A Nomadic Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 4) (22 page)

Kevin blinked—and settled his saber back in his hands, much quieter this time.

Sophie watched as their bookworm witchling mirrored Marcus’s footsteps, learning the strange and ancient dance of swords.  And grinned as Kevin’s sudden lunge nearly sent Marcus into the moat.

Hmmph.
  Marcus sounded disgusted, mostly with himself. 
He’s got some potential, this one.  And I’m a lot older than I used to be.

Lizzie yelled something unintelligible and fierce as she dove under Marcus’s sword hand, aiming for Sean’s knees.  Sean spun in frustration, still tangled in his own cape—

And froze.

Ear-piercing klaxons blared through Realm, loud enough to wake the dead.

Morgan.

Sophie bolted for the ramparts and realized Marcus was four steps ahead of her, long legs flying over rough cobblestone.  She slowed down—a healer with a concussion wasn’t going to help anyone—and then remembered she was in Realm.  Two quick finger taps later, she’d ported both herself and Marcus to Morgan’s side.

The wailing Morgan’s side.

Marcus swung a hand around, flinging power at invisible enemies.  He grabbed Morgan roughly—a move that did nothing to diminish her howling—and screamed commands at the tablet on his waist.  Voice-activated spells flung in all directions.  Warding.  Seeking.  Hunting the terror that stalked his baby girl.

Sophie had seen ravaging mama grizzlies that looked less fierce.

And none of it was necessary.  The kicking, screaming, pink, warm Morgan was very much present.

It was Moira who silenced the alarms.

And Moira who reached out to touch Marcus’s hand as Morgan’s cries finally penetrated. 

The edges of insanity leaked out of his eyes, and he looked down at his baby girl.  Really looked, his hands gentling as he touched her cheeks.  Her toes.  Caught her waving hand and squeezed it, soothing her cries down to nothing. 

And when he finally spoke, to his tiny audience of one, it was a decent approximation of Marcus Buchanan.  “We might have won without the interruption, you know.”

Lizzie giggled.  “Maybe she’s mad you were using her sword.”

He looked up, eyes taking in the concern on the assembled faces.  And for the first time that Sophie could ever remember, walked toward a crowd. Carrying the baby girl they all wanted to see.

~ ~ ~

Nell was one of the few not watching Marcus.

She was watching her brother and her healer daughter, standing nose to nose over one of the funky new Realm tablets.  She edged carefully through the crowd. 
What’s up?

Dunno yet. 
Jamie’s mental voice sounded distracted. 
We’re still trying to figure out which warding spell got activated.

Two more blonde heads reached him before Nell managed to squeeze through the last of the witch bystanders.  Good.  Mia was a hotshot hacker, and Shay was their most surefooted debugger.

Best ten-year-old online security team on the planet.

And it made her proud that they were looking for the breach while most people were just happy to see Morgan safe.

“There.”  Ginia stabbed a finger at a corner of her tablet.  “That’s the trigger.”

Jamie grunted and moved his nose in closer.  “What spell is that?”

“One of the old ones.”  Mia’s fingers moved at light speed, scrolling lines of code.  “Ginnie, you’ve got it labeled as ‘shiny rocks’?”  She looked up, puzzled.  “What’s that mean?”

“It’s the one Moira asked for.”  Ginia frowned.  “It’s a really old ‘stay put’ blessing.  Kind of like a stasis field, but way older.  It reacts if anything tries to touch all the shiny rocks she put in Morgan’s garden.”

Nell blinked.  She was at least ten pages of code behind on this one.  “What rocks?”

“She had us move in boatloads of shiny beach pebbles.”  Jamie nodded in the direction of the moats and gardens below.  “See how it glints down there?”

“Wait.”  Nell was still trying to catch up.  “So something magical tried to touch the rocks and set off a warding spell?”  She frowned.  In a game world full of witches, that could mean any number of things.

False alarm, maybe?
 sent Jamie quietly.

Perhaps.  Or an errant game spell—the old magics weren’t used to virtual shenanigans. 
Whatever it was, it wasn’t headed at Morgan.
  At least not directly.

Hmmm.

Nell could feel Jamie’s head ratcheting down from red alert.  Her daughters were a different story.

