A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,29

whisper.

That matched the lines on his face, but the man in question was clearly working fairly hard not to laugh at the scoundrel offering him a roll. Cass felt the tug of attraction and scowled. Men didn't pull on her. Music did.

Lizzie took the proffered, butter-laden roll from Moira and dunked it in her stew. "I might even need another one. Sophie says I did really big magic with my potion this afternoon."

"I'm sure you did, my dear." Moira smiled fondly at the blonde child. "Was your potion a success?"

"I don't know yet." The imp factor in Lizzie's eyes quadrupled. "I could give some to Sean for dessert. Sophie says if I'm really lucky, it might turn him into a frog."

Most of the adults within hearing range chuckled, clearly well used to such possibilities. Marcus raised an eyebrow at the boy. "He might make a decent toad at that."

It felt like something out of a Harry Potter novel. Cass glanced across the table at Moira. If the clan matriarch wasn't disturbed by the easy talk of magic, perhaps it wasn't the subject for hushed whispers it was at home. "Magic lives so openly here?"

Moira nodded and offered Cass the stew ladle. "At this table, always. And in this village. We are more circumspect in the wider world."

Something in Cass yearned. And boggled. "Everyone here is a witch?"

"Nope." Lizzie was halfway through her roll already. "Aaron's not. And we don't know yet about the babies. Morgan was a witch, cuz she was a traveler, but now she's just adorable and maybe not a witchling anymore."

Cass let the cheerful monologue flow over her, much as she did with a new piece of music. And tried to absorb the miracle of a table full of people with power flowing in their veins.

The rocks hummed quietly beneath her feet. And Cass, humbled by the gift they'd delivered, bent her head in apology.

Lizzie watched her quizzically. "Are you okay? You feel a little wobbly."

Belatedly, Cass recognized the light buzz of a healing scan and raised an eyebrow at the small girl. "I'm fine, thank you." And stirred up enough that she didn't need a seven-year-old investigating.

"Uh, huh." The child healer nodded seriously and picked up her spoon. "If you keep scowling like that, I have a potion that will fix you right up."

The giggles were contagious - and most of them weren't coming from the seven-year-old pixie. Cass grinned, enjoying the little girl's big personality. "Quite the healer, are you?"

The serious nod wasn't feigned this time. "I work hard, and Gran says I'm pretty useful already."

By Irish-grandmother standards, that was high praise. It also suggested the village had a wealth of healers. "You're fortunate to have someone close by to train you." Girls and young women came from hundreds of miles away to spend a few days at a time with Nan, painstakingly learning the art, craft, and ancient psychology of healing magics.

Lizzie's nod was that of a child well used to magical luxury. "Gran knows almost everything, and Sophie's the best healer of anyone. Mike's pretty good too, but he's better with rocks and stuff."

Cass's fascination spiked. She looked down the table at Sophie's husband. "What does he do with the rocks?"

"Melts them, mostly."

Ah. That was rather a different kind of rock magic.

"Sean can melt stuff sometimes, too." Lizzie aimed a dark look at the mischief-maker who'd held out the rolls basket. "But mostly he just causes other kinds of trouble - he's a spellcaster."

Those were rare as golden harps in Ireland - and as revered. The blond boy at the end of the table was clearly just one of the gang.

"Kevin's his twin, but he mostly likes books and stuff. He can read minds and he's a fire witch."

Cass looked at the unassuming boy eating his lobster stew and wondered if he got overshadowed by his boisterous brother. Maybe not - he'd seemed quietly sure of himself on the beach.

All the children of Fisher's Cove seemed rather convinced of their worth. It spoke worlds of their life here. She glanced at Moira, certain she knew where the heart of the village beat.

Moira nodded once. A matriarch accepting the unspoken compliment.

"We thought Elorie wasn't a witch, but she's got Net magic." Lizzie continued on her journey of witch introductions. "That's kinda new, so you might not have heard about it yet. She uses the Internet to make magic."

Word had traveled. Cass filed it away to ask about later - perhaps here she'd get a