Free Witches in Flight by Debora Geary Page A

back into bed?”
    That suggestion landed like a load of bricks.   Aervyn scowled, all pint-sized witch
defiance.   “No way.   Elsie-Belsie is my friend.   If she’s lost, then I want to help you
look for her.   I can mindyell
really loud.”
    All the mind witches in the room threw up extra barriers in
self-defense.   He could indeed—and
sometimes his yelling didn’t come with a lot of warning.   A quick exchange of glances around the
room nominated Jamie as their chief negotiator.   “We’re not yelling yet, buddy—just looking.”
    “I can look farther than anyone.”   Aervyn sat up straight in Jamie’s lap, his blankie sliding
to the floor.
    “Nope.”   Jamie’s
voice carried quiet command.   “Sometimes big people go places that aren’t good for little witches to
see.   You can sit here with me, but
you can’t look for her.”
    Aervyn’s eyes were big and round.   “Okay, I won’t.”   He held out his index finger.   “Superhero swear.”
    Jennie watched, amused, as Jamie held out his own finger and
zapped lightning at his nephew.   For most witches, the energy flying between their fingers would
constitute a major spell, not a small-boy promise.   It was obviously something Aervyn took very seriously,
however.   He ported his blankie
back into his arms and cuddled into Jamie’s chest, content now to just wait.
    “She’s coming back.”
    Jennie looked at Nat, astonished.   Jamie’s wife was astute and intuitive, but neither of those
should beat mind powers in this particular scenario.
    Nat held up her phone and smiled.   “Text from Lauren.   She doesn’t know where Elsie’s been, but apparently she’s on her way
home.”   She cast a quiet glance
Aervyn’s direction.   “It sounds
like she’s had quite a bit of fun.”
    Her husband got the message and stood up, a small-boy package in
his arms.   “We’ve found Elsie,
superboy.   Time to get you back to
bed.”  
    Aervyn grinned.   “Her mind feels all bubbly.   She must have had lots of fun.”   He yawned, clearly satisfied by whatever he’d picked up from their
errant witch’s mind.
    Jamie rolled his eyes.   “Time to go, munchkin.   Goodnight, all.”   A nod at
the room, and he winked out.
    Jennie glanced at Caro, pretty sure no one else had Elsie in
range yet.   Aervyn’s reach was
monumental, and growing every day.   Caro shook her head.
    “Had a little too much to drink, has she?”   Vero didn’t look terribly upset at the
thought.
    “Ugh.”   Lizard
shuddered.   “That means Ginia’s
going to send us more of that vile green stuff.   Tell her to deliver it straight to Elsie’s room this
time—I don’t want to have to smell it.”
    Jennie had some sympathy for that position.   And a residual sense of dread.   It seemed unlikely their pendants had
awakened them just to witness the prelude to a hangover.   She looked over at Caro, who had the
best range in town after superboy.   Can you sense her yet?
    No.   Caro’s response was terse and carried
the same sense of foreboding creeping into Jennie’s chest.   Damn.
    And then she could feel Elsie.   Bubbly, happy, and totally sloshed.   Jennie caught thought edges of dark
curls, dancing, and a man in a silver shirt—and then got the heck out of
Elsie’s mind.   A midsummer night’s
fling deserved a little privacy.
    She smiled, thinking about how far the new Elsie had come.   If the pendants hadn’t woken them all
up in the dead of night, it would have been cause for uncomplicated
celebration.

Chapter 7

    Elsie woke up, the taste of raspberry Cosmopolitan still tickling
her tongue.   Her head felt
wonderful, thanks to dreams of Anton’s strong arms and a middle-of-the-night
dose of Ginia’s putrid goo.
    It was worth it to have only happy memories of her glorious,
jazz-filled night.
    It had taken Anton most of the evening to work up the courage to
ask her to dance.   No, that wasn’t
right.   There was nothing shy