A Different Witch

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.

And then her hands began to move. Her arms in motion, even her feet as the warrior reached for the ground, the night sky, and everything in between. So many strands. So many beams of light. A spell as big as a house and as bright and as complex as a constellation.

It should have fried every input Beth had. Unblinking, she stared, mind and soul standing witness to the transcendent fierceness.

And then the spell began to gentle.

-o0o-

It would be a spell for the ages—if she could get her darned lines untangled.

Nell fought, warrior taut, for control of 313 fine lines of power. One for every man, woman, and child in the valley. Inner circle and outer. Witch and not. Heck, a couple of them were even sleeping.

Battling, she brought the spell that was her creation under her control.

She was going to include them all.

With the might of the circle at her back, she teased each and every line apart. Coated the tendrils in a layer of shielding meant to keep every single person in her care safe.

Nobody was overloading on this night.

Then, and only then, soul bursting with magic and a beating need to bring forth the light, Nell reached out 313 lines to 313 waiting hearts.

To her beautiful, ineffable daughter, blowing cautiously into her simple wooden flute.

To the woman who still got lost in jungles and loved her children with a tiger’s fierceness.

To the different witch who had shaken her heart to the core and made a darned good cookie.

To the new sisters and Costa Rican brother who had chosen a life with her brothers.

To the man who was her rock.

She joined herself to each of them, the center to the whole. And when she’d collected 313 hearts, she sent out a simple message of truth. Words first said in anger and now offered in love.

I am not entirely different from you. Happy Solstice.

-o0o-

It had been heart-stopping magic. And after being connected in a glowing web with so many souls, Beth found it almost lonely on the beach with only Liri at her side. She’d needed the escape, and the path down from Ocean’s Reach had been a tempting one with teasing glimpses of moonlit waters. But still, the emptiness almost vibrated. “It’s so quiet down here.”

Liri chuckled softly. “There’s something I never imagined hearing you say.”

“We should bring everybody next year.” The thrill of the solstice circle still rode in her veins. Rhianna would dance to the magic, and Mellie and Margaret would love the thrumming power of Ocean’s Reach.

Even a tiny witch could feel like a giant here.

“I hear they do this to welcome every new season.” Liri’s cheeks glowed pink, even in the moonlight. “We don’t have to come that often, though.”

Beth closed her eyes, trying to hear the words behind the words. “You’d like to.”

Her partner’s eyes were quiet. “I would. This fed something in me that I didn’t even know was missing.”

It fed her, too. “It’s kind of like your snickerdoodles. Delicious and magical and if I ate them every day, I’d be in a coma of overload.” She breathed out into the night air. “But I look forward to that first bite all year.”

“You need balance.” Liri bent down to pick up a shiny rock. “That’s okay.”

She did. She had a fragile head and a need for space and ritual and the familiar. But Witch Central had given her one more gift—the certainty that those weren’t all she needed.

And this gift was one to share. “We should take a trip. Go somewhere with pretty blue water.” New posters of far-away places were forever appearing on their apartment walls—and most of them featured tropical seas.

Her partner’s jaw nearly bounced off her knees. “You want to go on a vacation?”

It had been a sudden idea, but the more Beth let it roll around in her mind, the more she liked it. Sunny skies and nothing to do but walk on the beach. “Would you like that?”

Liri took several steps in silence. “You’re changing.”

That sounded solemn and almost ominous. “How?”

“You’re more open to possibilities. More fluent in reading faces. Less scared of stepping wrong.” A pause to admire the moonlit waters. “Being here has been good for you.”

“There’s a lot of good in this place.”

A rogue wave ran up and tickled Liri’s toes. “We can take some of that home with us.”

That had been very much on her mind. And this night, watching Liri’s joy with new places and new people, had solidified her rambling thoughts. “I wish I’d brought you here sooner.”

“I don’t.” Liri kicked wet sand with her toes. “This feels perfect.”

Perfect was a big leap for an Aspie—but it did feel possible. Nice, even. And that was a bit of a solstice miracle itself.

She tugged on Liri’s hand, heading back to a round rock. “Come on—we have to talk. I have some ideas.”

-o0o-

Lauren detached herself from the back of Devin’s impromptu conga train and staggered, laughing, to an empty sandy hillock. She grimaced—the hillock looked exactly like the one her crystal ball kept griping about.

Temperamental orb.

Out of breath, she watched the festivities rolling by. A dome of light glowed over the valley, keeping old witches and sleeping babies safe and generally making it look like a fairy world.

If fairy worlds came with loud and raucous conga lines.

She jumped when a tray landed at her feet. Jamie waved from the makeshift kitchen to her right. Takeout, Witch Central style.

She dove for her fork, suddenly ravenous. A big plate of spaghetti and she might actually survive this night.

And then she heard a tiny whisper of a mind voice. Barely a shimmer, carried on the wind and the waves and the possibility that lived in the darkest night. A message about a woman who had things to say.

