A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) (6 page)

His laughter rocked them both.  “Don’t I know it.”

She snuggled in closer.  All guns blazing.  That’s how real warriors did things. 

First thing in the morning, she’d get right on that.

Chapter 4

Normal people didn’t make decisions this way.  Beth moved shiny rocks and tiny crystal creatures around on a shelf, well aware that she was making a mess of Liri’s neat display, and tried to figure out how to start a conversation about a decision that had already been made in the wee hours of the night. 

Liri looked up from the arcane contents of a small silk-lined box, a gift she was assembling for Mellie’s grand-daughter.  “It would be good if you started talking before you undid all the merchandizing in the shop.  You have the fire dragon next to the water lily there.”

Beth looked down at the shiny bits of nothing in her fingers, perplexed.  “What, conflicting elementals?”  Fire wasn’t usually a fan of water nearby.  Merchandizing had weird rules, and they got weirder if you were a witch.

“Nope.”  Liri grinned.  “They just look funny together.”

Argh.  That was the kind of nonsensical reasoning that drove her crazy and did wonders for the store’s sales.  “I’m going to California.”

“Of course you are.”  Liri slid another trinket into the box, mumbling something in old Irish as she did it.  Charms for a young girl with stirrings of power.  “I don’t think that’s ever been in doubt.”

More verbal dancing.  Beth scowled at a tiny silver elf.  “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Liri’s incantation stopped mid-breath.

“If that’s okay.  I’ll ask Mellie to come help with the shop.”

Liri still wasn’t breathing.

Beth tried not to throw the elf—it wasn’t his fault he wore a perpetual smirk.  “Say something?  Please?”

“Yesterday changed things.”  Calm hands smoothed pink silk one last time and closed the box.  “I’m glad you’re going.”

And finally, Beth knew what she wanted to say.  “I’m terrified.  They came for me, Liri.  With magic.  Fetched me to a place full of people and faces.”  The tears were finally rising—she could feel them, along with aching frustration.  “I don’t know where I was.  But wherever it was, I didn’t belong.”

“Oh, sweetie.”

Beth sank into a soft shoulder and felt arms of solace wrap around her.  It had taken two years to stop cringing when Liri hugged her.  Another two to feel comforted.  And Liri had never stopped quietly offering. 

The woman who had somehow figured out how to be her friend and then her lover stepped back and gave Beth’s hand a businesslike squeeze.  “Go get some tea and whatever concoction you have us snacking on down here these days.  I’ll find the dragon a home that doesn’t involve getting his tail dripped on by a water lily.”

The moments alone assembling the ritual elements of a cup of tea were calming, and let Beth line up her words in the procession that would make them possible to say.  She picked up a bowl of homemade granola.  Nutritionally complete—she’d run the spreadsheet analysis herself.  Far too many witches supported their magic with sugar overdoses.

Not her circle.  At least not while she was watching.  She might have the most fragile brain chemistry in the group, but that didn’t mean the rest should be abusing their neurotransmitters.

Liri grinned when she spied the laden tray.  “Experimenting on us again, are you?”

“This one’s more flavorful than the last batch.”  Beth hoped.  Witches might have similar energy needs to elite athletes, but they were a lot more opinionated about how their snacks tasted.

Long fingers picked a few tidbits from the bowl.  “Just don’t tell me what’s in it.  I don’t want to know.”

“An excellent blend of essential ingredients for magic,” said Beth dryly, delighted when Liri laughed.  Jokes rarely came naturally to her, and this one had surprised them both.  “And a smart witch never shares her ingredients list.”

That caused a second round of laughter, one that took Beth a moment to understand.  A stray giggle snuck out.  “No eye of newt, I promise.”

“Actually, this batch is pretty good.” 

Beth already knew that—second handfuls were always a good sign.

Liri poured tea into two cups.  “So tell me what crept up on you in the middle of the night.”

It was time to talk about feelings.  In halting words, Beth tried to explain the impossible sensation of being sucked through space and time—and landing in someone’s living room.  “It was like a dream.  Except cold, and full of all these people who wanted things from me.”

