A Hidden Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,87
the same way.”
She shrugged. So she was a virtual witch. That wasn’t news.
Marcus sighed. “I hope Ginia appreciates the wonder of her talents a little more than you do, niece.”
Elorie’s frustration spilled over. “How can I appreciate it when I don’t really understand why it matters? Doing parlor tricks in an online game doesn’t seem like something to get all excited about.”
Oh, jeebers. Realm was Jamie’s baby, and she’d just mortally insulted it. Cheeks flaming, she looked at her screen. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t about the game, really. I’m sure it’s a lot of fun, but…” She trailed off. No point digging herself in deeper.
Jamie looked at her seriously. “Will you try one more test for me? I’m pretty sure that will help all of us understand why this is important.”
He held up a flower bud. Elorie ground her teeth. More parlor tricks.
Jamie snickered. “That’s the same look Aervyn gives me when he thinks I’ve asked him to do something dumb.”
Elorie tried to get a grip on her temper, well familiar with witchling faces. Surely she could act a little more mature than a four-year-old. “What do you want me to do?”
“There’s a blooming spell popping up on your screen. Can you activate that and push it to me?”
Easy, peasy. Elorie grabbed her mouse and shoved. Jamie laughed as petals flew off his flower. “I’d say that’s bloomed.”
Elorie blushed. Gran would have her head for de-petaling flowers, with magic or otherwise. There were no excuses for magical temper tantrums.
Marcus held up a spellshape on his palm. “I assume this is what you want for step two?”
Jamie nodded and held up a second bud. “Try the exact same thing, Elorie, but this time push Marcus’s blooming spell to me.”
Okay, she was still having a temper tantrum. Next time she bloomed flowers, she planned to be in a freaking garden. Looking at the off-screen version of Uncle Marcus, she yanked Net power, grabbed his spell, and hurled it through the computer at Jamie. He yelped as the flower in his hand exploded.
Oh, cripes. Temper evaporated as she realized what she’d done. What on earth had gotten into her? Control of magic was the first lesson preached to every witchling. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. I’m tired this morning, but that’s no excuse. Are you okay?”
His smile was full of sympathy. “You’ve got a far better reason than that, little sister. Ask Moira about the joys of being a pregnant witch. Nell was a wreck with the triplets.”
He glanced at Marcus. “Teach her how to cast a training circle. Pregnant mama magic can be a little unpredictable. No point scorching the furniture.”
Her babies were the cause of all this? Already? Elorie laid a hand on her belly, overcome with emotion.
Jamie grinned. “Yeah. Nat says the upswings are pretty good, too. Keep Kleenex handy.”
She sniffled. Her emotions hadn’t been this much of a mess since she was thirteen. “Are we done with the magic tricks now?”
“It’s about time we got back to that,” Marcus said. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, girl?”
She wasn’t a total idiot. “Sure. I took magic from you and pushed it to Jamie.”
She froze as realization set in. She’d pushed magic—real magic—across thousands of miles.
Jamie winked. “Not parlor tricks any more, huh?”
She shook her head slowly. “I can be a conduit for magic.”
“Aye,” Marcus said. “You can push or pull magic, real or virtual, and distance is no barrier.”
No witch raised in Gran’s sphere of influence could fail to understand the significance of that. Magic could only help what it could reach. If Uncle Marcus was right, the witching community’s reach had just gotten a whole lot bigger.
The thrum of her pulse picked up speed. She could send magic to any witch, anywhere. As could any Net witch. Elorie felt the truth of it running through her veins.
Finally.
Joy stormed through her soul. Gran always said that witches didn’t have magic—they did magic. Now, she knew what she was meant to do, why she had been gifted with this new form of magic.
She knew the witch she needed to be.
Until now, her magic had seemed to lean on her every weakness, push against everything she believed. But there was a reason she, even as a non-witch, had functioned as Gran’s right hand. She was a born organizer.
She beamed at Marcus and Jamie. “We need to convene a meeting.”
~ ~ ~
Jamie looked around Realm’s new, hastily assembled witch meeting room. No castles or moats anywhere, just comfortable couches and some