A Reckless Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,52
to happen. And no way in hell did Sierra need to go through it again. Not today.
Lauren reached for power, wrapping her own mind around Sierra’s. She grabbed the flow of the nightmare and folded it over, ripping out a large chunk of what came next.
It took practically everything she had. Devin was right—this was a dream sequence with a long history, and it deeply resisted the change she imposed on it. She fought the overwhelming urge to make it permanent.
Tying off the ends, she hit Sierra with the best sleep spell she could muster—and then reached for the floor as she felt the backlash hit.
~ ~ ~
Sophie cursed as Devin carried Lauren into the living room. “What now?”
Lauren lifted her head off his shoulder. “I just need a cookie. Or seven. I’ll be fine.”
“Sit.” Sophie glared at Devin and pointed at the couch. She’d had more than enough witch heroes in the last few days. Reaching out for Lauren’s hands, she started a basic healing scan. And had to laugh. “What, you thought I hadn’t had enough practice with channel shock? What happened up there? Jamie thought it was just a bad nightmare.”
“Beyond bad.” Devin spoke with a mouth full of cookie. “Sierra watches her mother die. Thanks to Lauren, she watched it one less time.”
Sophie frowned. “She sees it? She was there?”
“I don’t think so.” Lauren leaned back against the couch. “When she’s awake, she believes her mother’s dead, but she doesn’t know for sure. I don’t think she was there.”
Sophie wasn’t so sure. “Recurring dream?”
“Oh, yeah.” Lauren took the cookie Devin handed her. “Strong little bugger—I tried to loop out the worst part and just barely got it done.”
Nat and Nell walked in, bearing bowls full of soup. It smelled like heaven—Sophie was pretty sure even her toes drooled. “Where’s Jamie?”
“I hit him with a sleep spell.” Nell grinned. “He never does see those coming.”
Good. One less patient to worry about. Sophie reached up as Nat handed over a bowl. “It’s a crazy day when the woman who’s about to give birth is taking care of the rest of us.”
Nat smiled. “It’s better than being the watched pot, trust me.”
She had a point. And the soup tasted even better than it smelled. French onion, heavy on the onions and topped with strands of melty cheese. Pausing to savor the first few spoonfuls, Sophie breathed deeply—and then turned her mind back to their main problem. “So, Sierra knows how her mom died. She dreams it.”
Nell sucked in air. “What? I thought she was reliving the helicopter flight. We got vague images of chasing big waves before I managed to get a decent wall up.”
Devin shook his head and looked at Lauren. “Can you project the face of the woman on the island?”
She managed half a grin. “Can I have more soup after?”
Sophie frowned. Mind-projection was pretty basic—clearly Lauren had pushed awfully close to the edge upstairs. In an emergency, a witch did what she had to do—but this had only been a dream.
Lauren shook her head, meeting Sophie’s eyes. Not just a dream. Watch.
It was only ten seconds of replay. And if Sophie had possessed mind power, she’d have ripped the nightmare out of the fabric of time and tossed it into the depths of hell.
She looked at Lauren and tried to clear the horror from her mind. “I’m a healer sworn, and I don’t know if I’d have had the guts you did. It was right to leave the dream in her head—we don’t know what it’s attached to, or how much of it she remembers.”
“Thanks.” Lauren’s voice was raspy. “I needed to hear that.”
Sophie had known it was more than channel shock rocking her latest patient. Sometimes the very hardest choices involved having the magic—and still doing nothing.
Devin looked at his sister. “That was Amelia, right?”
Nell nodded slowly, eyes glistening. “But how could Sierra have seen it? Maybe it’s just a nightmare, pieced together from other experiences?”
Lauren shook her head. “No. Or at least, I don’t think so. Most dreams feel a bit unreal. This one reads like a memory. The imprint’s really deep.”
Nell frowned. “But how’s that possible? Amelia was out alone in the middle of the ocean.”
A few months in Fisher’s Cove, where a long-dead five-year-old boy still cast a big shadow, and Sophie knew the answer. “She might have traveled.”
Devin turned white, but shook his head. “She’s been on her own for six years, Soph. No way an astral traveler lives that long