A Different Witch

Chapter 3



The irony of knocking on a strange witch’s door in the middle of a Chicago winter was not lost on Lauren. A full circle of sorts—she’d been that witch not so long ago.

However, if memory served, she hadn’t been all that thrilled with Jamie’s arrival, and all he’d done was levitate a few plates. Lauren still had no idea how to adequately apologize for accidentally porting someone halfway across a continent.

That Liriel had sent for her at all was a rather large surprise.

Lauren squared her shoulders—realtors dealt with the inane and the abysmal all the time. She’d manage.

She lifted a hand to the door and jumped as it quietly slid open. Liriel’s deep gray eyes regarded her with a mix of suspicion and resignation. The guardian at the gate. “Beth has asked to see you.”

“I’ll be happy to talk to her.”

“She’s still shaky.”

The guardian wasn’t budging yet. There was something she wanted, and a good negotiator knew when to lay all her cards on the table—fast. “We screwed up, and we know it. I’ll be working very hard not to do that again.”

“It’s not the first time,” said Liriel softly, eyes flashing. “You nearly broke our coven.”

Oh, God. “That wasn’t our intent.” Lauren’s memories were mostly of the homesick guy she’d been with, but clearly they’d caused damage—Liriel’s mind made that very clear. “I was still a baby witch, and Jamie was away from home and out of his element. I’m sure we could have handled things far better than we did.”

“Yes.” Liriel paused, choosing her words. “You didn’t respect our magic. I know it doesn’t meet your standards, but we work hard at our craft. If you enter our home today, I ask you for that respect.”

Ouch. And ouch again. Lauren closed her eyes, well aware she was running on empty. “That seems like an important conversation to have, and I promise you, we’ll have it. Know that I have immense respect for the way both of you have rolled with this travesty of a day. But I’m a witch about out of gas, and Beth wanted to talk. She feels like our first priority right now. And if you have a cookie to spare, I’d be eternally grateful.”

The first hints of a smile teased Liriel’s lips. “I’m sure we can find you something.” She pulled open the door. “Beth is in the living room, off to your right. I’ll fix a couple of things in the kitchen and be right in.”

Lauren knew a skilled diplomat when she met one. Liriel was making the setup very clear—Beth was the focus here. And getting through the front door had only been the first test.

Sometimes there was nowhere to go but forward. Lauren squared her shoulders and made herself a promise. The next time she dropped in on the Witches’ Lounge, there would be long underwear, a lifetime supply of coffee, and a dozen emergency cookies in her purse.

She walked down the hall, sending out a quiet mental scan as she went. The frantic, panicked energies of an hour ago were gone, replaced by guarded calm.

Beth looked up as she walked into the living room. “Hello. Thank you for coming back. I have some questions, and Liri thought you might be willing to answer them.”

The formality hurt Lauren’s heart. “It’s the least I can do. First, however, let me apologize profusely. I’m not entirely sure what happened yet, but magically kidnapping you was deeply awful. We’ll do what we can to make it right.”

“You have power beyond what I’ve ever known.” Beth let out a breath. “Perhaps that’s why all the old texts have so many prohibitions and chastisements to work carefully.”

The old texts knew that witches were far less than perfect. Lauren took a seat without speaking—she could feel more words coming.

“Tell me of this place. The one with enough magic to transport an entire person and reassemble her again.”

That was no small request. “There’s an informal witch community in Berkeley. One I’m still learning about myself.” Lauren decided it was never too early to start apologizing for trampling things, no matter how unintentional it had been. “When you first met me, I was a brand-new witch. Two years ago, I had no idea I had power of any kind.”

Beth’s eyes grew larger by the word. “Liri says you have immense skill.”

That was a truth that still sat strangely in Lauren’s soul. “I’m not alone. Witch Central has a lot of people with strong talent.”

“And they came to find you?”

Now things got sticky. “Sort of. I was the first witch found by the spell that fetched you.” And memories of being pulled into a simple chat room caused new spurts of sympathy for the restrained woman across the room. “It started with a pint of ice cream…”

The story was a long one, and in the telling, reminded Lauren of how far she had come and how big some of the bumps along the way had truly been.

Beth listened and asked questions—some very pointed, and some truly obscure. And all of them exceedingly calm for a woman who had last been seen rocking in a corner.

