It wasn’t an easy juggling act. Even with Aervyn’s first years as practice, Kenna had Jamie hopping. “She almost scorched his eyebrows yesterday.” Which seemed like justice, given that it was Jamie who had once taught two-year-old Aervyn how to make lightning. Inside. Under his covers.

Fortunately, Witch Central’s fire brigade hadn’t taken long to jump back into gear. Jamie had lots of help.

A small blur on the other end of the couch heralded Sophie’s arrival. A wail said she wasn’t alone.

Nell grinned-the babies weren’t all loving Realm transport. She reached out her arms, happy to cuddle a boy who couldn’t talk back. “Aervyn tried to smooth out the transport spell, but it doesn’t sound like it made a lot of difference.”

Sophie grinned and passed Adam over, his cries already tapering. “I don’t know what’s riling them all.”

Net-powered taxi rides weren’t proving popular with all the new little ones. Elorie’s daughter, Aislin, had nearly deafened Realm the one time they’d tried, and her brother, Lucas, had been happy to wail in sympathy.

Which wasn’t a problem for now-there were witches lined up for blocks waiting to beam to Nova Scotia to rock a baby or two. But it did have them all a little perplexed.

“When you’re my age,” Moira leaned over to peek at Adam, eyes twinkling, “you’ll learn to stop worrying about the unknowable and just enjoy the sweet boy in your arms.”

“Or the delight of empty arms.” Sophie leaned her head back against the couch. “I swear, he was up every ten minutes last night.”

Some babies slept like logs-others, not so much. Adam preferred his naps during the day and in motion. Fisher’s Cove seemed to have sprouted new rocking chairs every time Nell dropped in to visit. But all the help in the world didn’t make the sleep-deprived hours before dawn any easier.