Page 9 of If The Shoe Fits

Usually blue and bright, my magic has been dulling. Lackluster as of late.

Sighing, I ready myself for my monthly strengthening of the spells and wards around my ancestral home. For some reason, we may use magic to protect our space.

It doesn’t fall under the whole personal gain conundrum, which is good. Without my parents, I am the only one living here, and it is a big house.

Quite lonely for just me.

I think it’s because magic is finite, there is only so much to go around that we are given some allowance to use spells and casts to guard what is ours.

I never see the gold eyes watching me from beyond my garden gate or I might have been embarrassed as I dance around nude as the day I was born, casting spells, and thanking the Goddess for her harvest.

This is my zone.

My safe space.

Here, I refuse to think about my job, my students, or my sexy boss.

Not for the moment, anyway.

The weekend is finally here, and I mean to enjoy it.

No brats and no pining for men—or Wolves—that I can’t have.

A breeze dances around me, stroking my skin and lifting my hair. I smile and gasp as the sound of a Wolf’s howl echoes around the cul de sac where my house sits.

Frozen, I turn slowly, shivers racing up my spine, but whatever I think is there, I don’t see it.

“It’s nothing,” I tell myself, but my heart is thundering inside my chest.

I turn around and send a spark of magic flitting about the yard.

There’s nothing there and I frown.

But I could have sworn.

chapter three

Isigh heavily as I make my way to the faculty lounge, feeling the weight of the day settling on my shoulders.

A pop quiz for my juniors seemed like a good idea at the time, but the chorus of groaning that followed could’ve powered an entire wind farm.

It’s the same every year when I teach this lesson.

Here’s the gist.

I ask each student to pick a side and argue either for or against supernaturalkind’s moral and ethical obligations in the human world.

Should Supes keep out of the Normals’ problems or get involved?

It’s always a lively topic, full of passion, debates, and occasionally a desk that accidentally catches fire (thank you, Felix and your uncontrollable pyromancy).

While I’m genuinely curious to see what my students come up with this time, let’s be honest—I can wait.

Specifically, I can wait until after I’ve had my break, a cup of tea, and maybe a quick daydream about a life where faculty meetings don’t exist.

As I push open the door to the faculty lounge, I’m immediately greeted by the scents of lemon oil and fresh coffee.

My headache begins to ease as the calming aroma washes over me.

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