A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) (28 page)

She cast a glance at the fresh produce on her way in the door, still enjoying the magic of vine-ripened fruit in December.  A stack of bright Clementine oranges pleased her eyes.  Some of those might have to make the journey back to Nat and Jamie’s house.

Right after a nice cup of tea.

She made her way over to the counter, singing along with the Christmas carols under her breath. 
Silent Night
had always been a favorite, even if she rather doubted the wee babe had arrived calm, quiet, and sleepy.

And then she spotted a familiar body in the corner.  Beth, sitting quietly, a mug steaming in her hands—watching the seasonal bustle go by with something akin to enjoyment on her face.

Well, well.  Change was afoot indeed.  Moira placed an order for mint tea and walked over to the corner, giving Beth plenty of time to notice her presence. 

Giving her choices.  Honoring her right to be a grown woman who sat in holiday corners alone—or with company.  When the smile came, it pleased Moira down to the ground.  “Might I join you?”

“They have really good spiced cider here.”  Beth held up her mug, smile a notch more tentative now, but still there.  “I can order you some if you like.”

The poor girl had about as much natural affinity for small talk as Marcus Buchanan.  Ah, well—there was no better place to practice than with the Irish.  “I’ve some tea coming, but thank you.”  She patted Beth’s hand, and then withdrew gently when the girl flinched.  No matter.  Choices.  “It smells delicious.  My great-gran used to make something similar for a special holiday treat.”

“Liri puts spices in wine.”  Beth seemed astonished that she’d talked.  “A recipe passed down from the German side of her family.  It tastes like a cookie in a glass.”

So the mysterious Liriel knew something of family and ritual.  Good.  “It sounds lovely.  What other holiday traditions do you have?”

Beth sipped her cider slowly.  “Well, Liri bakes her special snickerdoodles.  And lights—we put up strings of lights all through the shop.  They make people smile.”

Moira was getting used to their Chicago witch’s tendency to stare at a point just over her shoulder.  Seeing faeries, perhaps.  Not so odd once you had a chance to sit with it for a bit.   “A grand way to greet the darkest days of the year, I’m thinking.”  Moira smiled at the young man who delivered her cuppa.  “I’ve a lovely warm pool in my back yard.  Perhaps some lights would make it festive at this time of year.”

“I’ve heard about your pool.”  Yearning snuck into Beth’s voice.

Ah.  A way into the heart of a fire witch.  Moira tucked away that handy bit of information to use on a new day.  Today had a different purpose, one that had grown full-bloomed in between talk of mulled wine and strings of light.

It was well and beyond time to show some respect for Beth’s roots.  Moira leaned forward and touched Beth’s hand, glad when it was accepted this time.  “I hope we’ll travel together soon, you and I.”

Beth looked up, eyes wary.  “You want me to come visit your home?”

Aye, but that could wait.  “No, my dear.  I’m hoping that one day in the not-too-distant future, you’ll do me the great honor of allowing me to be a guest in yours.”

The silence lasted several sips of tea.  Moira waited—she knew how to be patient when it really mattered.  Beth found her spot watching the faeries again.  “Why?”

“I’m an earth witch, my dear.  A gardener.  When I see a beautiful flower, I want to know something of the place where it grew.”

Her companion puzzled that one out.  “It’s just a small apartment above a store.”

“I live in a tiny cottage myself,” said Moira briskly.  “There’s nothing at all wrong with a small space.  And I’ve a penchant for small bits of stone and crystal—might you have anything like that in your shop?”

“We do.”  Beth smiled.  “Or rather, Liri does.  The books are mine.  The little bits of things are all hers.” 

Ah, and in true Irish fashion, now they were getting closer to the heart of things.  “I’ve a love of books, too.  Perhaps you’ll let me spend some time in your library.  I’ll browse the pretty trinkets on my own.”

“I don’t really understand collecting, but some of them are quite beautiful.” 

“You’ve a gorgeous wee dragon, as I recall.”

Beth reached hesitantly into her pocket and drew out the bit of shiny glass.  “Yes, this one is mine.  A small gift from Liri as I was coming here.”

