A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) Page 5

  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.”

  “I know.” Lauren looked at her hands. “But she feels like mine.”

  Nell nodded in assent—she knew the weight of witchy guilt all too well.

  The sound of Devin’s motorcycle outside brightened the room considerably. Linguine to the rescue. Moira popped off the couch, eyes twinkling. “You sit still, my dears. I’ll fetch some plates and a wee handful of forks.”

  Lauren eyed Nell, one last thing on her mind. “Someone needs to fill Jamie in.”

  Sigh. “Someone” had been her name far too often lately. “I’ll do it.”

  Soon. She was darned well eating some noodles first.

  -o0o-

  Moira stepped out into the bright noonday sun and stopped a moment to enjoy the delightfully blue expanse of ocean. Irish witches knew how to find magic in stormy gray waters too, but it was a lovely change of pace from the wintery waters of Fisher’s Cove.

  Her belly hummed happily along with her eyes, full of the best noodles in the world.

  A moment of contentment—not the norm at this time of year. The coming of the solstice always shook things up a bit.

  She looked around the cottage’s gardens. Even in winter, they were coming along nicely—the gift of many hands and a long growing season. Lauren sat on a driftwood bench, looking out over the water.

  Moira suspected it wasn’t the sea she saw.

  She picked her way through the honeysuckle and a nice patch of winter crocus. “Care for some company?”

  Lauren looked up, eyes welcoming. “Sure. I just needed a little escape from the melee in there.”

  Or the thoughts in her own head, more likely. Moira took a seat, well familiar with the difficult burden of feeling inadequate. “You did very well with Beth, you know.”

  “This time, maybe.” The smile was wan. “It hurts to know how callous we were back in Chicago.”

  It was this that had called the healer outside. That and a quick head nod from Devin. “And what is it you think you could have done differently?”

  The answer was a long time coming. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how welcome we’d have been even if we’d stayed.”

  Moira had some experience with witches rather set in their ways. “Aye. It was a tricky situation. And perhaps one that’s yet destined to end well.”

  Lauren’s lips twitched. “That’s an optimistic outlook.”

  “We can’t change the past, my darling girl. And whatever you and Jamie might have said or done, you’re two people with very good hearts. You set change in motion, and that’s not always easy.”

  “Beth might not see it that way.”

  Perhaps not, but that could wait to be discovered in the fullness of time. Moira had a different patient at the moment. “It’s not just Beth who suddenly finds herself on a journey.”

  Lauren frowned, and Moira could feel the leaking hints of exhaustion. Cookies and sleep didn’t fix everything. She reached out and took two cool hands in hers. Even an old healer witch could help with that a stitch. “You’ve been in the middle of things ever since we fetched you. But it’s a different role calling you now.”

  The frown deepened. “What do you mean? I’m too tired to look and too cranky to guess.”

  “Solstice makes us all a mite cranky, my dear.” Moira smiled, brushing a confused cheek and sending along another little trickle of power. “We all have different reactions to the dark. Some nest, some seek the light. Many of us set our feet on new journeys.”

  And some old witches realized they didn’t have too many solst
ices left.

  An unexpected grin chased away Lauren’s tired eyes. “Is that why my husband suddenly has the baby bug?”

  Moira chuckled, delighted by the wisdom of her young friend. “That, and he loves you very much.”

  “Mmm.” Lauren rolled her eyes. “Should I be worried about all the nice tingles you’re sending me? Thanks for those, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.” Moira fingered a sturdy flower vine climbing the back of the bench. “And I’m very sure Devin isn’t going to be needing any help from the likes of me if it’s a baby he wants. I do believe he’s got some negotiating to do with you, though.”

  “Maybe.” Lauren shifted back to looking out over the waters. “I don’t know about solstice and all, but I’ve been restless lately.”

  “A wise soul can smell a journey coming.”

  “I smell the tang of salt and occasional whiffs of linguine.”

