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

by Geary, Debora

  Beth’s fingers joined hers, tracing the smooth wood. “Liri says the journey is as important as the destination.”

  “That makes her a lovely partner for a woman who likes to know where she’s going.” Moira smiled, so very glad she’d come. “You’re wonderful together—I hope you know that.”

  Beth’s cheeks flushed a delightful pink.

  “You’ll need to bring her to Fisher’s Cove soon.” Irish hospitality came with rules. “We’re a sleepy little seaside village, and I’ve a warm pool for you to soak in and a book or two for your library, if you’d like them.” She’d not mention the people just yet. One step at a time.

  “Liri would like that.” Beth’s eyes softened. “Maybe in the spring, when the shop is quieter.”

  A seed planted—for today, that was enough.

  Moira set her cup to the side. “Perhaps we might go back down to your shop before I leave. I’m in need of a solstice gift for Sophie, and you have a green tourmaline down there that’s breathtaking.”

  Beth stood awkwardly, still cradling the wooden knot. “You don’t need to buy anything.”

  “Don’t be denying an old lady her pleasures.” Moira got to her feet, suddenly a mite teary. “I’ve a mind to take a little piece or two of Chicago home with me.”

  The awkwardness slid away, a small smile in its place. “I’ll go find Liri. She loves to help people shop.”

  Moira took one last look around the tiny kitchen. She’d be sad to go—it had been a truly lovely visit. But in the way of the Irish, she’d be leaving a piece of her heart behind when she left.

  Chapter 21

  Beth stood outside the arrivals gate at the San Francisco airport, well disguised in sunglasses, noise-canceling headphones, and a shiny red cape.

  The first two soothed her senses. The last one made her laugh.

  She’d no sooner transported back to Berkeley than Aervyn had presented her with a huge, carefully lettered card festooned in sparkles, a couple of adorable spelling errors, and something that might be balloons. Or possibly the moon.

  An invitation. For Liri.

  And a plane ticket. Because apparently they intended for Liriel’s trip to California to start off gently.

  It was wildly generous and entirely sweet. Liri had laughed, cried, and jumped on a plane two hours later.

  At least fifteen people had volunteered to meet her at the airport, including several not old enough to drive. But Beth had decided she actually wanted to see her partner before she got swallowed by Witch Central.

  Which might be easier said than done. The quantity of people flooding out through the arrivals gate made finding one short, curvy witch harder than it might seem. She strained to see over the crowd, amused by the blue-green tint her borrowed sunglasses gave everyone’s faces.

  Searching for one Liriel Andretti, turquoise alien.

  “Look down,” said a laughing voice at her knees.

  Oops. Beth had forgotten the part where she’d climbed up on an advertising platform for a better view. Liri hopped up and gave her a kiss that had more than one onlooker clapping.

  Beth was pretty sure her cheeks matched Aervyn’s cloak.

  “Come on.” An excited Liri slid off the platform, eyes dancing. “I heard a rumor there’s sun outside.”

  The woman she loved, always seeking the light.

  They stepped outside the doors into a rush of heat and noise and car exhaust. And then Liri grabbed Beth’s hand and started heading in totally the wrong direction.

  “The car’s over there, Lir.” Jamie had offered her his, even gamely wrestling all small children out of the back seat.

  “Grass. Green stuff!”

  Beth finally figured out her laughing partner’s destination. Liri jumped into the middle of a sad little plot of grass and lifted her arms to the sky. “It’s warm and green and totally gorgeous.”

  It was crowded, polluted, and even the dandelions looked limp. Beth grinned, unable to resist her beloved’s joy.

  There were some very good things here in California.

  And every last one of them had just gotten better.

  -o0o-

  Jamie picked Kenna up off the changing table, shaking his head at her wiggly antics. “Keep that up and you’ll need to learn to port, silly girl.”

  Nat laughed from behind him. “I think that falls into the category of be careful what you wish for.”

  Truth. “I can’t believe it’s her birthday.” The big Witch Central birthday bash was tomorrow, by triplet decree. Today was for the three of them. He wrapped an arm around his wife, remembering.

