A Different Witch

Chapter 15



Jamie looked up as his wife walked in from the back yard, radiant from her morning yoga workout and the dewdrops on her toes. “You’re up early.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I wanted to get my yoga done before the girls show up.”

In Witch Central, that could mean a whole lot of different people. “Which particular ones are invading today?”

She laughed, picking up the mug of tea he had waiting for her on the counter. “The first wave is the triplets, I think. Something Shay picked up from Lauren about Beth liking Christmas lights.”

Uh, oh. “Let me guess—they’ve requisitioned your supply.” Nat had enough lights to blanket half of southern California.

“Uhhmmm.” She sipped her tea, eyes bright with simple morning happiness. “They want to make her feel really comfortable for her first circle.”

And they had a monster affection for anything that glittered, twinkled, or shone. “Shay, huh?”

Nat only smiled.

Jamie could feel the pride layered underneath. His wife loved each of their nieces wholeheartedly, but she had a special affinity for Shay’s quiet, thoughtful spirit. He tugged her closer for a hug. “The two of you are a lot of the reason Beth is still here, I think.”

“Kenna, too.”

And Aervyn. And possibly Lizard. “Okay, you and all the inhabitants of Witch Central under five feet tall.”

Her laugh lit dark corners in the kitchen. “That’s awesome company to be in.” She glanced over at the Christmas light storage boxes in the corner. “You want half a bagel? The girls are going to be here soon.”

He looked at the boxes. And remembered a lumpy green cookie. And read the face of the woman he loved beyond measure—and was finally beginning to understand.

This was important to his nieces. It was even more important to his wife. And she had talents that went well beyond making the back yard into an overload of twinkle. “Why don’t you play your flute?”

It delighted him when her cheeks flushed pink.

He waited. Just asking was enough of a dare.

“Okay.” She sighed, a little sound that melted half his brain. “I’ll do it, but it’s on your head if people are covering their ears.”

She was a far better flute player than she believed, but he knew it didn’t matter. Playing let her be a real, tangible part of the circle—and for this witch, it was suddenly very obvious that Nat would suffer through far more than the occasional wrong note.

He wondered how he’d missed the formation of Beth’s army.

-o0o-

Nell walked into Jamie’s back yard, amused by her girls. She grinned at Mia, who looked up first. “What are you three up to?”

“We’re decorating. Lauren gave us a hint.”

Tiny white lights shimmered in the grass, a magical fairy-lit morning. Judging from the strands currently adorning Shay’s shoulders, they were heading up the oak tree next. “What did you do, rob the Christmas tree in the town square?”

“Mama!” Three voices protested in unison.

Ginia had the best glare. “We would never do something like that unless it was a total emergency. We borrowed Nat’s lights.”

The woman in question walked out the back door. “Hey, Nell. Have any snickerdoodles?” She held up a plate. “Apparently, this is our full supply.”

So she’d been told. Accompanied by brotherly sulks and a grocery bag full of flour and butter. “Yup—there are several dozen cooling on my counter.”

Small blonde heads grinned up at their beloved aunt.

Nell shook her head. Apparently a grand, cosmic plan was unfolding according to specifications. “Anything else I can do to help?”

“Want Kenna duty during the circle?” Nat looked hopeful. “We tried to send her over to Caro’s house, but I swear, she can smell magic on its way.”

“More likely she smelled the snickerdoodles.” Nell chuckled—her niece was a cookie fiend. “I’ll be happy to keep track of her. Are you playing your flute?”

“Trying.” Nat didn’t share the general consensus that her baby flute-playing skills were more than adequate.

For a circle thrown together in less than twenty-four hours, this was going to be a fairly jazzy one. “I hope Beth appreciates all the ambience.” She had visions of one terrified fire witch running for the hills with streamers of Christmas lights trailing behind.

And three very disappointed girls.

“She’s braver than you think,” said Nat quietly.

Crap. Nell sighed, well aware she deserved the gentle look in the mirror. “I don’t shift gears very fast. She didn’t love all my children at first sight, and apparently that’s still making me grumpy.” Which was plain dumb, since the love affair was now well underway.

For today, she planned to ignore any other causes of unease stirring in her belly.

The empathy in Nat’s eyes was absolute. “Fortunately, she adores Kenna, or you’d have had grumpy company.”

