A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) by Debora Geary Page B

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