It was exquisite, now that she could see it in full light.  A gorgeous, infinitely detailed little creature with just a hint of turquoise in its poised wings.  As a thing of art, it was lovely.  As a message and a gift from one who had obviously studied the old arts, it was magnificent.

Dragons lived long, had one great love, and always returned home.

Moira leaned in and brushed a finger over a glass wing.  “She’s exquisite, my dear.  Your Liri must know you very well.”

“I think she would like you,” said Beth quietly. 

Moira looked at the dragon again.  “I already like her.  She has fine taste in dragons and in those she chooses to love.”

Beth’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.  “Perhaps we could go visit in the morning.  The shop is closed until noon, and it would be quieter then.”  She studied her tea.  “It would be nice to go home.”

“I would like that very much.”  Moira got to her feet, delighted in their young fire witch.  “I’ll let Aervyn know we’ll be wanting a ride.”  And she’d beg a little time in Ginia’s garden to brew up a small gift or two.

Something that would honor the women she was about to visit.

Chapter 20

Beth stood in the middle of the shop, wishing she had something to do.  Liri was bustling, shifting a book here, a crystal there.  Merchandizing.  Beth had been banned from that activity long ago, and the rest of the little details that got the shop ready to open had been taken care of hours ago.  It had seemed like the thing to do when she’d beamed in at the crack of dawn.

They had a visitor coming.

Liri looked up from her arranging.  “You can make the hot chocolate, if you like.”

That was a brave offer—Beth’s idea of the ratio of chocolate to sugar didn’t suit the palate of most of their customers.  “You think we should do that this early?” 

“No.”  Light laughter shook her partner’s shoulders.  “I forgot we’re not opening for hours yet.”

It was throwing their entire routine off kilter.  “I’m sorry—maybe this wasn’t the best time to invite someone to visit.”

“Of course it is.”  Liri frowned and moved a trio of pink crystals for the fourth time.  “Our home is always open. You know that.”

She did—but this was the first time in eleven years that
she’d
been the one who invited a surprise guest.  “I think you’ll like her.”

“I’m a sweet Irish grandmother—what’s not to like?”

They both swung around at the voice in their midst.

“Whoops!”  Moira smiled brightly at each of them in turn.  “Aervyn forgot to let you know he was sending me, didn’t he now?”  Then she held out a hand and beamed at Liri.  “You must be the wonderful woman smart enough to love Beth.”

Liri tilted her head to the side for a moment, and then smiled in return.  “One of them.  Welcome to
Witchery
, and blessed be.”

Moira turned all the way around slowly.  “It’s just marvelous.  Warm and cozy and full of books and wee surprises peeking out of everywhere.”  She paused, taking in the strings of lights overhead.  “What a joy it must be to spend your days here.”

Beth felt a lump hit her throat.  “Liri puts out all the things.  If it were me, everything would be in nice, orderly rows.”  And far less joyous.

“Not all of us are blessed with the skill of making a place homey.”  Moira began to move now, her fingers reaching out to touch here and there.  “I’ve always known where to put the plants and the flowers in my garden, but it’s Sophie who comes over to tell me where to put a new trinket or a lovely painting.”

Liri’s hand slid into Beth’s.  “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be delightful.  I hear you have some special—”

A thunk sounded from over by the stairs.

“Ah, and that would be my things.”  Moira headed in the direction of the thunk, neatly skirting store displays as she went.  “I’ve brought you a gift or two, if you’ll humor an old lady.”

Liri giggled, already enchanted.  “Does anybody not humor you?”

“Occasionally.”  Twinkling Irish eyes peeked over a shelf.  “But I’ve a bit of a stubborn streak.”

Small talk usually made Beth crazy.  This morning, it was making warm, fuzzy things multiply in her heart.  Moira was precisely the kind of person Liri liked best—opinionated and fascinating.

“First, something for your circle.”  Their guest emerged from behind the shelf, a large potted plant in her hands. 

