My only real hope was for two or three people to answer the add I’d put online for roommates wanted. I hoped to rent out the other three rooms, or at least two of them. Then I’d be able to afford the bills and mortgage payments with a single job instead of two, while I waited for my art to take off.

  I might even have time to relax and enjoy myself, something near and dear to my heart. I’d always worked hard, but also been one to enjoy the quiet moments and have fun when I could.

  Breakfast consumed, I put the dishes in the sink, then wandered into the bright sunlit studio.

  A calmness came over me as I approached the easel, and I started mixing paints. This was what I was always meant to do, unfortunately I was more likely to win the lottery than actually make good money from it. Most artists weren’t well paid.

  I found myself putting aside my current project and attaching a new blank sheet to the easel. Then I got to work, losing myself in it. All track of time was lost, as I worked almost feverishly, the soft golden light of the sun seemed even brighter today, as I filled in the picture in my mind’s eyes.

  Hours passed, seemingly in moments, and I stepped back and stared in amazement at the painting. It was of Chicago in ruins, the two women I dreamed standing side by side on the left edge, looking at the destruction with a deep sorrow in their eyes. The painting evoked the emotion.

  Then I frowned, as I saw it was cloudy outside, rain threatening. I looked down at myself in astonishment.

  The warm glowing golden light hadn’t been the sun at all.

  It’d been me. And I was still doing it.

  I held up my hand and focused, and the light got brighter, yet didn’t blind me. I was so lost in amazement, that it was the smell of burning paper that brought me out of it. I looked up in shock, as the edges of the perfect painting I just made were curling and blackening. The light went out, and the room grew dark, as I moved forward and patted the embers out.

  I walked inside and sat down on the couch. No longer able to ignore it. I had the muscles of an athlete, my hangover went away too fast, and I’d just painted a masterpiece while glowing like the damned sun, then burned the edges of the masterpiece ruining it.

  Oh, and I had vivid dreams of the end of the world, and two sexy women.

  I’d been aware of the supernatural all my life, fascinated with it really. The supernatural world had been revealed on the night of my birth, which meant I’d never not known a world with the supernatural in it. There was a lot online about them, I even knew a few basic witch spells, single word cantrips that could be found with a single google search, not that they’d ever worked for me when I tried them. Witch magic also needed charms or small pouches of herbs and other magical ingredients. A sacrificial component of the spell, that was consumed when the spell was cast. A literal sacrifice to the gods, from where their magic flowed.

  Regardless, it’s something the witches had done to a purpose. Most spells required too much power for anyone but a full-blooded witch to work, but regular people with witch ancestors in their bloodlines could cast low powered cantrips even with diluted blood. It was as they say, good press, and it’d gained them a lot of allies, some of which had taken on the wiccan lifestyle.

  But I also knew none of what I’d experienced that morning lined up with the known supernatural races. Shifters healed fast, but they didn’t glow like the sun. Witches could, but they’d have to cast a spell, and fae didn’t fit. The idea of vampires glowing like the sun was of course, ridiculous, since the sun killed them.

  But clearly, I was a supernatural somehow, even if I hadn’t been one the first twenty years of my life. Or at least, it hadn’t been apparent, like my power had been released on my twenty-first birthday, which was… almost ten hours ago now.

  I don’t know why I tried it. I certainly didn’t have an herb pouch with the correct mixture in my hand, but I muttered a simple levitation cantrip that came to mind. My hand glowed golden, and a coaster started to rise into the air, off of the top of the stack on the end table.

  I blinked. Now I was really confused. I couldn’t be a witch, so how did I just use witchcraft without an herb pouch?

  Before I could even consider this new wrinkle of self-exploration, there was a knock at the door.

  I got up and shook my head, then headed over and opened the door, to yet another shock.

