Witches in Flight Read Online Free PDF Page A

urge to run for
cover.   She watched the emotions
rolling across her assistant’s face—even Jennie’s funny pictures were
evocative and made demands of their audience.
    And then Lizard got to Josh.   Young and handsome, sitting in a dark corner, eyes fixed on
something out of camera range.   It
didn’t take a genius to know what he was looking at.   And if you were being honest, it didn’t take a mind witch to
know what was pooling behind those intent eyes.
    Fascination.
    Lauren wondered if Lizard would be able to be honest.   And then she remembered the far more
pertinent issue with this particular picture—right before her assistant’s
mind froze.
    Lizard looked at the screen for a very long time, mind barriers
down as tight as Lauren had ever felt them.   When she spoke, the words were strung steel.   “Who invited him?”
    Oh, hell.   “I did.”
    Lizard stared another long moment—and then she turned to
Lauren and let her barriers down, just a fraction.   Just enough for a sliver of gratitude to leak.   “That was pretty badass.”
    Now it was Lauren facing Kryptonite.   Where was the delinquent storm?   The infuriated assistant on a rampage?   “I probably shouldn’t have done it.”
    Lizard snorted.   “Why is it that everyone at Witch Central only says that after they’ve caused trouble?”
    This conversation wasn’t going in any of the expected
directions.   Lauren was tempted to
dive for cover just on principle.   “Why aren’t you mad?”
    “Oh, I am.”   Lizard’s lips twitched.   “But stomping around this office would just be stupid, and I don’t get
to do stupid just because I feel like it anymore.”  
    She reached for the mouse and flipped to the picture of Freddie,
studiously avoiding Lauren’s eyes.   “He’s the first reason stupid had to go—but you’re the
second.   You gave me something
important here, something that says ‘not stupid’ every day.   You earned the right to mess with my
life.   Once. ”   She took a deep
breath and stood up.   “I’ll go get
the paperwork ready for the Madisons.”
    Lauren watched her assistant’s retreating back,
bewildered—and totally impressed.   Both messages received, loud and clear.  
    Those must have been some soufflés.
    ~ ~ ~
    Elsie opened the door to Spirit Yoga and heard the quiet notes
of one of Nat’s favorite tracks for shavasana, the quiet, prone meditation at
the end of class.   Excellent—she
had about ten minutes.   That should
be long enough to figure out if this was a good idea or not.
    For maybe the first time ever, she hadn’t tried to work out the
entire answer in her head before taking action.   Nat had sent her away—and it might be time to come
back, but she wasn’t going to know for sure until she slid back into the role
of yoga intern and saw how it felt.  
    Elsie looked around—and spied the laundry basket, full of
clean towels, sitting behind the counter.   Perfect.   She slid off her
sandals and walked around to her old, familiar station, trying to stay open to
how it felt.   She remembered all
too well how it used to feel, the dragging weight of boredom and
obligation.   The towels hadn’t
changed—but perhaps she had.
    The towels were still warm.   And the little burst of pleasure she got sinking her fingers
into their languid fuzziness charmed her.   A moment of comfort.   Echoes
of childhood memory, perhaps, or the hint of safe haven in the everyday.
    She grinned.   Waxing
philosophical about towels was definitely new.
    Fingers enjoying the sensations, ears tuned to the lilting notes
drifting from the studio, Elsie began to fold.   She’d emptied half the basket, enjoying the ritual of the
ordinary, before she really looked at the growing pile beside her—and had
to giggle.   It looked like Aervyn
had done the folding.  
    With one hand, she gently pushed the pile back into her basket,
curious.   Yoga positions had some
very clear forms, and Nat