Such a Witch: A Paranormal Chick Lit Novel: Witch Shapeshifter Romance

by Celia Kyle

  “Present for the happy couple?”

  “Not exactly. It’s really a kind of…um, peace offering.” He opened the lid and showed her an ornate, expensive-looking brass knocker. “Do you think the house will like it?”

  “Let’s find out.” Linking an arm through his, they trotted up the steps, and Louie held out the box to the door.

  “I, um, brought you something.” In a flash, the box was gone, and the marvelous piece of hardware was attached tightly in place in the center of the door. It knocked three times of its own volition, and then the door swung wide and beckoned them in.

  “I’d say you’re going to be just fine,” Aurora said as they stepped inside.

  The place was packed to the rafters, and the house had done a beautiful job of expanding the rooms and raising the ceilings to accommodate the numbers. The whole of it was cozy and wild at the same time.

  Not exactly wanting to sweat through her work clothes, Aurora excused herself and ran up the stairs to her room. Tucking the blazer and skirt neatly away, she stood in her underwear and began pawing through her closet. The house did her the same courtesy it always did, drawing the blinds for her so the neighbors didn’t get an eyeful.

  “Thank you,” she chirped.

  In the end, she pulled out a very fetching, pristine white sweater set with hip-hugging slacks. She could show off her figure a bit without giving away the least bit of skin. Besides, the white might help to distance her from her black-clad brothers milling around on the dance floor.

  Sure enough, when she made it back to the party, there they were. Well, Rhys anyway. As tall as he was, he was easy to spot—that and his signature trench coat-leather pants combo. Ink black, as if he had been poured into them.

  “Well,” she mumbled to herself, “at least it looks like he left his top hat at home.”

  Dancing as if she were glued to his hip was Tiffany. She beamed up at him as though every quip falling from his great height was pure gold. Together, they were one ebony mass of goth perfection. It dawned on Aurora that they actually made a pretty cute couple after all.

  Even if Rhys didn’t seem particularly impressed by Tiffany.

  Oh, he clearly liked her adoring attention, but Tiffany wasn’t the only one with eyes only for him. She was just the most persistent. He stole the occasional glimpse around crowd, looking to see who else might be in play. Aurora rolled her eyes at it all. The grass was always greener for Rhys.

  Trent thumped out a grinding baseline, Lurella leaned into the keys, and The Night Sparrows rocketed into one of their best dance numbers. Creatures of every stripe rushed the floor, descending into a euphoric frenzy as Ryan wailed over the din. Taking a deep breath, Aurora strode into the room and did what she did best at parties.

  Picked up empties.

  It was a noble job, she liked to think. The party couldn’t be more than two hours old, and already, every available surface was crowded with abandoned bottles and cups. Besides, more than anything, Aurora liked to feel useful. And it would save work the following day.

  Besides, letting herself get completely wild would probably turn things really weird, really fast. How would anyone handle it? All the pent-up party energy lingering inside her would be like a supernova of epic proportions.

  Chances were that most of the partiers wouldn’t consider dancing shoulder-to-shoulder with zombies the making of a great night. And if Aurora really went nuts, there was no question reanimation would be on the table. Not that she had ever revived a person, to her great frustration. She’d tried a few times, but it always ended in failure, criticism, and a lovely shame spiral.

  So, in the end, the place would probably just be overrun with zombified animals. And there she’d be, in the center of it all, surrounded by birds, cats and mice, like some sort of Cinderella of the Damned.

  No, thank you.

  She bustled through the throng with her armload of empties and pressed her way into the kitchen. It was thick with people living their best lives. Stepping through the back door, she let a cascade of tinkling bottles fall into the recycle bin. It was already half-full.

  “Hey,” she said to the house, placing a soft hand on the door jamb, “could you...” The bin tripled in size, which was probably closer to what the night would need. “Thank you.”

  Brushing the door lightly, she felt it warm under her fingertips. However uncomfortable she felt with people, Hollow House got her.

