A Different Witch

Chapter 13



Jamie looked at the two women eating omelets at his breakfast bar and felt like the innocent bystander waiting for the sword fight to start.

Which wasn’t making his own eggs go down all that well. He tried to figure out where to start. “So what is this brainstorm of Moira’s, exactly?” His sister’s text message had been far more thorough about her breakfast order than what was driving the early-morning visit.

Lauren finished chewing first. “She thinks we should put Beth in a circle.”

He wasn’t about to argue with a witch who wasn’t even present. And feeling very foggy about why a circle was causing dark swirls in the air. “And what do the two of you think?”

“I think her reasoning makes sense.” His sister-in-law fiddled with a stray onion trying to abandon the omelet ship. “But I’m not going to be on the front lines, so I think you guys have a veto on this one.”

That sounded like a master negotiator trying to thread a very small needle. He looked at his sister and raised an eyebrow. “And you?”

“It might be the right thing to do.” Nell sounded fairly conflicted on that point. “But purely from a training perspective, it’s kinda nuts.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. They usually got trainees solid on a series of basic magics before they put them anywhere near a circle, and Beth had demonstrated exactly zero of them. “I hear you. But for a good cause, we roll with nuts pretty well.”

The peanut gallery was very silent. Jamie tried to keep picking his way through the breakfast minefield. “Beth’s not our typical trainee. And she’s done circle work.”

His sister’s raised eyebrows said volumes.

Ooh, boy. He helped himself to more eggs—this conversation was clearly going to require fortification. “Fine. She’s done circle work with a baby circle.” Kenna’s sneezes had more power than Beth’s coven. “But her joins were solid, and she’s not a floofy witch.” That last would carry weight with Nell.

It took a long time, but she finally nodded.

He forked some eggs and sent a very careful message to Lauren. Any idea why she’s so unhappy about this?

Not really.

That wasn’t an answer. However, if Nell was freaking out about a circle with a baby witch, then they needed to deal with that. “You want us to be careful, we’ll lock it down. You can even be on cowboy duty if you want.”

Otherwise known as the person who sat outside the circle and cleaned up the messes.

“Okay.” Nell finally shrugged. “You’ve done a circle with her; I haven’t.”

Lauren gave him a sideways impressed look.

He tried not to hunch his shoulders. He had a bit more experience with this particular Sullivan—they weren’t nearly done.

Nell inhaled a slice of bacon. “So who do you think we should have in this circle?”

Jamie didn’t miss Lauren’s “Oh, shit” look. Their resident realtor caught on fast.

He started with the easy stuff. “Well, you riding herd. Me, Dev probably.” Nell never minded putting her brothers in harm’s way.

“Aervyn,” said Lauren quietly.

He tried not to curse her bravery.

Nell rounded on her with a glare that would have reduced most people to cinders.

Lauren was made of sterner stuff. “Aervyn is more than capable of holding the circle for her if she falters.”

“He won’t need to.” Mama bear was off her leash. “I’ll be guarding the circle. If she falters, it will be on me to handle it.”

“She trusts him,” said Lauren steadily. “And for a first circle, that matters more than anything else.”

Jamie waited a beat, hoping one voice was enough. And then sighed as Nell’s face firmed. He knew that mutinous look. “She’s right—he’s more than capable. We have him shielding Kenna all the time.” Which was far and away the more difficult job—his daughter had fifty times Beth’s power and a fraction of her common sense.

But his sister loved Kenna.

He watched, hurting for her, as Nell worked through the wrenches cranking in her chest.

When she finally nodded, he knew it was done.

She picked up a fork and stabbed her eggs, leftover violence of a mind that had climbed down from red alert. For now. “Okay, so how do we do this and keep everyone safe?”

“Do a test.” Lauren spoke around her last mouthful of eggs.

Jamie blinked. Someone had clearly drunk lots of coffee that morning. Sadly, it wasn’t him. “Have pity—I haven’t had real sleep in almost a year.”

“Well, you want to make sure she can handle linking to a decent flow of power, right?”

He and Nell nodded, equally perplexed.

Lauren shrugged. “So do a test. The two of you. Add her on fire, Dev on water.”

It was a very good idea—for Nell’s sake as much as Beth’s. Except for one thing. He eyed his sister. “Crap. I guess that means I get earth.” His earth power was a wimpy fizzle compared to his good stuff. However, it beat Nell’s none. Their mother had somehow failed to give birth to a decent earth witch.

“Yup.” She made a face at him, and then turned to Lauren as her brain caught up with the plan. “Wait—isn’t that a circle?”

“Nope.”

Huh? Jamie wasn’t keeping up either. “Looks like a circle, quacks like one…”

“It’s not a circle until you call it one. At least for her.” Lauren stared mournfully at the empty bacon platter. “We can tell her it’s a small precaution. A dry run to keep any little people in the circle safe.”

Which would totally work, because Beth loved kids. Basic psychology, wielded by a very smart witch.