“Here!”  Mia stabbed at lines of code, her sisters hanging over her shoulders.  “And whatever it was tried twice.”

“Didn’t make it through.  Won’t next time, either.”  Ginia’s voice had Nell glancing up in surprise. 

Jamie frowned over his niece’s head.  S
he’s taking this really personally.  I helped with the wards, but they’re mostly her work.

Nell nodded slowly.  Message heard, loud and clear.  She was insanely proud of her girls, especially of their instincts to love and protect and nourish the people around them.  But whether or not today had been a real threat, Morgan was a traveler—the odds on her reaching her first birthday were terrifyingly low.  And guilt could cripple even really healthy, happy girls.

Time to take some weight off ten-year-old shoulders. 

Nell leaned in, a hand on Ginia’s arm.  “Moira says you’re doing some weaving that looks a little like spellcasting.  Want to show me what you’ve done?”

She read welcome in her daughter’s mind.

And relief.

Chapter 16

Jamie walked into the Witches’ Lounge, Kenna in one arm, a bag of guy food in the other.  He grinned at the assembled guys and babies.  The Fairy Godfathers, reunited.  “Who called the meeting?”

“I did,” said a dry voice from behind him. 

Daniel came over to grab the bag of food and waved at Morgan, riding kangaroo-style in Marcus’s pouch.  “Traced back my hack, did you?  It was a fairly sloppy one.”

“Wasn’t necessary.”  Marcus’s lips quirked.  “I don’t know all that many men capable of creating a baby dressing flow chart.”

Mike grinned at Jamie—that one had been their little contribution.

Aaron looked up, his daughter a tiny, curled puddle on his chest.  “How’d the bath thing go?”

Marcus snorted.  “She’s clean.  Let’s just leave it at that.”

Yeah.  Kenna’s short life had been full of a lot of overly exciting moments, but by far the worst had been the first time Jamie had tried to give her a bath.  He had no freaking clue how fathers without teleporting skills managed it.

Mike sniffed at the air.  “Anything good in that bag?  Starving.”

“Sorry.” Aaron shifted slightly, freeing up an arm.  “Steaks require more than ten minutes of warning.”

Doritos didn’t.  “You’ll just have to clog your arteries along with the rest of us this time.”  Jamie tossed over a bag, wincing as it almost dinged Aislin in the head.  His porting reflexes were toast after the sword fight.  Keeping Lizzie out of the moat had been a full-time job, and Aervyn had been too busy waving his arms at imaginary dragons to be much help.

Aaron contemplated the bag.  “Whoever designed these things was clearly not a father.”

Jamie laughed as he tried to keep Kenna’s hands out of the second bag.  “It doesn’t get any easier.”  He remembered one very sad night on the couch watching baseball, newborn Kenna asleep in one arm, his other fondling an unopenable beer and bag of chips. 

Mike reached over and amiably ripped open Aaron’s chips, helping himself to a large handful in the process.  “These are banned from the house right now.  Something about orange breast milk not being good for babies.”

Jamie refrained from mentioning how many Doritos Nell had eaten while pregnant.  None of her babies had been born orange.  However, the rules for nursing moms were mystical, obscure, and absolute.  And quite often made up on the spot by an exhausted, hungry mama.

Any man with half a brain learned to dispense love, sympathy, and food, not necessarily in that order.  And to eat his Doritos in secret.

“If you all have your helping of orange poison now—”  Marcus put Morgan down on the floor beside Kenna and looked around the room.  “I need more help.”

Jamie ignored the Dorito slander—Marcus had always been a strange witch.

Daniel reached over and tickled Morgan’s belly.  “She looks happy, nothing smells, and the diaper’s not on backwards.  Looks like you have it under control.”

“Not with that.”  Marcus shook his head.  “It’s the traveling.  I need a brain trust.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow.  “You have a pretty big one.”  Realm had closed ranks around their grumpiest player.  Even now, half the level-seven players were trying to work out exactly what had set off the alarms. 

“I know.”  Quiet gratitude leaked out of Marcus’s head, along with a heaping dose of frustration.  “But all we’ve done so far is fancy Band-Aids.”  He looked down at Morgan, busy watching Kenna trying to roll over.  “It’s going to take more than that.”

