A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) (22 page)

She pushed away the continuing niggles in her belly.  Worrywart witch.  It was going to be a tiny baby circle with less power than Aervyn used cooling off his cookies.

She hoped.

-o0o-

It was a fairyland.  Beth stepped into the back yard, Kenna tugging on one hand, Shay holding the other one more sedately.  “The lights are beautiful.”

Shay looked up, delighted.  “Lauren said you might like them.” 

Concern flitted through Beth’s mind.  “We can’t use them in our circles at home—they’re too distracting.”  This was far from the quiet, dark room her coven worked in.

“Beauty enhances our work together.”  An Irish lilt floated out from behind enough flowers to outfit several brides.  “Perhaps you’d help me put a few of these blooms out.  Young Jamie particularly likes calla lilies for his call to air.”

Beth had no idea what a calla lily was, but judging from the good-humored snickers, there was a joke somewhere.

“Calla lilies are the tall white ones,” said Shay in a stage whisper.  “And they make Uncle Jamie sneeze.”

“Not these ones, my dear.”  Moira settled some of her armful on a convenient bench and began dividing them into four baskets.  “Ginia’s spelled them—we can’t have sneezing in the middle of Beth’s first circle with us.”

Beth had never seen flowers in a basket before.  She leaned over and rescued a floppy blue bud threatening to start an avalanche.  “They’re beautiful.”

“A small offering, if you will.”  Moira beamed.  “We old Irish witches tend to be rather traditional.”

It was something Liri would love.  Perhaps she’d found at least one small thing she could take back to Chicago.  “Does it matter which flowers go with which elements?”

“Not at all, my dear.”  Moira paused, fingers holding a stem of something delicate and blue.  “Or rather, the answer might change depending on the day.  Flowers have a whole language of their own.  So you might just choose a bouquet that feels lovely for the moment.  Or you might plant a message or two in each basket.”  She nodded at the stem of tiny blue blooms.  “These buttercups, for example, tell of the joy of being a child and celebrating simple things.”

That was a big message for such tiny flowers.  “What else do you have in here?”

Moira picked up the basket on the far right.  “This one is for those of you calling fire.  It’s got a few of these pretty lilacs, and some geraniums, and a branch or two of this red sumac.  Little notes of purity, steadfastness, and splendor.”

Beth stroked a bold orange flower.  “And this one?”

“Ah, that one’s just a lovely bit of color.”  Moira reached up a hand to touch Beth’s curls.  “If you like, I can pin it in your hair.”

It felt silly—but oddly, she wanted to say yes.

Aervyn bounded to her side.  “Me too, Aunt Moira.  Can I have a shiny red flower in mine?”

“Aye, and won’t you be a lovely couple, with matching pretties in your hair?” 

Hairpins appeared out of nowhere, and Shay climbed up onto the bench.  “Hold still—this will only take a second.”

It took a little longer than that, since holding still was apparently not one of Aervyn’s better skills.  Beth, somewhat dazed, wondered if
her
flower was also as big as her head.  Apparently fire witches liked their hair pretties big and flamboyant.

Ginia slid into the small crowd, a gorgeous waterfall of bright yellow flowers running down her braid.  Beth made a mental note to ask for their name—they would suit Mellie down to the ground.  She looked around for the second witch who would call to earth and saw Sophie, yellow in her own hair and pinning purple into Jamie’s.

Jamie waved, rolling his eyes.  “I hear you’re the one who got us into this.”

Beth was sure he was teasing—and if she hadn’t been sure, every mind witch in ten feet was gently projecting that fact.  Helping the Aspie stay on her feet.  “They look beautiful, but I thought air witches liked pink.”

The joke pleased a lot of people, perhaps herself most of all.

“We do.”  A girl Beth didn’t know stepped up beside Jamie and waved.  “I’m Sierra—you don’t know me yet, but I can usually be found around here somewhere.”

There were a lot more than eight people in the back yard.  And lights and decorations and the pressing feeling of a party about to happen.  This wasn’t a simple circle.  Suddenly Beth felt short of air.

“It’s okay—you’re doing great.”  Lauren spoke quietly over her right shoulder.  “Will it help you if we move to our spots now?” 

She breathed out as slowly as she could.  Order.  That almost always helped.  “Yes, please.”

Beth had no idea what Lauren did, but heads snapped up instantly, and what had been genial disarray moved sharply toward assigned positions.

A hand slid under her elbow.  “Help an old lady cross over, would you?”  Moira had a stunning purple flower in her hair and a smile on her face.  “The uneven ground sometimes trips me up.”

Order and a job to do. 

Air flowed back into Beth’s lungs.  She touched Moira’s hand in gratitude and began to move across the yard.  One step, and then another.  It felt like a procession somehow.  One with dignity, even amidst all the dizzy light and laughter.

“We’ll be doing a simple call to the elements,” said Moira, stepping delicately over a toy fire truck.  “Two of us at each position.  You’ll join with each other and then link with the circle as your turn comes.  Aervyn will share the words with your mind in case you forget.”

That was thoughtful—and entirely unnecessary.  “I have a good memory for words.”  These ones had been delivered to her kitchen in pretty script, along with a delicious omelet.

“Excellent.”  Moira patted her arm.  “Then you can help
him
to remember.  Lauren will be our monitor, much as your Liriel does for your circles.”

Beth could feel herself relaxing.  The trappings were different, but the core was the same.

“And Nell, up there in the tree, will keep us all safe.”

In the tree?  Beth looked up, shocked to see Nell tucked in a crook, a happy Kenna in her lap.  “What can she do from up there?”

“Just a precaution.  She’ll catch any stray bits of magic that leak from the circle.”  Moira let go of Beth’s arm and took her position beside a man who looked exactly like Jamie except for the mischief in his eyes.

