A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5)

by Geary, Debora

  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.

  Chapter 14

  Nell eyed the trio coming through her back gate. Her brothers had been suspiciously happy to drop by and pick up Beth this morning.

  She snorted as she spotted cookie crumbs on Devin’s t-shirt. Rumors of snickerdoodles had been making the rounds—ones that lived with the witch who swore she didn’t eat cookies.

  Be nice. Jamie’s mental voice came accompanied by a sizable eye roll. I don’t think she eats many, and Dev got her last two.

  Nell wasn’t born yesterday. Got there first, did you?

  His grin could have been swiped from the Cheshire cat. Yup. I deserved them—Kenna got up at the crack of dawn again.

  The crack of dawn arrived at about 7 a.m. these days. Wimp.

  Devin cleared his throat and darted eyes at the woman standing quietly beside him. “We going to get this show on the road, people? Some of us have stuff to do today.”

  Jamie elbowed his brother. “That’s not what you said while you ate her last cookie.”

  Great. The Moe and Curly show. On purpose, no doubt—they liked to leave her holding the bag of grown-up behavior. Nell smiled at Beth, whose nerves were obvious now. Time to skip the small talk, as ordered. “If you need a resupply on the cookies, just let me know. Ready to get started?”

  Visible relief came along with the quiet nod.

  Nell led the way to a patch of grass covered in a simple canvas sheet. Nat’s idea. She took a seat on the eastern edge and gestured with her left hand. “I’ll be handling air today. We usually have fire calling from the south, if that works for you.”

  More relief as Beth sat and folded her legs. “That’s how we do it in Chicago, too.”

  Her brothers plunked down in their respective spots, Jamie making a face at his earth duties.

  Life’s tough, baby brother. The only other earth witches in residence were safely ensconced inside with Auntie Nat.

  He stuck his tongue out, mind-witch style, and turned to Beth. “I’ll start with a call to earth. When we get to you, use whatever words you normally use in Chicago—we’ll keep this really simple.”

  Nell could feel their trainee witch’s mind calming with the easy litany of details. She picked up where her brother had left off. “I’ll call air and reach out a flow your way. Take it when you’re ready—there’s no rush.”

  Beth nodded, attention mostly focused on her hands. “And I’ll call fire and push a flow out to Devin.”

  The guy in question winked and got a smile in return.

  Nell shook her head, a little jealous. Only Devin could make friends in less time than it took to empty somebody’s cookie stash.

  He thought it would help today flow easier. Jamie waited just long enough for her guilt to set in, and then smoothly shifted gears. Ready?

  Hang on. Nell ran a quick scan of Beth’s channels. If she couldn’t be a mature sister, she could at least be a responsible witch. Yup. She’s good to go.

  Jamie’s call was a simple one, borrowed from their days of easy childhood magic.

  Nell snagged his flow and blinked. Somebody’s earth magic was a lot stronger than he’d let on lately.

  Somebody has to practice with superboy. It was a mournful complaint—and not at all a real one.

  Amused, she added her call to air, enjoying the impending reunion of the Sullivan trio. With deft fingers, she twisted the two flows together into a neat rope and then reached a gentle line toward Beth, trying to keep it slow.

  And gaped as the rope got picked up by quick, competent hands.

  She’s done this before. Jamie’s mind voice was approving, but distracted. Look how fast she’s readying her call.

  Nell jolted as Devin smoothly picked up the tight braid of energy Beth pushed his way. Damn. I thought she was allergic to speed. This was blazingly fast for a practice circle.

  Me too. Jamie’s brain was cranking into gear. The circle in Chicago moved quickly too. Her coven has very limited magic. I bet she has to hurry to conserve what power they have.

  It was hard to conceive of a circle exhausted by the simple act of joining. Nell did a quick scan of Beth’s channels. She’s fine. Plenty of power.

  Jamie shrugged. Yup. Easiest beginner circle ever.

  Nell readied a ground line to siphon energy away from the circle, and then felt mischief beaming in from the west. Dev, never content to let her end a circle the easy way.

  He pinched off a small bit of the circle’s flow, keeping his connection to Beth rock-steady. A quick tug on fire and air power for movement and heat, a little antigravity action from Jamie’s earth energies, and he wove a spell they’d all done since childhood.

  Nell fired up a shielding spell just before he hit activate. With Dev, it paid to take precautions.

  She grinned as the rainbow droplets danced in a shimmering pattern over their heads. Show-off.

  He only flashed her an innocent smile.

  Ha. Dev was born un-innocent. With a flick of her fingers, Nell drained his spell down her ground line. They had a baby witch on board, and she was probably getting tired.