  “Really? All white, huh?”

  Aurora knew it was her brother Duval before she even turned around. That honeyed voice, rich with gentle mockery. He was a true second son, eager to distinguish himself, all while still wanting to please. “Trying just a little too hard. Don’t you think, sis?”

  When she turned to face him, she couldn’t contain the immediate bark of laughter and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “I’m trying too hard? This coming from a man in a cape?”

  “What?” He shrugged, looking at his shoulders. “You don’t like it? At least I’m not trying to hide that I’m a necromancer. Unlike some people I could name.”

  He wagged a playful finger in her face, and she batted it away with a good-natured swipe.

  “I’m not hiding anything, thank you very much. I know exactly who I am, and I’m very happy with it.”

  “Sure,” he said, raising his already arched brows. “There’s a Shakespeare quote about a lady protesting, but I forget how it goes.” Aurora swatted his shoulder again, and he let out a good-natured laugh. “Anyway, we’d really love to have you at the next family dinner. Mom was crushed when you bailed on the last one. And the one before…”

  “I’ve been busy,” she said, flushing just a little. “You know how demanding my job is.”

  “Demanding is right. You don’t seem to have time for anything else.” At her sigh, Duval softened a bit. “Look, just try. Okay? Mom would love to see you. Hell, we all would.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ll try. Of course I will.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said, brightening up. “Now, get yourself a drink and live a little! Just a little.” With that, he snuck a kiss on her forehead and dove back into the party.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe a drink or two would be just the thing. And maybe, just maybe, she’d leave the cleaning until tomorrow.

  With a cold gin and tonic in a plastic cup, she sidled back in to see Ryan and his band howling out in full fashion. His petite wings shimmered from the back of his plush, lime green jacket. It was impossible to dislike someone so outrageously comfortable in his own skin.

  And there, in the center of the floor, swaying lightly with his eyes fixed on the lead singer, was Nathan. Even the throng of people couldn’t coax a stitch of clothing on his upper half—though he sparkled as though he’d smeared glittery lotion all over his skin—and shirtless as he was, he was probably a damned sight more comfortable than anyone else on the overheated dance floor. Aurora was beginning to regret choosing a sweater of all things, even as light as it was.

  Thinking back to the escapade with the dead mouse that morning, Aurora felt a pang of remorse. She really needed to apologize more thoroughly to Nathan. Even if it was unintentional, the last thing she wanted was any ill will in the house. So, squaring her shoulders, she made her way through the crowd until she caught his eye.

  “Hey,” she gave a light wave, and he replied with the far cooler version of it. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about this morning.”

  “What?” He held a hand up to his ear. She raised her voice to try to cut above the music.

  “I said, I’m sorry!”

  “What?” He waved her closer. Stepping through the dancers until she was right beside him, she made another attempt.

  “I’m sorry about this morning.”

  An almost comical look of surprise filled his face and his body lurched, as though someone had bumped him, though no one was close enough. And then the entire front of her outfit was drenched in
bright blue liquid. The chill of it on her skin took her breath away, and her eyes bulged at the neon stain ruining her clothes. Nathan wore a victorious smirk. He’d been trying to get her close enough to do that.

  “Oops,” he said blandly. “Guess we’re even now. Besides, maybe now you’ll change into something more appropriate for a party than a sock hop.”

  Burning with humiliation, Aurora turned on her heel, only to bump directly into Kelly.

  “Whoa,” Kelly said. “Dig the new look. Very chic.”

  That only frustrated Aurora more. She wanted to get out of that room before someone else coughed up a smart remark. But before she could move, an electric, magical tingle unlike anything she had ever felt sang through her entire body. The whole room seemed to shimmer. Looking wildly around her, she searched for the source of the sensation. Someone was here, and she needed to see them.

  And there he was.

  Standing just in the entry to the main room was a man with dark blond hair and kind brown eyes she could feel in her core. A wolf shifter. It was impossible to say how she knew that, but she did with a diamond-hard certainty. He spoke to an older man. Kelly whistled through her teeth, snapping Aurora out of her trance.

