A Dangerous Witch (Witch Central Series: Book 3) by Debora Geary

kiss.  “You’ve got quite the crowd this morning.”  Usually the hordes arrived closer to lunchtime.
    Daniel, manning four separate waffle irons, grinned.  “Yup.  Apparently they’re all here to check on Mia.”
    Nell snorted.  Her husband made his famous waffles every Saturday morning, without fail.  And the denizens of Witch Central flocked to good food with the precision of lemmings and the appetite of small hippos.  “Any chance I can get one before sundown?”
    Retha came by and snagged a waffle for the plate in her hand.  “Probably not.  Aervyn wants another one.”
    Daniel raised an eyebrow.  “I’ve been feeding that kid waffles since 6 a.m.”
    Experienced eyes digested that information.  Aervyn had taken the brunt of draining Mia’s power out at Ocean’s Reach.  Retha pitched her voice low.  “Govin’s had three.”
    Nell frowned.  Her old college roommate was a careful and steady witch.  And not normally one who stuffed his face full of cookies or waffles.  “It was a lot of power.”  But not enough to be creating a prolonged run on food this long after the event.
    Butterfly wings.  The kind of amorphous threat that made a warrior mama want to growl.
    The woman who had lived through the raising of four witches shrugged her shoulders.  We watch.  And we eat waffles.  And we try not to worry.
    That was excellent advice.  And not easy to live by, especially when the eyes of the man cooking waffles had gone dark and thoughtful.  Daniel was one of the world’s best hackers—he didn’t latch on to worrisome information lightly.
    “We have one witch who’s not eating.”  It was Jamie joining the stove gathering now, bearing an empty plate and more tightly channeled concern.  “And unless my puny mind magic is misfiring, she’s growing a temper tantrum.”
    Oh, hell.  Those weren’t fun in kids of any kind, but baby fire witches and tempers were a bad mix.
    Nell turned around just in time to catch her daughter’s voice rising in a shrill whine.
    A surprised Helga sat beside Mia, fork frozen an inch above a mountain of whipped cream.
    “Everyone thinks I did good yesterday, but it’s not true.”  Mia stared down at her uneaten waffle, the picture of pure misery.  “It was Govin’s magic. I just moved his hands a little.  There are people sitting in the hall outside our room every night, and I can’t even light a stupid candle.”  Her eyes spit fire.  “Or knit.”
    Nell met Jamie’s eyes as they both shifted toward the table as unobtrusively as possible.  Mia had pulled enough power yesterday to light a candle for everyone in Berkeley.  All without seeing it.
    Jamie shrugged.  She’ll see it soon enough.  In the meantime, we get to rehearse fast training circles.  He was practicing what he preached—two layers were in place already.
    “Can I have the maple syrup, dear?”  Helga did an admirable job of ignoring the temper tantrum, the witches moving in, and the fact that her waffle was already swimming in syrup. 
    Nell moved up to her shoulder.  Nothing scared their crazy resident octogenarian, but Helga knew this wasn’t her battle to fight.
    Not yours, either.   Jamie grinned at his sister.  Ginia’s on it.
    Nell watched the whispered message passing from one blonde head to another—and Mia’s instant grin.  Uh, oh.
    Yup.  Jamie was already standing down his training circle.  One baby fire witch, neatly disarmed.  She’s about to get revenge for your jewel poaching.
     Nell rolled her eyes.  Y ou told the dragons how to find her stash.  I had nothing to do with it.   Realm, however, was waiting with baited breath for Warrior Girl’s response.
    No one doubted there would be one.  And Warrior Girl had apparently decided that if it would amuse her sister, now was a very good time.
    Antics.  Sullivan-Walker crisis management 101. 
    Nell smiled as Ginia leaned over to Moira next, and stuck a fork in her own waffle.  The Wizard