A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,38

the village already."

"Only half?" Sophie had settled in contentment on the other side of the pool.

It was a good point. Most people in Fisher's Cove were smart enough to befriend a good Irish lass when they had the chance. "She shared her music." Even leathery old fishermen had found Cass's fiddle hard to resist.

"She calls magic while she plays." Sophie's hands were no longer content, their restless motions shaping and reshaping the ripples on the water's surface.

Ah. Moira had wondered. "It calmed wee Adam."

"He slept all night." Sophie's breath hitched. "I need to know what she's doing."

Nell's eyes narrowed. "Wait, you mean she calls real magic?"

"Yes. Mike felt it most strongly, and his tightest affinities are rocks and metals." Sophie's eyes held aching sadness now - and hope. A mother pleading. "She knows how to help my son."

Moira wished it was the hope she could feed. "Our Cass was named for her grandmother's clan. The Cassidy bloodline has the old magics. Some hear voices in the wind. Others can sense the sun or the rain." And had been tormented for their inability to control any of it.

"Old magics?" Despair leaked into Sophie's voice. "Those are unpredictable. Hard to control."

And very rare. "Aye." Moira would have given her soul for it to be different. Adam was hers, too.

"I don't understand," said Nell quietly.

"Well then, you didn't pay enough attention in witch history." Moira knew her voice was overly brisk - something had to fight back the tears. "The ancient powers are fickle. Hard to possess and very difficult to call to your bidding. They can't be taught - a precious few are simply born with them."

"Cass's magic likely doesn't respond to her in the way we're used to." Sophie sounded almost bitter. "And she's only here for a few days."

"Ah." Warrior light jumped into Nell's eyes, but her words stayed gentle. "Then do what you do best."

"What do you mean?" Sophie's fists clenched under the water.

"Take small, persistent steps." Nell's kindness filled the tub. "And be brave enough to hope."

Tears dripped from Sophie's eyes - but the words had been the right ones. Moira felt her heart fill. Her time might be waning, but the witching community was in very good hands. And she wasn't entirely done yet. "I do believe you're not the only one who wants Cass to stay a while. Young Kevin is enchanted with her violin, and I'd venture the faeries have whispered in the ear of my nephew as well."

The mention of Marcus and faeries had the desired effect - her two companions glanced at each other, amused and skeptical.

Nell rolled her eyes. "I don't think he's going to be much help. Kevin can be quietly persuasive, though."

He could indeed - and they had one other very powerful card to play. "She's also lonely."

Sophie frowned. "I didn't get that from her at all. She makes friends as easily as she breathes."

"Aye." An old witch knew that sometimes even a wealth of friends couldn't block a lonely heart. "She's walked the road alone for a very long time." Just like the Irish bards of yore. A soul with a singular purpose. And like her soul's ancestors, maybe her feet tired - and turned toward hearth and home.

Something Fisher's Cove had in abundance.

Sophie was quiet, thinking. "She is tired. I thought she just needed a little downtime."

"Perhaps." Honesty forced the simple acknowledgement. "But she came to us and we've welcomed her. I'm very much wondering what Cassidy Farrell will do if we keep holding out our hands." Moira smoothed the rocks beside her, conscious of the magic that lived in their depths.

A magic their Irish visitor heard very well.

And then she felt something odd under her fingers. Moira looked down and gladdened - perhaps the rocks weren't entirely done with their efforts just yet, either. "Ah, well now. Isn't that interesting."

Sophie looked confused.

It was a small crack - but a crack nonetheless. Moira traced the fracture line running down the granite that shaped her pool. "I do believe my wee tub has sprung a leak."

Nell leaned over to look. "Huh. I'll page my fire witch - he could use something to burn off his energy."

Moira adored her small boy of the mighty magic, but he wasn't the answer this time. "Thank you, Nell, but not today. This is for us to fix, I think." Earth magics ran strong in Fisher's Cove, and they could use a good day's work.

Perhaps aided by a visitor who knew how to hear