A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,34

few notes sounded like a tortured cat - they always did. Kevin giggled.

Cass grinned. "Try again. Loosen your hold on the bow this time. And be brave - Rosie likes a good, strong hand."

Kevin tried again, his touch slightly less tentative. The cat only sounded a little strangled. Buoyed by progress, the boy kept sliding his bow across the top string. One, single monotone note, reverberating in the inn's silence.

Cass waited, patient - urging on his inner musician.

Slowly, Rosie began to sound less like a cat and more like a fiddle. Awakening. And Cass saw what she'd already guessed was there. Kevin's posture was atrocious, his grip on the bow the stuff of teacher nightmares. His arms were too short, and if he stuck his chin out any farther, he was going to drop snot into Rosie's f-holes.

But his eyes were falling in love. The rest could be taught.

She waited for a couple of passable notes, Rosie's rich tones making the very best of a beginner's first steps. And then held out her hands. "Here, let me show you how to change the notes a bit."

Moving slowly, Cass laid her fingers down on the top string, working five notes up a scale and back down again. Kevin's eyes were glued to her movements.

She settled Rosie in his hands again. "You try."

He sorted out arms, bow, and fiddle and played a passable first note. The second was flat enough to make them both wince. Kevin yanked his finger up like he'd been shot.

Cass grinned - at least her impromptu student didn't have a tin ear. "Move your finger around a bit. Can you find where it sounds right?"

It didn't take him long - and his smile of satisfaction told her about more than his innate grasp of pitch. Carefully, he set down a second finger, and this time, found where it belonged with impressive speed.

Slowly he worked his way up the five notes she'd played, straining a little on the tricky pinky finger. Cass smiled and edged her way toward the door. She wasn't needed for a bit. He had good ears - Rosie would teach him.

Her rooster had woken her well this morning.

Up the stairs she went, listening to Kevin's painstaking notes. And headed into her room, straight for the phone. It was milking time and nobody answered, but she could leave a message. "Mum? Pack up Samantha, would you? I think I've found her a new home."

Her three-quarter-sized student violin would be just right for Kevin's lanky arms - and she was chock full of young-teen dreams.

Nell leaned back in her chair, fascinated. And amused that no one in Fisher's Cove was responding to her Internet pings. Apparently they were all still sleeping.

She'd woken up early, courtesy of a sniffly little boy who'd needed tea, hugs, and a lullaby to send his germy self back to sleep. Which had left his mama wide awake and bitten by the research bug. Time to learn about their new witch.

Moira might ask the faeries - Nell was sticking with Google.

Cassidy Farrell was impressive. A long and very successful career. She'd won every award, charmed every head of state, Irish and otherwise, headlined every place worth playing.

They said she had the most talented fingers in a generation - and the hard-driving guts to take them where no one else could go.

None of which really told the story of what Nell had figured out in three minutes on YouTube.

Cass was magic. Her music, even the grainy, tinny version on the Internet, was wild. Deep. The kind that yanked on you and made you dance and cry all at the same time. And then teased you into laughter and started all over again.

In person, she would be irresistible.

"Researching the Sullivans?" Daniel leaned over her shoulder and peered at the Irish genealogy site as he delivered an early-morning sandwich.

"Nope." She munched down the first bite of hoagie. "Doing a little digging on our new witch. Moira made some comment about her being well named, but I have no idea what she meant."

"Beats me." Daniel stole half of her sandwich. "You coming back to bed?"

"Nope. Too many dragons on the loose." The new release had been relatively uneventful so far, but Jamie had taken the night shift. It was her turn, at least until the child labor woke up.

"Want help?"

She smiled - he'd always been happy to pitch in and code circles around misfiring witch mischief. "I'll let you know." Besides, he needed to save his strength