A Hidden Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,61

will play, too.”

Sophie nodded. “Makes sense. That’s a lot of computers we’re going to need.”

“Marcus and Ginia are on that.” Nell grinned. “There’s a shortage of modern laptops here, so expect yours and Mike’s to be commandeered.”

“No.” Elorie stood and spoke firmly. It was time to stop this madness.

Moira looked confused. “What’s wrong, my dear?”

Elorie struggled for the words. “Circles are tradition. They’re the core of who we are. This isn’t right. What am I going to do, sit in a trio and wave my mouse when we call to earth or water?”

Passion poured out of her. “I don’t deny this new power of mine, and we’ll figure out how to use it. But it doesn’t belong in a circle.” She appealed directly to Gran. Certainly, of everyone, it would be she who would understand. “Our traditions matter, our connection to generations of witches past. I won’t have it weakened because you love me, because you want me to belong.”

She watched in utter astonishment as Gran’s fury blazed. “Elorie Shaw, you listen, and you listen well. You have belonged to me, and to this community of witches, since the day you were born. I won’t have you cast that aside because of your doubts.”

Her spluttered protests died as Gran stormed on. “There is no one who values the traditions of witchcraft more than I do, no one who holds to the past with more joy. But fear is the wrong reason to resist change.”

Gran’s voice softened, and she reached for Elorie’s hand. “Your magic is one of connection and joining, sweetling. Can you think of a talent that is more suited to a full circle? You were born to this. We just need to figure out how to make it work.”

Irish temper fully blown, her smile was one of gentle compassion. “To join in community is the very oldest of witch traditions, my darling girl. It’s yours by right. Don’t push it away.”

Elorie stared in stupefied silence, her gut a churning mix of defiance, confusion, and yearning.

Witches gathered under the stars and repeated the words of centuries. How could a power that was ten minutes old be part of that? Everything she’d ever known, ever believed in, screamed “no.”

And yet Gran believed.

She jumped as Sophie touched her other hand, eyes laden with compassion. “It’s all too easy to walk away from what you want most, to hide in what’s comfortable.” She swallowed audibly. “I should know.”

Elorie shook her head, not understanding, but feeling her sister’s pain.

Sophie’s grin was a little wavery. “And Gran doesn’t raise scaredy-witches.”

She dug for something to say. Anything at all. And then pushed by love and the gentle dare of her oldest friend, grasped at hope. “Which trio will I be in, then?”

Gran smiled in approval. “You’ll be spellcasting, child. Where else would you be?”

Her brain absolutely ground to a halt again. Spellcasting? Leading the circle? Everyone had gone stark raving mad. She’d been a witch for all of a week.

Panic clawed its way up her ribs.

“Don’t worry so, darling girl. After that stunt you pulled on my nephew, you’re clearly ready.” Gran’s grin was as wide as the Bay of Fundy. “In fact, it was his idea.”

~ ~ ~

Elorie leaned against the doorway and fumed at the laptops and cables overrunning her living room. “Ginia, there’s a snack in the kitchen if you’re interested.”

Whether it was hunger or manners that drove Ginia out of the room, Elorie was grateful for the moment of privacy. Letting her simmering temper bubble to the surface, she glared at Marcus, who had yet to acknowledge her presence. “It’s an interesting form of revenge you chose.”

“And what would that be?” He continued to tinker with a laptop.

“Setting me up as spellcaster for a full circle.”

“Most would consider that an honor.”

“From anyone else, perhaps.”

He shrugged. “So don’t do it.”

Elorie snorted. “Fat chance. You’ve managed to convince Gran it’s a good idea.”

“She didn’t take much convincing, but feel free to blame me if you like.”

Elorie paused, and then asked what she’d truly come to find out. “Do you expect me to fail?”

Marcus finally looked up. “Certainly not. I expect you to uphold the fine tradition of Nova Scotia witching and handle your circle competently and well.” He squinted at her. “Wait, you’re serious.”

She nodded mutely.

He sat there for several moments, saying nothing. “It took two hours and five witches to undo that spell you cast on me, niece. It was a very impressive piece of magic. You’re a witch of uncommon strength,