Someday, Nell wanted to grow up to be her sister-in-law. Wise, righteous, and kind, all at the same time.

Nat turned her head, listening to some invisible bat signal. “Beth’s been spotted down the street.”

That suggested shenanigans. “Is my son hovering in trees again?”

“I think so—the girls were trying to keep him busy. It’s possible they used the same ruse to get my husband out of their hair.”

Well, Jamie kind of qualified as adult supervision.

The activity in the back yard morphed, decorating committee swiftly shifting into circle mode. Ginia, huffing a little, moved past them carrying one of Jamie and Nat’s kitchen chairs and set it down inside the magical perimeter. Nell raised an eyebrow at her sister-in-law—only one witch in the vicinity qualified for a comfy seat. “Moira’s doing the circle?” That hadn’t been the plan at 7 a.m.

“She volunteered.”

Nat didn’t have to say anything more—Irish volunteers weren’t the kind who took no for an answer. “Who else is on water?” They’d opted for two witches at each element. More stable than one, but no need for trio linking.

“Devin. He volunteered about two seconds after Moira did.”

Nell relaxed—that part was in the plan, and Dev had enough water power to carry the entire load ten times over. He was also as protective of their elderly matriarch as any witch alive.

Shay dashed by and tossed a string of lights their way. “Mama, can you put those up in the tree? Please? Make them pretty!”

She looked down at the lights, bemused. It was a strange sensation to be on the receiving end of all the odd jobs that surrounded a circle. Witches in the circle were usually busy with magical preparations, but apparently the same didn’t apply to those on mopping duty.

“Welcome to temporary status among those of us who aren’t the strongest witches in the land.” Nat’s eyes twinkled. “Want help with the lights?”

“No.” Nell waved her off, chuckling. One of the strongest witches in the land could manage to get the lights up in the tree all by herself. “You’re probably needed on the welcoming committee.” Put the friendliest faces up front—slightly grumpy witches were better off hanging out in the background. Nell tossed another layer onto the global soundproofing spell as she climbed the tree. The last thing they needed this morning were curious neighbors peeking over the fence.

She was still in the tree, trying to channel her daughters’ artful talents, when Beth came into view on the front sidewalk surrounded by a procession of attendants, small children, and at least two of the neighborhood cats.

Nell didn’t bother trying to get a mental read herself—she just pinged Lauren. How’s she doing?

Fine, came the steady reply. And she’ll probably stay that way so long as you don’t fall out of the tree.

Haven’t done that since I was seven. And that time was Jamie’s fault. Or maybe Devin—it was hard to keep her brothers’ nefarious escapades straight. Where’s that kiddo of mine?

Beaming in for a landing. I think he aimed for the kitchen.

Doing his best impression of a cookie thief, most likely. Nell started to climb out of the tree, and then thought the better of it. She would have a good view of the power flows from way up here. An excellent vantage point in case something went wrong, and Kenna loved hanging out in her big oak tree.

She pushed away the continuing niggles in her belly. Worrywart witch. It was going to be a tiny baby circle with less power than Aervyn used cooling off his cookies.

She hoped.

-o0o-

It was a fairyland. Beth stepped into the back yard, Kenna tugging on one hand, Shay holding the other one more sedately. “The lights are beautiful.”

Shay looked up, delighted. “Lauren said you might like them.”

Concern flitted through Beth’s mind. “We can’t use them in our circles at home—they’re too distracting.” This was far from the quiet, dark room her coven worked in.

“Beauty enhances our work together.” An Irish lilt floated out from behind enough flowers to outfit several brides. “Perhaps you’d help me put a few of these blooms out. Young Jamie particularly likes calla lilies for his call to air.”

Beth had no idea what a calla lily was, but judging from the good-humored snickers, there was a joke somewhere.

“Calla lilies are the tall white ones,” said Shay in a stage whisper. “And they make Uncle Jamie sneeze.”

“Not these ones, my dear.” Moira settled some of her armful on a convenient bench and began dividing them into four baskets. “Ginia’s spelled them—we can’t have sneezing in the middle of Beth’s first circle with us.”

Beth had never seen flowers in a basket before. She leaned over and rescued a floppy blue bud threatening to start an avalanche. “They’re beautiful.”

“A small offering, if you will.” Moira beamed. “We old Irish witches tend to be rather traditional.”

