Debora Geary - A Nomadic Witch

A Modern Witch Series: Book 4

Copyright 2012 Debora Geary

Spring had come to Nova Scotia, and with it, the consequences of last summers bout of contagious fertility. There were babies everywhere.

Which was why escape had been essential. A few hours of uninterrupted peace, under one of the first brilliantly blue skies of the year. A man, his fishing boat, and the open ocean. Perfection.

Unfortunately, it didnt appear that he was alone.

Marcus looked over at the cargo closet of his fishing trawler. It was fairly embarrassing to have a stowaway, especially when you were a mind witch with a reputation for being inhospitable. Youll freeze if you stay in there all day. Cargo closets werent very dry places this time of year.

Total silence.

The boy had been watching too many pirate movies. The worst Ill do is make you swab the decks. Probably. Marcus shoved the friendliest mind-vibe he could manage in Seans direction.

Another minute of silence, and then some scuffling. A couple of surprisingly eloquent curses later, a somewhat bedraggled eleven-year-old emerged from the closet, wet to his waist.

Marcus grinned. Sometimes karma had an excellent sense of humor. Fell into a bucket, did you?

Sean scowled. Its dark in there.

There were several other boats still in sight. Marcus aimed away from the good fishing-it wasnt sea creatures he was after. You might as well bring that bucket out with you. The decks could certainly use a good scrubbing, and Sean usually had energy to burn.

His stowaway grinned. Can I sing pirate songs while I work?

Marcus growled and stared out to sea, amused in spite of himself. Apparently he was doomed to child-sized company of some sort today, but at least this one wasnt still in diapers. Wheres Kevin? Generally the twins traveled together.

Babysitting for Elorie. Gran says he has the touch.

Marcus grinned at the boys tone-apparently Sean shared his general distaste for wailing babies. Or maybe it was a little more complicated than that. A trickle of unhappiness swirled at the back of Seans mind even as he got out the mop and bucket.

Sigh. A whole village full of meddling amateur psychologists, and the boy had come to him. They all seemed to come to him-hardly a day passed that small footsteps of one sort or another didnt invade his new cottage. Renting one on the outskirts of Fishers Cove hadnt dissuaded them in the slightest.

If it wasnt Lizzie, Sean, or Kevin, or someone looking to pawn off a fretful baby, it was Aervyn, porting in for a visit.

Almost as if there were a conspiracy afoot.

Marcus tucked that idea away for further contemplation. Sophie and Moira were more than capable of harnessing an army of pint-sized minions in their quest to upend his life.

And so far theyd been very successful at keeping him sucked into the village, far away from his remote and very child-free cliffside home.

Can I steer? Small hands reached for the wheel, and a still-wet boy threatened to crawl into his lap. Marcus vacated his stool and activated a small wind funnel. It wasnt nearly as pleasant as a quick-dry spell, but neither of them were fire witches, and Sean could hardly hang around in wet pants all day.

Spring in Fishers Cove wasnt that warm.

Dont hit a rock. There werent a lot of things to crash into in open waters, but Sean had a knack for finding trouble.

The boy sprang up onto the stool, at home anywhere on a boat. Youre going the wrong way for herring. Uncle Jonathan said theyre running better over by-

Im not fishing today. Or most any other day, but Marcus wasnt about to try to explain why he owned a fishing boat that rarely on-boarded an actual fish.

Okay. Sean leaned over the wheel, eyes sparkling. Can we race, then?

The air caught in Marcuss throat. There had been another, much smaller boy who had loved racing the wind.

He and Evan had been the mighty storm-witch duo, pushing their fathers fishing boat over the waters and scattering fish every which way. No one had ever minded-Evans sunny laughter had been impossible to resist.

Even then, Marcus had been the dark, quiet one.

And Evan had raced into astral danger with the same glee in his eyes. Marcus had watched, screaming, as his twin danced his way into the lethal magic mists of astral travel alone and unafraid. And never come back.

Were not racing today. Marcus heard the harshness in his voice and watched Seans face crumple. Damn. He just wasnt good with kids-of any size.

He patted the boys knee in mute, awkward apology. It was a sunny day-no mists to be seen. You dry enough yet?

Yeah. Sean hopped off the stool, subdued. Ill go finish mopping the decks now.

Marcus waited until he was out of sight, and then slammed his hands down on the wheel. Hed just needed an afternoon alone-a few short hours away from cute babies and bright eyes and happy laughter and feeling like the killjoy of Fishers Cove.

A few hours to sit alone with the hole in his heart that never seemed to heal.

But life seemed to have a way of making sure he didnt get what he wanted.

Nell crash-landed on a couch in the Witches Lounge and took a deep breath. Sanity. Maybe.

Moira chuckled from her armchair and held out a plate. Cookie, my dear? Looks like youve had a bit of a rough day.

Nell took three-shed earned them. Aervyns doing his best imitation of a spoiled brat. I dumped him with Jamie and ran for the hills.

Its hard for him. Moira slid over a cup of tea to go along with the cookies. Kennas stolen a bit of his thunder with all her magic tricks. Its not easy being upstaged by a wee babe.

The wee babe in question had tried to pull the moon down so she could take a closer look-and had caused enough tidal tremors to keep every weather witch in Berkeley very busy for two days. Including Aervyn, which was at least part of why hed unleashed a class-four temper tantrum right before breakfast.

Nell sighed and picked up her tea. I guess all kids go through this with a new sibling. Technically Kenna was Aervyns cousin, but in Witch Central, that was a very loose distinction. He threatened to send her to the moon yesterday if she wanted to see it so badly.

It scared her silly that he might be able to do it.

Hes had five years to be the baby. Moira smiled. I believe you were only a little older when you threatened to mail Jamie, Devin, and Matt to an orphanage in China.

Nell grinned-according to family legend, shed punched air holes in a refrigerator box and addressed it in impeccable seven-year-old spelling. It had taken her mother a week to stop laughing and at least a decade to get rid of the cardboard box.

Nell had regretted not mailing her brothers off more than once in the past thirty years, but she took Moiras point. Take away the magic, and hes just having a normal reaction to a new baby.

Exactly. Moiras eyes twinkled. And Im glad Jamies stepping in to help. It seems only right, and your son needs to know he hasnt been entirely displaced.

It wasnt an easy juggling act. Even with Aervyns first years as practice, Kenna had Jamie hopping. She almost scorched his eyebrows yesterday. Which seemed like justice, given that it was Jamie who had once taught two-year-old Aervyn how to make lightning. Inside. Under his covers.