Liriel slid quietly into the room, set down a tray, and joined Beth on the couch. Wariness still lived in her eyes, but they’d warmed up several degrees from the encounter at the front door. She held out a plate. “Slightly stale chocolate chip cookies or a protein bar—Beth’s recipe. Take your pick.”

The astute and tricky diplomat was back. Lauren looked at the plate for a moment and then took one of each.

This time, the amusement reached Liriel’s eyes. She turned to her partner. “What have you learned?”

Beth reached for a protein bar. “That you were right. Witch Central is arrogant when it comes to witches outside their borders.”

Lauren winced—there were reasons for the arrogance, but it wasn’t an entirely inaccurate summary. She juggled the slightly stale cookie, looking again for words that might begin to right the missteps.

Beth held up a hand, not finished yet. “And that they live with deeper magic than we’ve ever dreamed of, and perhaps that means the rules are more complicated.”

Something dark and tangled hit Liriel’s eyes. And her mind barriers slammed shut with an efficient competence that had Lauren blinking.

Lauren tried to move forward. Carefully. “The wisest witch I know says that ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ Witch Central has a lot of magic within their reach. Sometimes it can be very difficult to know where responsibility ends and arrogance begins.”

The two women on the couch considered her words carefully, their fingers linked together in a way that made Lauren miss her California beach knight very much. It was Beth who finally nodded. “We also believe in responsibility.”

Liriel’s smile was strangely sad. “And we know something of spells gone awry.”

It was forgiveness they offered—and it made Lauren feel about two inches tall.

We are witches, came Liriel’s drifting reply. An accidental send, but an important one.

Yes, you are. Lauren sent back a simple acknowledgement—and hoped it carried her respect.

You heard that? Liriel’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

Yes. Lauren reached out, not at all sure of the gray-eyed mind witch’s talents. There hadn’t been a whole lot of time to figure it out earlier. You’re an empath, correct? Can you not mindspeak?

No. The reply was fast and certain—and a little bit awed. I assume you’re assisting me again.

Only lightly. Lauren stretched a little further, but Liriel’s power flows didn’t have the staccato undertones she associated with a mindspeaker. I am. But you’re making it easy. You have nice training.

We are not quite as incompetent as you imagined us. And we have a very curious audience.

Lauren stopped her wincing long enough to pay attention to the third woman in the room, who was watching their silent interplay with great interest.

Liriel reached for her partner’s hand again. “She can speak to my mind and assist me to speak to hers.”

“Fascinating.” Beth studied the two of them for a long moment. “I expect that’s very convenient when you have things to say that you don’t want someone to hear.”

Lauren half rose in embarrassed protest—and then realized the words were meant at face value. Nothing more, nothing less. A statement, not an accusation.

And a true one.

Good. Liriel seemed impressed. You read her quite well. She usually means exactly what she says, unlike the rest of us.

“So much power,” said Beth quietly. “If I came to California, would they train me?”

“Yes.” And if Lauren was here as Witch Central’s representative, the new level of respect could begin right now. “You know how to work hard and you’re open to new ideas. We’d be honored to have you.”

Liriel’s tea cup seemed to approve.

“I don’t know. It’s our busiest time of year at the shop.” Beth’s finger traced the top edge of her far-more-sturdy mug. Weighing. Thinking.

“The shop will be fine.”

There was a note of something odd in Liriel’s voice. Lauren frowned, trying to tease it out. You won’t be coming?

No. Sent with finality. If I do, you will use me as an intermediary, much as you are doing now.

Lauren squirmed for the umpteenth time. These aren’t ideal circumstances.

No, they aren’t. Liriel’s mental voice gentled. But it’s better if you get to know Beth on her terms. She’s an amazing woman—it would be worth your time.

Part request and part command. Lauren nodded. It was the least they could do. We’ll do our best to make a better second impression.

Liriel’s eyes were quiet, but her mind held steel. See that you do.

-o0o-

There were no words for this day. As their guest stood, preparing to leave, Beth tried to find something to say and failed.

“You’ll have more questions.” In an eerie copy of Jamie’s behavior twenty months in the past, Lauren reached out a business card. “When you do, this is where you can find me.”

Lauren stood and walked toward the hall. When she reached the doorway of Beth and Liri’s living room, she turned. “And when you’re ready, there are nice, normal planes that will fly you to Berkeley.”

Then she was gone. And all that was left was the nausea in Beth’s stomach—and a lukewarm glass of eggnog in her right hand. She’d been carrying it with her, room to room, an oddly comforting touchstone.