Beth hoped dearly it was Devin—she wasn’t ready to meet any more Sullivans.

That’s him
.  Lauren’s mental voice bubbled with laughter. 
And don’t worry—their brother Matt is the most reasonable one of the lot.

One of three.  Such a strange and fascinating way to live.

Soft music drifted up behind the circle.
 That’s Nat.  We’ve kept the outer circle small today.

Beth frowned.  She had no idea what an outer circle was.

It’s where non-witches and witches who aren’t needed in the circle join us.

Non-witches.  Shock hit Beth hard.  There was a place for those without power?  

There is.
 Lauren’s mind voice was careful now. 
They provide love and support for the circle.  It’s not a small job, and we don’t take them lightly.

No.  Not a small job at all.  Tight bands squeezed Beth’s heart.  So many they’d turned away.  So many.  Those with only flickers of power, or only love for craft and earth.

She hadn’t known they had a place.

Beth looked over at Nat, who was blowing into a slim cylinder of wood, and grabbed the day’s second gift with both hands.  She would learn of this outer circle, and she would carry it back to the family of her heart.  They could grow bigger now.  Mellie’s daughter.  Margaret’s best friend.  The young man who touched the crystals with longing but had no magic in his fingers.

There was a place for them all.

A small hand tugged her into place in the circle.  “We’re going to start,” Aervyn whispered.  “But we’re gonna be very polite and wait until you’re ready, so you just tell us when we can go, okay?”

So much she’d been given—and they hadn’t yet begun. 

Beth held hands with a small, flower-festooned boy, shut her eyes, and let the familiar shape of the circle sink into her bones.

Ginia’s musical words began the call to earth, the light sounds of young girl mixing with something far older.  Sophie’s words lay under hers, thousands of years of tradition rising under their feet.

Beth could feel the familiarity of ritual sliding under her skin.  So different from her circle—and yet, the same.

Two voices, male and female, called to air.  Beth’s eyes flew open as wind snapped around the circle.

It’s okay.
 Jamie’s mental voice rang strong in her head. 
We’ve got more power than your coven circle.  This is well within our means to hold.

Her circle had no witch at all for air.

Aervyn squeezed her hand again.  It was time to do their job.  Breathing deep into her chest, Beth reached for the fiery strands of power that thrummed in her blood.

“We call on Fire, warm song of our hearts

As one year ends and new one starts

A gift we make, of light to see

As we will, so mote it be.”

The fire that leaped into her fingers stunned the woman—and dazzled the witch.  Never had she felt that kind of sheer energy.

You can hold it. 
Lauren, with the silky-calm voice of a master circle monitor.
 There is sun-warmed earth beneath your feet, not Chicago concrete.  It feeds you.

Beth marveled.  And trusted.  There was no other choice.

Carefully, she reached a finger of power toward Aervyn.  No one in her circle could have linked with the power she held now.  She heard his mental giggle—and then the phoenix landed.  Wings of blazing power danced around her puny little stream, cradling it gently.

Show-off.
 Lauren’s mental voice was dry as the Sahara. 
Somebody ate too many cookies for breakfast.

The wings died down to a well-mannered stream, and the insane magic flying through Beth’s veins throttled back to something that merely hummed.  She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and wondered how to thank the small boy who had just shown her, for a brief moment, what it was like to sing opera.

You just did.
  Lauren’s smile came down the mental channel. 
He hears you at least as well as I do.  You okay—can we keep going?

“Okay” wasn’t a word she might ever use again.  But she was fine. 

She waited for Aervyn to link to Jamie’s air—and then realized it had already happened.  Apparently some people were more used to birds of fire.

The Sullivans are all well used to circle misbehavior.

Beth was beginning to love Lauren’s sane, funny care for the circle. 

Happy to serve.  They’ll call to water now—and then you’ll link with Moira.  Take good care of her.  She’s the weakest witch in this circle.

Lilting Irish tones began the call to water, flowing together with those of Lauren’s husband. 

Beth listened, enchanted—she’d never heard water dance before.  Back in Chicago, Margaret was a more solemn kind of water witch.

She sensed Moira’s light flow reaching out for hers.  And stretched her own power out carefully, heeding the call to caution.  She smiled as the flows snapped competently together—Lauren had no idea what “weak” was.

Devin reached out to his niece for the final link of the circle and four strong, balanced flows of power united, a glowing river of shimmering light tied to sixteen hands and eight hearts.

Beth leaned into the power of a full and healthy circle for the first time in her life.

And exalted. 

This
is what she had come for.

Chapter 16

Nell watched the shimmering light bathing the circle below her and heaved a sigh of relief. 

It had worked.

And even if her contribution was limited to tree-limb babysitting, the delighted awe painted all over Beth’s face was a very welcome sight.

A tiny fraying in the light near Moira caught her attention.  Nell reached out with a mopping spell just in time to get sprayed with water by her favorite troublemaker of a brother.  She tapped into his head. 
Punk.

His response was fast and amused. 
What, you think I can’t take care of a little water leak?

Devin had never had a problem with humility.  But he’d also made very sure Moira wouldn’t know her magic had wavered.

Beth was holding nicely—and she’d done very well with Aervyn’s impromptu display of pyrotechnics.  Thank goodness.  He would have been horrified if it had scared her, but he could only hold his five-year-old self to good manners for so long.

Kenna wiggled in her lap.  Nell grinned.  “Hard for a one-year-old, too, isn’t it?  They’ll be done soon, sweetheart.”

The tiny, fiery girl waved her hands insistently—and then power lit up around them like a Christmas tree.

The unease in Nell’s gut went supernova.

Nell.
 Lauren’s mental voice was sharp and insistent.