Nell dropped her last piece of bacon onto Lauren’s plate. Apology and sisterhood, all in one. “Thanks. I should have figured you had this thought through.”

“No problem.” Lauren stabbed the bacon contentedly, her work done.

Jamie grinned. Not quite so fast—he was about to have the last word. “So you’ll go tell Beth?”

Lauren looked up, mouth full.

He knew how to pick his moments. “I’m not her favorite person, especially when it comes to circles. And Kenna’s not talking yet.”

The look she shot him was fairly dire on a regular-person scale.

He only laughed. She’d never hold a candle to Nell.

-o0o-

What a difference a night at home made. Beth landed in the dining room of her temporary Berkeley home, only a little disconcerted by the porting spell this time.

She hugged three containers to her chest—Liri’s small gifts for the road. Some nuts, a special blend of tea, and an early-morning batch of fresh snickerdoodles. She reached up gingerly to make sure the string of lights hung around her shoulders had made the trip too.

Comforts from home.

Sidling over to an armchair, she dumped her treasures onto a low table as carefully as possible. And then, caught up in a moment of whimsy, plugged in the string of little white lights and hung them over the back of the chair.

Liri’s artistry it wasn’t, but it made Beth feel like a bit of Chicago had made the trip through the void with her.

Her stomach growled, interrupting twinkling whimsy with a vengeance. She reached for the tin of nuts—and then grinned and reached for the snickerdoodles instead.

Eleven-and-three-quarter months of the year, Beth Landler ate nuts and seeds and the balanced intake of protein and fat that kept her brain functioning at its best. On the fifteenth of December, snickerdoodle season arrived—and for one week, she indulged in as many cookies as her witchy heart desired.

It took nearly the whole month of January to get her brain biochemistry back on track—but for Liri’s snickerdoodles, it was worth it.

The smell alone could make her beg.

A rhythmic knock interrupted her cookie bliss. Beth headed for the hallway and tugged open the front door, still chewing.

And discovered that in Witch Central, holding a cookie tin in your arms was a good way to make pretty much anyone beg.

Lauren stood in the doorway, eyes zeroed in on the cheerful red cookie container. “Please tell me those are as good as they smell.”

“They’re Liri’s secret recipe.” The smile bloomed on Beth’s face unaided. “And they’re delicious. Come on in, and I’ll share them with you.”

“Sit outside with me instead?” Lauren gestured at the porch swing. “It’s really nice out today, and that way, if you want to throw me out after I’ve said my piece, it won’t be so far to go.”

Beth felt herself staring. The porch swing was pure kindness to an Aspie who didn’t like too much direct eye contact, and she greatly appreciated the lack of inane small talk. But the rest of the words came loaded with the kind of nuance that curled her stomach in dread.

“Sorry, that was a lot more mysterious than it had to be.” Lauren’s words stayed even. Neutral. “We’d like to invite you to do a circle with us. A small one, with a dry run first to practice.”

The porch swing suddenly seemed like a very good idea. Beth needed to sit down. “Why?” She’d done exactly zero successful magic west of Illinois.

“You’ve done circles.” Lauren joined her, setting the swing into gentle, bumping motion. “We thought it might be an easier way to experience some of what we do here.”

She knew how to join. But there were oh, so many other things involved in a circle. Beth started explaining as carefully as she could. Thirty years of practice, and it was still far too easy to give unintentional offense. “There’s a lot of sensory input in a circle, even a small one. It took a lot of work for me to be able to lead even our coven’s tiny practice.”

“From what little Jamie and I saw, you do that quite well.”

Beth frowned. “He made it very clear we were doing it all wrong.”

A mix of confusing emotions hit Lauren’s face.

A night with Liri, and she’d found some semblance of her footing. It was time to ask for what she needed. “It helps me a lot if you use words for what you’re feeling. I can’t read your facial expressions very well.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.” Lauren’s hands flapped like a small, lost bird. “I know that—I just keep forgetting. Can I mindlink with you instead? It’s a lot easier for me that way, and hopefully easier for you as well.”

Help didn’t always come in the shape you asked for. Beth nodded reluctantly and tried not to wince at the gentle push on her mind.

“I think I need to tell you a story,” began Lauren slowly, “of a newbie witch and a homesick one who crashed a coven meeting and had terribly bad manners.”

Beth closed her eyes, trying to process the river of feelings coming along with the words. Deep regret. A solid helping of embarrassment. And a wry edge of self-deprecating humor from a woman who clearly owned her mistakes—but didn’t let her life be derailed by them.

You untangle feelings very well for someone who hasn’t done this often. Respect flowed from Lauren along with the mental words.

Beth stuck with the form of communication she used best. “You seemed so sure of yourselves.” That wasn’t quite fair—Lauren had only hovered in the background. “Well, at least Jamie did.”

“He’s been doing circles since he was old enough to stand.” The smile was soft and apologetic. “But that doesn’t give any of us the right to trample on anyone else’s hard work.”