It was something Liri would love. Perhaps she’d found at least one small thing she could take back to Chicago. “Does it matter which flowers go with which elements?”

“Not at all, my dear.” Moira paused, fingers holding a stem of something delicate and blue. “Or rather, the answer might change depending on the day. Flowers have a whole language of their own. So you might just choose a bouquet that feels lovely for the moment. Or you might plant a message or two in each basket.” She nodded at the stem of tiny blue blooms. “These buttercups, for example, tell of the joy of being a child and celebrating simple things.”

That was a big message for such tiny flowers. “What else do you have in here?”

Moira picked up the basket on the far right. “This one is for those of you calling fire. It’s got a few of these pretty lilacs, and some geraniums, and a branch or two of this red sumac. Little notes of purity, steadfastness, and splendor.”

Beth stroked a bold orange flower. “And this one?”

“Ah, that one’s just a lovely bit of color.” Moira reached up a hand to touch Beth’s curls. “If you like, I can pin it in your hair.”

It felt silly—but oddly, she wanted to say yes.

Aervyn bounded to her side. “Me too, Aunt Moira. Can I have a shiny red flower in mine?”

“Aye, and won’t you be a lovely couple, with matching pretties in your hair?”

Hairpins appeared out of nowhere, and Shay climbed up onto the bench. “Hold still—this will only take a second.”

It took a little longer than that, since holding still was apparently not one of Aervyn’s better skills. Beth, somewhat dazed, wondered if her flower was also as big as her head. Apparently fire witches liked their hair pretties big and flamboyant.

Ginia slid into the small crowd, a gorgeous waterfall of bright yellow flowers running down her braid. Beth made a mental note to ask for their name—they would suit Mellie down to the ground. She looked around for the second witch who would call to earth and saw Sophie, yellow in her own hair and pinning purple into Jamie’s.

Jamie waved, rolling his eyes. “I hear you’re the one who got us into this.”

Beth was sure he was teasing—and if she hadn’t been sure, every mind witch in ten feet was gently projecting that fact. Helping the Aspie stay on her feet. “They look beautiful, but I thought air witches liked pink.”

The joke pleased a lot of people, perhaps herself most of all.

“We do.” A girl Beth didn’t know stepped up beside Jamie and waved. “I’m Sierra—you don’t know me yet, but I can usually be found around here somewhere.”

There were a lot more than eight people in the back yard. And lights and decorations and the pressing feeling of a party about to happen. This wasn’t a simple circle. Suddenly Beth felt short of air.

“It’s okay—you’re doing great.” Lauren spoke quietly over her right shoulder. “Will it help you if we move to our spots now?”

She breathed out as slowly as she could. Order. That almost always helped. “Yes, please.”

Beth had no idea what Lauren did, but heads snapped up instantly, and what had been genial disarray moved sharply toward assigned positions.

A hand slid under her elbow. “Help an old lady cross over, would you?” Moira had a stunning purple flower in her hair and a smile on her face. “The uneven ground sometimes trips me up.”

Order and a job to do.

Air flowed back into Beth’s lungs. She touched Moira’s hand in gratitude and began to move across the yard. One step, and then another. It felt like a procession somehow. One with dignity, even amidst all the dizzy light and laughter.

“We’ll be doing a simple call to the elements,” said Moira, stepping delicately over a toy fire truck. “Two of us at each position. You’ll join with each other and then link with the circle as your turn comes. Aervyn will share the words with your mind in case you forget.”

That was thoughtful—and entirely unnecessary. “I have a good memory for words.” These ones had been delivered to her kitchen in pretty script, along with a delicious omelet.

“Excellent.” Moira patted her arm. “Then you can help him to remember. Lauren will be our monitor, much as your Liriel does for your circles.”

Beth could feel herself relaxing. The trappings were different, but the core was the same.

“And Nell, up there in the tree, will keep us all safe.”

In the tree? Beth looked up, shocked to see Nell tucked in a crook, a happy Kenna in her lap. “What can she do from up there?”

“Just a precaution. She’ll catch any stray bits of magic that leak from the circle.” Moira let go of Beth’s arm and took her position beside a man who looked exactly like Jamie except for the mischief in his eyes.

Beth hoped dearly it was Devin—she wasn’t ready to meet any more Sullivans.

