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

by Geary, Debora

  “I know.”

  It was only two words—but so much more rode in her partner’s eyes. Frustration welled in Beth’s veins. “Come on, Liri. You know I can’t read what you’re thinking. You have to tell me.” It was one of the central tenets of their relationship, and something Beth had learned sprang from love anyhow. You gave what your lover needed.

  Liri needed feelings and soft touch, ritual and memories. Beth needed words.

  “I hope they can appreciate who you are.” Liri’s fingers touched the pendant hanging around her neck. Two circles, joined.

  It matched the one Beth wore. The one that said a socially awkward penguin had found the partner for her soul.

  Liri’s fears mirrored her own. Witch Central sounded like the kind of world Beth usually avoided at all costs. Social, crowded, and infested with complications.

  But they had magic—and that trumped all else. Beth set down her mug. “I’ve always been a strange witch.” The kind who landed in the middle of a table while the rest sat and ate brownies. She tried to push away the lingering embarrassment—she hadn’t asked to be there in the first place. “Why don’t you get your cloak and we’ll go eat at Ming’s. We can talk more there.” It was Liri’s favorite food—and on a Tuesday, uncrowded enough to be a pleasurable experience for both of them.

  Liri smiled. “How about you light a fire instead? I’ll order in and we can find the words and the silence that will put this day to rest.”

  That would also deeply please them both.

  Comfort settled on Beth’s shoulders like a fuzzy blanket. It had been a day beyond all imagining—but the most important things had not changed at all.

  -o0o-

  Moira set her phone down on her bed. Time to stop staring at newfangled technology, hoping for another update, and pack for a wee trip west. When Nell knew something more, they’d all know.

  She considered the contents of her closet and resolved to go shopping when she was in California. Blues, greens, grays—everything she could see was dark and gloomy.

  “And you’re a grumpy old witch who ought to be used to winter by now,” she muttered to herself, pushing aside the colors she normally loved. A skirt covered in gaudy purple flowers made its way into her fingers, along with an Irish green sweater and a set of shiny red shoes more appropriate for young Lizzie. Well, at least she’d be colorful. And Miss Kenna would be entertained by the sparkles on the shoes.

  Dropping her eye-searing picks on the bed, Moira reached into the closet one more time, this time for a bag to carry her belongings. She dug through more blue and gray and found what she was seeking.

  Carefully, she set her old, well-worn valise down on the bed and touched its leather handle, flooded with memories. She’d held that suitcase gripped in her arms, waiting for the ship that would bring her across the ocean to a strange land. Felt it hanging from her numb fingers as she’d waved goodbye to so many she loved. And slept with it under her head, slicked with hot tears, on the long journey across the waters.

  Oh, so long ago.

  And when she’d finally set foot on Nova Scotia soil, she’d felt like poor Beth, splatted on a table in a world full of strange and frightening.

  “We’ve traveled far together, you and I.” Moira gave the bag a thoughtful pat—the Irish didn’t believe in coincidence. “And perhaps I needed a bit of a reminder of that tonight.”

  The old memories churned her soul. It was easy to forget. Easier to ignore them, and to think only of the home and roots she had now. But some journeys weren’t easy—and Beth’s fetching was a terribly difficult way to have begun.

  Such fear there had been in her eyes. A fragile new flower—one that would need extra tending.

  Just like a certain young Irish lass clutching the rail of a ship headed across an enormous sea.

  Moira folded clothes and sent her thoughts in the direction of Chicago. A small blessing, and a wish.

  For resilience. For an open heart.

  And for the courage it took to cry hot tears and travel the road regardless.

  -o0o-

  “It’s the middle of the night, sweetie.”

  Nell scowled at her computer monitor, finishing a key line of code. “I’m not done yet.”

  The only man who dared to call her “sweetie” reached out quick fingers and made the contents of her screen disappear. “You need to sleep.”

  “Can’t. Jamie’s supposed to be back online in an hour, and I promised him I’d finish this layer.” Nat said he was midnight napping, Kenna tucked into his elbow, which left her captain of the fetching-spell safety squad. She’d sent their minions off to bed hours ago.

