A Different Witch

Chapter 5



Beth stepped out of the cab onto Addison Street, blinking at the sunlight. What a strange place, this California. It didn’t feel like winter at all.

She took her bag from the driver, looking up and down the street.

“Sure this is where you want to be, miss?”

“Yes.” She turned back to him, aware that most people didn’t consider one word an answer. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He shrugged and got back in his cab, careening out into traffic with a screech that hurt her ears.

A lot of sounds here hurt her ears. Not the totality of them—Chicago was not a quiet city. But the different notes in the jumble. Not home.

She slid a hand in her pocket and fingered the small crystal dragon tucked there for safekeeping. Home would wait.

From her other pocket, she pulled out a simple business card dominated by a smiling face. Berkeley Realty. Time to find a witch and get some information.

Recalling her quick study of the map of downtown, she headed west. Sounds assaulted her ears as she walked—so many people. Chicago had people too, but at this time of year they walked in quick steps with their heads down. Here, they smiled, fragments of their conversations pinging off her eardrums. An unwanted sea of noise.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on the lines of the sidewalk. One line, another. A cracked one there, then back to straight and predictable. She felt the voices receding and slowly let her fists unclench. It had been years since she’d needed to count sidewalk lines.

It wasn’t all that big a surprise. O’Hare International Airport had been sensory overload on steroids.

Beth looked around again, aware she was wound far too tightly. Not at the airport anymore—it was just people now, going about their lives. She smiled at a little boy hopping over the sidewalk lines, shoelaces untied. Company in her crack gazing.

And the sun was shining. Experimenting, she reached for a small trickle of power and let it sit lightly on her skin to recharge.

She laughed at herself—magic wasn’t a battery, but it still felt nice.

With the automatic knowledge of a mind that could memorize any map, she turned into the doorway of Berkeley Realty. And paused. Liri would see it as a moment of passage.

Beth looked down at her fingers, pale in the winter sun, clasped around a serviceable stainless-steel handle. She wasn’t Liri—and this was just a door.

“Good timing,” said a voice behind her shoulder. “If you open that for me, I’ll offer you up some linguine in exchange. Pretty sure I got too many orders.”

The source of the voice was a tiny blonde woman with spiky hair, a nose ring, and a stack of takeout boxes piled up all the way to her chin. Beth reached for the top boxes—basic physics said catastrophe was imminent.

“Thanks.” The tiny blonde stuck out her hand, causing more boxes to careen wildly. “I’m Lizard. You were looking for Berkeley Realty?”

Beth quickly counted the boxes. Not if they were having a party inside. “I was looking for Lauren Sullivan, but maybe I can come back at a less busy time.”

Lizard looked confused for a moment, and then grinned at the stack in her hands. “Oh, the boxes. Don’t worry—Romano’s was having a two-for-one special and I think I got carried away. Once you taste his linguine, you’ll know why.” She propped open the door with a shiny red leather boot. “Come on in. Coast is clear—it’s just Lauren and me here today. Not too many people house shopping right before Christmas.”

Oddly soothed by the flow of words, Beth stepped through the door, appreciating the relative quiet as she stepped off the street. Cool greens and blues greeted her eyes, and a pop of color from a fiery painting on the wall.

Lizard followed the direction of her gaze. “You like that?”

Beth never liked art. Too imprecise. “Yes. Who painted it?”

“A friend.” Lizard smiled and juggled takeout boxes. “Maybe you’ll get to meet her.”

Beth hadn’t come looking for friends. She opened her mouth to ask for Lauren, and then shut it again as footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Lauren entered the front room with a smile and three forks. “Hello, Beth. Nice to see you again. You arrived just in time for some of the best food in California.”

“I don’t eat a lot of pasta. Too many carbs.” Which wasn’t exactly a polite introduction. Beth cursed her inadequacies with small talk. “But I am hungry, so something to eat would be appreciated.”

She didn’t miss the glances exchanged between the two other women, but as usual, she had no idea what they meant. And she was travel-weary enough not to care.

“Come sit at the desk here.” Lizard dropped boxes on a clean surface and grabbed a fork. “I have paperwork spread out all over the kitchen. Sorry, didn’t know we were expecting you.”