  I just stared for a long moment. The face of an angel, dark blue eyes, and gorgeous midnight black shimmering ringlets covering her shoulders and flowing down her back. She had a perfect body, half her creamy C cup cleavage on display in the cute sundress. She looked maybe two years younger, nineteen or twenty tops.

  The cute white sundress from my dream, on the same angelically beautiful woman with a perfectly proportional body from my dream. So I could perhaps be forgiven for my slight lapse and social faux pau in staring a little too long.

  But she didn’t seem to even notice, because she was looking at me like she’d just seen the answer to life, and then blushed as she turned her eyes away to peruse the yard.

  I got a handle on myself, “Hi. Can I help you…” I trailed off.

  She smiled as she looked back at me, “June. You’re Mark?”

  I nodded, “Yes.”

  She grinned, “It’s nice to meet you. I read the ad for the room. I probably should’ve called first, but I was only a few blocks away. Is it still available?”

  I said, “Yes, come on in, let me show you around. There’re three spare rooms to pick from, the only downside is we will need to share a bathroom. There’s only one full bath, and a half downstairs. I might break down the smallest bedroom next to the master, add a new bathroom and walk-in closet, but that’s for the future.”

  She nodded, “I feel like we’ve met somehow.”

  I laughed, startled, “I’m getting that too, but I know we haven’t. Unless you’re going to art school, I just graduated.”

  She shook her head cutely, “Nope, I’m an author actually. Wrote my first book at fifteen, and I’m doing well enough I decided to skip college.”

  “Yet, you want to rent a room?”

  She blushed, then shrugged, “It’s time to move out of the parent’s house, but I don’t want to live alone. I could probably afford my own place, but I’d rather have a roommate. This place is old, but that has its charms, and it has a huge backyard.”

  I nodded, “The plumbing and electric is sound, the last owner had that all redone about fifteen years ago. The roof is new as well, just five years old. I plan to fix it up, but I just moved in myself. Well, come see for yourself.”

  I started with the upstairs first, and she immediately took to the second large room in the back of the house with a backyard window. She seemed delighted with the old-fashioned architecture, and I kept catching her staring at me and blushing.

  She confided as she walked down the stairs behind me, “I felt drawn to this house, somehow. You too. My morning has been strange, honestly weird.”

  I shook my head, “Join the club. Do you… have problems with the supernatural?”

  She shook her head violently, then said in a worried tone, “You?”

  I chuckled, “Nope.”

  She bit her lip, “Yeah, the reason it’s time to move out is I woke up glowing golden. I suppose I should let you know, before we agree to anything. I have no idea what it means. My parents don’t like supernatural beings, so… well twenty-one years at home is probably too long anyway.”

  I frowned, “You’re twenty-one?”

  Well, I looked young for my age as well. She really did look younger than that. Maybe we both had good genes, or it was an intrinsic part of what we were.

  She nodded, “Today, around one in the morning, I think. I feel like I’m meant to be here.”

  I shook my head, and I took her hand and led her through the kitchen. It felt natural to do it, although I was a little surprised that she didn’t object. I hadn’t planned to take her hand, I’d just done it, and I felt the same thing I felt in the dream, strongly.

  She was mine.

  When we got to the studio, I was halfway through explaining my morning, in brief bullet points. She’d opened up, it only felt fair for me to do so as well.

  Then I waved at the painting, “I drew that this morning, of the women I saw in the dream, as well as a ruined Chicago.

  She looked at it and gasped, “That’s me. Even the same dress I’m wearing.”

  I shrugged, a little self-consciously, and released her hand.

  She said, “My gold light doesn’t burn. Hmm, what’s the spell you used?”

  I did it again, my hand glowing after reciting the words, and a fine paint brush lifted off the desk for a moment, before dropping back down on it.

  She tried it, and it worked.

  “I’ll take the room.”

  I nodded, “You’re sure?”

  She said softly, “I belong here, I feel it in my bones.”

  “In this house?”

