laid gentle fingers on her lips. “Wait. I have an idea.”
She walked out of Moira’s field of vision. Sophie leaned in. “You’ll be singing to this babe of mine. Just give it time.”
Ah, Sophie. A good healer doesn’t make promises she can’t deliver.
Elorie slid back in the door, Lauren at her heels. Sophie’s eyes brightened. “You’re a genius, little sister.”
Moira met Lauren’s eyes. If my mind’s a vegetable, don’t you be letting these two know it, now.
Lauren burst into relieved laughter. “You sound just like your normal self in there. Hang on a moment while I put mindlinks in place so everyone can hear you.” She glanced at Sophie. “Will that be okay?”
Sophie nodded, and Moira felt a mindlink click into place. Hello, my lovelies. So tell me about this place I’m in, and how I got here.
Three beaming faces started talking over each other. It was a delightful clatter. She listened for a while, and then held up a hand. It wobbled a bit, but did the job.
So let me be sure I have this right. I’ve been ported into Realm, saved by a team of the witching world’s best healers, and no one’s brought me tea yet?
Sophie grinned in delight. “There really isn’t anything at all wrong with your mind, is there? Tea’s on the way, along with some homemade broth.”
Moira scowled. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d truly detested broth.
Elorie giggled. “Well, you made the rest of us drink it often enough.”
That’s because it’s good for you, child.
Elorie patted her hand. “You just remember that when you have to drink cups and cups of it today.”
Perhaps one of the witchlings could come to distract her. And maybe she could talk one of them into sneaking her a wee scone to have with her tea.
Lauren snorted and patted her hand. “Good luck with that.”
Drat. Having her every thought heard was going to have some downsides.
Sophie’s eyes twinkled. “That will be good motivation to practice talking.”
Surely a sick old woman deserves a little spoiling?
Lauren grinned and looked at Sophie, who nodded. “If you’re feeling up to it, there are a whole lot of people who’d like to lay eyes on a sick old woman.”
And wasn’t that the point of visitors, to distract the sick from the nasty things healers forced upon them?
Sophie pushed a button on the wall. “Jamie, can you take down the walls again? Aunt Moira’s ready to see some friendly faces.”
Moira gasped as the walls fell and the sky opened above her head. Perhaps the low-hanging moon hadn’t been a dream.
Then she saw the faces, and the flowers. Dozens of people—no, hundreds. So many of those she loved—witch and non-witch, from the village and from the other side of the world. With the same message of love in every set of eyes.
And, oh. Every one of them clutched handfuls of irises and peach blossoms. For health and long life.
Her heart spilled over with the joy of it.
~ ~ ~
Sophie wandered through her herbals room, gently touching each jar and bundle of hanging herbs. The room smelled lightly of the lavender she’d harvested and hung at the last full moon. Aervyn had taxied her home to gather some things she would need to care for Aunt Moira.
She’d come to collect. She’d also come to say goodbye.
This house was her haven. While she loved the bonds of communal magic, in her heart, she was a solitary witch. Or perhaps, a solitary woman who happened to be a witch. Even as a small girl, she’d spent many happy hours alone, wandering the forests or the beach, or sitting quietly in a café watching the world go by.
This house in Colorado had been her retreat. Her solace. The place she’d planted herself when it had become clear Fisher’s Cove couldn’t be her home.
She loved it so much she’d built its double in Realm. Other players had castles and keeps, or sorcerer’s cottages. She had an odd little mid-century ranch house with spectacular gardens. It would still be there to comfort her as she left the real home of her heart behind.
Gently she closed the door of her herbals room and left her gathering bag by the door. Her gardens called, one last time. She touched the dahlias and columbine, inhaled the lemony scent of sorrel, and laughed quietly at the mint, which had managed to take over half the garden in her two-day absence.