Witches in Flight Read Online Free Page A

metal and fling yourself into the sky.”
    “Yes.”   Elsie’s face
glowed with the memory.   “And I’m
going back to do it again on Tuesday.   You should come try it.”
    When hell was manned by cute, mohawk-wearing Bean
lookalikes.   “I’m pretty fond of
keeping my feet on the ground, thanks.”
    “I thought I was, too.”   The leaking mental gratitude was back.   “It was a life-changing gift.   You picked exactly the right thing, and you got me up
there.   Honestly, I don’t know how
you did either one, but I want you to know how much it means to me.”
    Frack.   Lizard
shelved her need to get mad and rampage all over Elsie’s skull.   It wasn’t in her to rant at those
eyes.   She’d find a target for all
the pissy stuff inside her head later.   “You need to separate the eggs for soufflés.   I’ll show you how.”
    ~ ~ ~
    Elsie smiled, well aware she’d just won a major victory.   Lizard had done a pretty good
disappearing act for two days.   The
old Elsie would have let her keep doing it.   The new Elsie had cracked opened her roommate’s door before
heading down the stairs to make a joyous and purposeful racket.  
    She reached for a couple members of her egg audience.   Cracking their heads open seemed a
little sacrilegious, but she was hungry.   “The recipe says one egg per person.”
    Lizard snickered.   “That’s for non-witches.   Double it at least.   More if
you’re hungry or we’re expecting company.”
    Elsie was beginning to understand that in Witch Central, company
was always a possibility.   She
picked up six more eggs.   “If they
turn out okay, I’m sure we can find someone to eat the leftovers.”
    “They’ll turn out.”   Lizard squatted down and started pulling out bowls and mixers.   “But soufflés don’t last.   They’re egg perfection for about
fifteen minutes, and then they’re cold rubber with air bubbles.”
    Elsie stared at her roommate’s back as a niggling intuition
blossomed.   That’s why Lizard
cooked.   And why her poems never
got written down.   Food
disappeared—and then there was nothing around to remind her she was
brilliant.
    Lizard’s back stiffened—and Elsie remembered, all too
late, that her roommate read minds.   Oh, God.   So much for the
attempt to bond over breakfast.   She turned quietly and started returning eggs to their carton.   “I’m sorry.   It’s an occupational hazard—I’m always analyzing
people and things, even when it’s none of my business.”
    “You’re not a therapist anymore.”   The words were biting, angry.
    Elsie settled the last of the eggs gently in the carton and
turned to face the music, even as hurt pierced her heart—she’d been a
therapist most of her adult life.   “I don’t know what I am.   That’s what I need to figure out next.”   And the emptiness tore at her, but she could worry about
that later.   Right now, she had
things to say, and a roommate who was finally out of hiding.   And before Elsie ran to hug a blankie,
she planned to say her piece.   “But
I know you have insane talent.   I
heard your words—and even if I don’t know anything at all about poetry, I
know what it feels like to hear something achingly right.”  
    Lizard just stared, bowl in one hand, beaters in the other.
    Elsie dug for the right words, the ones to convince a poet of
her worth.   “You do what Vero does
when she sings, or what Jennie does when she takes pictures.”   She could feel the common thread, but
she couldn’t name it.   Frustration spiked—and
then she had it.   She squatted down
on the floor in front of Lizard and reached for the bowl.   “You unveil truth.”
    “They’re just words.”   Lizard spoke in barely a whisper.   “I’m no Jennie.”
    “Sure you are.”   Elsie knew every therapy textbook in the world was screaming at
her—and she didn’t care.   Her
gut knew this was what she needed to do.   When friends cared, they