  “Who’s the new guy? What a hunk.”

  “I, um. I don’t know. I have no idea,” Aurora stammered. “The older man he’s talking to is a triune judge though.”

  “That’s right!” Kelly snapped her fingers and chucked Aurora’s shoulder. “Old judgy-boy asked for a plus-one. Said he’d bring his replacement or something. Something about going on vacation? I wasn’t really listening.” She took a hard pull from the full bottle of whiskey in her hand.

  Aurora wasn’t really listening either. Her gaze was fixed on the handsome shifter next to Judge Bedlow. Then something about him changed. He froze in place, ignoring his companion, and sniffed lightly at the air. Blinking rapidly, his eyes grew wide and he cast away any pretense of manners and quite blatantly sniffed. With searching eyes, he hunted through the crowd, undoubtedly seeking the source of whatever he scented. A thrill in Aurora’s stomach told her she needed to hide from him, but she couldn’t have said why if a gun was held to her head.

  Trouble was she had no way to escape the dance floor without him spotting her. She needed a diversion and she needed it now.

  “Whoa! What the hell?” Nathan’s voice came louder than anyone had ever heard it.

  The whole room stopped, and even the band faltered. Whatever super-cool version of dancing he had just been doing was long gone. Instead, his feet set to tap dancing like he was auditioning for a Broadway show.

  “What the fuck?” he cried as his body moved lithely.

  “Language,” Aurora muttered absently, barely above a whisper.

  Everyone watched his killer moves. High kicks. Jazz hands. Barrel rolls. He was really going for it—all without the benefit of music. Lurella began to tickle at her keyboard, sliding from a Night Sparrows rocker to some good old-fashioned ragtime. Ryan howled with laughter.

  “Lurella, cut that shit out! Somebody help me.”

  It was the most heated Aurora had ever seen him, but it didn’t make sense that he’d need someone to help him. Then it hit her. She was doing it. Somehow, she was forcing Nathan to dance. Any time she thought about a particular step, he copied the image in her brain. She had no idea how she was doing it or—even worse—how to make it stop. All she knew was that it was exactly the diversion she needed.

  The crowd had closed in on Nathan, including the handsome stranger who barely even glanced in his direction, but the mass of bodies hid her exit nicely. As she passed their closest point of approach, her nose caught a strong, intoxicating whiff of him. Who needed gin when you could have that? Looking back one last time as she hurried outside, she drank in every drop of the man before losing sight of him in the throng.

  She didn’t know who he was, but she wanted to find out more than anything. Well, except running away, that is.

  Three

  “Alright, who’s the joker who took the evidence file from my top drawer?” Fisher had been at the judiciary for nearly half an hour but had only just managed to settle into his work station. His question was met with stifled giggles, and Aurora looked around the room at her fellow junior investigators.

  Every one of them had their eyes glued to their desktops, suddenly profoundly invested in whatever work was at hand. Cleon’s shoulders were shaking lightly. Anybody could have seen he was the likeliest culprit. Unfortunately, Fisher wasn’t the sharpest investigator in the room by a handy margin.

  “I’m not kidding,” he whined. “If I don’t have those things in my hand when Paul walks in, he’s going to shit bricks.”

  Language.

  Aurora didn’t dare say it out loud. Not anymore. She’d managed to live down being the only necromancer in the room, but there was no sense lighting up the target on her back. She was already the odd one out for her work ethic and fashion sense. So, she just straightened her chin and did what she could to ignore it.

  “He’s going to shit regardless, man.” Dion leaned back in his chair so far he was in danger of tipping over backward. “When have you ever known Paul Keenan to not lose his shit over something.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not looking for it to be me. Not after last week.” Fisher had a habit of always winding up on the wrong side of things. Aurora would have felt bad for him if he wasn’t always buzzing around, looking for ways to pirate her hard work.

