A Nomadic Witch

He nuzzled into her soft hair. “I bet your uncle Evan found those rather amusing.” He hadn’t seen his brother- but when he’d reached Morgan, Evan’s presence had been thick around her. Protecting. Calling.

Sending the sound of one small girl’s raspberries through the mist.

With infinite care, he touched the sand in her wispy hair. And dragged his eyes away long enough to thank the beach that had helped call her back.

It wasn’t the sand his eyes discovered.

Every witch he knew stood on Evan’s beach, holding love for him and his precious girl in their eyes.

This. It was this that had called them home. He’d been lonely his whole life, surrounded by this sea of love.

Marcus nuzzled the bright-eyed baby in his arms-and knew he had one more job to do. Carefully, on legs still shaking from more than one kind of journey, he made his way over to the woman who had always been his rock.

Reaching for Aunt Moira’s hand, he looked out at those gathered. “If I can ask for your help one more time. I know how to keep her safe. Forever. All our travelers.”

Not one word was spoken. Not a single question asked. Just every person on the beach, quietly taking a step forward.

The matriarch of them all squeezed his hand a little more tightly.

Marcus sought the eyes of the two whose permission he needed. “It will make a royal mess in Realm.”

Jamie nodded, Kenna eating sand in his arms. Whatever you need.

Nell’s mind spiked amusement. We’ll put you in charge of the clean-up crew.

Wordless, Marcus sent out the image of what he wanted to create, into the minds and hearts of those who would help him build it. Some nodded. Some smiled.

But it was the old woman beside him who understood best. “We won’t lose any more.” Moira patted his arm, tears streaming down her cheeks. “There will be no more Evans. They’ll be able to come home.”

His own tears threatening, Marcus reached out for the closest hand. He was tired-but it was time.

“Wait.” Elorie spoke quietly and stepped out of the crowd. “I found this on the beach yesterday. It matches Morgan’s eyes.” She held up a small pendant, lavender sea glass dangling from a simple silver chain.

It was the prettiest damned anchor he’d ever seen. Carefully, he slipped it around his daughter’s neck-and chuckled as she tried to eat it. “I hope you waterproofed it.”

Elorie’s eyes sparked with amused fire. “I did. And several other things you haven’t even thought to worry about yet.”

Morgan blew another raspberry and tried to catch the shiny toy around her neck.

Marcus reached for Elorie’s hand. “I could use your love of hearth and home and safety, niece.” She nodded, confused, but willing.

He searched out her husband. “Imagine your best scones, if you would. Blueberry ones, dripping in butter.”

Aaron blinked in surprise. “Why scones?”

“Because.” Marcus swallowed as his breath hitched. Because those were the ones Evan missed most. “Because those are the reasons we come home.”

Understanding lit in eyes all over the beach. “I need you all to let me borrow your visions of home.”

Lizzie offered up sword fights and her favorite doll. Nell, the vision of sweet, sleeping children, and Nat sent a haze of green serenity and an endless cup of tea. Kevin and Sean pictured each other. Home, in all its manifestations.

He turned to Aunt Moira and Sophie. “A rooting spell, please.” They held out their hands, spell already made.

They’d always understood “home” far better than he did.

Only one request left. And this time he knew enough about a parent’s love to ask for permission first. His mind reached for Nell’s, his question ready.

She blinked in surprise. That doesn’t seem dangerous.

The magic, no. But not for the world did he want to lay this burden on another child’s shoulders. If it doesn’t work, I don’t want her to feel responsible.

Ah. Understanding hit Nell’s mind-and gratitude. Silence for a long moment. And then a quiet nod. She’ll be okay. Her head’s not quite as hard as yours.

He snorted-and sought the blonde curls he needed. He didn’t have to look far. They were currently blowing magical bubbles at the child in his arms. His breath hitched again. He couldn’t ask this of such a sunny heart. Maybe Elorie.

Elorie can’t code. Nell’s voice was brisk and solid. My girl’s the Net witch you need, and you do her a disservice if you think her heart can’t handle this. Mama pride came with every word.

He crouched down in front of Ginia. “Warrior Girl, I need a really big favor.”

She blew another bubble Morgan’s way. “Sure.”

In words as simple as he could make them, he explained what he needed.

She leaned back on her heels, thinking a minute. “Okay. But it’ll cost you.”

Shock hit the beach. Magic never came with a price tag. Ever.

Marcus blinked. “Name it.”

“When we rule over Realm,” her whole face twinkled with mischief, “you’ll wear a pink tiara.”

A great, astonished guffaw rocketed up from somewhere way down in his toes-and joined with the tumult of laughter rolling over the beach.

Ginia gripped his hands tightly, eyes warrior bright. “That’s for Uncle Evan.”

He stared, for a long moment-and then reached his arms out to the crowd on the beach. Magic stormed into his channels, power of every kind riding a monstrous wave of laughter-laced love.

Marcus planted his feet firmly in the enduring sands of his home and began to cast the spell of his life.

It wasn’t only Morgan he worked for now. Warrior Girl had connected the last dot.

Marcus wove the magics, gentle and fierce, into a spell rope. One end he threw at Ginia, to be anchored into all the love and community and roots Realm could hold. The other, he tossed into the astral plane-and trusted his brother to do the rest.

Chapter 24

When the weight of forty-some years slid off your shoulders, even old women felt rather spry. Moira walked lightly through the informal party in her garden, smiling at friendly faces left and right.

No one wanted to leave.

She took a turn into her cornflower patch, graced by a rather large hole in the middle. She chuckled and handed a cup of tea to the person trying to fix it. “I really do need to give that boy of yours a lesson or two about harvesting flowers.”

“Good luck.” Nell rolled her eyes. “Ginia calls him the garden monster. Apparently her herbs live in terror of small-boy invasions.”

Herbs weren’t known for their flexibility. Moira settled in a chair by Sophie and motioned Nell into a third. Even very spry old ladies needed to rest their feet occasionally, and she really didn’t want a fire witch trying to fix her flowers.

Sophie smiled, fingers sending one last spell into the cornflowers. “Are Marcus and Morgan sleeping?”

Aye, and it had done her heart good to see the two of them curled up together. “I used a light sleep spell on wee Morgan-her daddy needed a nap, and he wasn’t going under while she was still awake.”

“He should sleep for a week.” Nell leaned back and yawned. “That was some way fancy spellcasting he finished with, and he was barely standing after pulling Morgan back from the great beyond.”

All true, but you didn’t interfere with a man who had finally found the thing he was born to do. “So he’s set up a