bands squeezed Beth's heart. So many they'd turned away. So many. Those with only flickers of power, or only love for craft and earth.
She hadn't known they had a place.
Beth looked over at Nat, who was blowing into a slim cylinder of wood, and grabbed the day's second gift with both hands. She would learn of this outer circle, and she would carry it back to the family of her heart. They could grow bigger now. Mellie's daughter. Margaret's best friend. The young man who touched the crystals with longing but had no magic in his fingers.
There was a place for them all.
A small hand tugged her into place in the circle. "We're going to start," Aervyn whispered. "But we're gonna be very polite and wait until you're ready, so you just tell us when we can go, okay?"
So much she'd been given - and they hadn't yet begun.
Beth held hands with a small, flower-festooned boy, shut her eyes, and let the familiar shape of the circle sink into her bones.
Ginia's musical words began the call to earth, the light sounds of young girl mixing with something far older. Sophie's words lay under hers, thousands of years of tradition rising under their feet.
Beth could feel the familiarity of ritual sliding under her skin. So different from her circle - and yet, the same.
Two voices, male and female, called to air. Beth's eyes flew open as wind snapped around the circle.
It's okay. Jamie's mental voice rang strong in her head. We've got more power than your coven circle. This is well within our means to hold.
Her circle had no witch at all for air.
Aervyn squeezed her hand again. It was time to do their job. Breathing deep into her chest, Beth reached for the fiery strands of power that thrummed in her blood.
"We call on Fire, warm song of our hearts
As one year ends and new one starts
A gift we make, of light to see
As we will, so mote it be."
The fire that leaped into her fingers stunned the woman - and dazzled the witch. Never had she felt that kind of sheer energy.
You can hold it. Lauren, with the silky-calm voice of a master circle monitor. There is sun-warmed earth beneath your feet, not Chicago concrete. It feeds you.
Beth marveled. And trusted. There was no other choice.
Carefully, she reached a finger of power toward Aervyn. No one in her circle could have linked with the power she held now. She heard his mental giggle - and then the phoenix landed. Wings of blazing power danced around her puny little stream, cradling it gently.
Show-off. Lauren's mental voice was dry as the Sahara. Somebody ate too many cookies for breakfast.
The wings died down to a well-mannered stream, and the insane magic flying through Beth's veins throttled back to something that merely hummed. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and wondered how to thank the small boy who had just shown her, for a brief moment, what it was like to sing opera.
You just did. Lauren's smile came down the mental channel. He hears you at least as well as I do. You okay - can we keep going?
"Okay" wasn't a word she might ever use again. But she was fine.
She waited for Aervyn to link to Jamie's air - and then realized it had already happened. Apparently some people were more used to birds of fire.
The Sullivans are all well used to circle misbehavior.
Beth was beginning to love Lauren's sane, funny care for the circle.
Happy to serve. They'll call to water now - and then you'll link with Moira. Take good care of her. She's the weakest witch in this circle.
Lilting Irish tones began the call to water, flowing together with those of Lauren's husband.
Beth listened, enchanted - she'd never heard water dance before. Back in Chicago, Margaret was a more solemn kind of water witch.
She sensed Moira's light flow reaching out for hers. And stretched her own power out carefully, heeding the call to caution. She smiled as the flows snapped competently together - Lauren had no idea what "weak" was.
Devin reached out to his niece for the final link of the circle and four strong, balanced flows of power united, a glowing river of shimmering light tied