A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) (2 page)

She reached out her left hand to Margaret, seeking the strands of earth and water power, winding them carefully with her fire.  She grinned as her flows spit in protest, less than pleased to have to cooperate with water’s cool, wet energies.

It still amused her that fire magic had a temper.  Just another of the many things she’d learned in the wake of Jamie’s departure. 

She’d touched real magic that day, and it had been like lifting a blindfold.  Hands that had felt small edges of the truth now knew what the whole felt like.  She’d spent twenty months yearning to feel it again. Working her circle diligently.  Scouring the old texts, looking for clues.  Planning and practicing, training her hands and her eyes to shape what flowed in her veins.

And she was learning—once again—that she was different.

No one else present that evening had seen what she’d seen.  Felt what she’d felt.  It had left her a witch awakened—and a witch alone.

A different witch.  Again.

She looked to her right, to the last of the cardinal directions and their newest candidate for air witch, and sighed.  Nothing.  Not the faintest whiff of the shimmer she’d come to recognize as someone with enough power for true circle work.

Mellie had enough power.  Margaret, with good support—just barely, but neither of them came close to matching Beth’s strength.

Beth watched newcomer Alyssa swaying gently, dressed in stamped purple velvet, hands tracing arcane patterns in the air.  She
looked
every inch the air witch.

A far cry from Jamie Sullivan’s disreputable jeans and flagrant displays of power.

Beth felt the light push on her brain that was Liriel’s contribution to the circle.  Mindtouch.  Get back to work.

They’d have to work without air, just as they’d been doing intentionally for twenty months, and accidentally for far longer than that.  Beth pushed a line of fire power across the circle to Mellie and felt the connection snap into place.  Whatever Mellie’s issues outside the coven, she was a reliable witch.

Liri’s mind was pushing support now, mostly for Margaret.

Beth hurried to ready the spell—their weakest witch didn’t have much endurance.  Bringing up the map of a spell imprinted on her soul, she painstakingly began shaping the bubbles.  One small, round orb.  Two.  Working faster now, she added a small shimmer of light to the surface of the second and reached for power to form the third. 

And felt Margaret’s power sputtering.

Beth squashed her frustration—circles were no place for temper tantrums either.  Quickly, she tightened up her link with Melissa and let the most exhausted witch slide out of the circle.  Carefully, competently, the remaining two grounded the circle’s lines and swept up magical remnants.  There weren’t many—their work was getting cleaner. 

She tried to see it as a victory.  They’d made two bubbles and almost formed a third.  One of their best efforts.

Jamie Sullivan had filled the room with dancing rainbow bubbles—and it had been effortless.

She looked around at the pleased, proud faces of her circle and tried to shake off her own impatient reactions, just as she’d done for months now.  They’d worked to the limits of their power.  That it hadn’t truly tested hers wasn’t their fault.

It was better—but it wasn’t what she needed.  And she was too scared to do anything about it.

Liriel stepped to Margaret’s side, and the circle broke into celebratory, chit-chattery clumps.  Beth edged toward the doorway, needing a few more minutes alone with the magic and her edgy discontent.

She walked into the front room of
Witchery
, seeking the comfort the little shop always brought her.  Small, but profitable.  Until twenty months ago, it had anchored her life in a good place—even a happy one.  Security, friendship, and a place of sanctuary for one who was different.

Beth touched the titles of the books, proud of their small, but eclectic, library.  Customers came to read and to talk, and always seemed to leave with a bauble or two.

She shook her head, still finding that behavior odd.  When
she
shopped, she bought what was on the list.

A shadow settled in beside her.  “You need to go.”  The words were quiet.  It had taken Beth a long time to learn that quiet meant Liriel at her most serious.

“I know.”  Beth sighed and fingered the midnight-blue silk draped over their window display.  Liri’s work.  They’d decided very early on in their business partnership that Beth didn’t get to touch the merchandizing, and Liri didn’t get to touch the accounting software.  So far, it had worked out pretty well.