  She blushed, and met my eyes, “No, with you. I don’t know what that even means yet. When I look at you, I see…” she shook her head, “I can’t explain it, not without sounding crazy. Let me write you a check and sign the agreement, then I need to go home and pack. I should be back tomorrow morning?”

  Could she feel like she belonged to me too? I understood her reticence if that was the case, that wasn’t a popular sentiment among modern women, after all. Much less admitting it to a man you didn’t know and had just met.

  Despite the intense chemical attraction that we both clearly had for each other, I thought the feeling might be about our magic and what we were. Still, the sexual tension between us was amazing to me, I’d never attracted a ten before, never mind so powerfully. Still, that didn’t mean I should assume anything either. Clearly, she was mine in some way related to our magic and whatever kind of supernatural we were, but that didn’t give me rights to her body.

  No need to rush, despite my cock’s vote to hit on her now, I was a better man than that and she was not an object, she was a person and a seemingly lovely one at that. It disturbed me that I even had that thought, a reminder of sorts from my conscience.

  “Sure. I have a few contracts printed out and a pen in the den office.”

  I showed her the rest of the downstairs first, and then led her into that room. It was a bit bemusing how fast it all was, she was eager to sign, write the check, and go home to pack. I wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, but I wasn’t going to pry about every detail of her life. She’d tell me when she wanted to share, while I felt she was mine I also didn’t feel a need at all to run her life or have her constantly at my side. Nothing like that, other than that feeling it was all pretty normal, for two people with an intense chemical attraction.

  Also, I probably wouldn’t have to find a second job. My current one besides trying to break into the art scene, was fairly flexible. Interior painter and handy man of sorts, and I could schedule that business around my art. Today was just a day off, which was probably a good thing.

  Chapter Two

  The shower had cleared my head, and the delightful scent of June. She’d smelled like strawberries and wildflowers, if in a subtle way. I pulled on a nice pair of jeans and a pullover collared shirt, and I paused at the front door and closed my eyes.

  I could feel June. Still. I bet that if I followed the feeling I’d find the house she grew up in. I focused on the sense of her for a moment, and a picture appeared in my mind’s eyes. She was kneeling down in her room, her hair up in a wildly thick and curly ponytail presumably to keep it out of her eyes. She was also in a pair of yoga pants and a sleep shirt as she packed some things into a box.

  I was so startled by it I jumped, and the view of her faded. Damn, what else could I do with this golden power, and why could I do witch spells?

  I had no idea on the first question, save trying things out and stumbling upon the answers, which I’d have to try to do later. The latter question was the reason I was leaving the house. I headed out and locked the door, jumped in my old minivan filled with painting equipment and various other tools, and headed out.

  There was a store not far from my house. Candle Dreams was in a strip mall, it was a candle shop that also sold herbal remedies and outright spells. It belonged to an old witch, one I’d met before a few years back, when I’d been curious to try a spell or two to see if I had witch blood in my family line.

  Which I hadn’t.

  I pondered for a moment, trying to dredge up the old lady’s name, it’d been six years now. She must’ve been in her eighties now, and short and petite at five foot four. She had light blue eyes, I think. Umm, Brenna, that was it. She’d been kind to me, so I figured she might help me again, if she could. At least help me figure out what the hell I was, if not all I could do, and explain how I could do witch magic without an herb pouch or a charm.

  Also, what spells if any she was willing to share with me.

  There was a lot of supernatural lore and facts online, but I knew there were a lot of secrets, and that witches never shared their powerful family spells with others, never mind posting them in the clear online. It was my hope that my answers would be one of those secrets, and she’d be willing to share.

  The plan had occurred to me in the shower. I also planned to fill in June on anything I learned tomorrow, maybe over lunch after she was settled in.

  I pulled into the parking lot and pulled into a spot, noting that the store was indeed open.

  Thank the gods she was still kicking.

