  And such yearning.  He held his hands out toward the gathered faces.  “A simple awareness that you don’t need to be alone with your chains.  It is not a solitary journey that calls to you, Elsie Giannotto.  Let us be there.  As you succeed, and as you fail.”

It was a gamble, and he could feel Jennie’s anguish through the pendants that connected them both.  Vero squeezed his fingers gently, as they all felt Elsie teetering.  And then Nat walked over, knelt in front of Elsie, and gently took the pendant out of her frozen fingers.  There were no words.  Natalia Sullivan needed none.

Very slowly, Elsie nodded.  And as tears rolled down her cheeks, Nat clipped the pendant around her neck.

Melvin could hear his wife sniffling beside him.  She’d always been one for deeply emotional moments.

Chapter 25

Jennie reached for her drying line, first of the evening’s prints in her hands.  She grinned at the trio of curly heads belting out the lyrics to “Any Man of Mine.”

It had been second only to Caro’s rendition of “Ring of Fire,” complete with a three-foot wall of flames.  Elsie had been a bit bug-eyed after that particular song was over.

She moved quickly down the line now—the first batch was mostly snapshots from the entertainment part of the evening.  She slowed when she reached the portraits.

Melvin in the first moment of joy when Aervyn “put his eyes on,” gazing at his wife.  Jennie had tried over the years—Aervyn was the only mind witch alive with the strength and finesse needed to live-project what Melvin looked at.  And Melvin refused to lay that burden on the shoulders of a small boy very often.

Lauren, studiously reading the contents of a lime-green folder.  Jennie was still kicking herself for missing the shot, a few minutes later, of her gleeful tap dance in the lee of the big oak tree.  Nobody knew how to stage a negotiation better than Lauren, but Lizard had managed to surprise her.

Jamie, eyes dark, smiling at a little knitted beanie in his hands.  Elsie didn’t know it yet, but she’d created an heirloom.  No one appreciated the intent behind a gift more than Nat.

Jennie had reached the end of her first drying line.  Stretching her back out for a moment, she contemplated the first row of pictures, and smiled at the familiar sense of impatience.  Like always, she’d saved the best for last.  It was the four portraits in her last trays that she knew would tell the true story of the night.

She lifted the first, feeling the moment emanating out of the photograph.  Vero, with all the tools of decades on the stage, singing possibility into every cell of Elsie’s soul.  It had been a magnificent performance.

Second only to Nat, on her knees, Elsie’s pendant in her hand.  It was her eyes that captured Jennie.  There was only one other set of eyes that held that kind of wisdom, married to that kind of compassion.  She’d seen glimpses of it before, but this picture told a story yet to be written.  One day, witch or not, Nat would be Melvin’s heir as the wise one of their community.  She had his eyes.

The last two portraits were of her students.  She reached for the easier of the two first.  Lizard, looking the young and hip professional in strappy sandals, asymmetrical skirt, and shiny pendant—nose-to-nose with Ginia, rocking to some rap song way out of Jennie’s musical neighborhood.  There was still some running left in that girl.  But in those shoes, they’d be able to catch her.

She closed her eyes before pulling the last print out of its developing tray.  It had cost her to take this one.  Elsie, sitting in befuddled happiness, knitting in her hands.  Caro on one side, Nat on the other.  Flanked by the two who had truly been her guides, who had found a way to appreciate both the woman she was, and the woman she might become.

Jennie closed her eyes tight.  She hadn’t, and in her heart, Elsie still wasn’t quite hers yet.

The guide must journey too.

She reached out a hand to each of her student’s faces.  Her two girls, pendants around their necks—unlocked, but not yet unfettered.  They still had a ways to travel together.

More of Lizard and Elsie’s story in the remaining two books of the trilogy, available soon.

(see next page for details)

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