  She’d managed to arrive a full hour before the next junior had darkened the doorway, and had used the quiet to square herself for the day’s work. There was a kind of unspoken game among the juniors. Each morning, they tried to outdo each other by arriving earlier, but none of them could manage to beat Aurora. If she were given to pride, she would have indulged herself.

  That said, this morning had been a particularly tough one. The rager infesting her house had ensured she would now work on two nights of thin sleep. She had asked the house to soundproof her room, but evidently it’d been too invested in the joyous mayhem to pay her much mind. Of course, Kelly would have interpreted it as the house telling her to get her ass back to the party, but whatever.

  It wasn’t as if she would have been able to sleep anyway. Her mind was swimming with images of that sexy shifter who had sent her heart racing. Even in the dim light of the party, he had shone so brightly in her eyes she felt like she could draw his portrait blindfolded.

  Leaning harder over the work at hand, she focused on keeping her mind sharp—and away from the wolf lurking in the shadows of her soul. Dressing the part wasn’t enough. She had to live up to it.

  “You guys all saw the show last night. Right?” Heather changed the subject, and everyone laughed in earnest. Even without needing to lay it out, they all knew what she was talking about.

  “That shit was classic,” Cleon said, clapping his hands. “So much for that too-cool-for-school vampire act. Huh?”

  “Whatever.” Heather shrugged her shapely shoulders, emphasizing the fact that her top was a bit too low-cut for a professional setting. “That guy was trying too hard to be Edward anyway. Whoever took that sparkly, shirtless fucker for a spin did us all a favor.”

  Guilt cut into Aurora’s stomach. She’d apologized to Nathan for the impromptu dancing lessons she’d forced on him, but he was still livid. In fact, he’d been so angry to discover she’d been behind it, she wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut. But dishonesty wasn’t her style.

  She needed to figure out how to make it up to him. Nathan clearly reveled in his studied carelessness, so cracking—make that crumbling—his façade was a transgression of the first order. Even worse, Aurora needed to figure out how to control her powers so she didn’t perpetrate that kind of thing again. If her emotions continued to get the better of her, who knew what she was capable of?

  “I think he’s handsome,” Zander piped up from his little corner. “I mean, built like that and he can dance? Mmm
m, yes please!” He shook his head, thumbing lightly through the sheaf of papers in his hand.

  “Bad news, Romeo. I’ve got five that says he’s taken.” Heather drummed her fingers on her desk and wagged her eyebrows. “He was watching the band awfully hard. Well, one member anyway.” Another round of snickering broke out.

  Aurora would have been grateful to Heather for saving her from being the only female in the room if the curvy witch didn’t so clearly have it in for her. Besides, she dressed in a way that insinuated she wasn’t relying on her abilities as an investigator to rise in the Judiciary. If she had been given to use the word, Aurora might have called her a tramp.

  Silently, of course.

  “Does anyone have the notes on the compounds in the stolen potion?” All eyes spun to Aurora. It was a simple request, but it clearly rang in the room as if she were chastising them for not working.

  “Ooh, ooh! Teacher! Can we have more homework?” Cleon stretched his arm up in his chair, mimicking the snot-nosed kiss-ass he saw Aurora as. Her cheeks burned at the mockery, but she kept her head high.

  “I’ve got them,” Gotho walked over, proffering a sheet of paper.

  He was the quiet one in the bunch. Well, next to her. They had a kind of kinship, and Aurora felt like he was in her corner, even if the others were forever sniping at whoever piped up. She also suspected he’d like to push the professional relationship into something more but was too shy. For which she was grateful.

  “Thank you.”

  Everyone else went back to tossing barbs around while Gotho hovered for a moment, reading over her shoulder. Running her eyes down the list, Aurora wondered just what was so important about this particular potion. It was powerful, sure—but why some petty thief would single that one out seemed strange far more valuable ones had been surrounding it.

  “What are you thinking?” Gotho asked quietly.