Lauren finally knew why her crystal ball had spent the last month insisting she sit on that particular hillock at exactly midnight. So she did what any good messenger was supposed to do.

She rolled her eyes, put down her fork, and paged the troops.

-o0o-

Beth looked up in utter shock at the trail of lights coming down to the beach. “You did what?”

“I asked them to come down. Some of them, anyway—the people we know.” Liri sounded irrationally proud of herself. “So you can tell them.”

That was insane. “You don’t have that kind of power.”

“I do tonight.” Her partner practically glowed.

Still insane. “It’s solstice.” And Witch Central was having a really big party. That had apparently been interrupted for some inane babble from Chicago.

“It is.” There was gentle laughter in Liri’s voice. “And for the next three days, you’re going to be holed up in a warm, dark room recovering. The time is now, love.”

The first witches were arriving on the beach. Beth closed her eyes, wishing for the sand to swallow her up. “They might not like it.”

“Nonsense, my dear.” Moira’s bare toes buried comfortably in the sand as she settled on a low chair. “We love surprises.”

Beth didn’t ask how she’d made it down the steep path—she was pretty sure her head couldn’t cope with the answer. She watched in stupefied silence as the Walker and Sullivan clans and assorted others found handy patches of sand and looked up at her expectantly.

So many eyes.

Liri’s hands settled on her cheeks and pulled their foreheads together. “They’re our friends now. Trust.”

Beth grabbed hold of a small tendril of magic that promised they weren’t so very different, and faced the waiting crowd. She knew the words to begin. “I’ve spent my whole life journeying—and you’ve given me a bigger, more joyous world to walk in. Harder, too. But I’m going to keep walking. I don’t know all of where I’m headed, just yet. But I’m shading in some of my map, and I’d like to tell you about it.”

Thoughts scattered and reassembled as she tugged them back. “I dream of our coven in Chicago as having a real place in the witching world.”

So far, no one had moved.

She pressed on, her bravery building. “I want us to figure out who we are, borrowing as we desire and are able. As I am able.” She looked around the beach, seeking Jamie’s face in the reflected moonlight. A thread of their past that needed finishing. “Perhaps some of you will come visit us. In the summer months, when your fragile blood won’t freeze.”

It pleased her greatly when he started to laugh.

She looked for the next face, the blonde curls that looked so much like her sisters’. This time, a thread to begin. “Shay, I was hoping you might come and be our first guest in Chicago. I have a couple of women who aren’t witches I’d very much like for you to meet.”

Beth could feel the surprise in Liri’s mind—and the approval. Their beach chat hadn’t covered that part. Chicago was going to have an outer circle.

Bright eyes gleamed in excitement. “Can I go, Mama?”

“On one condition.” Nell raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “See if you can bring back the recipe for those snickerdoodles that are way better than mine.”

Liri’s lips quirked. “That’s top secret. It might take two or three visits.”

“Nuh, uh.” Shay grinned. “I’m a really good negotiator.”

Stray giggles trickled out over the water. Liri’s eyebrow slid up in the way it did when she was highly amused. “Oh, really?”

“Yup.” Shay swirled a finger in the sand. “I have Mama’s Nutella cookie recipe.”

Beth watched the spurting laughter and felt her partner’s mental giggles. It was going to be okay. They could do this.

“I want to keep coming back. I still need training.” She took another breath, deeper this time. “Maybe one day I’ll even be able to do a spell with someone watching.”

Gentle amusement swelled from the crowd. And helped her get the next words out. “I know I haven’t been an easy guest.” Her gaze swept up the cliffs. “But you have something awesome here, and—”

Her nice, neat words stopped, cut off by what swelled in her heart. “You’re part of me now. I want to come for the easy steps and the hard ones.” Tears threatening, she looked for Nell. “Slowly, for me, and to keep those of you who join with me safe.”

So many eyes. Beth struggled not to close hers. She’d known the words to start. She didn’t know the ones to end.

Aervyn stood up, smile bright. And reached out his hand. “We love you, Beth. Want half my hot dog? It has hardly any sugar at all.”

Beth felt the wave of giggles starting in her toes. “Sure, cutie pie. I’d love that.”

Speech ended.

The denizens of the beach, coming to the same conclusion, began to move. An audience politely dismissing itself. Beth watched, shell-shocked and pleased, as a small group flowed around Liri—and as an excited Shay bounced off Nell’s arm.

Good. It looked like they would have a gentle, sunny visitor. There was healing to be done in Chicago yet.

A cup of tea slid into her shaky hands. “Perhaps you will accept the occasional visitor from the east as well.” Moira smiled. “I’ve a mind to come shop in your store again soon.”

The smell of Liri’s favorite blend floated up from the cup. More small links being made. Beth took a deep breath. “Mellie—you met her, she’s the earth witch in our circle—her daughter Nora wants to open up a small bed and breakfast. There’s a house down the street we’re investigating.”

