A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,31
to link with you and see what you're reading."
Their visitor looked entirely blank. "Link?"
Attention levels at the table increased considerably. As did caution. Witches suddenly being careful. Moira leaned forward. "Did you not do circle work where you're from, my dear?"
Some of the confusion left Cass's eyes. "The healers do a little. And we celebrated Sabbats in the forest, but I think that's a different kind of sharing than what you mean."
"Not so very different." Moira's smile calmed the nerves at the table. "We often work magic together as a group. You'd be very welcome to join in while you're here, if you like. Circle work is good for the little ones."
Marcus felt the spurt of laughter in their guest's mind before he saw it on her face. And cursed. That was creeping dangerously close to mind-witch eavesdropping - he was doing a terrible job of keeping a polite mental distance.
He didn't want to think about why.
Cass winked down at Lizzie. "I think that's a polite way of telling me I need to practice." She looked back up, more serious. "I don't know that I've anything to offer a circle. My magic's only ever been solitary."
"I expect it's somewhat like music." Moira filled tea cups as she talked, speaking in the deliberately casual way that any resident of Fisher's Cove would recognize as meddling on the prowl. "Very enjoyable alone, but you can do things together that a single musician can't."
It took a while for Cass to answer. And when she did, sadness tinged her eyes. "I usually play alone."
"I heard you play with Buddy MacMaster once." Aaron, at the far end of the table, spoke into the sudden silence.
The sadness fled, replaced by deep respect and her trademark soft joy. "He's the best there is."
"I don't know about that," said Aaron quietly. "But the two of you together were something very special."
Marcus had no idea who this Buddy was, but Cassidy Farrell obviously loved him dearly. Her green eyes hummed with remembered happiness. "I played with him the night before I came down here. I'll be headed back in a few days - if you have a Friday night free, you might come up."
"The square dance." Their resident chef nearly glowed. "I haven't caught that in years."
It irked Marcus to no end that he was now jealous of at least two men.
Aaron looked down at his hands, suddenly diffident. "Would you play for us a little after dinner? Only if it's not too much trouble."
A simple request from a man who never asked for anything. The table silenced - and Marcus was well aware he wasn't the only one who would bodily toss Cass out if she said no.
Something she laid to rest easily and well. "About time you asked." She grinned and pushed back her chair. "Let me go get Rosie."
Marcus watched her go and sighed. Her easy generosity wasn't settling his innards any.
Sophie felt it the moment Cass's first notes drifted through the parlor. A quiet tugging.
Something settling into place.
She stopped in the middle of the genial melee, attention drawn by the shifting. People moved around her, finding a comfortable chair or piece of floor, or in the case of the younger and more energetic, clearing a path for fun and dancing.
Her senses stretched, seeking the mysterious thing that had brushed against her magic. Too many bodies in the way. Her healer scan tried to move around the ebb and flow of heartbeats and channels and human energies.
No dice.
And no matter. Sophie let it drop. Her belly was full and a night of music awaited - two reasons to be content in the tangible and the real tonight. She surveyed the room, looking for her son and a comfy cushion to sit on.
And saw her husband, Mike, standing dead still in the middle of the room, head cocked. Listening.
She slipped through the growing crowd, curiosity more deeply tweaked now.
He saw her coming and smiled. "Feel it, do you?"
She nodded and turned, checking in with the other earth witches in the room. Moira, Kevin, Lizzie, Marcus - all apparently undisturbed.
"Sean noticed," said her husband softly. "Not enough to stick with him, but he nearly walked into a lampshade when Cassidy started playing."
Sophie frowned. "You think it's related to her music?"
"Has to be." His eyes drifted closed. "Can't you feel it? She plays in time to whatever it is."
Whoa. "All I feel is a gentle tugging."
One of his eyes slid back open. "No, it's got a beat. A rhythm.