Free An Imperfect Witch by Debora Geary Page A

under her fingers, ostensibly putting together showings lists for the following day.  Instead, lightly mindlinked to both of the cottage’s other inhabitants, she was swept up in the joy of big man and small boy wreaking late-evening living-room havoc together.
    It had started very casually, these visits of one child at a time.  And somewhere along the way, they’d all fallen in love with them.  They’d learned not to plan anything special.  Given half a chance, special happened entirely on its own. 
    Devin looked up from the floor, grinning, well aware she’d given up on her work.  And eyed the naked toes sticking out the other end of her lap quilt.  He nudged his playmate.  “I spy more toes for the eating, MonsterZilla.  You can have the big two—I’ll take all the little ones.”
    Two marauding villains dive-bombed her toes, carefully not squishing the sleeping cat.  Fuzzball was monsterproof. 
    Her toes, not so much.
    Lauren jumped off the couch, depositing her laptop out of harm’s way and grabbing an innocent potted plant.  “Be gone, monsters.  I stop you with the power of my mighty defender tree.” 
    Aervyn swung his monster head at the plant.
    Lauren hoped MonsterZilla wasn’t a vegetarian.  And then dove for the floor, squealing, as something wet and cold touched her toes.
    Devin snickered, water tickle spell still sitting on his palm.
    Aervyn zapped it with something hot and sizzly.  “No fair, evil Darth.”  He sidled up to the potted plant, still miraculously in one piece, and grinned at Lauren.  “Let’s get him, Tree Warrior!”
    Ah, the fickle allegiances of youth.  Not that Lauren minded—if magic had joined the fight, superboy was a good dude to have on your side.
    And probably the reason Devin had tickled her toes in the first place.  Sullivan family rules were big on fair fights, along with immaturity and lots of burping.
    She mindlinked with the monster at her side—no point letting the big guy know they were coming.  And then looked at the grin on her husband’s face.  It wasn’t going to matter.
    Five minutes, one accidentally uprooted potted plant, and two near misses of the new reading light later, the three of them piled onto the area rug in the middle of the living room, an occasional giggle still squirting out of their smallest member.
    Devin set the plant apologetically back in its container.  “I’ll take it to Ginia.  She’ll fix it.”
    It wasn’t the first time their resident eleven-year-old healer had repaired the consequences of Sullivan family roughhousing. 
    “I can do it.”  Aervyn held up a finger, already streaming with power.  “I can make it into a tree if you want.”
    “No way, little dude.”  Dev hid the plant and tackled his nephew, eliciting another tidal wave of giggles.  “No trees inside my house.  Darth says.”
    “’Kay.”  Aervyn squirmed out of the tackle—and then froze as the crystal ball in the corner crackled.
    Fuzzball, who had slept unconcerned through three acts of MonsterZilla, arched up and hissed.
    The crystal ball crackled again.
    This time, Fuzzball was joined by a roaring monster.  Lauren had to grin—they were a pretty cute team of defenders.
    Devin reached for her hand, eyes still on the orb.  “Think it wants you to chat again.”
    Duh.  “Not going to.”  First rule of negotiation—round hunks of glass didn’t get everything they wanted.  Not with magical six-year-olds in the house.
    The swirling colors in the ball settled, and her feline sentry went back to sleep.  Battle over.
    The six-year-old was less easily deterred.  Aervyn studied the crystal ball respectfully from a distance.  “Is that how you know about Lizard’s ghost?”
    Damnation.  Lauren knelt in front of him, needing the well-trained witchling for a minute, not the rampaging monster.  “Remember how we talked about hearing things in people’s minds sometimes?”  No mind witch could avoid it, especially one