Her life partner of eleven years said nothing.  Just waited, silently lining up the edges of books.

It made something in Beth’s chest ache.  It wasn’t Liri who needed everything geometrically aligned—she did it out of love.  “I’ll go after winter solstice.”  That was the rational choice—the holidays were their busiest time of year.

“Go now.”  Liri did something pretty with the decks of tarot cards and then leaned over and kissed Beth’s cheek.  “This is the most difficult season for you, and California is full of sunshine and light.”

Logic from Liri—another act of love.  “I think that lamp I got is helping.”  The latest in scientific delivery of full-spectrum light, meant to keep a light-deprived fire witch from descending into a pit of cranky in the middle of a Chicago winter.

“It’s helping you survive.  That’s not good enough.”  Her best friend and lover looked up now, eyes shining with affection and a disturbing dose of determination.

Beth frowned—she never understood feelings that well unless someone was mind-shoveling them into her brain.  If Liri was using magic to make her point, this had gotten awfully serious.  “Don’t exhaust yourself.  I’ll think about it.”

“Let the magic call you,” said Liri softly, echoing a conversation that they’d been having for months.

Beth picked up a small blue crystal.  Lapis, for clarity of thought.  “It’s been calling me for months now.”  And it still shamed her.  She had a good life, one full of friends, love, and purpose.  It shouldn’t feel incomplete.

It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t match her magic.

Or that she couldn’t be satisfied with what she had.

-o0o-

It sounded like Martians had invaded, along with their pet rhinos.  Nell watched the army of kids barreling through her living room and hoped somebody was in charge. 

When Sierra waved from the back of the attack formation, Nell grinned and turned back to her computer.  Life Sullivan-Walker style, back to normal. 

The email at the top of her inbox grabbed her attention first.  She read Sammy’s response and chuckled.  Someone had lived in Texas for
way
too long.  She missed her friend desperately already, and they’d only been back in Berkeley for about four hours.

Nell pushed back from her computer, mind full of old memories.  Sammy walking down the aisle, a handsome cowboy awaiting her.  A wedding reception full of soggy steak and bootlegged cookies.  And the wrenching pain of losing a best friend to the wilds of Texas.

Fifteen years ago—and it still felt like yesterday.

Strong hands settled on her shoulders, rubbing gently.  Daniel leaned over and kissed the top of Nell’s head.  “It’s good to have you home.”

“Yeah.”  The glow spread out from Nell’s belly like fire-warmed whiskey.  “It was time—we have a very big birthday bash happening in less than a week.”  And Texas, even with Sammy in it, wasn’t home.

Her husband pushed a hard drive out of the way and sat down.  “Witch Central can plan a party in their sleep.”

Maybe so.  But this one was for her son and her favorite niece.  “It’s going to be bedlam.”

“We’ll hardly notice.”  Daniel grinned and raided her super-secret cookie drawer.  “The girls are already trying to figure out how to wedge extra beds into their room.  Something about a week-long sleepover.”  He took a monster-sized bite out of her last snickerdoodle.  “Aervyn’s helping.”

Uh, oh.  Nell got halfway out of her chair before she realized the obvious—Daniel was sitting down and munching on a cookie.  “Read them the riot act, did you?”

“Yup.  Bread-and-water rations for any kiddo who ports in anything bigger than an elephant without asking first.”

That would probably take care of it.  Apparently five childless days hadn’t slowed her husband down any.  “We can fill The Dungeon with air mattresses.”  There would probably be extra houseguests.  A party and sunshine in December were both pretty big witch attractants.

Her husband just ran a thumb up the arch of her hand, his mind broadcasting calm and a quick vision of her favorite red silk nightie.  “Stop worrying about the logistics.”

She grinned, appreciating his mental multitasking.  “It’s a bit strange to be home.”  She’d stayed in touch with Sammy, reading the letters and emails of a life in Texas.  Made three trips to Texas over the years, the first one alone, the second one with her munchkins in tow.  Which had led to three girls with a full-blown horse fixation, an older son who wanted to be a cowboy, and a three-year-old who had wanted to marry Sammy.