“You feel that way about our customers, too.  Strangers are hard for you.”  Liri frowned, spoon slowly stirring her tea.  “Lauren said you would be welcome.”

“I think they tried.”  Beth shrugged, frustrated that her memories were so fogged by fear.  “But there were so many eyes looking at me.”  She blew out a breath, embarrassed.  “I haven’t panicked like that since I was in middle school.”

For a girl with undiagnosed Asperger’s, middle school had been every kind of hell.  And eyes had always been her nemesis.

“Are you sure you want to go?”  Liri’s words were soft.  A way out.

“Jamie’s eyes have been haunting me for twenty months.”  The last thing she needed was four more witchy watchers waking her up at night.  “It’s time.”

“Okay.”

The steady, easy support made it possible to voice the rest.  “I need to go—but I don’t know if I can do it.”

Liri’s eyes turned the stormy gray that meant she was worried.  “I believe you can.” 

That faith hadn’t wavered a single day in the last eleven years.  Beth gulped and got out the last of the hard words.  “My magic needs to go.  I need training.  But I don’t belong there.”  It wasn’t a rational belief, but she couldn’t shake it.  The faces in the room had haunted a very long night of wakefulness.

For a long time, Liri stood very still.  And then she leaned over, picked up the little crystal fire dragon, and wrapped Beth’s fingers around it.  “You belong
here
.  And when it’s time, you’ll come home.”

Beth clutched the piece of glass tightly.  She didn’t believe in crystals or dragons.  But she believed in love, and that was enough.

-o0o-

Nell landed in Lauren and Devin’s tiny cottage by the sea and wondered, yet again, how it always seemed to be full of witches.  Even when they hadn’t been summoned.

Moira smiled from her place of honor on Lauren’s green couch, Sophie’s son Adam asleep in her lap, two knitting needles clutched in his hands. 

Nell grinned.  “He’s getting so big.”

“Aye.  And he’s not much for cuddles while he’s awake, this one, so I have to sneak in my fill while he’s sleeping.”

Sophie smiled.  “You sneak them regularly enough when he’s awake, too.”

Devin rolled his eyes.  “Moira steals all the cute babies.”  He wrapped a casual arm around his wife’s shoulders.  “Why don’t you go sit on the couch too—put your feet up. You had a long day yesterday.”

Lauren chuckled and kissed his cheek.  “It’s not contagious, you know.”

Devin wiggled his eyebrows Moira’s direction.  “It could be.”

Nell tried not to laugh.  Apparently her brother had the baby bug.  Someone needed to warn Lauren to be on the lookout for fertility spells. 

The witch in question sat down, running her finger over Adam’s fuzzy hair.  And then kissed Moira on the cheek.  “Don’t get any ideas.”

Her husband snickered and headed for the door.  “Going on a linguine run so we have something to eat after this horde decimates the ice cream stash.  Back in ten.”

Her brother wasn’t good at worrying while standing still.  Nell waved at his disappearing back, hoping he remembered the extra Alfredo sauce.  And surveyed the crowd he planned to feed—the bat signal had been pretty strong.

Witch Central had screwed up, and with a good sleep under her belt, it was time to convene the masses and make things right.

Lauren slid off the couch and sat cross-legged in front of the low coffee table, passing out cookies and ice cream.  A signal.  Nell felt the vibe in the room shifting—time to get down to business.  She resisted the lure of Ben & Jerry’s.  With linguine coming, it would be worth the wait, and someone needed to get a grip on what had just happened.  “A lot of us are missing big parts of the story, I think, and Lauren, you might have more of it than anyone else.  Can you start at the beginning and fill us in?”

Lauren kept handing out sugar fixes.  “Pretty sure the beginning was a spellcode malfunction.”

Nell winced.  The guilt hadn’t dissipated any overnight.  “Yeah.  I used some of the transport code in the fetching spell.  One of the triplets cut and pasted the wrong two lines.”  And fixed it thirty seconds later, but Beth had reached for her mouse at exactly the wrong moment.

“It wasn’t just the code.”  Lauren stared pensively at her ice cream.  “Beth was thinking about Jamie.”