  It took one look at Beth as the spell faded to know that wasn’t the case at all. She stared at the air where the drops had been—and her eyes swam with yearning.

  Uh, oh.

  Nell’s mindlink collided with Jamie’s, both trying to get Devin’s attention at the same time. It was like trying to flag dow
n the Titanic.

  Dev leaned forward, reaching for Beth’s hands. “Go ahead, give it a try. I’ll feed you the power you need.”

  Jamie just shook his head and threw up a training circle. Nell wished she shared his optimism that they’d need it. Whatever she might be capable of in a circle, so far Beth’s individual spellwork had been all kinds of fail.

  Give her a chance. Jamie sat quietly, watching the working duo.

  The spellshape started innocently enough, unraveling the power flows into their constituent elements. Nell relaxed a fraction.

  And then Beth started to shape them. With water power at the core.

  Nell dove for Devin’s mind. Shit. She’s not doing her own spell—she’s trying to copy yours!

  He jumped to intercept just as hissing fire hit slow-flowing water. Too late. Backlash from the sizzle hit every witch in the back yard.

  Nell rubbed her temples, mentally counting to ten. And then she took a good look at their trainee. Beth sat in mute, white silence, staring down at her hands.

  A single, noiseless tear rolled down her cheek.

  Three sets of Sullivan eyes met. Dev’s were full of contrition.

  “I’m sorry.” Beth’s words were harsh and laden with more tears. “I don’t know what went wrong.”

  “It was all my fault.” Dev reached for her and then stuffed his hands under his legs. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t learned to mirror yet. You were so competent in the circle.”

  “I don’t know what mirroring is.”

  Nell gave her brother points. Beth still looked like a statue—but at least she was a talking one.

  “You wouldn’t need it in Chicago.” Jamie lazed on the edge of the canvas, studiously picking grass. Avoiding eye contact, just like Lauren had coached. “When you do a spell in a circle, it doesn’t matter how you use the power flows because you’re all connected. But if you’re working alone, or off a feed like Devin was sending you, then you have to start with a layer of your own magic.”

  Beth’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

  “Basically, you tried to boss water around, and you’re not a water witch.” Devin grinned. “You were close—you just need to start that spell with one of your own elements.”

  Nell felt the tug as her brother grabbed power from his siblings. Devin never talked where action worked instead. Impromptu lesson back in progress. “See, I do the spell like this.” He held up a spellshape on his palm for a few seconds and then activated, miniature rain back in action. “But you’re a fire witch, so you have to build the spell around your primary power. You tried to do it around mine, which just made for some fairly unhappy flows.”

  Yup. Nell’s fire magic was still shuddering in protest. Fire did not like getting wet.

  Devin’s eyes met hers. Nell grabbed the power line he tossed her. Under protest—there were so many ways this could end badly. “Here’s how I would build this one.” She paused the spellshape long enough for Beth to study it, and then let it loose. Her droplets danced faster than Dev’s, keeping time to a hotter beat. “Same basic spell, but this one’s closer to what you’d want to do as a fire witch.”

  “Your turn.” Devin’s hands reached for Beth’s, readying the power she would need. He wasn’t letting this ball stop rolling—he never did.

  “I don’t…” She shoved her hands into her lap, words haunted by tears. “I don’t know how to put it together. Nell started in a different place.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Dev’s voice radiated calm patience. “Use fire and you can start anywhere you want.”

  “I don’t work that way.” Bleak eyes met his. “I need a map. A sign that says where the beginning is.”

  That was like asking where the ocean began.

  “You can choose anywhere you want.” Nell tried to help. “Different witches will assemble the spell differently. Kind of like drawing a picture—it doesn’t matter if you draw the head first or the feet, so long as it looks like a person at the end.”

  “I always draw the hair first.” Beth’s eyes fluttered closed, confusion and despair wrapping around her like a cloak. “Top to bottom. I have to know the order. The hair is always first.”

  Magic didn’t work like that. Hell, in her world, people didn’t work like that. Nell looked at her brothers, hoping someone had an idea that was going to keep the Sullivan batting average out of the drink. And was met with helpless shrugs.

  They were failing. Again. It was getting really old.

  The back door swung open and Aervyn bounced out, a plate in his hands and a disturbing gleam in his eye. “Auntie Nat says you guys need a distraction.”

  Nat had better radar than any witch Nell knew. “And you volunteered, huh, munchkin?”

  “Yup.” Her son grinned and plunked down on the canvas between them. “One of those cookies is mine.”

  Four of the cookies were huge and scrumptious. The fifth one looked like cat puke—green, lumpy, and possibly contagious.