  Ah, the young could be so literal. “Still afraid of the hocus-pocus, are you?”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “Some.” Moira was well aware that not everyone shared her mystical soul. “But you’ve chosen Beth as yours, and that’s very real.” A leader emerging, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  It pleased her greatly that Lauren didn’t misunderstand. “Am I wrong to do that? Nell’s got the right magic to train her.”

  “She does.” Moira paused, treading carefully. “But perhaps not the right soul for this witch at this moment. You see Beth’s heart. A soul that needs some careful tending.”

  “She’s not weak.”

  Perhaps. That also remained to be seen. “Even the sturdiest flower can need special care if it finds itself suddenly planted in a foreign garden.”

  They were silent again for a while, a crisp winter wind blowing off the water. Waves crashed against the cliffs below, soothing the restless beast that had been clawing at Moira’s soul lately. She accepted it all with gratitude.

  Lauren finally leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

  There was no thanks necessary. “We old witches still like to be useful.”

  “Good.” The second kiss was firmer. “We’re going to be needing you for a long time yet.”

  The restless beast certainly hoped so.

  Chapter 5

  Beth stepped out of the cab onto Addison Street, blinking at the sunlight. What a strange place, this California. It didn’t feel like winter at all.

  She took her bag from the driver, looking up and down the street.

  “Sure this is where you want to be, miss?”

  “Yes.” She turned back to him, aware that most people didn’t consider one word an answer. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  He shrugged and got back in his cab, careening out into traffic with a screech that hurt her ears.

  A lot of sounds here hurt her ears. Not the totality of them—Chicago was not a quiet city. But the different notes in the jumble. Not home.

  She slid a hand in her pocket and fingered the small crystal dragon tucked there for safekeeping. Home would wait.

  From her other pocket, she pulled out a simple business card dominated by a smiling face. Berkeley Realty. Time to find a witch and get some information.

  Recalling her quick study of the map of downtown, she headed west. Sounds assaulted her ears as she walked—so many people. Chicago had people too, but at this time of year they walked in quick steps with their heads down. Here, they smiled, fragments of their conversations pinging off her eardrums. An unwanted sea of noise.

  Taking a deep breath, she focused on the lines of the sidewalk. One line, another. A cracked one there, then back to straight and predictable. She felt the voices receding and slowly let her fists unclench. It had been years since she’d needed to count sidewalk lines.

  It wasn’t all that big a surprise. O’Hare International Airport had been sensory overload on steroids.

  Beth looked around again, aware she was wound far too tightly. Not at the airport anymore—it was just people now, going about their lives. She smiled at a little boy hopping over the sidewalk lines, shoelaces untied. Company in her crack gazing.

  And the sun was shining. Experimenting, she reached for a small trickle of power and let it sit lightly on her skin to recharge.

  She laughed at herself—magic wasn’t a battery, but it still felt nice.

  With the automatic knowledge of a mind that could memorize any map, she turned into the doorway of Berkeley Realty. And paused. Liri would see it as a moment of passage.

  Beth looked down at her fingers, pale in the winter sun, clasped around a serviceable stainless-steel handle. She wasn’t Liri—and this was just a door.

  “Good timing,” said a voice behind her shoulder. “If you open that for me, I’ll offer you up some linguine in exchange. Pretty sure I got too many orders.”

  The source of the voice was a tiny blonde woman with spiky hair, a nose ring, and a stack of takeout boxes piled up all the way to her chin. Beth reached for the top boxes—basic physics said catastrophe was imminent.

  “Thanks.” The tiny blonde stuck out her hand, causing more boxes to careen wildly. “I’m Lizard. You were looking for Berkeley Realty?”

  Beth quickly counted the boxes. Not if they were having a party inside. “I was looking for Lauren Sullivan, but maybe I can come back at a less busy time.”

  Lizard looked confused for a moment, and then grinned at the stack in her hands. “Oh, the boxes. Don’t worry—Romano’s was having a two-for-one special and I think I got carried away. Once you taste his linguine, you’ll know why.” She propped open the door with a shiny red leather boot. “Come on in. Coast is clear—it’s just Lauren and me here today. Not too many people house shopping right before Christmas.”