  “You’re only one part of Witch Central.” Her husband’s eyes gleamed. “A really sexy, important part, but only one part. And you need sleep.”

  He was right—but so was she. “We screwed up. I need to fix it.”

  Daniel’s hands covered hers. “Accidents happen, even when you’re really careful. You know that. And your spell’s no threat to anyone at 3 a.m. What’s really bothering you?”

  Tears threatened, even as she mentally kicked at his words. God, she was tired. “She was so scared, Daniel. This quivering little bunny sitting on a table, with this weird, blank face.” Cripes, where was her empathy?

  “That would be hard for you to understand.” His hands started working the tight muscles in her neck. “My wife would have chewed off a table leg for a sword and asked questions later.”

  Her snicker squeezed out around the tightness in her chest. Oh, how well he knew her. “To fight off a little old lady and a couple of moms?”

  His chuckle was low and rumbly. “I seem to remember you loosing half your arsenal at some poor guy hiding behind a bush.”

  Fifteen years and she was never going to live that down. She still had the t-shirt to prove it. “You’d just invaded my turf.”

  “Yup.” He paused a moment. “In some ways, so did Beth.”

  She blinked. “We’re the ones who fetched her.”

  “I know.” His words were pensive. “But she landed on your turf, and that’s kicked in to your need to protect, to defend. To do something.”

  “But what?” The words spurted out of her, powered by whatever frustration he’d found hiding behind her shoulder blades. “The best mind witch we’ve got couldn’t calm her down. And she doesn’t eat chocolate.” Nell wasn’t sure which was more disturbing.

  “Ah.” He nodded, clearly making more sense of that mystery than she did. “Fetched a different kind of witch this time, did you?”

  “She was definitely a little strange.”

  “We all have our quirks.” Her husband’s hands were doing magical things to her biceps now. “But that’s not what I meant.”

  His voice had that tone that said he was about to throw an important pitch. Nell swiveled her chair around to face him. “Okay…”

  He perched on a box of comic books, his eyes looking up at hers. “Think about the witches you’ve fetched. Lauren is one of the steadiest people in a crisis I’ve ever met, and I know quite a few.”

  Yup. Any woman who could handle being married to Devin definitely qualified as steady. Nell tried to follow Daniel’s line of thinking. “Elorie was more shaken up.”

  “She was—but you didn’t yank her out of her life like you did Lauren. Her stay in Witch Central was very temporary. And Sierra didn’t have much of a life to lose.”

  “We rescued her.” From a fate that still gave Nell occasional nightmares.

  “Yeah.” Daniel’s hand brushed her cheek—he knew she had a big soft spot for the once-lonely teenager who had practically become their sixth child. “And she was never afraid of us.”

  She was still struggling to follow, something that happened only rarely in their marriage. “So you think this time is different because of how badly we scared Beth?” Her fingers itched for her keyboard again. There had to be another safety spell she could put somewhere.

  “No. Well, maybe.” />
  This was turning into a darned wobbly pitch. Nell raised an eyebrow, amused. “Which one?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Her husband’s fingers were back on the ball. Literally. Apparently there was more hanging out under her desk than comic books. “My point is, I don’t think that’s why this is hard for you.”

  She waited. It was usually worth it.

  He tossed her the ball. “You understood Lauren. And you adopted Sierra practically before she arrived, but more importantly, she made sense to you too.”

  Ah. As always, her hacker made stunningly good sense when he finally got to where he was headed. “And I don’t get Beth.” Truth.

  “Not yet.” His thumb stroked along her fingers, much the same way as he felt up a baseball. “Let your need to do something rest for a bit until you get to know her a little better. Give your formidable instincts something to work from.”

  She hoped it was that simple. “And if that doesn’t work?”

  He tugged her into his lap. “One step at a time.”

  “That’s not how I fight.” She grumbled into his shoulder, feeling the weariness settling in. “There could be surprises behind the bushes.”

  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.”