chair. Her son had only sneezed twice - that didn't qualify as an emergency. "What's she like?"
"Irish." Sophie's eyebrows waggled. "And Moira thinks she's been sent for Marcus."
Oh, good grief. The gossip train hadn't mentioned that particular detail. Probably because it had come via the under-thirteen crowd. "Kevin didn't mention that part."
Sophie's jar of green stuff nearly hit the floor as she giggled and sneezed all at the same time. "He's a twelve-year-old boy."
Truth - but a pretty observant one. Nell felt a moment of pity for any woman the fates had decided to throw at Marcus Buchanan. "Kevin said she plays the violin."
"Yeah, she's a fiddler. Cassidy Farrell. Aaron says she's one of the best in the world." Sophie poked and prodded at the contents of a new jar. Healer, distracted.
Aaron's kitchen was always full of music of one kind or another, so Nell was prepared to trust his opinion. She twiddled her thumbs, thinking. Whoever had been messing with her fetching spell had pretty solid computer skills. That didn't sound like an Irish musician, but no way a strange witch landed in Fisher's Cove in the middle of winter by accident. "I assume she's the witch we fetched." Sort of - it had been a bit of a coding standoff.
"I assume so." Sophie shrugged. "Either that or you go with Moira's theory that she was sent by the fairies."
Aervyn had taken to blaming the state of his room on the fairies - Nell wasn't buying that one, either. "So assuming Cassidy's not really here to torment Marcus, what do you think is going on?"
Sophie looked up, confused.
"Usually there's a reason we fetched someone. Sierra was aging out of foster care, Lauren had powers she didn't know about..."
"Hmm. She tours a lot as a musician. I think this is a bit of a vacation."
Fisher's Cove witches weren't usually this gullible. "When was the last time you had a tourist in the middle of March?" Such lovely weather and all.
"Point taken." Sophie plunked three jars onto the side table beside Nell, brain clearly in gear now. "Why don't you stay for dinner? Aaron's cooking up a feast and Cassidy's the guest of honor - you can do some detective work in person."
It pained Nell deeply that she had to say no. "We're putting up a new Realm release tonight." All able-bodied programmers on red alert. They were releasing a new set of levels. With dragons.
"Ouch - good luck with that." Sophie grinned. "How's your coffee supply?"
"Not big enough." Given the average witch player's penchant for trying spells they hadn't properly tested yet, and the average dragon's fondness for setting things on fire, nobody in The Dungeon was sleeping tonight.
The witchy mystery of Fisher's Cove would just have to wait.
With one possible exception. "If she flirts with Marcus, send up a bat signal, pretty please?" Some things couldn't be missed, even for renegade dragons.
Sophie chuckled. "I'm pretty sure you'd feel the earthquake all the way over in California."
Truth. Nell scooped up the herbs. Time to cure a sneeze.
And maybe learn a little more about Cassidy Farrell, too.
Chapter 8
It was a feast that would have done any Irish village proud. Cass looked up and down the table, taking in the still-steaming pots of lobster stew, rolls that smelled of yeast and heaven, and faces that looked sublimely happy to be helping themselves to both.
Aaron sat at one end, a small girl in his lap, a ladle in his hand, and a smiling wife at his elbow. Cass had already inspected the gorgeous necklace strung around Elorie's neck. Bits of glass shaped by rocks, water, and time. Hopefully she'd be leaving with a dozen or so tucked in her bag. Messages of resilience - and little bits of treasure for her magpie heart.
"Have another roll, my dear." Moira smiled from across the table, holding out a basket.
Cass had already demolished two while waiting for the stew to arrive. "Maybe I'll wait a bit."
"Can I have one, please, Gran?" Lizzie grinned up from a prized seat beside Cass. "Little witches need lots of calories so we don't get cranky."
Cass blinked. Even in Ireland, witchcraft was not spoken of so openly, and the girl was very young to have power.
"In that case - " A boy down the table, face dancing in mischief, picked up a second basket of rolls. "Have another one, Uncle Marcus."
The whole table laughed at some sort of inside joke.
"Uncle Marcus can be kind of grumpy," said Lizzie in a conspiratorial