Her old landlord chuckled. “I will. Tell Josh I said hello. Learned a new chess move. Gonna beat that man of yours one day soon.”
Lizard just snorted and walked off, bemused. Her life got weirder every day.
-o0o-
Lauren knocked on Nell’s door, leftover linguine in her hands, and grinned when Aervyn opened the door. “Hey, superboy—you ready to turn six yet?”
“Nope.” He eyed the containers in her hands and manfully stood to the side. “I already ate, but I bet Auntie Nat’s hungry. She just got here.”
Excellent. The gathering of the clan, at least the part of it she wanted to see. “I have enough for you too, munchkin. Have you decided what you want for your present yet?” She was drawing a bit of a blank. Nell was currently vetoing the magic carpet, Jamie and Devin were already on a shiny red two-wheeler, and her crystal ball kept insisting there was something important she was supposed to give him.
Maybe the ball was just out of sorts. It seemed to be going around.
Aervyn swayed side to side, thinking. “You could draw me a picture. Mama says the best kind of presents are the ones you make with your hands.”
Nell had never seen any of Lauren’s artwork. “I’ll think of something, cutie. How about I give you one of these boxes to go share with your sisters, and you tell me where I can find Auntie Nat and your mom.”
“Just follow the noise,” said Aervyn, porting the top box off the pile, forks already magically in his hand. “Kenna found my drum set.”
Lauren winced. The drum set had been Devin’s idea of a practical joke back when Aervyn turned two, delivered without nearly enough thought about what a hard-of-hearing toddler might do with such a gift.
And apparently becoming the jokester’s wife had conferred guilt by marital decree. In the lore that was Witch Central’s lifeblood, the drums were now her fault too. “Maybe Kenna wants some noodles.”
Aervyn looked skeptical. “I doubt it. She only wants chocolate cake and strawberries today. Auntie Nat called her a heathen.”
Nat was far more convinced of the value of all four food groups than your average witch. And she seemed the least affected by whatever plague of weirdness had hit the Sullivan clan lately. “Thanks, cutie. I’ll plug my ears.”
He swooped up for a kiss and then ran off down the hall, paging his sisters.
Lauren followed in his wake, taking a left turn through the kitchen and into the back yard. Nat turned in welcome, eyes lighting as she saw the Romano’s boxes.
Nell was waving her fingers, focused on some invisible spell. A moment later, she sat back, victorious. “Take that, punk witch baby.”
Kenna banged her two sticks on the top of the drum—and giggled as a shiny purple fountain of bubbles spurted up. A very silent fountain.
“Thank you.” Nat smiled in relief, already twirling noodles onto a fork.
Lauren wondered if Devin had taken a good look at how tired Nat and Jamie were lately. She wasn’t ready for permanent exhaustion.
“It won’t hold her long,” said Nell dryly. She shook her head at the offered noodles. “Just finished a huge plate of spaghetti, thanks. Little monster’s already undone two of my best sound-deflecting spells.”
Right on cue, sound erupted again from Kenna’s drum, accompanied by more bubbles—in rainbow colors this time.
Three pairs of hands clapped over three sets of ears. Your turn, sent Nell with a grin. Auntie duty.
Oh, sure. Lauren looked over at her delighted noise-terrorist of a niece and wondered if anyone had tried the obvious. KENNA! Too loud, sweetie. That hurts our ears.
Two drumsticks stopped, suspended in the air by astonished toddler hands. And then their mischief-maker tapped the drum, ever so lightly, and looked over at the trio of stupefied adults with a giant smile on her face.
It was Nat who started to laugh first, still cuddling takeout linguine to her chest. Kenna tapped along to her mama’s giggles in quiet, rhythmic, bubble-dancing counterpoint.
Nell chuckled, shaking her head in mostly mock disgust. “I can’t believe that worked.”
A smart realtor knew when to pounce. “Great. I solved your problem of the day—now you can help with mine.”
Two pairs of raised eyebrows suggested it wasn’t going to be her easiest sell of the afternoon. “Berkeley Realty had a visitor this morning. A certain fire witch from Chicago.”