“You weren’t.” Beth took the proffered fork. “I didn’t notify anyone I was coming.” She hadn’t been entirely sure she would make it. And now she sounded like some kind of robot. “I’m sorry, this isn’t going quite how I imagined.”

“Never does.” Lizard grinned. “Sit, eat, discover food heaven. The rest can wait.”

Beth looked at the tiny woman who looked nothing like Liri—and somehow felt comforted.

-o0o-

Lizard clomped down the street in her new red boots, contemplated the woman walking on her left, and wondered why it was that she ended up with all the messed-up fire witches.

And then decided it didn’t matter. It wasn’t magic that had her marching down the street to Caro’s townhouse. It was the general stamp of strange that coated Beth’s outer mind.

Beth saw herself as weird. As other.

As someone who didn’t belong.

And that had pushed buttons deep in Lizard’s juvenile-delinquent soul. She looked over at her tall companion. “How come you came to Witch Central?” Conversation over linguine had been minimal.

Beth’s mind tucked further behind some invisible wall. “I need training.”

Well, it was better than being on parole. “It can be kind of weird here. Don’t let them freak you out.”

“Okay.” And half a block later, “Thanks.”

Lizard kept walking, satisfied. She knew what it was to keep most of your words hidden inside. And Caro’s townhouse would be a good place to hide. Once again, her boss was a smart cookie.

She turned into the walkway, thumped up the steps, and dropped Beth’s shoulder bag on the porch. “I think you’ll like it here. Way better than a hotel.”

Mute eyes just watched her hand on the door.

Cripes. Sometimes this real-estate gig was harder than it looked. Lizard breathed a sigh of relief as Caro rounded the corner, a set of keys in her hand. Saved by the landlord.

Brought me another live one, did you?

Something like that. She’s been through a lot today. I think she just needs some space. Peace and quiet.

Caro nodded briskly at the inhabitants of the porch, unlocked the door to the townhouse, and stood to the side.

Beth walked in, and Lizard heard her quiet intake of air. When their new arrival reached out to touch an orange wall in mute relief, she knew she’d made a sale. And she knew it was time to go. In lockstep with Caro, she quietly backed out the door.

“She’ll do just fine,” said the no-nonsense woman who had become Lizard’s honorary den mother. “We’ll let her get settled a bit, and then I’ll take over some bread. Nice boots.”

Lizard rolled her eyes. “They’re good for walking. And she doesn’t do bread. Too many carbs.”

“Well then, I’ll take her something else.”

“Keep an eye on her,” said Lizard in an undertone. “She needs a friend.”

“That she already has.” Caro’s eyes held quiet approval. “And she could do a lot worse than Lizard Monroe.”

Caro handed out compliments about as often as the Queen Mother handed out Viagra. Lizard blushed. And barely resisted kicking a rock—it would scuff her sexy new boots. “Page me if she needs anything.”

Her old landlord chuckled. “I will. Tell Josh I said hello. Learned a new chess move. Gonna beat that man of yours one day soon.”

Lizard just snorted and walked off, bemused. Her life got weirder every day.

-o0o-

Lauren knocked on Nell’s door, leftover linguine in her hands, and grinned when Aervyn opened the door. “Hey, superboy—you ready to turn six yet?”

“Nope.” He eyed the containers in her hands and manfully stood to the side. “I already ate, but I bet Auntie Nat’s hungry. She just got here.”

Excellent. The gathering of the clan, at least the part of it she wanted to see. “I have enough for you too, munchkin. Have you decided what you want for your present yet?” She was drawing a bit of a blank. Nell was currently vetoing the magic carpet, Jamie and Devin were already on a shiny red two-wheeler, and her crystal ball kept insisting there was something important she was supposed to give him.

Maybe the ball was just out of sorts. It seemed to be going around.

Aervyn swayed side to side, thinking. “You could draw me a picture. Mama says the best kind of presents are the ones you make with your hands.”

Nell had never seen any of Lauren’s artwork. “I’ll think of something, cutie. How about I give you one of these boxes to go share with your sisters, and you tell me where I can find Auntie Nat and your mom.”

“Just follow the noise,” said Aervyn, porting the top box off the pile, forks already magically in his hand. “Kenna found my drum set.”