Nell had vetoed the wedding—she wasn’t losing any more people she loved to Texas.  This time, Aervyn had only wanted to bring home a horse.

She sighed.  Sometimes it was hard to lay the mama aside in favor of red silk.

“Give it a few more hours to sink in.”  Daniel hugged her shoulders.  “Witch Central beats in your soul.  It’ll suck you back in soon enough.”

Nell smiled, a little wistful.  Sammy had said something very similar as they’d done their good-byes. “Anything else before I get back to work?”  In about three hours, jet lag and a week of cow fumes were going to knock her over.

Daniel waggled an eyebrow hopefully.  “What are your plans for the afternoon?” 

Nell laughed—with eight creatures under the age of ten in the house,
that
particular activity was highly unlikely.  “Off to chat with Moira and Sophie.  Moira’s itching to fetch a new witch again.”

“She’s trouble, that one.” 

Her husband’s deadpan delivery had Nell giggling like one of her daughters.  Their elder witch would never admit it, but she had an inordinate fondness for stirring the pot. 

“Hopefully we can get her to postpone trouble for a couple of weeks.”  Just until they got past the holidays, the birthdays, and whatever mischief had happened in Realm during her five-day absence.

“Don’t make her wait too long.”  A hint of sorrow tinged Daniel’s eyes.  “She feels her own mortality these days, I think.”

That was the last thing Nell wanted to contemplate.  “More likely she’s just got cabin fever.  Nova Scotia’s pretty cold and dark at this time of year.” 

“Hmmm.  Dark is good.”  Her husband shifted gears smoothly, eyebrows dancing hopefully again.  “Maybe we can borrow that pond of hers for a midnight rendezvous.”

“Absolutely.”  She grinned at the sexy man she loved.  “But odds are pretty good Moira would lace it with a fertility spell first.”

The horror on her husband’s face wasn’t entirely feigned—Kenna’s antics were reminding them all too well of Aervyn’s first years. 

Nell reached for his hand.  “How about we lock all the kids in The Dungeon with Sierra instead?  Throw a movie and popcorn down after them?”

He snorted, amused.  “That might work.” 

It probably would—her herd loved Sierra.  And when you had five kids, “might work” was about as good as it got.  Nell kissed his cheek and picked up her keyboard.  “Give me an hour to chat and then I’ll make dinner.”  If Sophie’s terse instant messages were any indicator, Fisher’s Cove was a little cranky at the moment.

“I’ll make dinner.”  Her husband headed for the kitchen, tossing a grin over his shoulder.  “And
lots
of popcorn.”

Nell pulled up a transport window for the Witches’ Lounge, well aware there was a goofy grin on her face.  She finished the login spell just as a parade of children ran through the living room again, this time wearing turbans.  And had to laugh.  The one on Aervyn’s head was red and had a slinky strap hanging over his left ear.

So much for her red silk nightie.

She was definitely home.

Chapter 2

Nell took a seat in the Witches’ Lounge, marshaling her thoughts.  The email missive from Fisher’s Cove had been very clear.  Talking Moira out of fetching a new witch right this minute was going to take a mighty act of logic, and possibly bribery as well.

She waited patiently as Sophie beamed in, clutching a cup of tea and looking fairly harried.  And hoped reinforcements arrived in time.  Not that Lauren knew she was reinforcements.  But when you had a tough negotiation, you called in the best. 

They didn’t have to put it off for long—Daniel’s words had made it a lot easier to understand the impatience of an old witch who still wanted to make a difference.  A new witch in the new year was fine.  Just not this week.

Moira landed with a happy thunk, a cup of tea and plate of brownies in her hands.  “A bright and sunny afternoon to you all, then.  Nice to see you, Nell, darlin’.”

Uh, oh.  The thicker Moira’s Irish got, the more trouble she generally ended up causing.  Nell reached for a brownie—life was always easier with chocolate.  “Does the sun still come up in Fisher’s Cove at this time of year?”