its storage box in over a year. “Hey, bud.” He squatted down beside his nephew. “Having a rough morning?”
“I was waiting for you. Mama said I could, and maybe you can help my heart feel better.”
Oh, sure. Leave him with the easy job. “I can try. Are you still sad about the bird?”
Aervyn snuggled in and nodded. “I bet its mama is sad too.”
Baby birds born out of season often got abandoned by their mamas, but this wasn’t the time for a nature lesson. “Sometimes really bad things happen. It’s okay to be sad.”
Aervyn just cuddled for a bit, thinking. “Is Sierra a bad witch?”
She’s a witch who knows all too well how an abandoned baby bird feels, thought Devin, but he didn’t say that, either. “No. She’s a really strong witch, like you are. But you know how Uncle Jamie teaches you all kinds of stuff about how to be careful and safe?”
Aervyn nodded, eyes still drenched in sadness.
“Well, nobody taught Sierra those things. So she did some magic yesterday, and something bad happened, but she didn’t mean to.”
A long, long silence. And then a big sigh. “So she’s probably really sad too.”
That was a heck of a piece of growing up for a four-year-old. “Yup. She’s really sad too. We need to teach her how to be a safer witch, but maybe we can help her feel a little better first. You can’t learn magic when you’re all sad inside.”
Aervyn thought a bit longer, and then took his hat off. “’Kay.”
He turned and walked down the hall, small boy on a mission. Devin followed and hoped he hadn’t committed a big uncle screw-up.
Sierra sat in the kitchen with Nell, a plate of untouched waffles in front of her. So much for the pancake idea. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes haunted—and when she saw Aervyn, she practically stopped breathing.
Devin held up a hand as Nell moved to intercept her son. It was a gamble, but he didn’t make half-assed bets.
Aervyn went and stood at Sierra’s side. He tilted his head sideways, waiting until she looked at him. “Can I sit on your lap?”
Sierra just stared—so Aervyn climbed on up.
He looked right into her eyes. “I’m sad too.” He held out his ratty old blankie. “If I cuddle this, it helps me feel better. Maybe we can both hold it for a while.”
Sierra sat frozen for a long moment. Then she wrapped her arms around witchling and blankie and they began to rock, sharing sounds of incoherent sadness.
Nell turned away, tears flooding her eyes. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
Devin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they stood together, watching as two hearts grieved and healed a little.
~ ~ ~
Jamie reached for a wrench, ready to re-attach the bumper to his moped. He’d ported Sierra into Nell’s backyard with as gentle a landing as he could manage on four hours of sleep. The moped hadn’t been so lucky. Not that it was any stranger to bumps and bruises.
Although to the best of his recollection, it had never been used in an attempt to run away. He’d have to ask Mom. And then ask her to give Sierra the same “wear your helmet or get shackled to my leg for the rest of your life” speech she’d once given Devin. It had been extremely effective.
She had always seemed to know how to keep Dev just this side of insanity, even through their rather eventful teenage years.
He was beginning to think he needed to sit Mom down, get her talking, and take notes. The little girl cozying in Nat’s belly was showing her own brand of Sullivan charm already. And with magic on board, they were likely to have a fairly interesting ride. Starting day one.
He felt Nat’s presence before he heard her. Her mind was like a soft breeze on his cheeks—it always had him turning, seeking more. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” Banging the dent out of the bumper probably hadn’t been the best of ideas while she was still sleeping.
“It’s 10 a.m. Hunger woke me up.” She dropped down on the grass beside him and handed over half her bagel. “Should have had some breakfast before I went back to bed.”
Nell’s “witch AWOL” page had woken them both up in the wee hours of the morning. He’d crawled back into bed after the rescue long enough to snuggle Nat back asleep, and then fixed himself breakfast. Tracking and porting a fleeing witch had used up a lot