  “Our girl of storm and fire.” Nat reached up and stroked Kenna’s cheek. “Hard to believe when you’re all cuddly and cute, little one.”

  The baby just cooed and snuggled in closer. Sleepy time. Maybe. “Family nap?” Kenna loved those best, lying in the warm nest of her parents and her favorite red blanket.

  Nat led the way into the bedroom, stopping just long enough to rescue the blankie from the top of the pillow fort. Kenna’s birthday request. At 5 a.m. No wonder they all needed a nap.

  It was a good sign when his tornado of a girlchild curled up between them, her head pushed against Nat’s chest, her toes working her way under his ribs. Jamie grinned sleepily at his wife. “How come I always get the feet end?” Kenna’s definition of “snuggle” still needed some work.

  Nat breathed in the moment—they’d learned a lot in the last year about appreciating stillness when it landed.

  Or he had. His wife had been born wise.

  A few more moments gazing on the treasures in his bed, and Kenna’s whiffling sounds signaled success. He looked at her chubby fingers, curled in the red blankie Caro had knit on the night of her birth. “So peaceful.”

  “It won’t always be.” Nat sounded awfully certain, even with her eyelids drifting shut. “You can feel the currents in the universe at this time of year. Lots of energies moving and changing. Some years you get a slow-moving stream.”

  That wasn’t exactly comforting. “Figure we’ll win the lottery eventually, do you?”

  Nat only smiled.

  She had a point. Sullivans always seemed to find the swift-moving waters whether they meant to or not. This December, it had been Nell taking the swim. “I vote Dev for next year. He likes fast water.” Of course, that probably meant throwing Lauren under the bus too.

  “’Kay. Let’s buy him all the tickets.” Nat’s voice was drifting off into sleep.

  Jamie chuckled, closed his eyes, and joined her.

  -o0o-

  Nell landed in the Witches’ Lounge, a top-secret bag in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. Trying to get Aervyn’s gift wrapped without including a curious head or two in the package had eluded her all day.

  Her living room had been a constant stream of inbound visitors. The usual ragtag band of witches making their way into town for the solstice circle and tomorrow’s party. Matt, Téo, and Nell’s parents were next on the transport list, assuming someone could find Retha.

  Last Nell had heard, her mother had managed to get lost in the jungle. Since Matt hadn’t sent out the bat signal yet, she refused to get worried, but for the next year, all crazy witchling antics were going to get blamed on Gramma Retha’s genes.

  Not that she’d mind.

  Sophie landed on the couch, laughing, an enormous mug in her hands. “Has the world ended yet?”

  Uh, oh. Nell grinned, sliding Aervyn’s gift out of its baggy disguise. “A little crazy at your end of the continent too?”

  “Ooooh, yeah. Lots of witchlings excited to make the trip. I think half the village is coming with them. They’re beaming over in an hour.” Sophie nodded at the shiny red helmet. “I assume there’s a bike to go along with that?”

  There was, as long as her brothers managed to vanish themselves long enough to get the wheels on. “He grew out of the helmet you guys made for his broomstick. Kid’s growing like a weed.” It had taken her a week
to load this one up with protection spells. Mostly for the poor people who were dumb enough to get in Aervyn’s way.

  “I think Marcus made him a spell for his fire truck.”

  Nell wasn’t dumb enough to hope it was a quiet one. “He realizes that we’re going to get even for all these things, right?” Most of Marcus’s gifts lately—and any gifts at all were astonishing—were very loud.

  “He doesn’t seem to care.” Sophie sipped from her mug and made a face. “Morgan played drums half the night last night, and he was downright cheery this morning.”

  Her world couldn’t adapt far enough to consider a cheery Marcus. Nell sniffed. “You have hot chocolate?” She side-eyed the solitary mug.

  “Yup. Trust me, you don’t want any. Lizzie’s experimenting again.”

  Ah. Disguised green stuff. Nell abandoned her dreams of chocolaty goodness. “You’re drinking it.”