That’s him. Lauren’s mental voice bubbled with laughter. And don’t worry—their brother Matt is the most reasonable one of the lot.

One of three. Such a strange and fascinating way to live.

Soft music drifted up behind the circle. That’s Nat. We’ve kept the outer circle small today.

Beth frowned. She had no idea what an outer circle was.

It’s where non-witches and witches who aren’t needed in the circle join us.

Non-witches. Shock hit Beth hard. There was a place for those without power?

There is. Lauren’s mind voice was careful now. They provide love and support for the circle. It’s not a small job, and we don’t take them lightly.

No. Not a small job at all. Tight bands squeezed Beth’s heart. So many they’d turned away. So many. Those with only flickers of power, or only love for craft and earth.

She hadn’t known they had a place.

Beth looked over at Nat, who was blowing into a slim cylinder of wood, and grabbed the day’s second gift with both hands. She would learn of this outer circle, and she would carry it back to the family of her heart. They could grow bigger now. Mellie’s daughter. Margaret’s best friend. The young man who touched the crystals with longing but had no magic in his fingers.

There was a place for them all.

A small hand tugged her into place in the circle. “We’re going to start,” Aervyn whispered. “But we’re gonna be very polite and wait until you’re ready, so you just tell us when we can go, okay?”

So much she’d been given—and they hadn’t yet begun.

Beth held hands with a small, flower-festooned boy, shut her eyes, and let the familiar shape of the circle sink into her bones.

Ginia’s musical words began the call to earth, the light sounds of young girl mixing with something far older. Sophie’s words lay under hers, thousands of years of tradition rising under their feet.

Beth could feel the familiarity of ritual sliding under her skin. So different from her circle—and yet, the same.

Two voices, male and female, called to air. Beth’s eyes flew open as wind snapped around the circle.

It’s okay. Jamie’s mental voice rang strong in her head. We’ve got more power than your coven circle. This is well within our means to hold.

Her circle had no witch at all for air.

Aervyn squeezed her hand again. It was time to do their job. Breathing deep into her chest, Beth reached for the fiery strands of power that thrummed in her blood.

“We call on Fire, warm song of our hearts

As one year ends and new one starts

A gift we make, of light to see

As we will, so mote it be.”

The fire that leaped into her fingers stunned the woman—and dazzled the witch. Never had she felt that kind of sheer energy.

You can hold it. Lauren, with the silky-calm voice of a master circle monitor. There is sun-warmed earth beneath your feet, not Chicago concrete. It feeds you.

Beth marveled. And trusted. There was no other choice.

Carefully, she reached a finger of power toward Aervyn. No one in her circle could have linked with the power she held now. She heard his mental giggle—and then the phoenix landed. Wings of blazing power danced around her puny little stream, cradling it gently.

Show-off. Lauren’s mental voice was dry as the Sahara. Somebody ate too many cookies for breakfast.

The wings died down to a well-mannered stream, and the insane magic flying through Beth’s veins throttled back to something that merely hummed. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and wondered how to thank the small boy who had just shown her, for a brief moment, what it was like to sing opera.

You just did. Lauren’s smile came down the mental channel. He hears you at least as well as I do. You okay—can we keep going?

“Okay” wasn’t a word she might ever use again. But she was fine.

She waited for Aervyn to link to Jamie’s air—and then realized it had already happened. Apparently some people were more used to birds of fire.

The Sullivans are all well used to circle misbehavior.

Beth was beginning to love Lauren’s sane, funny care for the circle.

Happy to serve. They’ll call to water now—and then you’ll link with Moira. Take good care of her. She’s the weakest witch in this circle.

Lilting Irish tones began the call to water, flowing together with those of Lauren’s husband.

Beth listened, enchanted—she’d never heard water dance before. Back in Chicago, Margaret was a more solemn kind of water witch.

She sensed Moira’s light flow reaching out for hers. And stretched her own power out carefully, heeding the call to caution. She smiled as the flows snapped competently together—Lauren had no idea what “weak” was.

Devin reached out to his niece for the final link of the circle and four strong, balanced flows of power united, a glowing river of shimmering light tied to sixteen hands and eight hearts.

Beth leaned into the power of a full and healthy circle for the first time in her life.

And exalted.

This is what she had come for.