“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” I say, intensifying my witch energy.
Their images expand until they’re full sized, glittering inches from Tyler’s face. He gulps, shocked into silence as he stares at them. Rhys and Lowri Crowther beam at their grandson. A golden tear rolls down my mother’s shimmering cheek.
“My grandson is a grown man,” she says. “I’m so happy you’re here, Tyler.”
“Nain, don’t cry. I’m ecstatic we’re able to talk. I wish I’d done it sooner.”
My dad’s dazzling smile appears. “It is a glorious day to meet with you again. How are you doing, grandson?”
Tyler grins. “I’m good, Taid. And you? Wait. That was a dumb question.”
We all crack up and continue to chat as if they’ve never been gone, despite the whole golden head presentation. They ask their grandson about his girlfriend, Zoe Wu, and he becomes loquacious regarding his love. I lean against the table and listen while he catches them up on his work, magic skill level, and personal life. My parents deserve the uninterrupted time with him. Mr. Yeats remains in his chimera cat presentation, his tail swaying back and forth. When there is a lull in the conversation, I interject.
“This was great. We should do another family conference soon.”
Tyler glances at his cell phone. “I have to get back to work, but I’m down for another meetup.”
“Wonderful,” Mom says. “We look forward to talking to you again. It’s time for your mother to teach you how to conference with your ancestors. Then we could meet without her.”
My mouth falls open. “Uh…we’ll chat about that later.” Much later, because I barely have a handle on this skill myself. Tyler only achieved a level three status recently.
I hug my son. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at Agnes’s, dear.”
“Bye, Nain. Bye, Taid.” Tyler waves as he exits the magic room.
“That went splendidly,” Mom says, smiling. “I was so worried Tyler would run out screaming.”
“I knew he wouldn’t. He asked to conference with you. He was ready.”
“You should be proud, Gwynedd,” Dad replies, his image wavering. “He is a wonderful young man…and witch.”
It’s the first time one of them has praised me for bringing him into our world of witchcraft. I’m surprised at the effect it has on me. I should stop holding a grudge against them for raising me as an Unremarkable.
“Did either of you expand your witch’s intuition when you were young? Try to increase its reach or clarity?”
“I never had any, Gwyn,” Dad replies. “But your mother did. The ancestral history.”
“Yes, mine was developing well, but then we withdrew from magic. It vanished over the years until the twinges disappeared completely. Occasionally, I’d sense you were in danger. But that could have been a mother’s instinct. Even Unremarkables experience that. Why do you ask?”
“My intuition seems to have changed a little. Actually, I don’t know if it is a sixth sense. I may just be having GI issues.”
She grimaces. “What do you mean?”
“There’s been a kidnapping in town. A crime ring from Pennsylvania called the Baby Nabbers appears to have moved into New Castle County. They swiped an infant right from under his mother’s nose. Well, she wasn’t near the stroller, because she was taking pictures of plants. Ronnie and I were leaving the gardens when it happened, so we didn’t witness it.”
“How dreadful,” Dad says, his brow furrowing. “I hope they discover the scoundrels.”
Mom shakes her head. “The mother must blame herself. But she shouldn’t. There was no reason to think her baby wasn’t safe in an enclosed garden. But what does the kidnapping have to do with your witch’s intuition?”
“On the way out, I experienced a sharp pain inside, like someone was pinching me with needle nose pliers. Within a millisecond, the mother screamed her baby was missing. I experienced a lighter twinge when I scouted out the area behind the mound.” My shoulders fall. “Oh, hell. It wasn’t intuition—just gas.”
My parents laugh at my expense, their golden images fading in and out. When they’ve calmed down, Mom addresses my concerns.
“Dear Gwynedd. I am at a loss to help you with this. As a mother, you will experience greater-than-normal empathy. Those feelings may multiply being an ancestral witch. I wish I could guide you. Have you asked your mentor, Agnes Pritchard?”
I burst out laughing, then snort. “Because she is the epitome of empathy? Or a mother’s intuition?”
Mom’s face sparkles as she chuckles. “Point taken. Agnes was never a conventional witch, but she was talented. Seek her advice.”
“Sure. I’ll try to schedule another conference in a week or two. I know you want to talk with Tyler again, but between school and all my other commitments, I may run out of time.”
“This question may cause you stress, but I need to ask.” Dad’s golden hue intensifies. “Have you had any success with the discovery of the monster in your visions?”
“No. But I’m working on it with Dr. Seamus Duffy. Archie continues to delve into other areas of lore, too.” I refrain from mentioning Ashley Lewis because I don’t even know if she’ll have time to help me.
“We look forward to your next call,” Mom says. “Please tell Ronnie we wish her well with the remainder of her pregnancy.”
“I will. She’s eager to meet her little one.”
“Every mother’s desire intensifies the closer she gets to the end. Until our future conference, be well, Gwynedd,” my mom says.
“Thanks, Mom and Dad. I love you.”
“We love you, too, Gwyn.” Dad’s image fades.
Mr. Yeats jumps off the chair and transforms into his human persona, wiping a tear from under his spectacles. “I was so touched by your parents meeting your son. What a heartwarming family reunion. Thank you for allowing me to observe the interactions.”
“Thank you for being here in case Tyler freaked out. I would have welcomed your help.”
