Debora Geary: A Nomadic Witch

From power below to power above.

With my circle, five times three

As I will, so mote it be.”

Power exploded up through his channels, a torrent of sheer energy. Marcus wove madly, trying to bring five raging flows into balance. For a man who’d spent his whole life managing four, it was a hell of a brain stretch.

And it wasn’t right. He could feel it. The circle wobbled, tilted on an axis of uneven power.

His mind raced, seeking a solution. Jamie said it could be done.

And then he had it. Kevin! Niece! Warrior Girl! Marcus mindsent what he needed, praying it made sense.

The circle’s power flows wobbled dangerously, trio leaders straining to right the tilt-and then snapped into place. Four streaming columns of energy, wrapped in a dancing weave of Net power.

Net power wasn’t a fifth element. It was the energy that united them, held them together in community. Rooted them.

And it was the power that would bring Morgan home.

He was not alone this time.

Quickly now, Marcus leaned back into the streaming power flows, ignoring the aching shear as soul separated from body.

His mind already sought lavender eyes. Morgan. Baby girl, let me see you. The mists closed in more quickly this time-thick and green and full of evil.

No. The mists weren’t evil. They just were .

Marcus clenched mental fists and imagined them as ocean waves or tornado winds. Mighty. Sometimes deadly. But not evil.

I’m coming, sweet girl. He tried to hold an image of her in his mind. The ethereal, fairylike waif that flitted in front of his eyes annoyed the hell out of him. His Morgan was no fairy. It’s cold up here, silly widget, and I bet you’ve kicked off your socks again. Her image firmed up. Better. He kicked, the streaming power of the circle at his back. I bet you’d like a bottle of that mysterious white stuff, and a nice walk on the beach.

Beach. They’d been on the beach.

He felt humor shining through the fear. You’ve still got sand in your hair, don’t you ? Good, solid Nova Scotia beach sand, up here in the mists with you. Her face danced in his mind now, real and solid and blowing raspberries.

Raspberries.

Marcus pulled on every ounce of mind power he’d ever had, his fingers madly weaving a broadcasting spell with Net magic, and held the sound of Morgan’s best and loudest raspberry in his mind. I bet you can’t do that again.

This time, it wasn’t just his head that heard her reply.

Mind and heart wide open, Marcus grabbed the power of fifteen willing witches and hurtled toward his baby girl.

She was warm.

Before he ever opened his eyes, Marcus knew his beautiful girl was just fine.

She was warm-and blowing raspberries.

He nuzzled into her soft hair. “I bet your uncle Evan found those rather amusing.” He hadn’t seen his brother-but when he’d reached Morgan, Evan’s presence had been thick around her. Protecting. Calling.

Sending the sound of one small girl’s raspberries through the mist.

With infinite care, he touched the sand in her wispy hair. And dragged his eyes away long enough to thank the beach that had helped call her back.

It wasn’t the sand his eyes discovered.

Every witch he knew stood on Evan’s beach, holding love for him and his precious girl in their eyes.

This. It was this that had called them home. He’d been lonely his whole life, surrounded by this sea of love.

Marcus nuzzled the bright-eyed baby in his arms-and knew he had one more job to do. Carefully, on legs still shaking from more than one kind of journey, he made his way over to the woman who had always been his rock.

Reaching for Aunt Moira’s hand, he looked out at those gathered. “If I can ask for your help one more time. I know how to keep her safe. Forever. All our travelers.”

Not one word was spoken. Not a single question asked. Just every person on the beach, quietly taking a step forward.

The matriarch of them all squeezed his hand a little more tightly.

Marcus sought the eyes of the two whose permission he needed. “It will make a royal mess in Realm.”

Jamie nodded, Kenna eating sand in his arms. Whatever you need.

Nell’s mind spiked amusement. We’ll put you in charge of the clean-up crew.

Wordless, Marcus sent out the image of what he wanted to create, into the minds and hearts of those who would help him build it. Some nodded. Some smiled.

But it was the old woman beside him who understood best. “We won’t lose any more.” Moira patted his arm, tears streaming down her cheeks. “There will be no more Evans. They’ll be able to come home.”

His own tears threatening, Marcus reached out for the closest hand. He was tired-but it was time.

“Wait.” Elorie spoke quietly and stepped out of the crowd. “I found this on the beach yesterday. It matches Morgan’s eyes.” She held up a small pendant, lavender sea glass dangling from a simple silver chain.

It was the prettiest damned anchor he’d ever seen. Carefully, he slipped it around his daughter’s neck-and chuckled as she tried to eat it. “I hope you waterproofed it.”

Elorie’s eyes sparked with amused fire. “I did. And several other things you haven’t even thought to worry about yet.”

Morgan blew another raspberry and tried to catch the shiny toy around her neck.

Marcus reached for Elorie’s hand. “I could use your love of hearth and home and safety, niece.” She nodded, confused, but willing.

He searched out her husband. “Imagine your best scones, if you would. Blueberry ones, dripping in butter.”

Aaron blinked in surprise. “Why scones?”

“Because.” Marcus swallowed as his breath hitched. Because those were the ones Evan missed most. “Because those are the reasons we come home.”

Understanding lit in eyes all over the beach. “I need you all to let me borrow your visions of home.”

Lizzie offered up sword fights and her favorite doll. Nell, the vision of sweet, sleeping children, and Nat sent a haze of green serenity and an endless cup of tea. Kevin and Sean pictured each other. Home, in all its manifestations.

He turned to Aunt Moira and Sophie. “A rooting spell, please.” They held out their hands, spell already made.

They’d always understood “home” far better than he did.

Only one request left. And this time he knew enough about a parent’s love to ask for permission first. His mind reached for Nell’s, his question ready.

She blinked in surprise. That doesn’t seem dangerous.

The magic, no. But not for the world did he want to lay this burden on another child’s shoulders. If it doesn’t work, I don’t want her to feel responsible.

Ah. Understanding hit Nell’s mind-and gratitude. Silence for a long moment. And then a quiet nod. She’ll be okay. Her head’s not quite as hard as yours.

He snorted-and sought the blonde curls he needed. He didn’t have to look far. They were currently blowing magical bubbles at the child in his arms. His breath hitched again. He couldn’t ask this of such a sunny heart. Maybe Elorie.

Eloriecan’t code. Nell’s voice was brisk and solid. My girl’s the Net witch you need, and you do her a disservice if you think her heart can’t handle this. Mama pride came with every word.

He crouched down in front of Ginia. “Warrior Girl, I need a really big favor.”

She blew another bubble Morgan’s way. “Sure.”

In words as simple as he could make them, he explained what he needed.

She leaned back on her heels, thinking a minute. “Okay. But it’ll cost you.”