Her pupil frowned. “Can I taste it?”
Always an alternative fraught with risk. “What do you think?”
“Well, if it’s feverfew, then tasting it would be fine. But if it’s lady’s mantle, then it will taste like oyster poo and make me burp for three days.”
Sophie hid a grin-oyster poo was a particularly apt description. “Well, if you had a patient to dose and you weren’t sure if you had the right herb, what would you do?”
“Protect the patient.” The answer came quickly-healer ethics weren’t Lizzie’s problem. “So I guess I’d have to taste it. Or give some to Sean, because he deserves three days of burps.”
Well, maybe her trainee’s ethics still had the occasional hiccup. “What did he do now?” There was always something-Sean breathed trouble.
“He said only girls have babies, so it must be really easy.” Lizzie’s eyes held mutiny now. “I told him that boys would be too scaredy to push out a baby. Except for maybe Uncle Aaron-he’s really brave.”
Aaron had earned a ton of respect during the twins’ birth. Little Aislin had arrived weak and blue and he’d willed life into her, one slow breath at a time.
It had taken Sophie a week to help Lizzie understand why none of the healers in the room had intervened. What any of them could have done with one finger had taken every ounce of Aaron’s love and will-and that had been the right choice.
Learning when
“One day Sean will learn how wrong he is.” Sophie bent down to kiss Lizzie’s head-and made a mental note to have a chat with their misguided troublemaker. “And being a daddy isn’t an easy job either.” She touched the mystery herb-gently. She didn’t want burps. “Do you have it figured out yet?”
“It’s lady’s mantle.” Lizzie sounded more definite now. “Ginia said feverfew feels slimy if you listen to it for long enough. This one’s not slimy.” She looked entirely relieved to have avoided oyster poo.
Sophie was duly impressed-it was an old jar, and crumbled well beyond visual recognition. “It’s time to replace it anyhow. We can do some moon harvesting-tomorrow night’s the right timing.”
Staying up late was still a serious treat for a six-year-old girl. Freed from lessons, she hopped around like a dizzy ping-pong ball. “Can Ginia come?”
Lizzie, an only child, adored her fellow healer trainee. Sophie blessed the technology that let two girls on opposite sides of the continent gather at will. Healing was often a very lonely craft. “Of course. We’ll do a moon circle first.”
“I’ll go tell Gran.” Small feet dashed for the door and then skidded to a halt. Lizzie turned, face scrunched up. “So, is Uncle Marcus Morgan’s mommy now?”
Almost a year back in Fisher’s Cove, and Sophie still wasn’t used to the lightning changes in topic that came with being six. “He’s taking care of Morgan for a while.”
“Like a mommy.” Lizzie’s eyes brightened.
Apparently Sean wasn’t the only witchling with some gender prejudices. “Aaron and Mike both take care of babies. It’s not just a mommy’s job.”
“They’re daddies.” Lizzie shrugged and turned to leave. “That’s just a fancy name for a mommy with more ear hairs.”
Sophie shook her head in the direction of the now-empty doorway and chuckled. She’d learned not to argue with six-year-old logic. Especially when ear hairs were involved.
He was not losing a staring contest with a baby. Marcus glared and tried to add reason to his cause. “You need to sleep, girl-child. You might think you can out-cranky me, but it’s not true, I promise you.”
Eyes that belonged in Moira’s garden stared at him-and looked not remotely sleepy. “At your age, you’re supposed to take at least three naps a day.” Or so the Google had assured him. “The afternoon’s half gone and you haven’t slept a wink in hours.”
He eyed his easy chair wistfully. Once upon a time, he’d actually been able to sit down when his legs got wobbly and tired. And his arms had lost all feeling several hours ago.
Dammit, he was not a whiny witch. And this negotiating and coddling of small creatures was getting ridiculous. Marcus straightened up and glared at the baby in his arms. “Morgan of Mystery, it is damn well time for you to go to sleep.”
A snort behind him was all the warning he got that company had arrived. Marcus turned, curious-and stared. “What are you doing here?”
Daniel chuckled, unloading strange paraphernalia from his arms. “I’m here to give you a babywearing lesson.”
A what? Marcus stared in stupefied silence.
Daniel picked up one of the contraptions he’d dumped on the couch. “I brought our entire collection. Slings, pouches, Mei Tai, three different wraps. Aervyn liked the sling best, so let’s start with that one.”
It was a swatch of fabric bright enough to stun the eyes of any sensible person, complete with gold rings and a tassel.
His uninvited guest grinned. “You’ll get used to the stripes. They say babies can’t see colors yet, but Aervyn screamed if I put him in the nice, boring, khaki one.” Daniel dumped the thing over his shoulders and reached for the baby. “Let me show you how it ends, and then we can start back at the beginning.”
A few quick moves and Morgan was nestled on Daniel’s chest, held tight by snug stripes and cooing happily.
Marcus didn’t know whether to be jealous or to take the moment of opportunity and run like hell. And he was still deeply suspicious-Nell Walker didn’t do anything by accident. “Why are you here?”
Daniel stroked fuzzy red hair. “Because my wife has taken pity on you, and you can’t tell
He didn’t need pity-from Nell or anyone else. “I hardly need to learn to strap a baby to my chest. She’s not staying.”
He spoke into a void. Daniel snuggled a contented baby head under his chin and swayed, quietly humming.
Marcus tried to pick up the tune-Aunt Moira’s lullaby had lost its luster by the six hundredth repetition. “What are you singing?”
“Bob.” Daniel looked up. “Aervyn liked Aerosmith and Tina Turner best, but the girls all liked Bob.”
It took a moment, even with the hint. Daniel, uber-dad of the universe, had Morgan inches from sleep-to the reggae sounds of No Woman, No Cry.
The irony hit Marcus’s sleep-deprived sense of humor square between the eyes.
And then Daniel reached for one of the sling’s gold rings and slid an entirely unimpressed baby out of her happy, snuggly place. “That’s how it’s done.” He held out the sling, juggling a fussy girl one-handed. “Your turn.”
It had been at least ten years since Marcus had done battle with Daniel in Realm-but he’d learned one thing very well all those years ago. Nobody beat The Hacker when he’d staked his ground. Nobody. And behind Daniel’s easy grin was a mind suddenly walled in steely determination.
This wasn’t about striped slings or baby carriers or lessons.
It was war. And Nell had sent her most potent weapon.
Nell slid into the hot water and sighed in bliss. There were few manifestations of magic more awesome than Moira’s pool.
The other inhabitants of the pool smiled in welcome. Sophie handed over a glass of something tall, cool, and minty. “I thought we’d really moved up in the world when we started having our chats in the Witches’ Lounge, but this beats even that.”
Nell grinned. When you were a new mama, a hot soak and a chat were hard to come by. “Mike has