“Oh.” Nat’s voice was full of sympathy. “How is she doing?”
Lauren shook her head. “Not sure. She’s buttoned up pretty tight, and I didn’t push this time. Didn’t have to—Lizard adopted her before she even got inside our door. She’s taken Beth to see if Caro’s townhouse is available.” It would be by the time they arrived.
“So what’s the problem?” asked Nell slowly. “Sounds like you have things pretty much under control.”
“Gut feel.” And a strong one. “We need to keep Witch Central at bay for a while. Introduce her slowly, give her a chance to get her toes used to the water.”
“Are you sure?” Nell didn’t sound skeptical, just curious. “Immersion worked pretty well for you. Lizard too.”
Lauren remembered her own cannonball into the deep end all too well. “I had a gentler start. Let’s see if we can try wading this time.”
“Okay.” Nell looked down at her hands. “You seem to have a pretty good read on her.”
Lauren met Nat’s eyes over Nell’s bowed head. It was a very strange thing for the woman closest to the heart of Witch Central to be shaky. She waited until Nell looked back up. “When I first started working with Jacob, I was confused all the time. His body language and his thoughts didn’t match.” It had been very hard to learn which signals to trust.
Nell just nodded slowly, still only half comprehending.
Nat’s eyes radiated calm patience. “Some of my students are like that. They sit in the back row once a week, disappear as soon as class is over. Often they’re the ones who need yoga the most.” She settled her hands into her lap. “If it’s breathing room Beth needs, she’ll have it.”
Lauren heard the firm tone in her best friend’s voice and knew she’d found the right help. No one would understand the need for personal space better than Nat Sullivan. And if anyone could keep Witch Central from bubbling over, it was their gentle, fierce yogini.
The heart of Witch Central had more than one inhabitant.
-o0o-
Carefully, trying not to move the fragile shards inside her chest, Beth sat down on the strange bed, in the strange room, in the strange land, and cuddled a strange orange pillow to her aching heart.
It was going to be difficult. She should have known. Only in fairytales did the princess meander daintily through the kingdom, learn a few gentle lessons, and live happily ever after.
And fairytales had more logic holes than the average conversation with a three-year-old.
None of which made her heart feel any better.
She was a strong, resilient woman—and right now, she felt like a scared child.
Fighting the lifelong desire to run and hide in solitude when such feelings hit, she opened her computer laptop and clicked on Liri’s fanciful icon. Beth had been the one who set up the technology behind the cute extraterrestrial head on her screen, but it had been Liri who’d insisted on the “phone home” button.
Beth heard her breath shake as her partner’s face came onscreen, and squeezed the pillow a little tighter.
“Hard day?” The empathy in Liri’s voice was instant and soothing, even thousands of miles away.
“Yeah.” Lining up the right words took a moment. “It’s an intriguing town. Lots of sunlight and interesting people on the street.”
During the few warm months in Chicago, they loved to have coffee at one of the outdoor cafés and watch the people go by. Liri liked to imagine their backgrounds and what awaited them at home. Beth watched their mannerisms, their faces, and tried to guess how they felt, what they wanted.
People
could be such a mystery.
“And?” The prompt was gentle, but it came with her partner’s understated tenacity.
“The usual.” The sigh came out all on its own. “Hard to navigate in a strange world, especially when they want things from me.” From an airline-ticketing agent to Caro’s silent delivery of homemade lentil soup for dinner, the day had been a constant stream of people with faces saying something she never knew how to read.
“Try room service and a movie.” Liri smiled—and then frowned, squinting at the screen. “Wait, where are you? That doesn’t look like a hotel.”
Beth looked around, taking in the funky decor and bright colors for the first time. “It’s a short-term rental. A kind of bed-and-breakfast thing.” It occurred to her that she wasn’t clear on the details, which wasn’t like her at all. “Lauren suggested I might find it more relaxing than a hotel room.”
“That was thoughtful of her.”
