A Hidden Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,81

my mind? We’re going to squish that big rock down to this really tiny shape, and then it will get all sparkly and pretty.”

Moira hadn’t known such magic was possible. Aervyn closed his eyes for another moment, and then nodded. Clearly he didn’t have any doubts.

Mike looked next to her granddaughter. “Elorie, I’m hoping you can visualize a setting for the diamond.” He held out a thin band of gold. “This was my grandmother’s ring. We’ll give you the power you need, but if you can shape it into something pretty, I’d really appreciate it. I’m no artist.”

Elorie’s eyes shone, ready to make a gift for the sister of her heart.

Ah, the boy was well rooted in tradition. Such a wonderful partner he would make her darling Sophie. Perhaps she was simply here to stand in witness.

Mike reached for her hand. “And if you would, I’d like for you to bless the ring.”

That she could do, and with a heart abounding in pleasure. “I can do that when you’re done, my dear. I’ve the blessing spell of my grandmother in my heart—I think that one will do nicely.”

“I was hoping…” Mike paused as emotion swept his face. “I was hoping you could cast a blessing as we build the ring. Elorie could meld it right into the diamond and the gold.”

Moira’s heart wobbled as she realized what he wanted. The oldest of traditions, and the oldest of blessings, united by the newest of magics.

She readied an old Irish blessing spell, and then pulled down a bit of moonlight. It would make Sophie’s diamond shine just a little brighter.

Chapter 19

Marcus could feel giggles tickling his mind channels. They were rather at odds with the dark and stormy book he was reading, so he sent a quick probe out to see who the happy troublemakers were.

It surprised him to discover Aervyn. Four-year-olds got involved in all manner of silly things, but this one usually had rock-solid mental barriers. He must be highly preoccupied to let stray giggles escape.

Curious, Marcus reached out a little further and discovered why Aervyn’s mind was leaky. The little scoundrel was eavesdropping. Nell, Sophie, and Elorie were having iced tea in the garden, and the two youngest witchlings were spying on them.

All things were fair when a witchling wasn’t minding his mind-witch manners. Picking the easier of his two targets, he linked quietly with Lizzie’s mind and listened to their conversation.

“See,” Aervyn said, in a whisper that sounded very loud to Marcus’s enhanced channels, “they’re the same. And Mama doesn’t have one, cuz she says I’m all the trouble she needs.”

“Not exactly the same.” Lizzie was a highly precise witchling, a trait Marcus normally appreciated—when he knew what she was talking about. “Sophie’s is bigger.”

Marcus looked at the three women, trying to puzzle out the mystery. What did Sophie and Elorie have that Nell didn’t? The only answer he could come up with was bikinis, and he was pretty sure swimwear fashion wasn’t the cause of idle witchling conversation.

“Can you look again?” Lizzie said. “I want to see if the other one has a penis, too.”

Aervyn’s giggles should have been heard in the next county. “That’s not a penis, silly. It’s a tail. Mama says babies have tails when they’re really little.”

Babies? Marcus scowled, book forgotten. What on earth were they doing? Halfway out of his chair to nab the troublemakers, the mindlink he shared with Lizzie blazed, and Aervyn’s incoming link clicked into place.

Hey, Uncle Marcus, said Aervyn, clearly unconcerned to find him lurking in Lizzie’s head. Do you wanna see the babies too?

What babies? There were plenty of babies to be found in Fisher’s Cove, but none of them appeared to be hanging out with the trio of women in question.

A very clear picture came down the mindlink. That’s Sophie’s baby, Aervyn sent. Elorie’s babies are newer, so they still look kinda strange.

Marcus gawked at the small, alien creature on his mental screen. That was a baby? It looked a lot more like the shrimp he occasionally pulled in off his boat. Are they supposed to look like that?

More mental giggles from Aervyn as Marcus belatedly realized that was an eternally stupid question to be asking a four-year-old.

With small drips of sanity leaking back into his brain, he also realized Aervyn was doing something most trained healers would walk over hot coals to be able to do. And as far as he knew, healing wasn’t on the boy’s very long list of talents. How are you