A Witch Central Wedding (3 page)

It had been a
very
specific dream.

And Devin made a damn sexy pirate.

She backed out of the bedroom—way too many mind witches at the wedding to be imagining Devin half-naked with an eye patch.  The rest of the house she ignored, mostly a warren of small rooms that needed the help of a good contractor. 

Slipping out the creaky side door, she followed a small path around to the cliffs.  The view was gorgeous—the stuff of dreams and really big real-estate commissions.  But it wasn’t what she’d come for.

Turning her back on the sea, she looked at her home-to-be.

And felt ready.

It was awe inspiring to watch the wedding circle assemble.  Nat took in a deep breath, preparing her small offering of love to add to the forming tidal wave.

It was the same communal strength that had held steady as Kenna found her way into the world.  The echoes of that memory brought tears to Nat’s eyes. 

She felt Jamie’s hand slide into hers.  He understood, somehow, this wonderful man who’d grown up immersed in the miracle that was Witch Central—knew how much their easy love still rocked her.

The two of them stood at the top of the circle, a funnel for the magic that would buoy up Lauren and Devin on this very special day.  Nat snuck a look at her brother-in-law, standing on a flat rock in the center of the circle. 

Strong, fluid grace—and a heart open to the magic flowing around him.  The panther had stopped climbing the walls.

He caught her eye and grinned.

She grinned back at the very different heart who shared her husband’s face.  And let the amusement flow out her hands into the swirling power of the huge circle that was still forming.  Small hands reached for bigger ones, old and sure arms linking with those newer and less certain.

Lauren’s mother stood hand-in-hand with Mia and Shay.  Non-witches of experience, shepherding one of their own.

Kenna stirred on Jamie’s chest, and he scooped her out of the sling, grinning. 
Told you so.

Indeed he had.  Their little girl never missed a magic show.  Nat watched the tiny lights dancing above her sleepy daughter’s head and hoped that was all the magic Kenna planned to contribute.

Soft music began to play—haunting, lilting notes that seemed to give voice to the love flowing from those gathered.  Nat had heard Elorie play before, but this time, it seemed like even the grasses and flowers made music along with her flute.

They are
, sent Jamie, amused. 
The small contribution of our earth witchlings.

Nat looked at Lizzie and Ginia, swaying in gentle communion with the notes.  And Moira, smiling at them with love in her eyes.

Gorgeous.  All of them.

The circle quieted, a small ripple at the north end.  Edric made his way into the inner circle, resplendent in midnight-blue robes, hands glowing with gathered magic.  That much, Nat remembered from her own wedding.  Edric had presided over witch weddings for almost fifty years.

The twinkle in his eye, however, was new.  Love did that, even to an old man.  Nat grinned over at his lovely Helga, dressed in glorious red and adoring every minute of her first Witch Central wedding.

Edric raised his staff to the sky.

“We gather here, upon this soil, upon this day

To witness and bless this union destined

by stars and earth and love unending.

With hearts full and power steadfast,

We call into the circle those who will stand

with Devin Sullivan and Lauren McCready.”

Hand in hand, she and Jamie stepped forward into the circle’s interior, as did Matt and Sophie.  Her husband squeezed her hand one last time and took his place with Matt.  They would complete Devin’s trio.  She and Sophie would stand for Lauren.

Devin blasted them all a hundred-watt grin from his place on the rock, and then turned to the south.

Every head present did the same.  And waited, in collective held breath, for the arrival of the bride.

The circle quietly parted at the far end.  She was here.

-o0o-

Devin grinned as his nephew came into sight, walking with surprising reverence, his feet six inches off the ground and shiny red cape fluttering in his wake.  Lines of magic flared and swirled, a spell in the making.

Aervyn moved through the parted crowd, a carpet of flower petals floating up on the summer winds.  No one moved—they were well aware the magic had only begun.

Two last steps and Aervyn slid to a stop in front of the wedding party.  He looked up, face a blend of awe and adorable love.  “She’s really beautiful, Uncle Devin.”

Whatever glue had been holding Devin’s emotions together cracked. 

Aervyn turned, fingers flittering lightly in the air.  The fingers weren’t for power—they were for care.  For gentleness.  With the magic of absolute five-year-old love, he pulled on the flows that would carry Lauren and her father into the circle.

Devin felt the waters of his heart swirl.

It should have been high comedy—his witch wife-to-be, wedding dress flowing, riding down the makeshift aisle on a broomstick.

It was anything but.

He was vaguely aware of Lauren’s father—proud and choked up and clutching his broomstick with one desperate hand.  The other offered his daughter the steadfast support that had emanated from both of Lauren’s parents since the moment they’d arrived.

He caught the edges of crowd amusement as Leo ducked under the broomsticks and threw an excited handful of purple rice at the bride, about twenty minutes too early.

And he felt the pulsing energy of love and awe, dozens strong, shining at his back.

But when Devin forever remembered this moment, all he would see were her eyes.

His world shrunk to the ineffable link blazing to life between his soul and hers.  The two who would become—in some tangible way he had never truly known existed—one.

Her broomstick settled to the ground in front of him, light as fairy dust on spun glass.  A gentle kiss on her father’s cheek, and she stepped onto the flat rock that would be the place of their union.