Eggnog meant she wasn’t insane.

Beth touched the glass and looked over at Liri. “I’m okay now. Thank you.” It didn’t seem like enough words.

The pillow in her partner’s hands hit the wall. “Such arrogance they have. This is twice now they’ve walked in, torn your world into shreds, and left, assuming you will follow.”

Beth tried to find all the important pieces in what Liri was saying. Anger always made things more complicated. More tangled. “It’s our world. Not just mine.”

A sad smile said she’d found a tangled bit that mattered. “Yes, it’s ours. But it’s you who needs what they have.”

Someone able to match her power. To train it.

And because of that, Liri would throw pillows, but she would not shut doors. Beth closed her eyes, very aware of just how well she was loved. “The witch needs what they have. The woman is very happy here.”

“I know.”

It was only two words—but so much more rode in her partner’s eyes. Frustration welled in Beth’s veins. “Come on, Liri. You know I can’t read what you’re thinking. You have to tell me.” It was one of the central tenets of their relationship, and something Beth had learned sprang from love anyhow. You gave what your lover needed.

Liri needed feelings and soft touch, ritual and memories. Beth needed words.

“I hope they can appreciate who you are.” Liri’s fingers touched the pendant hanging around her neck. Two circles, joined.

It matched the one Beth wore. The one that said a socially awkward penguin had found the partner for her soul.

Liri’s fears mirrored her own. Witch Central sounded like the kind of world Beth usually avoided at all costs. Social, crowded, and infested with complications.

But they had magic—and that trumped all else. Beth set down her mug. “I’ve always been a strange witch.” The kind who landed in the middle of a table while the rest sat and ate brownies. She tried to push away the lingering embarrassment—she hadn’t asked to be there in the first place. “Why don’t you get your cloak and we’ll go eat at Ming’s. We can talk more there.” It was Liri’s favorite food—and on a Tuesday, uncrowded enough to be a pleasurable experience for both of them.

Liri smiled. “How about you light a fire instead? I’ll order in and we can find the words and the silence that will put this day to rest.”

That would also deeply please them both.

Comfort settled on Beth’s shoulders like a fuzzy blanket. It had been a day beyond all imagining—but the most important things had not changed at all.

-o0o-

Moira set her phone down on her bed. Time to stop staring at newfangled technology, hoping for another update, and pack for a wee trip west. When Nell knew something more, they’d all know.

She considered the contents of her closet and resolved to go shopping when she was in California. Blues, greens, grays—everything she could see was dark and gloomy.

“And you’re a grumpy old witch who ought to be used to winter by now,” she muttered to herself, pushing aside the colors she normally loved. A skirt covered in gaudy purple flowers made its way into her fingers, along with an Irish green sweater and a set of shiny red shoes more appropriate for young Lizzie. Well, at least she’d be colorful. And Miss Kenna would be entertained by the sparkles on the shoes.

Dropping her eye-searing picks on the bed, Moira reached into the closet one more time, this time for a bag to carry her belongings. She dug through more blue and gray and found what she was seeking.

Carefully, she set her old, well-worn valise down on the bed and touched its leather handle, flooded with memories. She’d held that suitcase gripped in her arms, waiting for the ship that would bring her across the ocean to a strange land. Felt it hanging from her numb fingers as she’d waved goodbye to so many she loved. And slept with it under her head, slicked with hot tears, on the long journey across the waters.

Oh, so long ago.

And when she’d finally set foot on Nova Scotia soil, she’d felt like poor Beth, splatted on a table in a world full of strange and frightening.

“We’ve traveled far together, you and I.” Moira gave the bag a thoughtful pat—the Irish didn’t believe in coincidence. “And perhaps I needed a bit of a reminder of that tonight.”

The old memories churned her soul. It was easy to forget. Easier to ignore them, and to think only of the home and roots she had now. But some journeys weren’t easy—and Beth’s fetching was a terribly difficult way to have begun.

Such fear there had been in her eyes. A fragile new flower—one that would need extra tending.

Just like a certain young Irish lass clutching the rail of a ship headed across an enormous sea.

Moira folded clothes and sent her thoughts in the direction of Chicago. A small blessing, and a wish.

For resilience. For an open heart.

And for the courage it took to cry hot tears and travel the road regardless.

-o0o-

“It’s the middle of the night, sweetie.”

Nell scowled at her computer monitor, finishing a key line of code. “I’m not done yet.”