  “Not anymore, I’m not.” Sophie looked around. “The Witches’ Lounge is in need of a big plant.”

  Noted. On the list for after solstice. Way after. “Did Moira make it back from her travels?” Keeping track of one old Irish witch wasn’t as easy as it sounded. “Beth emailed that she’d headed back your way.”

  “Back and napping. I’m supposed to wake her for the mass transport.”

  Jamie’d been up half the night making sure they wouldn’t lose any travelers. “Anyone snagged her spare bedroom?”

  “I think that’s where Kevin’s holed up. Moira brought him a couple of books from Chicago.” Sophie grinned. “Need a hideout, do you?”

  She did. She had a fantastic idea for a solstice spell, but it needed some thinking time. Which was going to happen exactly nowhere in Witch Central, and they left for Ocean’s Reach in two hours.

  “Got your spell ready yet?”

  Nell eyed her companion. “What, you suddenly have mindreading skills?”

  “Nope.” Sophie laughed and came over to man the tape dispenser. “You were wiggling your fingers.”

  That probably wasn’t helping with the wrap job any. Nell took a piece of tape, grateful for the assist. Lumpy, sort-of-round things were hard to wrap. “Yeah, I have an idea, but I’m not sure I can make it work. Think we can sit the outer circle in pretty organized lines?”

  Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. “Dare I ask why?”

  “Not telling.” It would be a secret under normal circumstances—doubly so when she wasn’t sure she could actually pull it off. “I could ask Nat.” Her sister-in-law was a rocking witch herder.

  “You could. Or you could just ask them.” Sophie smiled. “Your solstice spells are little miracles, Nell. People will do whatever you ask.”

  That was an embarrassing thought. “I just have a little fun with them.”

  “Everyone talked about last year’s spell for weeks.”

  That one had been high on outside assistance, low on magic. “All I did was a glorified book of baby pictures.” The shooting-them-up-to-the-sky part had been pretty cool, though.

  A warm hand reached for hers. “Every time I look up at the sky now, I see Adam’s face. Or Mike’s.”

  Awww. “Okay, that’s pretty sweet.”

  Sophie squeezed lightly. “You love spinning the solstice spell more than any witch I know.”

  Nell sighed and squeezed back. She did. And this year, she was going to love it especially much. Even if she had to barricade herself in a closet to get the darned spell worked out.

  It was time to truly welcome a witch.

  -o0o-

  Ocean’s Reach always stirred her soul.

  Moira walked the winding path that would carry them to the valley under the stars, a steady stream of Fisher’s Cove villagers walking the route in front of her.

  Fire globes were popping up here and there in the curving procession. The sun had gone down with an impressive display of rainbow fire, and now they walked in the gloaming. It had been her great-gran’s favorite time of day, those haunting moments between sunset and true dark.

  She sensed shadows coming up alongside. Beth and the delightful Liri, both wide-eyed. Beth carried a small ball of light over her palm. Moira strained her ears. “Is the wee thing singing?”

  Liri chuckled. “Apparently the young man handing out witchlights didn’t want anyone to forget it was his birthday.”

  Ah, how the faeries would enjoy Aervyn tonight. “Walk with me then, will you? I used to make my way well enough in the dark, but the rocks find my toes more often now.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment.” Liri linked an arm through hers, and Beth followed suit a moment later. It was a tight fit on the narrowing path. “But we don’t want to get lost, and we heard you’ve walked this way a time or two.”

  Something tugged on Irish instincts—they weren’t entirely humoring an old lady. Two souls a little lost in the bustle. “Perhaps you’ll join me in the outer circle, then. It’s great good luck to sit with new guests.” If that wasn’t part of solstice lore, it should be.

  “That would be nice. I didn’t expect so many people.”

  Moira didn’t miss the relief in Beth’s voice—or Liri’s quick wink. “Witches love a celebration, my dear.”

  “We’re used to such a tiny circle.” Liri stared at the winding crowds ahead. “To think that witches are this known and loved…”

  “You’ll be in the outer circle?” Beth frowned, her light wobbling.