  Oddly soothed by the flow of words, Beth stepped through the door, appreciating the relative quiet as she stepped off the street. Cool greens and blues greeted her eyes, and a pop of color from a fiery painting on the wall.

  Lizard followed the direction of her gaze. “You like that?”

  Beth never liked art. Too imprecise. “Yes. Who painted it?”

  “A friend.” Lizard smiled and juggled takeout boxes. “Maybe you’ll get to meet her.”

  Beth hadn’t come looking for friends. She opened her mouth to ask for Lauren, and then shut it again as footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  Lauren entered the front room with a smile and three forks. “Hello, Beth. Nice to see you again. You arrived just in time for some of the best food in California.”

  “I don’t eat a lot of pasta. Too many carbs.” Which wasn’t exactly a polite introduction. Beth cursed her inadequacies with small talk. “But I am hungry, so something to eat would be appreciated.”

  She didn’t miss the glances exchanged between the two other women, but as usual, she had no idea what they meant. And she was travel-weary enough not to care.

  “Come sit at the desk here.” Lizard dropped boxes on a clean surface and grabbed a fork. “I have paperwork spread out all over the kitchen. Sorry, didn’t know we were expecting you.”

  “You weren’t.” Beth took the proffered fork. “I didn’t notify anyone I was coming.” She hadn’t been entirely sure she would make it. And now she sounded like some kind of robot. “I’m sorry, this isn’t going quite how I imagined.”

  “Never does.” Lizard grinned. “Sit, eat, discover food heaven. The rest can wait.”

  Beth looked at the tiny woman who looked nothing like Liri—and somehow felt comforted.

  -o0o-

  Lizard clomped down the street in her new red boots, contemplated the woman walking on her left, and wondered why it was that she ended up with all the messed-up fire witches.

  And then decided it didn’t matter. It wasn’t magic that had her marching down the street to Caro’s townhouse. It was the general stamp of strange that coated Beth’s outer mind.

  Beth saw herself as weird. As other.

  As someone who didn’t belong.


  And that had pushed buttons deep in Lizard’s juvenile-delinquent soul. She looked over at her tall companion. “How come you came to Witch Central?” Conversation over linguine had been minimal.

  Beth’s mind tucked further behind some invisible wall. “I need training.”

  Well, it was better than being on parole. “It can be kind of weird here. Don’t let them freak you out.”

  “Okay.” And half a block later, “Thanks.”

  Lizard kept walking, satisfied. She knew what it was to keep most of your words hidden inside. And Caro’s townhouse would be a good place to hide. Once again, her boss was a smart cookie.

  She turned into the walkway, thumped up the steps, and dropped Beth’s shoulder bag on the porch. “I think you’ll like it here. Way better than a hotel.”

  Mute eyes just watched her hand on the door.

  Cripes. Sometimes this real-estate gig was harder than it looked. Lizard breathed a sigh of relief as Caro rounded the corner, a set of keys in her hand. Saved by the landlord.

  Brought me another live one, did you?

  Something like that. She’s been through a lot today. I think she just needs some space. Peace and quiet.

  Caro nodded briskly at the inhabitants of the porch, unlocked the door to the townhouse, and stood to the side.

  Beth walked in, and Lizard heard her quiet intake of air. When their new arrival reached out to touch an orange wall in mute relief, she knew she’d made a sale. And she knew it was time to go. In lockstep with Caro, she quietly backed out the door.

  “She’ll do just fine,” said the no-nonsense woman who had become Lizard’s honorary den mother. “We’ll let her get settled a bit, and then I’ll take over some bread. Nice boots.”

  Lizard rolled her eyes. “They’re good for walking. And she doesn’t do bread. Too many carbs.”

  “Well then, I’ll take her something else.”

  “Keep an eye on her,” said Lizard in an undertone. “She needs a friend.”

  “That she already has.” Caro’s eyes held quiet approval. “And she could do a lot worse than Lizard Monroe.”

  Caro handed out compliments about as often as the Queen Mother handed out Viagra. Lizard blushed. And barely resisted kicking a rock—it would scuff her sexy new boots. “Page me if she needs anything.”