A Hidden Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,76

laughed. “Not today, sweetling. My lovely young warrior body will stay here. It’s not real, remember. I’m really sitting in my chair, looking at my computer screen and wanting to tickle your belly.”

Aervyn covered his belly and giggled. “Okay, but I’m coming back to play sometime.”

Whatever complaints Marcus had about his companions, they were all well-trained witches. Within moments, they had the necessary spells ready to go. Now it was up to Elorie. She had the raw talent. It was her training and her will that were sometimes in question, particularly when computers were involved.

Slowly the spellshape in Ginia’s hand began to shimmer. Then it gently expanded and settled over all of them like a dome. He looked up at the glowing light. Aye. The girl had talent.

Aervyn held steady as his spellshape began to move next. It wove and darted, linking into the dome of light in hundreds of places. Marcus shook his head. Elorie was overbuilding the spell, a common error of inexperienced spellcasters.

Then came the dark, and a deep sucking sensation. When he opened his eyes, his niece had her nose three inches from his face, and she didn’t look happy. “Don’t doubt me again. It weakens the magic.”

Anger flared and died, guilt hard on its heels. She was absolutely right. “It’s your training I doubted, niece, but even that was wrong. My apologies. It won’t happen again.”

She looked at him in absolute shock.

“That was awesome cool magic,” Ginia said, oblivious to the undertones in the room. “Maybe after lunch we could try it again. Uncle Jamie would be so jazzed if we could zap everyone into Realm.”

“Let’s have lunch before we contemplate such things.” Moira touched Marcus’s arm and spoke quietly. “For a man who never apologizes, that was well done. Take the witchlings now—I’d like a word with my granddaughter.”

Marcus did as he was told.

~ ~ ~

Moira chuckled as Marcus walked off. She wondered how long it would take him to realize he was wearing pink bunny slippers. Ginia’s doings, she imagined.

She turned to her beloved girl. “Ginia’s right, sweetling. It was wonderful magic. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Elorie’s expressive face was a tangle of frustration and hurt. “It doesn’t feel like me, Gran. Every time I do magic, there are wires and computers everywhere.”

“Aye, child. And you’ve done lovely things with that magic. My pool is the envy of every witch living, and probably a few who’ve passed, as well.”

Elorie’s face softened even as tears threatened. “That’s just it. Making your pool almost felt right. I was part of a working circle, and we did magic that mattered.”

She paused, taking a couple of jerky breaths. “But then we had Sean’s circle on the beach, and part of my heart wished I could go back to being Elorie who plays her flute in the outer circle. Elorie of no magic.”

Elorie who knew how she belonged. Moira settled in a chair. This called for careful handling. “I think I was nine the first time I wanted to give my magic back. My friends were taking a trip to the beach, and I had to stay home and study witch history.”

Elorie sighed. “Is that what this is? Just a witchling tantrum? It feels bigger than that.”

Moira reached for her granddaughter’s hands. “It’s not always convenient being a witch, my sweet girl. I hope you will continue to be Elorie the flute player, because you’re wrong—there is a great deal of magic in that. But you are a witch, and even when that responsibility lays heavy, it’s not one to be ignored.”

“I know. You’ve taught me well.”

Such sorrow. Moira’s heart ached. “It appears that what I haven’t taught you nearly so well is the joy of magic. It’s such a gift you have. Magic is not always a burden.”

Elorie shook her head. “It’s not that. Weight I could handle. But why do I have magic that works best in some game? You heard Ginia. I don’t want to be a shuttle service for witches who need a ride into their computer.”

Ah. Still seeking her purpose, too. Moira ignored the petulance and dug for what mattered. “What do you want?”

Elorie sniffled. “I want to sit in the garden with you and help the flowers to bloom.”

Some wishes were more easily granted than others. Moira picked a flower bud out of the table vase and prepared a simple blooming spell. She held them both out toward Elorie.

Her granddaughter touched the flower gently, smiling as it opened under her fingers.

Moira leaned