A Hidden Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,22

Small boys needed some limits. However, the rest of what Nell was saying seemed like nonsense. “Then why do you believe Elorie was involved? Things don’t seem to be very well made these days, so perhaps my little machine just broke.”

Nell shook her head. “I’ve seen pretty much every way a computer can break, and I’ve never seen anything like this. With three witches in the room when it happened, it’s not a big leap to believe power was involved.”

It wasn’t often she lost her temper, so Moira struggled for calm. “Unless we had a small child under the table, there were only two witches in the room. I’m sorry, Nell, but I just can’t take the word of your scanning program over everything I know to be true. Marcus scanned Elorie as well. I even—” she ground to a halt for a moment, ashamed to go on.

There should be no secrets amongst witches. Speaking quietly, she continued. “I asked my scrying bowl to look into her future. It wouldn’t speak to me. I even tried Great Gran’s crystal ball. If Elorie was a witch, surely the portents would foretell.”

Sophie smiled sadly. “You love her so very much, Aunt Moira. And that crystal ball’s never worked, you know that.”

Tears threatened, and Moira tried to fight them off. “I know it. But I had to try. I’d be the very first in the line of happiness if my beloved girl were a witch, and I know you’d be right behind me. But this isn’t right, and we need to stop. It’s tearing her apart. Your scan must simply be wrong, Nell.”

“It’s not just scans now.” Nell shrugged helplessly. “This isn’t really mine to tell, but Jamie had a flash of precog when he first saw Elorie earlier today.”

Moira felt her heart clench. “And what did he see of my girl’s future?”

“Remember, precog isn’t certain,” Nell said, her eyes pleading.

“I know that.” Moira reached gently for the screen. “Tell me, Nell. It’s better that I know.”

“I didn’t have time to talk with him, but he mindsent at least part of what he saw. My girl and yours, in the magic light of a working full circle.”

Now the tears came, a great well of them. “My Elorie, she does magic?”

“It’s only a possibility,” Sophie whispered, her face a tangle of emotions.

In her head, Moira knew what Sophie said to be true. In her Irish heart, she felt the agony of hope.

Precognition was an age-old way of witch knowing—unpredictable at times, and fickle at others, like many magics—but her blood heard and trusted, in a way it never could with Nell’s gadgets and machines. If Jamie saw magic in her girl, then they must seek to unveil it.

“Well, then,” she said, her voice a wee bit quavery. “We need to find out, don’t we? An untrained witch is a dangerous witch.”

Chapter 6

Elorie put her hand on the mouse and watched in confused frustration as once again, the readout she’d dubbed the Power-O-Meter spiked happily. That screen was becoming her own personal definition of hell.

She’d been working with Jamie and Ginia for almost an hour as they tweaked and re-tweaked the scanning code for more precise readings. Even her renowned patience was becoming very thin.

She’d been raised to serve the witching community in any way she could, so when Jamie had asked for an hour, she agreed.

Now it was time for this insanity to end. Elorie Shaw was not a witch, and she was very tired of trying to prove it. “It still says I’m a witch. I don’t feel like we’re making a whole lot of progress here.”

Nell walked into the room with a tray of milk and cookies and a big bowl of strawberries. Elorie’s heart tightened in momentary homesickness as she remembered the going-away bucket of blueberries her witchlings had picked. Jamie glanced at her in brief sympathy, a reminder that her brain was clearly still very leaky where mind witches were concerned.

He tapped Ginia’s shoulder, and she looked up from her code. “Okay, group huddle. Nell, can you brainstorm with us for a few minutes?”

Elorie got up to leave, but Jamie motioned her back to the table.

“I’m not a coder, Jamie. I don’t think I can contribute to this conversation.” And I think it’s better you work on this without me.

He met her eyes for a moment. “You’re a thinker, and a student of witch history. Brainstorming works best when there are lots of different ideas at the table.”

Elorie tried to

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