A Nomadic Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 4) Read Free Page A

you don’t want to see it.”
    Jamie stared, trying to follow the breadcrumbs.
    “She comes in power.  And I’m going to assume she deserves respect for it.”  Moira motioned Sophie over.  “Take your sweet babe, my dear.  I have a message to deliver.”
    There was dead silence as she poofed out of the lounge, witch matriarch on a mission.
    Jamie tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened.  Realm had the best firewalls code and magic could procure.  And they’d been breached by a woman who worked for $4.99 a minute.
    A woman who hadn’t taken much longer than that to breach the defenses of the toughest old witch he knew—Moira was nobody’s biddable messenger.
    An odd sound escaped from the couch.  Jamie looked over at Sophie, who was quietly giggling into her son’s hair.  She looked up, waving her hand in apology.  “Sorry.  I know we have some serious issues here, but oh, to be a fly on the wall of the conversation she’s about to have.” 
    Jamie blinked and tried to backtrack.  In all the mad code checking, he’d mostly tuned out the audio feed from the room.  Something about a baby.  Or a soldier.  But mostly stuff about Marcus’s dead brother.
    Daniel, who never missed anything, started to chuckle.  “A baby in a basket, headed Marcus’s direction.” 
    A grin slowly bloomed on Nell’s face.  “A girl baby.”
    Jamie tried to imagine.  And really, really wished he wasn’t too old for a good eavesdropping spell.

Chapter 2

    Marcus tried to find any vestiges of patience that an afternoon on the boat with Sean hadn’t already obliterated.
    Without success.
    “You have a what kind of message for me?”
    Aunt Moira pursed her lips.  She didn’t approve of his general grumpiness.  “We got an unusual visitor in the Witches’ Lounge today.  She brought a message for you, from the spirits.”
    It was a particularly bad day when even the dead wouldn’t leave him alone.
    And his aunt’s mind was oddly jumpy.  Marcus gave up on his vain hope that the universe would disappear in a poof of dust and lasered in on the jumpiness.  “What’s going on?”
    She reached for his hands, a sure sign of impending disaster.  “The message is from Evan.”
    Evan.  One word, and oxygen vanished from the world. 
    Marcus fought for the right to breathe, just as he had every day of the last forty-three years.  “Evan is dead.”
    “I know, dear boy.”  Tears threatened to spill over in Moira’s eyes.  “But a special few can hear the words of those gone from us.”
    You didn’t grow up in Aunt Moira’s world without at least some respect for the more mystical magics.  Marcus tried to keep his gruffness in check.  “I wasn’t aware that you knew any mediums.”
    “I don’t.”  She shook her head slowly.  “She was a stranger, sent to deliver a message.”
    From Evan.  Marcus had spent most of his life trying to reach across the veil that kept his twin just beyond his reach.  That a stranger had done it drove him to fury and guilt in less than a breath.
    And then he breathed one more time, and reason kicked in.  “A stranger showed up in Realm with a message from the dead?  And you believe her?”  He reached for Moira’s mind.  Politely—she’d always been hell on poor witch manners.
    “Go ahead and look, my boy.”  Her voice was pure Irish primness.  “And then remember that appearances can be deceiving.”
    Marcus looked.  And then scrambled to clean up the brain melt caused by all the glitter and glitz.  “ That’s your visitor?” 
    “You’re a fine one to judge.”  Moira sniffed and reached to put his kettle on the stove.  “You dress like some ruffian my aunt Martha would have chased out of her kitchen with a broom.”
    It had suited an afternoon on the boat, but Marcus knew better than to defend the simple black he’d worn for years.  “And how would the legendary Martha have felt about your gold-spangled stranger?”
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