Beth smiled—she knew that overly neutral tone in Liri’s voice. “I believe they really are trying to help. Lauren’s assistant used to live here. The landlord seems very nice.” She looked around. The space was quite soothing. “I can come and go as I please, and you’d like the front gardens, I think. Flowers in December.”
“Beats shoveling a foot of snow.” Liri grinned. “Your crew of helpers showed up bright and early to take care of it—that was very sweet.”
It wasn’t often she got to surprise her very attuned mate. The glow of it soothed Beth far more than the colorful walls. She’d put Mellie’s grandsons on more than snow patrol, but perhaps that would be an unexpected gift for another day. “Good. You have plenty to do without dumping snow on tourists.”
Liri’s laughter was warm and lilting. “I only got the one, and that was last winter.”
Beth grinned. The poor guy from Florida had been dumb enough to stand directly behind someone with a snow shovel. His fiancée had giggled for an hour—and bought out half the store. “Then again, it might be good for business.”
“Careful what you wish for,” said Liri, repositioning the computer and lying down on the couch. “It was a very busy day. Too many more of those and we’ll run out of stock before New Year’s.”
They had enough to last through spring, but to her lovely partner, the ways of inventory were varied and arcane. “Did Mellie come in to help?”
“Yes.” Fingers reached out to touch the screen. “We’re fine here, sweetie. You take care of you. Find the space you need and negotiate the witching world there at a speed that allows you to be happy.”
It felt a bit like looking for a calm spot while standing in the path of a hurricane, but she could try. Beth stretched out her fingertips to touch Liri’s, and held up the tiny crystal dragon that had ridden in her pocket all day. “I miss you.”
She was pretty sure hers weren’t the only eyes wet with tears.
Chapter 6
Nell waded through the pillow fort blocking her front door and sighed. So much for hoping her newest trainee had accidentally fallen back asleep.
When she’d called Beth an hour ago, the house had been both spotless and quiet, at least by Walker standards. She pulled open the door and smiled at the new arrival. “Come on in. And please excuse the chaos—I was foolish enough to let my kids out of bed this morning.”
Fleeting puzzlement crossed Beth’s face. “Do they sometimes stay in bed?”
“Nope. Except for the oldest—I think he’s turning nocturnal. Apparently some teenagers are like that.”
“I had unusual sleep patterns for many years. My parents—”
Whatever Beth had been about to say drowned in a flood of sound beaming from the back of the house. Nell winced. Aervyn Edric Walker, turn on your hearing aids!
Oops. Sorry, Mama. The contrite reply came quickly. Dropping the noise back to normal decibel levels took several seconds longer. Someone needed a refresher lesson in spell unwinding.
Or hearing aids he couldn’t turn off whenever he felt like it.
Nell shook her head and turned back to her guest. “Sorry—he’s playing with his new drum set.” And sound-wave spells. The loud kind.
Beth looked shell-shocked—time to find someplace quiet before she fled California entirely. “Would you like to head out to the back yard? I think it’s free of munchkins at the moment, and that way we won’t scorch the ceilings.”
If it was possible, Beth’s face got even more wooden. “I’m very careful with my magic.”
Oh, God. How had she managed to get a trainee who didn’t eat chocolate or understand a joke? Nell gave herself a very fast lecture, trying to remember Lauren’s words of wisdom. Tolerance. And baby steps. “It’s easy enough for things to get a little out of hand in a training session. And I hear you came here for the sun.”
Beth finally smiled. “I am enjoying all the light you have here.”
Phew. Back yard, posthaste. Nell turned to lead the way through the house. “I know you can’t have chocolate, so I made some oatmeal raisin cookies this morning. We can take a plate out with us.”
“I brought some nuts, but thank you.”
Nell sighed—this just wasn’t going to be easy. She squelched the urge to force cookies on someone who clearly had no sense of smell and grabbed several on her way out the back door. Somebody needed to eat them, and chocolate-free cookies would likely get nothing but confused looks from the rest of the Walker household.
Cranky mama witches couldn’t be fussy about their sources of sugar.
