Shards: Book One of the Anderian Series

Chapter 11: Witches

While Jac gaped at me, I kicked open the door to the supernatural murder house, mostly because I desperately needed to unleash some of the pent up rage the last few hours had stirred up, but also because I hoped like hell someone would attack me and give me a real excuse to start kicking and swinging fists. Was it stupid considering my opponents were likely armed with spells, fangs, claws—or, I shuddered—spikes? Did I normally stay avoid starting fights with supernatural creatures for all the above reasons?

Yes, but right now I needed a fight more than I needed anything else, and even though it made more sense to sink my fist into Jac's stupidly handsome face, I refrained because my lady parts would be disappointed if I so much as left a mark on said stupidly handsome face.

Not that I ever looked at his face when we were doing the deed. It was too intimate, and aside from the occasional wall sessions, I preferred him to hit from behind. I considered that little detail. I should probably see a therapist about that.

An energy blast buzzed past my head, and I dropped to the ground, the scent of singed hair filling my nose. Blinking to clear my vision, I saw two people in the foyer, their hands raised, spells on the tips of their tongues and fingers. I widened my eyes like a psycho and grinned, lunging for them, only to be stopped when Jac grabbed me around the waist and held me against him.

"Put me down," I screamed. The witches exchanged an unreadable look and lowered their hands. "No, no, no. You want to fight me."

"This is Bria?" The woman said, leaning against the wall and appraising me. She twirled her finger around her temple. "Definitely Touched and touched."

"Har, har," I said, my heel contacting Jac's shin. He dropped me, and I smoothed my hands over my hoodie. "You're a comedic genius."

Jac rubbed his leg and rolled his eyes. "Bria, meet Tiffany. She's a Cosmic witch." He pointed at the other figure. "That's Kay. They're a Psychic witch."

There was an expectant pause. I pointed at myself. "Are you waiting for me to introduce myself? Because I thought, you all knew who I was."

"Let's go into the living room," Kay said, their expression blank as they led the way down the damp hall.

The smell from the porch did indeed extend to the inside, but it stopped abruptly when we walked into the living room. That wasn't the only thing that changed. Gone was the shag carpet and the stained wallpaper. Gleaming espresso hardwoods stretched across the entire room, and warm white shiplap covered the walls—the real deal, not the prefabricated stuff women bought at the department store after going down the farmhouse chic rabbit hole.

An oversized sectional took up most of the space, but two navy armchairs faced one another in front of the fireplace. It was big enough I could have walked inside of it, and the generous warmth it put off immediately thawed my frigid skin.

Kay perched on the edge of the couch, crossing their leg and pointing at an armchair. Tiffany plopped down next to them and put her combat boots on the coffee table. Her blazing blue eyes fastened on me, and I held her gaze as I sat. I would never admit this to anyone. I was glad Jac stopped the fight before it escalated because Tiffany, with her muscular thighs and arms, would have been a challenge even without her magic.

No one spoke right away, and I assessed the energy in the room. This place was old, but the furnishing were newer. The sofa would have the strongest echoes, which made sense considering most people would gravitate toward it, and most of the energy was soothing, only the faintest buzz of negativity beneath it all, which calmed me somewhat. How bad could these people be if their home was this calm?

"So," Kay said at last. "You've made quite the splash on the internet today."

"And I'm assuming you think it's my fault?" I replied. Jac bristled in the chair across from me, but I ignored him, choosing to tug my hoodie over my head. Now that we were out of the cold, its wet weight was growing uncomfortable. The shirt beneath it was soaked through as well, but the lighter material meant it would dry quickly in front of the fire.