The yellow flowers that had tumbled down Ginia’s braid cascaded over the side, mixing with something that looked like bluebells.  An orange flower that matched the one Beth had carefully tucked in a book after the Berkeley circle stood tall in the center, ringed by something very purple.

Beth knew not a single flower by name—but she knew their purpose.  “For our hair.”

Moira smiled.  “Yes.  I’m a fanciful old lady, and I rather liked the way everyone looked all decorated for our circle the other day.  And I know how lovely flowers can be in winter.”  She set the pot down in front of Liri.  “Ginia and I spelled it so it will always be blooming, and potted it in good, sensible soil.  It should do well with the care of an able gardener.”

Liri’s fingers reached for a bright pink flower.

“That one’s got a lovely smell.”  Moira leaned down to give it a sniff.  “I was thinking it might suit you.”

It matched Liri’s bright heart.  Beth smiled at the thoughtful old woman who had somehow become a friend.  “I promise not to touch it.” 

“I’ve a second gift.”  Moira disappeared back behind her shelf.  “This is just for the two of you.”

It was Liri who spotted the second pot first.  But it was Beth who cried. 

Two single stems, wound together, blooms facing each other. 

One orange, one bright pink.

-o0o-

What a delightful morning it had been so far—and it appeared the fun was just beginning.  Moira looked around at the impromptu circle that was beginning to form and smiled.  An old Irish witch knew meddling when she saw it.

First, Mellie had shown up with cookies fresh out of the oven.  She’d barely laid them down when Margaret had come looking for her lost hat.  And neither of them had been the least bit surprised to find a strange witch in their midst.

Apparently the witch gossip chain was alive and well in Chicago.

And then Mellie, an odd twinkle in her eye, had suggested a circle.  To welcome the visitor. 

A cookie would have been welcome aplenty—but one look at Liri’s eyes and Moira had kept quiet.  So Liri was assembling candles and herbs, Margaret had found hairpins somewhere and was chasing Mellie around with a lovely stem of yellow flowers, and a befuddled Beth was standing in the middle of the room trying to catch up with her coven.

Liri caught Moira’s eye.  “You’ll be joining us, won’t you?  Is earth magic your strongest?”

“Strong” had never been a word applied to Moira Doonan’s magic.  “Well, I’ve earth and water power both, but not a large helping of either.”

“Would you like to join Margaret, then?”  Beth shrugged, apologetic.  “Our circle is a bit oddly shaped, but we’d love to have you.”

Witches began assembling in the background, no herding required.  Definitely something afoot—and she certainly wasn’t going to stop it.  “Haven’t I done plenty of strange circles in my day?”  Moira spoke briskly, glad to be a part of whatever was brewing.  She walked slowly around the circle and offered a smile to the solid woman standing in the west.  “My powers wane now, so I’ll be appreciating the support.”

“Hmmph.”  Margaret snorted, amused.  “I’ve never had more than a whiff myself.  Maybe between us, we’ll make one decent witch.”

Moira had spent most of her life the weakest witch in her circle.  She reached for Margaret’s hand.  “I think we shall.”

She looked across the circle, feeling the emptiness.  And then saw Mellie’s face crease in a beautiful smile.  Their earth witch stepped over to the curtain and looked at Beth.  “We have a surprise for you.”

Beth frowned, and then smiled, still perplexed, as a young girl walked in.  “Hi, Rhianna.”

Margaret leaned over and spoke in a stage whisper.  “That’s Mellie’s grand-daughter.”

Of course she was.  Two peas from a pod, they were.

Rhianna took a deep breath and held out her hands, fingers moving slightly. 

The ability to see the flows had long since gone from Moira’s sight.  But she knew a spell underway when she saw one.  And if the light purple glow over the child’s hands was any indication, Beth’s circle had just found their air witch.

Margaret sniffled quietly at Moira’s side.

“She’s been practicing hard,” said Mellie, turning to her coven leader.  “And we worked on joins while you were gone.”

The question hung in the air unasked.

Beth stepped forward, shrouded in the authority of a witch in charge, and took Rhianna’s hands in hers.  “You know the words we live by.”