  There had been more than enough tears shed on that subject today. “Aye. I’ve been there many a time. There’s no finer seat in the house.” She held a little firmer to the strong young arms linked with hers. “Magic is a fine thing—but it’s no match for love.”

  -o0o-

  Nell was up to something.

  Lauren watched their solstice spellcaster standing on the flat rock in the center of the forming circle at Ocean’s Reach. Judging. Measuring.

  Readying.

  Mind telling us what you’re working on?

  Not yet. Nell’s mind voice was distracted, deep in thought. Can you get everyone to back up some? Two or three feet should do it.

  Math wasn’t Lauren’s strong suit, but she was pretty sure that was going to make room for a spell bigger than a house.

  Something like that.

  Cripes. Lauren did her job as circle monitor, scanning Nell a little deeper. No doubts, no enlarged sense of adventure. No guilt. Just conviction and focus.

  Good enough. Lauren grabbed a few handy minds and began the process of shifting several hundred people back a few feet. A few cast curious glances her way—most of them members of the Sullivan family. But there was no one the witching world trusted with a spell more than Nell Walker. The outer circle shifted, small children and baskets of cookies changing hands as well.

  Lauren searched for Beth, wondering how she was handling the crowd. And found her gathered with Nat and Moira, Kenna happily ensconced in Liri’s lap. Lauren checked to see that Jamie’s super-duper baby bubble was still working—the last thing they needed was his girlchild trying to take charge of a circle again.

  Shay sat just in front of Beth, very still, holding Nat’s flute in her lap. Lauren looked a second time. Nope, a second flute. A night of beginnings for lots of people.

  Matt and Téo emerged from the path through the narrow valley opening, herding a few stragglers, and sent her a quick thumbs-up.

  Lauren beamed out the message. We’re all here.

  The valley quieted, a moment awaiting its beginning.

  And then the flutes began to play, Elorie’s clear, lilting tones and Nat’s more hesitant ones. Lauren moved slightly for a better look, listening for the third player—her responsibilities weren’t only for the inner circle tonight. Shay sat, flute numb in her fingers, frozen in a battle of nerves and desire. Lauren linked into her mind and gave a gentle push. You’ll make Auntie Nat feel a whole lot better if you play.

  Shay grinned and raised her flute to her lips.

  The magic had begun.

 
; Chapter 22

  Such majesty.

  Beth sat on a soft blanket, thoughtfully laid out by Nat, and soaked in the sharp hills nestling them in a valley of wonder. Stars like she’d never seen them. And the rhythmic, soothing overlay of rolling waves somewhere far below.

  To simply breathe in this place was magic.

  Light notes drifted out of Shay’s flute now. A sign. A readying.

  Beth looked around at the layered, looping circle, random faces coming into focus.

  Aervyn, up in Jamie’s arms to hear his sister play.

  Sophie, sitting with a boy in glasses who had thanked her profusely for the books.

  A face that looked exactly like Jamie and Devin, except his smile was slow, his eyes were shy, and his fingers were linked with a handsome, dark-haired man who was most definitely not Lauren or Nat.

  Two little boys with purple hair, a shared cookie in their laps.

  Liri’s hand slid into hers. “You okay?”

  She shouldn’t have been. “Yes.”

  Aervyn’s high, clear voice began the call to earth, dampening the trance of music and faces and impossibly starry nights.

  Beth shut her eyes, calling it back. Tonight, that trance was her friend.

  She felt the ground rising up to meet her, the rush of earth power coming to join them in the night. A stiff breeze joined in, whispering in her ears and teasing tiny locks of hair over her fingers. Sleepy Kenna, curled up in Liri’s lap.

  Beth readied—fire would be next, and Jamie had warned her it might give her a good tug.

  Instead, she felt only a soothing warmth.

  Exhaling, Beth opened her eyes as Devin began the final call and watched as fourteen witches cradled power beyond comprehension. And then pointed it to the woman standing on a rock in the circle’s core.

  Nell looked every inch a witch. Ramrod straight she stood, red silk snapping around her ankles and starlight gleaming on her face.

  The center of the whole.