Lauren winced. The drum set had been Devin’s idea of a practical joke back when Aervyn turned two, delivered without nearly enough thought about what a hard-of-hearing toddler might do with such a gift.

And apparently becoming the jokester’s wife had conferred guilt by marital decree. In the lore that was Witch Central’s lifeblood, the drums were now her fault too. “Maybe Kenna wants some noodles.”

Aervyn looked skeptical. “I doubt it. She only wants chocolate cake and strawberries today. Auntie Nat called her a heathen.”

Nat was far more convinced of the value of all four food groups than your average witch. And she seemed the least affected by whatever plague of weirdness had hit the Sullivan clan lately. “Thanks, cutie. I’ll plug my ears.”

He swooped up for a kiss and then ran off down the hall, paging his sisters.

Lauren followed in his wake, taking a left turn through the kitchen and into the back yard. Nat turned in welcome, eyes lighting as she saw the Romano’s boxes.

Nell was waving her fingers, focused on some invisible spell. A moment later, she sat back, victorious. “Take that, punk witch baby.”

Kenna banged her two sticks on the top of the drum—and giggled as a shiny purple fountain of bubbles spurted up. A very silent fountain.

“Thank you.” Nat smiled in relief, already twirling noodles onto a fork.

Lauren wondered if Devin had taken a good look at how tired Nat and Jamie were lately. She wasn’t ready for permanent exhaustion.

“It won’t hold her long,” said Nell dryly. She shook her head at the offered noodles. “Just finished a huge plate of spaghetti, thanks. Little monster’s already undone two of my best sound-deflecting spells.”

Right on cue, sound erupted again from Kenna’s drum, accompanied by more bubbles—in rainbow colors this time.

Three pairs of hands clapped over three sets of ears. Your turn, sent Nell with a grin. Auntie duty.

Oh, sure. Lauren looked over at her delighted noise-terrorist of a niece and wondered if anyone had tried the obvious. KENNA! Too loud, sweetie. That hurts our ears.

Two drumsticks stopped, suspended in the air by astonished toddler hands. And then their mischief-maker tapped the drum, ever so lightly, and looked over at the trio of stupefied adults with a giant smile on her face.

It was Nat who started to laugh first, still cuddling takeout linguine to her chest. Kenna tapped along to her mama’s giggles in quiet, rhythmic, bubble-dancing counterpoint.

Nell chuckled, shaking her head in mostly mock disgust. “I can’t believe that worked.”

A smart realtor knew when to pounce. “Great. I solved your problem of the day—now you can help with mine.”

Two pairs of raised eyebrows suggested it wasn’t going to be her easiest sell of the afternoon. “Berkeley Realty had a visitor this morning. A certain fire witch from Chicago.”

“Oh.” Nat’s voice was full of sympathy. “How is she doing?”

Lauren shook her head. “Not sure. She’s buttoned up pretty tight, and I didn’t push this time. Didn’t have to—Lizard adopted her before she even got inside our door. She’s taken Beth to see if Caro’s townhouse is available.” It would be by the time they arrived.

“So what’s the problem?” asked Nell slowly. “Sounds like you have things pretty much under control.”

“Gut feel.” And a strong one. “We need to keep Witch Central at bay for a while. Introduce her slowly, give her a chance to get her toes used to the water.”

“Are you sure?” Nell didn’t sound skeptical, just curious. “Immersion worked pretty well for you. Lizard too.”

Lauren remembered her own cannonball into the deep end all too well. “I had a gentler start. Let’s see if we can try wading this time.”

“Okay.” Nell looked down at her hands. “You seem to have a pretty good read on her.”

Lauren met Nat’s eyes over Nell’s bowed head. It was a very strange thing for the woman closest to the heart of Witch Central to be shaky. She waited until Nell looked back up. “When I first started working with Jacob, I was confused all the time. His body language and his thoughts didn’t match.” It had been very hard to learn which signals to trust.

Nell just nodded slowly, still only half comprehending.

Nat’s eyes radiated calm patience. “Some of my students are like that. They sit in the back row once a week, disappear as soon as class is over. Often they’re the ones who need yoga the most.” She settled her hands into her lap. “If it’s breathing room Beth needs, she’ll have it.”