“She didn’t travel at all this time, right?”  Daniel leaned back, eyes pensive.  “Realm made a difference.  Or the wards did.”

Maybe both.  “We’re working on that.”  Jamie tapped his tablet, checking on his sister’s progress reports.  They’d ruled out false alarms and game shenanigans.  “Nell’s adding some more layers to what Ginia already had in place.”

“She didn’t travel.”  Marcus’s words were terse, and somehow ominous.  “But whatever came for her came in broad daylight.”

Oh, shit.  Jamie froze, fingers snapping back to his tablet.  Astral travel happened at night.  Always.  He messaged Nell, and then looked up, facing the fear lurking in Marcus’s eyes.  “Maybe Realm made it easier.  Changed the rules somehow.”  Night and day in Realm were very ephemeral things, decided by a few lines of code.

“Maybe it’s time to try Kansas instead of Realm,” said Daniel quietly.

“I don’t know.”  Marcus shrugged, and every father in the room felt his helpless anger.    “I can’t ward her half as well in Kansas.  And I don’t know if Realm has anything to do with this.  Maybe it’s Morgan who’s different.”  He swallowed audibly.  “Or the magic that sent her here.”

Daniel nodded slowly, a master strategist weighing the odds.  “Then fight from turf you know.”

“Trying.”  Marcus’s face was a picture of impatient frustration.  He squatted down beside his girl on the floor and reached for her hands, voice suddenly hoarse.  “But I still think there’s something I’m supposed to figure out, and I have no earthly idea what it is.”  His plea for help pounded into every mind in the room.

Jamie watched, empathy in overdrive, as the little girl with purple eyes wrapped her fingers around those of the man who loved her.

And then Morgan burped like a linebacker, and mirth hit the room like a ton of bricks.

Mike eyed Marcus, chuckling.  “You teach her that?”

“Hardly.”  The voice was crusty old bachelor to the core—but his eyes held an odd mix of embarrassment and pride.

Daniel leaned over and picked up his niece.  “How about you, Kenna girl?  Got any football burps in you?  Or trucker farts?”  He smiled, tossing her in the air.  “Your cousin Nathan used to fart like a jet airplane.”

Kenna giggled and babbled, no farts in sight.  Jamie sighed—it wasn’t for lack of trying.  He looked over at Marcus.  “They’re never too young to start farting lessons.”

“I’ll suggest it to Aunt Moira.”  The delivery was deadpan, which only got Mike and Aaron laughing harder.

Jamie grinned—Moira had high tolerance for most little-boy stunts, but she’d always drawn the line at farting contests of any kind.  He got down on the floor and tickled Morgan’s toes.  “You want lessons, munchkin, you just come find me.”

She kicked her feet and puckered up.  Jamie watched, fascinated, as she wiggled her lips, silently, intent on some not-quite-there trick.  “What’s she trying to do?”

The embarrassed pride in Marcus’s mind spiked to entirely new levels.  “Just something Lizzie showed her.”

Morgan tried again, and managed some odd spluttery sounds.

And then Marcus, studiously ignoring everyone in the room, leaned over and blew a raspberry into her toes.

Morgan laughed in belly-shaking delight—and blew one right back at him.

It was ninety shades of adorable—and if embarrassment could kill, Marcus was right on the brink.

Jamie looked over at Daniel.  Someone needed to rescue the poor guy.

Mike intercepted the look and dove into the Doritos.  Loudly.  “So, what’s next?”

Daniel shrugged.  “We think.  Backtrack.  Put our brains to work.”

Marcus nodded.  “That would be appreciated.”

Daniel grinned and tossed Kenna in the air again.  “But in the meantime, I think we need to build a better baby carrier.”

Jamie stopped, his hand halfway into the Doritos.  “You think we can ward a sling?”  It wasn’t a bad idea.

“No.”  Daniel rolled his eyes.  “I think we can build a
smarter
sling.” He grabbed Marcus’s pouch.  “This thing was built with a woman in mind.  Those of us who don’t have built-in milk machines have different needs.”

Marcus’s mind fled into a haze of embarrassment.  Jamie tried not to laugh—this meeting had been hard enough on a certain grumpy guy’s ego already.