  Aervyn giggled. “That one’s for Beth.” He turned to their still-white guest and carefully ignored her tear-streaked face. “My sister made it for you. It has lots of stuff that’s really good for you in it and only a little sugar. She said trainee witches hafta eat something.” He looked at the cookie as if it were radioactive waste.

  Nell couldn’t blame him—but it was a really sweet gesture. She tried to support her daughter’s efforts. “Ginia’s pretty good at concocting stuff that’s better tasting than it looks.”

  Beth gazed at the cookie a moment longer—and then burst into leaky, hiccupping giggles. Carefully she picked it up, cradling the misbegotten thing in her hands like treasure. “She made it for me?”

  “We hope you like it.” Aervyn patted Beth’s hand gently. “It’s kind of hard to try to be like everyone else all the time. It’s okay to just be you sometimes.” He squiggled in closer, hands touching his ears. “Sometimes I turn my hearing aids off and I just sit and let the world be really, really quiet.”

  Nell gaped. She didn’t know that. And her son had just shown his hearing aids to someone one step removed from a stranger.

  He looked her way, eyebrows squished together. She’s not a stranger, Mama. She’s like me—she’s different.

  Beth put her hands over her own ears. “I do it like this. I imagine my world is all quiet.” Her smile held yearning. “I wish it really could be sometimes.”

  “You could do it.” Aervyn grinned and swallowed a huge mouthful of cookie. “There’s a pretty easy spell if you wanna try it. Just some tangly air and stuff.” He popped up a spellshape on his hand. “See, just like this.”

  Three Sullivans leaned forward on an intercept course—and then sat back again, pushed away by something new in Beth’s mind.

  Trust.

  “Where do I start?” Beth’s breath still hitched, but her eyes were intent on the glistening spellshape.

  “Where do you wanna start?” Aervyn snagged another bite of his cookie, unconcerned by either his sudden trainer status or his student’s rocky footing.

  “At the beginning,” said Beth fervently.

  “Okay.” Aervyn pulled up dancing lines of power. “You have ears that want quiet, so let them decide. Which one of these wants to go first?”

  Nell held her breath as Beth stared at the shimmering flows of light. Watched as her son patiently changed their order, moving one over the next in some poetic Victorian dance.

  And then Beth reached out, fingers sure. “This one.”

  It didn’t matter. The spell could have started with any one of the lines dancing in Aervyn’s hands.

  It matters to her, Mama. Almost-six-year-old wisdom spoke in Nell’s head. She likes stuff to have a beginning.

  But spells don’t have a beginning, sweetie. Nell fought down the still-churning frustration. Witches have to be flexible.

  Uh, huh. Aervyn reached over and nudged one of Beth’s spell lines—it was wobbling a bit. But maybe she can be the flexible one tomorrow. Today,
it can be our job.

  Nell sat back, his innocent words hitting her hard. When did you get so smart?

  Yesterday. Her son grinned and ported cookie crumbles to his mouth—his hands were busy helping Beth shape her spell. Auntie Nat says we hafta get smarter fast or Kenna’s gonna rule the universe.

  Just what they needed. A magical diva in diapers.

  Auntie Nat also says that sometimes witches aren’t very good at understanding when someone doesn’t want to be just like us, so we need to try really hard. Aervyn eyed Beth’s cookie with suspicion. I sure hope I don’t have to eat that, though.

  Nell sighed. There were a whole bunch of lessons that had come out the door with that cookie. Nat Sullivan knew how to deliver a message.

  It was beyond time a certain stubborn fire witch listened.

  Aervyn moved his hands carefully away from his student’s spell. Held his breath along with the rest of them as it shimmered in a shaky, but stable, spellshape.

  And was the only one of them not entirely confused when she let it collapse.

  Nell stared at Beth. The shape had been stable enough to activate. “Why didn’t you trigger the spell?”

  “I need to practice first.” Beth’s voice was coated in wobbly joy. “But I know how to make it now.”

  What kind of witch didn’t want to do the actual magic part?

  Her pint-sized teacher grinned happily. “One day, it will be a really good spell.”

  Beth’s smile was nearly as big as his. “I’ll practice hard.”

  He cuddled into her chest. “I know.”

  His hearing aids were showing. Nell felt something inside her heart melt. Her son, one of the most loved people in Witch Central, had just declared himself tribe leader of the different witches.

  Aided and abetted by Auntie Nat.

  Pride nearly took her breath away.

  And she knew what had to come next—no matter how confused she still might be about their Chicago witch. She glanced at both her brothers, making sure she spoke for all three of them. Jamie and Dev just rolled their eyes in unison.

  Yeah. Not much danger from a witch who was afraid to let a spell loose.