A Modern Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,47
Aervyn walked in the back door, covered in sand.
“Out of my kitchen! Leave the sand outside.” Nell waved them back out.
“It’s actually my kitchen, big sister. I’m fine with a little sand. Real men get dirty.”
Nell didn’t bother to reply. She just gave him a look. Then she winked at Nat, and mouthed “watch”.
Nat watched as Jamie and Aervyn concentrated. She saw the air in front of them slowly begin to move, picking up bits of sand. The air sped up and began to spiral. At a nod from Aervyn, their baby whirlwind picked up and traveled around the two of them, collecting a funnel of sand.
The team magic was impressive, but it was the easy connection between them that held Nat; the kind of bond that spoke of a long history of happy hours together. She saw the look of mischief Jamie shot Aervyn. The sandy whirlwind darted over to Nell, and judging from the resulting giggles, gave her bare toes a good tickle. Then it headed out the door, presumably back to the sandbox.
“All clean, Mama. I’m hungry.”
Nell rubbed Aervyn’s head. “You’re always hungry after magic lessons, punk child. Jamie, can Lauren handle an invasion of the troops? I was going to call home and have Daniel bring everyone over, but I don’t want to overload her.”
“I can help her, Mama, just like I did in the airport.” Aervyn’s eyes danced.
Jamie picked him up. “Thanks for that, kiddo, but not necessary. I have new batteries in the iPod, so she can have her own personal force field back. If it worked in an airport, it can probably handle the Walker clan.”
…
Lauren looked at the crowd around Jamie’s dinner table. She was definitely not in Chicago anymore. Nell’s husband Daniel sat at one end, Jennie at the other. She, Nat, Jamie, and Nell shared the long benches on either side with a flurry of kids. She thought there were only five, but none of them held still for long—and she was pretty sure Aervyn was porting his sisters around. It was hard to tell with identical triplets.
She’d grown up with wonderful parents, but as an only child, Lauren’s first experiences with crowded meal times had come in college. Seven Walkers, Jamie, and Jennie could easily rival any college dining hall for both noise level and food consumption.
“Aunt Jennie, are you gonna teach Lauren how to be a mind witch?” Aervyn spoke with a mouth full of spaghetti. “She needs lots of practice.”
“Aervyn.” Nell glared at her witchling.
Lauren laughed. “He’s right. I can’t keep carrying Jamie’s gizmo around in my pocket forever. Can I, Aervyn?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Sometimes it runs out of batteries, and then you gotta know what to do.”
Aunt Jennie spoke up. “We’ll start our lessons tomorrow morning. Aervyn, it might be good for you to help us. You could use lots of practice too.” She reached over and tickled his ribs. “Mostly on your witch manners.”
“I can deliver him tomorrow afternoon,” Nell said. “He has to go see Dr. Celia in the morning and get his hearing aids refitted. Even his ears are growing fast right now.”
Lauren was shocked; she’d never noticed Aervyn’s hearing aids. As she looked more carefully, they appeared for a moment, and then disappeared again. Nice trick.
He was watching her very closely. Even powerful little witchlings must have some insecurities, she thought. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Can you teach me how to do that? I want to be six feet tall and have ears like Cat Woman.”
He grinned at her. “You don’t have to do that. Uncle Jamie says you’re already plenty to handle.”
Lauren assumed the kick that hit her shins had been aimed at Aervyn. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. He nodded his head, whispered a few words back, and reached for her hand under the table. She barely had time to register the swoosh of her brain leaking out before Cat Woman was suddenly sitting in Jamie’s seat. The illusion lasted only a few seconds before Aervyn fell off the bench laughing, along with one of his sisters. Most of the rest of the room looked pretty unstable in their seats too.
The only person not overcome with mirth was Jennie. She looked at Lauren with interest, and more than a little surprise.
It suddenly occurred to Lauren that recruiting a four-year-old witch for her practical joke might have violated several rules of family conduct and witching ethics.
“Relax, girl—that was damn funny.” Jennie grinned. “Maybe one