A Hidden Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,69

“Who—me?” When they both grinned, she laughed ruefully. “Well, yeah. But I was mostly thinking about potions, actually.”

“Yeah, right.” Nell snorted. “However, speaking of potions, how’s it going with that girl of mine?”

“She’s got the patience and precision. Yesterday, we mixed up a nice batch of belly butter for her to take back to Nat. We embedded a calming spell to help the baby sleep.”

“Awesome. Nat will appreciate it as those baby arms and legs get longer and start keeping her awake at night.”

Sophie held back a yawn. Maybe she really did need a nap. “Aervyn’s sure there’s still just one in there?”

Elorie almost dropped her lemonade. “Aervyn can see babies?”

Nell nodded. “Yup. He saw Nat’s little bean just a few days after conception. It’s an awkward talent, though. He popped the news to a total stranger in the grocery store last month.”

Sophie watched Elorie try to get her expressive face under control, and she knew. She leaned over and gently touched her friend’s hand, hoping to offer without intruding. “So can healers, with a scan. And we have a bit more discretion than most four-year-olds.”

Elorie gulped and nodded. “Not yet. But soon, I hope. And please don’t tell Gran. She’s already knit way too many baby blankets.”

Sophie grinned and reached for one last sandwich. She could keep a secret.

She realized Nell was watching her with a suddenly calculating look. “That’s an impressive snack you just ate, even for a witch. When’s the last time you scanned yourself?”

Sophie stopped with the sandwich halfway to her mouth. “That’s impossible.”

Nell laughed. “Not. Trust me—I know how babies are made.”

Through her brain freeze, Sophie realized one thing for sure. She had to know. Oh, God. Reaching for power, she ran the basic self-scan that was every healer’s first lesson.

And she found life.

A tiny little presence nestled deep in safety. Carefully she checked blood flow and oxygen supply, tissue health and hormone levels, and the healthy division of cells. Then the healer paused, and the brand new mama marveled. There was a baby in her belly.

When she opened her eyes, their empty hot tub was rimmed in daffodils. Nell and Elorie each plucked one, long the witch community’s welcome for new life.

Elorie grinned and spoke through tears. “I know where you can get a large supply of hand-knit baby blankets.”

Nell beamed and hugged Sophie tight, and then handed her a daffodil. “Go tell Mike before Aervyn finds out and spills the beans.”

~ ~ ~

Demon wings and bat dung, would the girl never stop messing with him? Marcus glared at his laptop screen and the top-secret location of his Realm high-mountain keep. Since all his guards were currently sporting pink chest plates and fluffy bunny slippers, it obviously was top secret no longer.

Were three circles in one day not enough to keep Warrior Girl busy? He’d just seen her giggling together with Aunt Moira in the garden, not a care in the world. Probably discussing love potions or something.

He needed a break. When this day was over, he was heading back to his nice, quiet home. Not quite a mountain keep, but it was private, and an excellent place for a solitary witch.

Elorie strolled into the parlor. Perfect—just who he needed. “That was nice work earlier this afternoon. I trust you’ve had time to rest and recuperate. I’ll be heading home tomorrow, so let’s see if we can get a little more spellcoding through that thick head of yours.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Such a lovely invitation.”

Anyone who expected him to dither around with being polite was going to die waiting. He was a witch, not a social butterfly. “Just sit down, girl. We have bunny slippers to deal with.”

“We have what?”

“The evil Warrior Girl and her minions have attacked my keep, and cleaning up her mess is a challenge appropriate to your spellcoding skills.” He hoped. Warrior Girl’s spells tended to be fairly devious.

Elorie sat down, lips twitching as she caught sight of his screen. “Sounds like serious business.”

They both looked up in astonishment at a loud thud. Mike stood rubbing his forehead, having clearly just walked into a wall.

Marcus only knew of three things that could make a grown man forget where the walls were, and of those, he only considered alcohol a reasonable excuse. “The door’s a foot to your left.”

As Mike turned to face them, it was clear he wasn’t drunk. Splendid. That meant the man was either bespelled or stupid in love. Marcus reached out with a quick mental probe and