A Reckless Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,72

to find them. You’ll need some times and dates, though, and it would hurt Sierra to ask. Your mama might have that information from the foster-care files.”

“We already know all that stuff.” Shay spoke for her sisters. “It was on the third night of Mardi Gras when she was twelve.” She grinned. “We pay attention.”

They certainly did. So far, they were taking the adults to school.

Ginia sniffed her hot chocolate again, still trying to figure out the mystery ingredient. “Jake’s the new part. We need your help with the old part.”

Didn’t that just figure. “Well, I’m certainly old, child. What do you want me to do?” Scrying probably wouldn’t help here, but she was willing to try.

Mia giggled. “You’re not the old part. We need you to convince Lauren to use her crystal ball.”

“Oh, my.” Moira paused, savoring their quick minds. “What a very good idea. Not an easy task, mind you…”

Ginia grinned. “We know. Lauren’s still a scaredy-witch on the hocus-pocus stuff.”

She was indeed. They’d had a few quick lessons on how to use Great-gran’s crystal ball, but unless Moira was mistaken, Lauren hadn’t asked it a serious question since the day before her stroke.

Mia reached over to pat her hand. “You can do it, Aunt Moira. Lauren’s a sucker for people with sad hearts.”

Moira chucked, thinking the very savvy, professional Lauren might be surprised at that particular description, apt though it was. “I’ll do my best.”

Three smiles of approval on three identical faces. They’d gotten what they’d come for.

Moira closed her eyes, suddenly hit by the full import of the moment. She had always been matriarch of the witching community. Her granddaughter Elorie had stepped into a large part of those shoes—organizing training and service and generally gluing the community together. But she’d never had a true heir for her meddling talents.

Until now.

~ ~ ~

Jamie grimaced as Sierra’s intricate air streams tangled and blew up, collapsing her spell. And then winced as, eyes fierce, she pulled on power to begin the whole thing over again.

Devin stepped back, shaking his head. “She’s going to kill herself working this hard.”

Or kill her trainers. They’d been out at Govin’s place for four hours, and Sierra had been doing magic almost non-stop. Jamie was tired just from watching. And judging from the amount of food Govin and Dev had consumed in the last hour, they were flagging as well.

Hungry bellies, they could fix. Solving Sierra wasn’t going to be as easy. “Kind of the opposite of reckless now, huh?”

“Can you blame her? We all ganged up on her, trying to convince her she was a danger to humankind. Then ganged up on her again, telling her she has to use her magic.” Devin’s voice carried judgment Jamie wasn’t used to hearing.

He frowned. “Well, both those things are pretty much true.”

Devin snorted. “If she keeps going at this pace, she’s going to be the safest, most overworked witch in the west by Winter Solstice.”

Which was in two days. Point taken. “You think we’re pushing too hard?”

“Not anymore. She’s doing all the pushing now.” Devin paused, sadness in his eyes. “We all assumed she’d be hard to convince.”

Jamie picked up the thought his brother didn’t voice. They’d all assumed she was like her mother. And they’d steamrolled her because of it.

He let out a sigh. Time to try to unflatten a witch.

Jamie focused once more as Sierra’s latest attempt hit crux—and this time, nothing tangled. He watched, with impressed respect, as she threaded the narrowest of air currents through 169 lit candles and blew out the one exactly at the center of the square—without so much as a flicker in any of the other flames.

With almost thirty years of practice, he could only handle a 9x9 square of candles. And he was one of the most talented air witches on the west coast. Sierra had just mastered a 13x13 square.

She looked over at Govin. “Add another row.”

Crap, thought Jamie, reading exactly the same reaction on Govin’s face. He stepped forward, cookie in hand. “I hereby name you Queen of the Candles. Take a break, wonderwitch.”

She took the cookie but shook her head. “It still took four tries. I can do better.”

“I can’t.” Govin’s voice was quietly commanding. “There’s no such thing as perfection in magic, Sierra. Not one of us here can do what you just did. It’s enough.”

“The more I practice, the safer I’ll be.” It was obvious she had no intention of stopping until she fell over from exhaustion.

Jamie looked at his