That was new.  And ominous.  “What?”

“When we visited their coven meeting back last winter—no, two winters ago—she was the most talented witch in the group.  When we left, he invited her to contact him if she wanted more training.”  Their storyteller looked up.  “She was considering it.”

Nuts.  And considerably eerie.  “Wow, we have really crappy timing.”

“It’s the solstice.”  Moira spoke quietly from the couch.  “Magic is a little more mysterious at this time of year.  Perhaps her fetching wasn’t entirely an accident.”

The only thing worse than a big coding snafu was woo-woo magics they couldn’t see or fix.  “You think our spell reached out and grabbed her because she happened to be thinking about my baby brother?”

“Aye.  Ancient energies are stirring.  If you sit in the dark in the wee hours of these nights, perhaps you’ll believe it too.”

She’d done plenty of late nights.  “I was coding at 3 a.m.  Trying to make sure we don’t fetch anyone else.”  Via coding mistakes or anything else.  And why or how Beth had been grabbed didn’t really change the facts.  “We did damage to that poor woman.  I hate knowing that.”

“It’s not the first time.”  Lauren’s quiet words reached every corner of the room.

Adam’s whiffling snores were the only sound in the cottage.

“I picked up snippets from their minds.  And I remembered some things in the middle of the night.  When Jamie and I visited their coven last year, we left a mess behind.”  Lauren looked around the room, eyes full of regret.  “From what I picked up, it sounds like the aftermath was pretty intense.  Beth was the circle leader, and we left her with a big plate of upheaval to manage.”  Her spoon hit the table in frustration.  “Not that we realized it then.” 

Nell wasn’t sure she’d ever heard the whole story.  It suddenly seemed awfully relevant. “Tell us about your visit.”

Lauren sighed.  “Honestly—I still don’t remember it all that well.  I was suffering new-witch angst and Jamie was trying to wrap his arms around life outside of Witch Central.  We were pretty self-absorbed.”  Her regret was clear.  “But there aren’t many ways to tell people they’re magically incompetent and have them like it.”

Ouch.   Nell had lots of familiarity with Jamie’s occasional elephant shoes.  “What exactly happened?”

“Maybe his memory is better than mine.”  The sigh that drifted through the cottage came tinged with mind-witch guilt.  “But here’s what I do remember.  Other than Beth, they’re very weak—just whiffs of power.  There were people handling the wrong elements, and a couple who weren’t even witches, I think.”

Oh, crap.

“Jamie fixed it, led them through a simple circle.  And then we patted ourselves on the back and walked out and left Beth to clean up the mess.”  Lauren’s hands clenched her mangled pint.  “That’s twice we’ve treated her badly.”

“You were a two-month-old witch.”  The picture was starting to form, and Nell didn’t like it one bit.  “And Jamie was going quietly nuts in Chicago.”  He didn’t belong outside of Witch Central any more than she did.  “So my clumsy brother marched in there, turned Beth’s life upside down, impressed them all with fancy magic, and then we’ve ignored her for almost two years.”

Lauren nodded.  “Yup.  That about covers it.  Until we kidnapped her.”

Yikes.  They had some serious atoning to do.  And Nell had no idea where to start.

“She’ll be coming to us, then.”  Moira bounced Adam gently as he stirred.

Sophie reached for her son.  “Here, I’ll feed him and you can explain how you know such things.”

Moira transferred the sleeping baby with skill decades in the making.  “This is a time of seeking, of journeys underway.  A time of moving toward the light.  She’ll come.”

Lauren nodded.  “Liri thinks she will.”

Well, that beat Irish mysticism as a reliable source.  Nell contemplated what she knew of their strange witch.  Fire witches hated the cold and the dark—and winter solstice in Chicago probably had plenty of both.

“She’ll be wanting training if she comes.”  Moira segued easily into an Irish lullaby as Adam fussed again.

Something practical she could do.  Finally.  “Jamie’s busy with Kenna right now.  If she comes, I can train her.”

“I’d like to help.”  Lauren looked surprisingly determined.

Nell frowned.  She had no objections to assistance, but it was an odd request.  “You’re not a fire witch.”