Charms for a young girl with stirrings of power. "I don't think that's ever been in doubt."
More verbal dancing. Beth scowled at a tiny silver elf. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
Liri's incantation stopped mid-breath.
"If that's okay. I'll ask Mellie to come help with the shop."
Liri still wasn't breathing.
Beth tried not to throw the elf - it wasn't his fault he wore a perpetual smirk. "Say something? Please?"
"Yesterday changed things." Calm hands smoothed pink silk one last time and closed the box. "I'm glad you're going."
And finally, Beth knew what she wanted to say. "I'm terrified. They came for me, Liri. With magic. Fetched me to a place full of people and faces." The tears were finally rising - she could feel them, along with aching frustration. "I don't know where I was. But wherever it was, I didn't belong."
"Oh, sweetie."
Beth sank into a soft shoulder and felt arms of solace wrap around her. It had taken two years to stop cringing when Liri hugged her. Another two to feel comforted. And Liri had never stopped quietly offering.
The woman who had somehow figured out how to be her friend and then her lover stepped back and gave Beth's hand a businesslike squeeze. "Go get some tea and whatever concoction you have us snacking on down here these days. I'll find the dragon a home that doesn't involve getting his tail dripped on by a water lily."
The moments alone assembling the ritual elements of a cup of tea were calming, and let Beth line up her words in the procession that would make them possible to say. She picked up a bowl of homemade granola. Nutritionally complete - she'd run the spreadsheet analysis herself. Far too many witches supported their magic with sugar overdoses.
Not her circle. At least not while she was watching. She might have the most fragile brain chemistry in the group, but that didn't mean the rest should be abusing their neurotransmitters.
Liri grinned when she spied the laden tray. "Experimenting on us again, are you?"
"This one's more flavorful than the last batch." Beth hoped. Witches might have similar energy needs to elite athletes, but they were a lot more opinionated about how their snacks tasted.
Long fingers picked a few tidbits from the bowl. "Just don't tell me what's in it. I don't want to know."
"An excellent blend of essential ingredients for magic," said Beth dryly, delighted when Liri laughed. Jokes rarely came naturally to her, and this one had surprised them both. "And a smart witch never shares her ingredients list."
That caused a second round of laughter, one that took Beth a moment to understand. A stray giggle snuck out. "No eye of newt, I promise."
"Actually, this batch is pretty good."
Beth already knew that - second handfuls were always a good sign.
Liri poured tea into two cups. "So tell me what crept up on you in the middle of the night."
It was time to talk about feelings. In halting words, Beth tried to explain the impossible sensation of being sucked through space and time - and landing in someone's living room. "It was like a dream. Except cold, and full of all these people who wanted things from me."
"You feel that way about our customers, too. Strangers are hard for you." Liri frowned, spoon slowly stirring her tea. "Lauren said you would be welcome."
"I think they tried." Beth shrugged, frustrated that her memories were so fogged by fear. "But there were so many eyes looking at me." She blew out a breath, embarrassed. "I haven't panicked like that since I was in middle school."
For a girl with undiagnosed Asperger's, middle school had been every kind of hell. And eyes had always been her nemesis.
"Are you sure you want to go?" Liri's words were soft. A way out.
"Jamie's eyes have been haunting me for twenty months." The last thing she needed was four more witchy watchers waking her up at night. "It's time."
"Okay."
The steady, easy support made it possible to voice the rest. "I need to go - but I don't know if I can do it."
Liri's eyes turned the stormy gray that meant she was worried. "I believe you can."
That faith hadn't wavered a single day in the last