Lauren heard the firm tone in her best friend’s voice and knew she’d found the right help. No one would understand the need for personal space better than Nat Sullivan. And if anyone could keep Witch Central from bubbling over, it was their gentle, fierce yogini.

The heart of Witch Central had more than one inhabitant.

-o0o-

Carefully, trying not to move the fragile shards inside her chest, Beth sat down on the strange bed, in the strange room, in the strange land, and cuddled a strange orange pillow to her aching heart.

It was going to be difficult. She should have known. Only in fairytales did the princess meander daintily through the kingdom, learn a few gentle lessons, and live happily ever after.

And fairytales had more logic holes than the average conversation with a three-year-old.

None of which made her heart feel any better.

She was a strong, resilient woman—and right now, she felt like a scared child.

Fighting the lifelong desire to run and hide in solitude when such feelings hit, she opened her computer laptop and clicked on Liri’s fanciful icon. Beth had been the one who set up the technology behind the cute extraterrestrial head on her screen, but it had been Liri who’d insisted on the “phone home” button.

Beth heard her breath shake as her partner’s face came onscreen, and squeezed the pillow a little tighter.

“Hard day?” The empathy in Liri’s voice was instant and soothing, even thousands of miles away.

“Yeah.” Lining up the right words took a moment. “It’s an intriguing town. Lots of sunlight and interesting people on the street.”

During the few warm months in Chicago, they loved to have coffee at one of the outdoor cafés and watch the people go by. Liri liked to imagine their backgrounds and what awaited them at home. Beth watched their mannerisms, their faces, and tried to guess how they felt, what they wanted.

People could be such a mystery.

“And?” The prompt was gentle, but it came with her partner’s understated tenacity.

“The usual.” The sigh came out all on its own. “Hard to navigate in a strange world, especially when they want things from me.” From an airline-ticketing agent to Caro’s silent delivery of homemade lentil soup for dinner, the day had been a constant stream of people with faces saying something she never knew how to read.

“Try room service and a movie.” Liri smiled—and then frowned, squinting at the screen. “Wait, where are you? That doesn’t look like a hotel.”

Beth looked around, taking in the funky decor and bright colors for the first time. “It’s a short-term rental. A kind of bed-and-breakfast thing.” It occurred to her that she wasn’t clear on the details, which wasn’t like her at all. “Lauren suggested I might find it more relaxing than a hotel room.”

“That was thoughtful of her.”

Beth smiled—she knew that overly neutral tone in Liri’s voice. “I believe they really are trying to help. Lauren’s assistant used to live here. The landlord seems very nice.” She looked around. The space was quite soothing. “I can come and go as I please, and you’d like the front gardens, I think. Flowers in December.”

“Beats shoveling a foot of snow.” Liri grinned. “Your crew of helpers showed up bright and early to take care of it—that was very sweet.”

It wasn’t often she got to surprise her very attuned mate. The glow of it soothed Beth far more than the colorful walls. She’d put Mellie’s grandsons on more than snow patrol, but perhaps that would be an unexpected gift for another day. “Good. You have plenty to do without dumping snow on tourists.”

Liri’s laughter was warm and lilting. “I only got the one, and that was last winter.”

Beth grinned. The poor guy from Florida had been dumb enough to stand directly behind someone with a snow shovel. His fiancée had giggled for an hour—and bought out half the store. “Then again, it might be good for business.”

“Careful what you wish for,” said Liri, repositioning the computer and lying down on the couch. “It was a very busy day. Too many more of those and we’ll run out of stock before New Year’s.”

They had enough to last through spring, but to her lovely partner, the ways of inventory were varied and arcane. “Did Mellie come in to help?”

“Yes.” Fingers reached out to touch the screen. “We’re fine here, sweetie. You take care of you. Find the space you need and negotiate the witching world there at a speed that allows you to be happy.”

It felt a bit like looking for a calm spot while standing in the path of a hurricane, but she could try. Beth stretched out her fingertips to touch Liri’s, and held up the tiny crystal dragon that had ridden in her pocket all day. “I miss you.”

She was pretty sure hers weren’t the only eyes wet with tears.