Free A Dangerous Witch (Witch Central Series: Book 3) by Debora Geary Page A

her sisters, but they couldn’t find her.  And every time she flew closer to them, new fires started.”
    That was creepy, on a whole bunch of levels.  Butterfly wings.  “Govin felt something yesterday.  He doesn’t know what.”  But nobody with half a brain discounted the quiet mutterings of Govin Indirani’s gut.
    “I heard.”  Fingers wandered idly over abandoned knitting.  “It may mean nothing.  You had really strange dreams when your power emerged, too.”
    And Mia had plenty of fuel for her dreams.  “She knows this isn’t happening normally.”  Or as close to “normal” as you got when it came to growing the ability to shoot fire out of your fingers.  “Any more hot flashes?”
    “No.”  Retha shook her head quietly.  “Aervyn had one, though.”
    Yeesh.  No wonder a certain grandmother looked tired.  “He okay?  Sympathy pains, you think?”  It wasn’t all that uncommon, and wonder boy was deeply tuned to his big sister.
    “Probably.”  A gentle smile now, and another sip of tea.  “I sent him a snowman dream—cooled him right down.”
    Memory spilled over for Nell of the dancing, laughing ice fairies that had been the dream gift to a young girl so many decades ago.  Ice fairies with gorgeous, ethereal rainbow dresses—and swords, so as not to embarrass the tough, hoyden dreamer overly much.
    Retha chuckled into her tea.  “I didn’t know if you remembered.  I had fun with that one.”
    A mom who had known the heart of her child—even the hidden, tucked-away parts.  “I was very lucky.  Mia is too.”
    A smile that held as much mama love as it ever had.  And then dark eyes saddened.  “She didn’t want a new dream.”
    Nell felt her worry spiking again.  Dream gifts had to be accepted—no mind witch would ever push, not unless life, limb, or sanity was at stake.  But rainbow-clad fairies and snowmen weren’t usually a hard sell.  Whatever Gramma Retha had sent Mia, it would have been shaped to appeal to the heart it had been aimed at.
    Perhaps she just needed to work something through.  Caffeine had sharpened dark eyes now—and the Sullivan clan matriarch was using it to turn on the deep resilience that had weathered far more than long nights and rejected dreams.  We’ll just have to apply love in a different form this morning.
    Nell smiled, feeling her own everyday courage rising on her mother’s tide.  Not a problem.   Today was Saturday.  And waffles.
    And they would be wielded by a man who knew the hidden parts of his children’s hearts very well.
    -o0o-
    Lauren sat at her tiny breakfast table, enjoying the promise of a morning full of waffles and contentment.  It was always dangerous to think Witch Central might go through a calm few hours, but this morning, she could almost believe it.
    Maybe it was the musical interlude accompanying her second cup of coffee.  Shay had shown up as Devin was flipping the first pieces of French toast, bearing cinnamon whipped cream and her flute, and had proceeded to serenade the cups of coffee they both required before joining the hordes for waffles.
    It was beautiful music.  And haunting.  And several things in between that Lauren hadn’t put too much energy into parsing out just yet.  A girl working out her thoughts in the notes she sent out into the early morning air.
    Devin wrapped both hands around his monster mug, eyes mellow.  He had a deep fondness for both Shay and coffee topped with cinnamon whipped cream, so he was a happy man.
    And a patient one.  Lauren wasn’t the only one hearing the song behind the notes.  Together, they listened, appreciating the child who had come seeking an audience. 
    And then, slowly, seeping in through the coffee haze, came the realization that they didn’t listen alone.
    Shay’s notes still slid, shimmering, into the coffee-spiced air—and behind her head, in the bay window overlooking the sea, the orb had begun to dance.  Lovely, wispy tendrils of light,