One that would maybe be a nice way station for the occasional witch.

“Ah, well, I know a certain innkeeper who would be more than happy to help if he can.” Moira’s eyes twinkled. “And we hardy Nova Scotia types aren’t at all scared of a bit of winter cold.”

“Nora’s a wonderful cook, and she’s good at making people feel at ease.” Beth inhaled deeply of the tea. Change was still hard.

“Wonderful traits for an innkeeper. And with a name like Nora, perhaps a wee bit of the Irish in her too.”

Beth pictured Nora’s curly dark hair and brown skin and laughed. “I don’t know about that.”

Moira winked. “We’ve a dark pirate or two in our heritage, young lady. But perhaps not a monopoly on good hospitality.” She slid her hand into Beth’s and squeezed. “I’m delighted to hear of all your plans. Sounds like you’ve found some of the pieces of your knot.”

And she was oddly happy to be standing on a cold, sandy beach talking about them. “I don’t know that we can be quite like Fisher’s Cove.” To listen to Witch Central talk, Nova Scotia was just down the street.

“The soil’s different in Chicago.” Moira was doing more of her touching thing again, this time sneaking an arm around Beth’s waist. “Smart gardeners adapt to what’s underneath their feet. You’re finding your own way and your own roots.”

Beth leaned gently into the hug and then stepped away, apology in her eyes.

“Don’t,” said Moira quietly. “No apology. You’ve stood here and chatted with me for several minutes. Accepted the love and happiness I wanted to share with you. And let an old lady have her cuddle. Rejoice in what you can do, my strong, lovely girl. You’re a beautiful flower who needs lots of space to be able to bloom. Take it with no shame.”

“I like you.” Liri’s eyes were dancing as she slid Moira’s arm around her own waist. “And you can cuddle me all you want, even if you do steal my tea recipes.”

“This one,” Moira said, her cheeky tone obvious, even to Beth, “is one of those pretty little weeds that grows up through cracks in the sidewalk and sweet-talks you into leaving her be.”

Liri rolled her eyes, laughing. “I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“I’m Irish.” Sparkling green eyes included Beth in the joke. “The day I can’t do both, my dear, is the day you’ll be putting me in a box in the ground.”

Beth found herself hoping that day was a very long time coming. “We’ll come visit. Soon.”

“You do that.”

Moira slid away into the crowd. Liri squeezed her hand once and followed. Beth turned to follow, confused. And turned back at Liri’s wordless prompting.

Nell stood alone, her hands cupped in front of her.

Beth felt the creeping gray shadows of awkwardness and tried to hold them at bay. The night’s magic deserved no less. “You look like you caught a frog.”

“I hope not.” Nell’s smile held mischief, so much like her youngest son. “I don’t think our California frogs would appreciate your weather.”

Weather had always been the kind of small talk most mystifying to Beth. “It’s not so cold if you live there.”

“I’m sorry. Again.” Discomfort scrunched Nell’s shoulders around her ears. “I really look forward to the day that you and I will find it easier to talk.” She looked up, eyes suddenly intent. “I really do.”

“You keep trying. It matters.” Beth tried to form a gift with her words. “There are a lot of things in my life that have been a struggle. Sometimes the things I fight hardest for are the ones most worth having.”

Nell’s eyes were unnaturally bright. “I know how to fight.”

“Yes, you do.” Beth took a deep breath and squeezed the little dragon in her pocket. She was going home—she didn’t need her anymore. With infinite care, she slid the tiny crystal out and held it up under the winter moonlight. “Can I leave this here with you? She’d like a warm, well-lit corner, if you have one.” So Liri said, anyhow—and at this moment, Beth wanted to believe it.

Nell stared. And then she smiled, shaky and bright, and uncupped her hands.

Silvery magic gleamed on her palm. Beth leaned in, captivated by the tiny, perfect dragon.

“Aervyn named her Moby.” Nell’s chuckle got the air moving again. “I think he’s been reading too many whale stories.”

It was a ridiculous name for a miniature bit of silver. And the lump in her throat felt as big as a whale. She had so many things to say.

Wordless, she reached for Nell’s hand. And for the first time since a slow courtship with Liri, eleven years past, gave someone permission to look.

Nell gazed down at their joined hands. “Are you sure?”

Beth nodded. It was time.

The mindlink slid in with the clink of warrior steel.

Beth stood straight and tall. She knew what Nell would see. Clutter. The alphabet running forward, backward, and everywhere in between. A bunch of goofy rules to help her remember a hundred faces and a hundred names. Liri’s cookie recipe and the order of the glasses on the Walker kitchen counter.

And beyond all that—she’d see thanks.

She’d see a need to leave while promising to come back.

And she’d see gratitude.

For beginnings and dragons and two women who weren’t so very different.