He reached for her hands, needing to touch.  And, overwhelmed for the first time in his life, pulled her close.

-o0o-

Her knees were trembling.

Lauren leaned into the strong arms of the man waiting for her—and realized it wasn’t her knees at all.

Wild and fearless Devin Sullivan was shaking like a leaf. 

His mind and heart stripped naked, he was offering all that he was.  All that he would be.  Deep love and searing need, and a promise to be water to her soul.

Her heart sang with the joy and rightness of it.  And knew it wasn’t complete.  He offered everything—except for the one thing critical to the soul of the man who had made happy wreckage of her life.

Wordless, she cupped his face in her hands, lifted his eyes up to hers, planted her feet deep into the rock beneath their feet, and dared his sense of adventure to come out to play.

It took a moment.

But when she saw laughter spark into his eyes, she knew the missing piece had arrived.  He was hers now.  All of him.

She turned to Edric and winked at his solemn, grumpy face.  They were ready.

-o0o-

Retha exhaled, deeply proud of her son—and awestruck by the woman he’d chosen to love.  

The two of them were magnificent.

Lauren was mind-broadcasting now, opening the love in her heart to the circle gathered round them.  Devin’s mind had always been an open book.

And reading them both, Retha knew the truth.  Life had never taken the full measure of Devin Sullivan.  Until now.  He’d always been a whirlwind of emotion and drive.  Her tempest of a boy had grown up into a storm of a man, one bent on changing the world, sometimes just for the pure excitement of it.

She and Michael had planted their wild child into the fertile ground of Witch Central and trusted in the magic of love.

And as Retha watched him stand hand-in-hand with Lauren, mind a single beam of steady joy, she knew his roots would stick.

It would make her next job so much easier.

Edric looked over, mindsending his customary growl.  It was time.

She looked across the circle, meeting the eyes of her counterpoint in the east.  Moira stood, strong and ageless—palms outstretched.  Waiting.  An invitation and a dare.  Jennie stood at the foot of the circle, hands up as well, eyes dancing in easy empathy. 

No Sullivan walked away from a dare.  Or the commitments of love.

For the first time in her life, Retha Sullivan reached for the ancient, difficult power of the crone and asked her heart to accept. 

And then, palms to the sky, she began the blessing of the crones.

“
We ask the power of life well-lived,

Come into this day where souls seek to join.

Bring true sight and wisdom,

Patience and grace,

Grant these two we love

Hearts that sing

And joy for the journey ahead.

We ask this gift, we aged three

As we will, so mote it be.”

When she lowered her hands to her sides, the silence was absolute.  And then a gentle, thrumming warmth began to beat in the stone under Lauren and Devin’s feet.

The crones had asked—and the power of life had responded.

Edric raised his staff once again and began the age-old ritual of joining.

Retha watched, eyes full of tears and heart full of joy, as her son and his chosen began their sacred words to each other.  The vows were heartfelt and simple—and the story behind them had made the rounds of Witch Central at the speed of cookie-propelled love.

It was tradition—couples wrote their own vows.  Together or separately, they found the words that needed to be spoken to the one they loved for all the world to witness.

For some, the words came easily.  Others borrowed from those who had come before.  For a few, finding them was pure torture.

Retha had not been surprised to see her son join the first group—flow had never been Devin’s problem.  It was Lauren who had ground to a halt, her mind the frustrated, unsure mess Retha remembered all too well from struggling with her own vows so many years ago.

For a week, Lauren’s distress had haunted every mind witch in California.

And then one poet fairy had marched into the offices of Berkeley Real Estate and plunked down a crumpled piece of paper that contained the words of Lauren’s heart. 

Even in a community used to deeply special wedding gifts, it had been remarkable.

Retha sought out Lizard in the crowd, and tried not to laugh as the highly embarrassed ex-delinquent squirmed in the arms of the man who loved her.  This might be the first wedding to use those words.  If she was any judge of young love, it wouldn’t be the last.

They were such beautiful words.

And drilled into every head present by the bride.

Retha smiled.  Welcomed Lauren to the long list of mind witches whose barrier control had entirely shredded during their vows.  And helped Jennie and Caro erect enough of a shield to keep away the headaches.  Green goo had no place at a wedding.

She sniffled, overwhelmed by the intersection of memory, power, and a heart beyond full.  And, hearing Edric’s closing words, reached for her youngest grandson’s mind. 
It’s time, sweetie.

Aervyn, feet mostly on the ground, raised his hands. 

Devin, in on the second and far more secret surprise, reached out for his wife, and held on tight. 

And on the gift of one five-year-old boy’s exuberant love, powered by a circle dozens strong, the newlyweds soared into a beautiful, swooping dance in the sky.

Nat walked over to her husband, two plates of food in her hands, and smiled at the peaceful girl sleeping in a pouch on his chest.  “Aervyn’s magic tired her out, did it?”

“For now,” said Jamie, rolling his eyes.  “Just wait until she wakes up.”

“We’ll give her to Gramma Retha.”  Who had last been seen leading a contingent of witchlings on a bucket raid.  No Witch Central event was ever complete without a water fight.