The only man who dared to call her “sweetie” reached out quick fingers and made the contents of her screen disappear. “You need to sleep.”

“Can’t. Jamie’s supposed to be back online in an hour, and I promised him I’d finish this layer.” Nat said he was midnight napping, Kenna tucked into his elbow, which left her captain of the fetching-spell safety squad. She’d sent their minions off to bed hours ago.

“You’re only one part of Witch Central.” Her husband’s eyes gleamed. “A really sexy, important part, but only one part. And you need sleep.”

He was right—but so was she. “We screwed up. I need to fix it.”

Daniel’s hands covered hers. “Accidents happen, even when you’re really careful. You know that. And your spell’s no threat to anyone at 3 a.m. What’s really bothering you?”

Tears threatened, even as she mentally kicked at his words. God, she was tired. “She was so scared, Daniel. This quivering little bunny sitting on a table, with this weird, blank face.” Cripes, where was her empathy?

“That would be hard for you to understand.” His hands started working the tight muscles in her neck. “My wife would have chewed off a table leg for a sword and asked questions later.”

Her snicker squeezed out around the tightness in her chest. Oh, how well he knew her. “To fight off a little old lady and a couple of moms?”

His chuckle was low and rumbly. “I seem to remember you loosing half your arsenal at some poor guy hiding behind a bush.”

Fifteen years and she was never going to live that down. She still had the t-shirt to prove it. “You’d just invaded my turf.”

“Yup.” He paused a moment. “In some ways, so did Beth.”

She blinked. “We’re the ones who fetched her.”

“I know.” His words were pensive. “But she landed on your turf, and that’s kicked in to your need to protect, to defend. To do something.”

“But what?” The words spurted out of her, powered by whatever frustration he’d found hiding behind her shoulder blades. “The best mind witch we’ve got couldn’t calm her down. And she doesn’t eat chocolate.” Nell wasn’t sure which was more disturbing.

“Ah.” He nodded, clearly making more sense of that mystery than she did. “Fetched a different kind of witch this time, did you?”

“She was definitely a little strange.”

“We all have our quirks.” Her husband’s hands were doing magical things to her biceps now. “But that’s not what I meant.”

His voice had that tone that said he was about to throw an important pitch. Nell swiveled her chair around to face him. “Okay…”

He perched on a box of comic books, his eyes looking up at hers. “Think about the witches you’ve fetched. Lauren is one of the steadiest people in a crisis I’ve ever met, and I know quite a few.”

Yup. Any woman who could handle being married to Devin definitely qualified as steady. Nell tried to follow Daniel’s line of thinking. “Elorie was more shaken up.”

“She was—but you didn’t yank her out of her life like you did Lauren. Her stay in Witch Central was very temporary. And Sierra didn’t have much of a life to lose.”

“We rescued her.” From a fate that still gave Nell occasional nightmares.

“Yeah.” Daniel’s hand brushed her cheek—he knew she had a big soft spot for the once-lonely teenager who had practically become their sixth child. “And she was never afraid of us.”

She was still struggling to follow, something that happened only rarely in their marriage. “So you think this time is different because of how badly we scared Beth?” Her fingers itched for her keyboard again. There had to be another safety spell she could put somewhere.

“No. Well, maybe.”

This was turning into a darned wobbly pitch. Nell raised an eyebrow, amused. “Which one?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Her husband’s fingers were back on the ball. Literally. Apparently there was more hanging out under her desk than comic books. “My point is, I don’t think that’s why this is hard for you.”

She waited. It was usually worth it.

He tossed her the ball. “You understood Lauren. And you adopted Sierra practically before she arrived, but more importantly, she made sense to you too.”

Ah. As always, her hacker made stunningly good sense when he finally got to where he was headed. “And I don’t get Beth.” Truth.

“Not yet.” His thumb stroked along her fingers, much the same way as he felt up a baseball. “Let your need to do something rest for a bit until you get to know her a little better. Give your formidable instincts something to work from.”

She hoped it was that simple. “And if that doesn’t work?”

He tugged her into his lap. “One step at a time.”

“That’s not how I fight.” She grumbled into his shoulder, feeling the weariness settling in. “There could be surprises behind the bushes.”

His laughter rocked them both. “Don’t I know it.”

She snuggled in closer. All guns blazing. That’s how real warriors did things.

First thing in the morning, she’d get right on that.