She led the way over to a quiet spot in the back corner, behind the play structure and out of the way of overhanging trees. “Will this work for you?”
“I don’t know.” Beth sat down thoughtfully on a patch of grass. “I’ve never done magic outside before. Don’t the air currents and changing light affect your work?”
Not any more than breathing. “Where do you practice?”
“We have a room at the shop. It’s quiet, no distractions. We set it up with comfortable lighting and shelves for our tools.”
It sounded like a prison. Or a cage for a very fragile witch. “We do most of our magic outside here. A lot of people find it easier to access power with the ground right under their feet.”
“That makes sense.” Beth nodded and laid her hands in her lap. “We’ll try it your way. I came here to learn things to take home with me. Maybe outdoor magic will be one of them.”
She’d come to take. Nell adjusted her seat on the grass—and wondered how to tell a witch that she also needed to give.
-o0o-
Little bits of grass poked at her ankles, making Beth wish she’d thought to wear socks. The sandals had been a concession to the California warmth, but they let far too many things tickle her feet.
She watched Nell and waited.
“Is there something in particular you’re hoping to learn?”
Magic. The great, glorious wave of magic that Jamie had whisked through Chicago and then taken away with him. “Perhaps you could review some of the basics with me. I’ve mastered candle lighting and small currents of heat, but I still struggle with fire globes.” It was probably best to be totally honest. “And I do the first two best with my circle for support.”
“We can fix that.” Nell shifted slightly and raised her left palm, a bright and tiny fire globe dancing over her hand.
So blatantly easy. Jealousy and desire hit Beth hard. “You must be a magnificent witch.”
Creases crossed Nell’s forehead. “These are child’s tricks—simple training skills we teach all our witchlings in the first few weeks.”
Beth tried not to take offense at the truth. “It took me four years to light my first candle.” And in the limited contact she’d had with other fire witches, that was considered the progress of a very adept witch. “It only took fourteen months to replicate Jamie’s bubble spell. That needs a circle, though—I don’t have air and water magics.” And her circle had feeble ones, much to her frustration. Too much heat and the bubbles
wouldn’t form.
“Bubble spell?”
Her holy grail. “The one where he filled a room with floating rainbow bubbles.”
“Ah.” Nell smiled. “Kenna loves those. My son did, too. He liked to chase after them when he first learned to walk. There was a stretch when I was making bubbles fourteen hours a day.”
It was a spell to amuse small children. Jamie Sullivan hadn’t shown them fancy magic—he’d treated them like toddlers. The knots in Beth’s stomach tightened. “Hours?”
“Yup.” The softness in Nell’s face said she loved her children very much. “Jamie finally managed to teach him to make his own bubbles. Saved my sanity.”
She had spent fourteen months working on a spell that could be taught to a young child.
With magic that felt shriveled and small, Beth began to assemble the lines of power she needed to attempt a fire globe. Maybe here, in this place under the sun, there would be success. And then she planned to find out what kind of spells adult witches did.
The jolt of power to her fingers was surprising. Sharp. She throttled it back quickly, conscious of the lack of safeguards in place.
“It’s okay.” Nell’s voice was quiet. “I have a training circle up. Go ahead and experiment.”
The grass was making her ankles itch terribly. Beth tried to let her power flow a little more smoothly. It felt jittery, unbalanced by sunshine and nerves and too many distractions. She teased out a small line of power, embarrassed by its unevenness.
She wasn’t a beginner witch.
“Just relax.” Her trainer lounged in the grass, bare legs and elbows apparently not at all bothered by the flora and fauna of the outdoors. “You’re trying too hard.”
In Beth’s experience, relaxing was very hard work. “I’m having trouble steadying the flows. That’s not usually a problem for me.”
“You keep them pretty throttled. When the flows are really slow, it’s easy for them to wobble.” Nell’s fire globe suddenly floated a foot up in the air and started a slow, circuitous journey through the air. “See how it gets caught by all the little air currents? If I let it speed up a little,” she said as the fire globe’s pace increased sharply, “the path gets smoother. Less bumpy.”
A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) Page 6