A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,47

some of the newest, but today wasn't the time to chat of Net power and the like. "Your Cassidy has some of the old in her veins."

"She does." Caution now, from a witch long used to taking care with what she knew.

Not everything Irish was wonderful.

Moira silently blessed the pragmatic, tolerant villagers of Fisher's Cove who lived peaceably with the witches in their midst, happy for a glass of the green if they ailed and always ready with a cookie or two for a hungry witchling. She studied her old and wily guest and took a cue from her Nova Scotia villagers. They never used three words where one would do. "Is she a healer?"

Nan blinked at the directness. "My Cass?"

It was time to lay her cards on the table. "She's meant to be here. You know that as well as I do."

The nod came very slowly - but it came. "Yes. The rocks are strong here."

Moira smiled. "We're a bit of a haven for those with earth magics." Even old bachelors unimpressed by their new powers.

"Perhaps her heart readies after all." Nan nodded slowly. "She will surpass me - I no longer know where her magic goes."

"I've some experience with that." So many with such talent through the years, and each one so very dear to her heart. "But that doesn't mean a couple of old Irish grannies are entirely useless."

Nan smiled, one crone to another. "Old, I'll give you. But there's power in these hands yet, and craftiness."

Good. They understood each other. Moira stood up to collect the tea. "Help me understand your Cass, then."

Gnarled hands reached for the sturdy mug. "She was born on the spring equinox, forty-five years ago, in the midst of a raging storm." Eyes glistened in memory. "It was a difficult birth, but my daughter knew how to bring a child into the world. And when that little bundle landed in my hands, I could see power shimmering on her like a halo."

Something all the old midwives watched for - it had long been those babes who faced the most dangerous lives. Not everyone loved a child with the ancestral powers. "It runs in your family."

"Aye. We're hereditary witches. Kitchen witches and healers, mostly, with the occasional wee one who's fey."

Old words for mind magic. Moira nodded, recalling her sense of Cassidy Farrell. "It's something different your granddaughter's got."

Nan's brows flew up. "And how would you be knowing that?"

Moira held out her palms "As you said, there's power in these hands yet. I've a little earth magic and healing. I'd know those in your Cass."

Again, the slow nod, and a careful sipping of tea still piping hot. Nan's gaze gravitated to the garden once again. "You've the magic of plants and growing things."

"Yes." Comprehension dawned, and more old words. "You've the rock magics." A healer of Mike's ilk, then.

"You know of them."

Moira smiled. She probably knew more of them than almost any witch living. "I'm a bit of a historian when I'm not out talking to my flowers. The Cassidy clan has long been known for hearing the rocks." She considered her next words carefully. "What lives in Cass is stronger than that, no?" Mike had been awed by what he'd seen - and he wasn't easily impressed.

Something akin to fear hit Nan's eyes. "I believe so."

"She's safe here." Moira spoke with the assurance of fifty Fisher's Cove winters at her back. "We've some experience with witches of unusual strength." That was an understatement - more power visited her kitchen every day looking for cookies than could be found in most of Ireland.

Nan looked down and spoke so softly her words were almost swallowed by the tea. "I fear for what will be asked of her."

Crones didn't dodge hard truths. "She's had a long time to prepare."

"Perhaps." The words were quiet now, with much history behind them. "Time doesn't always make a heart ready."

Moira thought of Marcus, stuck for half a lifetime. And Aervyn, asked to be so much, so quickly. Elorie, who had waited with a ready heart for far too long. And young Ginia, at ten, ready to face her destiny with more courage than most witches ever found in their lifetime. She sipped her tea and met her visitor's eyes. "Aye. But you raised her right." It was a grandmother's highest compliment.

"It was a long time ago that she was mine."

"I know." Moira looked out at her own garden, the place she'd nurtured for nigh on fifty years. "But good