There was more. Beth focused on the stream coming from Lauren’s mind and tried to find it.

Impressed surprise added to the flow. There is more—I’m just trying to figure out how to explain it. Lauren stood up and walked over to the porch railing. “Jamie’s very sure of himself, but he’s also very kind. He walked me through the first days of being a witch, and he did it with great care and empathy.”

Beth’s insides rose up in disbelief—the brown eyes of Chicago and twenty months of dreams had been neither kind nor careful. And then she remembered the gentle man who had made her feel welcome in his home. Who’d listened with deep interest to her ramblings about children and how they learned. “Something was different when he visited us. Why?”

“He was hurting. He was away from home.” Lauren’s words were simple and laced with sorrow. “And he thought he might never be going back.”

Sympathy punched through Beth’s gut. “Never?”

“He loved my best friend, and I thought my place was in Chicago. They were going to stay. For me.”

Devotion and loyalty—those were things that mattered. “You’re lucky to have them. My coven isn’t rich in magic, but we understand that kind of love.”

“That is its own kind of magic.” Lauren moved back over to the swing and sat down. “That’s why we wanted to do a circle here, so you could feel the sense of community and joining. The magic isn’t difficult, and perhaps it will echo what you feel in Chicago.”

Let it change you.

Beth took a deep breath. “You seem to think I can do this.”

“I do.”

It was the same steady support she often felt from Liri.

“She and I would see your strength more easily. Your mind is coated in it.” Lauren glanced sideways. “Others might need a little more time.”

And some proof she was more than a useless witch. Beth wrapped her fingers around the chain of the swing. “Tell me about the practice run.”

She listened. And tried to imagine, holding on to the love she’d brought back all the way from Chicago. She could do this—and if she couldn’t, there were capable people ready to catch her.

Children ran. And occasionally they fell. It would be okay. “When?”

Warm glints hit Lauren’s eyes. “Soon. How about Jamie’s house, tomorrow morning?”

Soon was good. “I can do that.” Beth held her tin of cheerful red and felt the butterflies forming in her stomach. And then laughed as Kenna’s face danced into her mind. She reached into the tin and pulled out a cookie.

She had it on excellent authority—butterflies loved snickerdoodles.

-o0o-

Jamie unbent his knee, flowing smoothly from warrior into triangle pose. And rolled his eyes as his wife did the same—with a handstand thrown in between. “Show-off.” She never did that stuff in class.

She grinned under her arm. “I need some time upside down today.”

It always looked to him like her feet were trying to fly. “Gonna teach Kenna how to do that soon? Might slow her down some.” Their daughter’s foot speed was increasing by the minute.

Nat smiled again, already on her way to downward dog.

He hurried to catch up. Sexy wives were seriously disruptive to good sun salutations. “Think Caro will mind if we take a quick detour to Tahiti?” He had connections—they could probably be there in ten minutes.

She chuckled, stretching her arms to the sky. “Not if we bring her back some pretty yarn.”

Yarn shopping was most definitely not what he had on his mind. He sighed, heading back into warrior pose. Yoga in the park with his wife wasn’t too bad of a consolation prize.

Maybe it would help him deal with the ripples moving in the Sullivan pond, too.

Nat leaned forward in a graceful swan dive, pasting her nose to her knees.

Jamie did the same and waved to his knees from two feet away.

His wife chuckled. “Want to talk about it?”

Yoga chatting was a new phenomenon—the product of parenting necessity. He slid a leg back into lunge. “Talk about what?”

“Nell. Lauren says she’s struggling with Beth again.”

Yeah. Which was really weird. “A rogue witch could land on Nell’s lawn sending flaming fireballs to the sky, and she would put out the fire and hand them a cookie.” He leaned back into the contortion known as reverse warrior. “And someone who can’t even produce a reliable fire globe has her stomach churning.”

He didn’t get it.

Nell floated into handstand again. “She’s afraid.”

That made even less sense. “Of what?”

“I’m not sure yet.” The troubled look in his wife’s eyes was way more disturbing than the foot arching to touch her head. “I don’t think she is, either.”

That wasn’t at all comforting. “How do we fix it?”

Nat brought her feet down into a backbend that would have snapped him into six pieces. “Maybe we don’t.”

That didn’t compute. Sullivan family rules—you didn’t leave someone in the muck alone. Jamie sat down, done with the pretzel part of his afternoon. “I was hoping you’d tell me which bad dude to go fight.”

It was tough to be a superhero without a target.

“Maybe she just needs to be afraid for a while.” His wife folded into lotus beside him, emanating calm—and quiet sadness. “Fear can be a teacher too.”

It sliced at him to think of his big sister wandering in the shadows. But the woman at his side had taught him a lot more than a decent triangle pose. He slid his fingers into Nat’s and took a deep breath. Pictured Nell in his mind. And sent a message out to the universe.

My big sister? She doesn’t walk alone.