  I opened the door and got out, locking the minivan behind me and heading into the store. Strangely, I felt magic caressing me, at least I assumed it was magic, and whatever it found, it retreated peacefully.

  Brenna stood behind the counter, and she stared at me in shock.

  “Umm, HI, Brenna. You might not remember me…”

  She interrupted, “Mark Levinson, as if I could ever forget such a charming and handsome young man brightening my day.”

  I smiled and shook my head. I’d completely forgotten the part where she’d flirted with me and bemoaned that she wasn’t sixty years younger.

  “Right, so funny thing this morning, maybe I should just show you. I think I need your advice.”

  She nodded intently, “You grew up the rest of the way very well, Mark.”

  I chuckled, then cast a levitation spell. She didn’t even look at the pen that was floating, she was too busy staring in shock at the golden light in my palm.

  “Any idea how I did that without an herb pouch, and what the hell I am. Also, any spells you might be open to sharing?”

  She rushed around the counter and shuffled to the door, where she locked it and flipped the be right back sign.

  She waved, “Come with me.”

  I followed her to the back of the room and through the door, then into a workroom that had a circle with symbols engraved on the floor. There were shelves of herbs, as well as a work bench with a mortar and pestle on it. There were also piles of empty herb pouches and stacks of small blank charms.

  A charm was just a small diamond shape, in wood or metal, or an actual gem. It could carry an active spell once cast with an herb bag. A student might buy a spell to stay alert during study week. They didn’t last forever, but most charms lasted at least a few days.

  “You know what I am?”

  She snorted, “I’m surprised you don’t. Have you done anything else?”

  “Umm, had a vision dream, saw something at a distance, painted a masterpiece, and then promptly ruined it by burning it with my light.”

  She tilted her head, “Oh, my. Give me a moment,” she waved, “Can you focus and light the candles. Be careful, don’t burn down my shop.”

  I chuckled, then focused on lighting the candle, using just enough heat to do it, instead of light. My whole body didn’t glow golden, just my hand, and a small droplet of light shot from my hand and lit the candle. It wasn’t quite perfect, I’d blackened the whole tip.

  She nodded, “That’s… oh my. I will tell you what you are, and give you all my spells, if you do a spell for me. One that won’t bring you harm. I can’t tell you what your other powers may be, but I have a few guesses we can try as well.”

  “What spell?”

  She shuffled through a desk draw, and she took out a small grimoire. The binding was white, and she started to flip through it, until she found the page, then quickly wrote out the words onto a sheet of paper. The spell was much more complicated, including how to prepare the herb pouch, but I supposed that wasn’t necessary for me.

  “Just read it?”

  She held out a hand, it looked old, wrinkled, and delicate, so I took it gently.

  She nodded, “Now read it. You’ll probably feel an unpleasant tingle, just ignore it.”

  “What does it do?”

  She winked, “You’ll see,” with naughty promise in her tone.

  I blew out a breath, flirty old woman. Then I read the spell. I had no doubt she hadn’t lied to me, witches don’t lightly promise things like no harm, when they say it they mean it. An evil witch might, but I’d done a lot of investigating on the internet before approaching her, and I was positive Brenna was one of the good ones.

  When I finished reciting it, I did feel an unpleasant tingle, like something was rushing out of me and into her. At first, nothing seemed to be happening, but then I watched in amazement as her skin started to tighten, become soft and silken in appearance, and all her age lines started to lighten and disappear.

  It was only then that I recognized the old-fashioned brown dress she had on. The one the hot and exotically beautiful redhead was wearing. The second woman in the dream. The one that wasn’t mine, but that I could have if I chose.

  I recognized it in her light blue eyes then too, and sure enough her silver hair grew body and waves, looked healthier, and turned a bright red auburn in color. Her breasts firmed up and filled out the dress, B cups, and they looked to be torpedo shaped, and when she moved into me and hugged me I could see her tight little bubbled ass. Her face was severely beautiful, and exotic, her skin a light golden brown.