Which Witch Switch by Julie Steimle (romance novel chinese novels .txt) 📕

“Are you ok?”

Shaking my head, I wiped the red acidic goop from the corner of my mouth. “No. They made me drink the foulest stuff.”

He smiled at me, straightening up. “Foul as in something you didn’t want to drink?”

I nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

Though I didn’t expect the eight teenagers to kill Danna, I did not expect them to just let her go after merely frightening her. But they did. Danna ran off swearing at them with a torrent of epithets, casting me a glare that said she would get back at me for what I had done—or possibly for what I had not done. And though I was still not afraid of her, I felt ill realizing how long she had manipulated me.

I turned to the teenagers that had been the most like something from a dream, staring at their peculiar multi-colored armor, glasses and shining swords. In the streetlight, they just did not seem real. “Why did you let her go?”

Jessica sheathed her sword. “What could we do? We’re not the police. Without evidence, we can’t have her arrested, and the town cops already think we are a bunch of lunatics.”

Frowning with an annoyed cringe, I retorted, “Well, they kidnapped me.”

“True,” Andrew replied, peering at me with the same searching look as this morning, though this time his imps had quit shouting to stake me. “But do you have more witnesses than just your own?”

Blinking, I thought over it and nodded. “Yeah. I do. My best friend Jane Bennetti was with me when Danna first approached me back home. And when Ms. Whittaker stopped me on the street, both Jane and my sister were with me. That, and Mr. McDillan saw Danna at the school.”

The boy in blue armor nodded. “That could do it.”

“She has plenty of evidence. Eve emailed me that night and asked me about Coven Inc.,” Rick added with a nod.

“She emailed me also,” Michael said, shouldering his sword. “Which is why I’m here.”

I turned to him. “How did you get here so fast?”

Grinning at me, Michael said, “Mr. McDillan also contacted me when he found out you disappeared. And my dad owns a private jet.”

The other seven rolled their eyes, though Rick grinned, his father just as rich.

We started down the road under the light of street lamps, Rick leading us towards his home as he used his cell phone to call his father. Andrew handed Rick back his shirt. As Rick pulled it on, he also spoke to his dad.

“Dad, it’s me. We got Eve with us. She’s ok now.” He winked at me, tugging the shirt down to cover his stomach. “Can she stay over for dinner? And for the night?”

I couldn’t hear what his father was saying, but Rick laughed.

“Yeah, I know. But she is safest at our place.” He listened as his father spoke, nodding. “Ok, I’ll invite the others too.”

He put his hand over the receiver. “Hey, guys, my dad is offering for all of us to hang out at my place tonight. Do you want to come?”

Daniel kicked the curb. “I can’t. My dad really hates it when I go off at nights.”

Rick gave him one of his wry smirks that was just so wolfish. “Just tell him his boss invited his son to dinner. I’m sure he might change his mind.”

“His boss?” I looked to him as Rick nodded.

“Yeah.” Rick chuckled. “My dad’s company, Deacon Enterprises, provides most of the jobs for this town.”

“My mom works for him also,” Jessica said, sidling right next to me.

“Not your dad?” I asked.

She cringed. “No. My dad doesn’t live here. They’re divorced.”

A police car pulled up, driving along side us. The cop inside peered at our faces, calling out to one of us. “Andy, what is your group of punks up to now?”

Andrew peered in the car window and smiled. “Oh, nothing. Just wrangling with the witches again.”

The cop emitted a moan, cast me a shuddering glance, shook his head then drove off. His imps had been suggesting he take them in for being a public disturbance, but he didn’t seem likely to listen to them at all since I was also covered in blood. For some reason he did not think I was in his jurisdiction.

It was funny how casual the conversations between these Holy Seven kids were, especially after the battle and the ending of the curse. As I walked with them down the nighttime street, knowing this was the Seven I was born to kill, I realized that I really didn’t want to do that at all now. In fact, the instinctive drive was gone. Whatever they did to me, it didn’t just end the spell that made me attack them. It also vaporized the actual desire for the taste of blood. I was free, and it felt wonderful.

The party at Rick’s mansion started the moment we crossed over the threshold. The household staff ushered everyone into the enormous game room where all of Rick’s pals stripped off their armor in front of the big screen TV not far from the pool table as the house staff brought in chips, dip, and pizza with several liters of soda. However, I didn’t stay with them long. Mr. Deacon came into the room and shook his head when he saw me covered in blood and black leather, then he had his head of housekeeping take me upstairs where I could bathe and put on a change of clean clothes.

That shower was the most wonderful thing ever. It washed off all the greasy sunblock, the remains of the smelly hex marks and my blood-stained skin. It also soothed the burns I now had on my forehead, both my hands, both my feet and both of my legs. The one on my palm still stung, though, to remind me of my promise, although perhaps it stung because the Seven’s still did. Jessica later explained to me (as she bandaged up my cuts and burns in the adjoining guest room to the bath while everyone else watched a movie) that their palms burned whenever they were around supernatural things. Even Rick being around them made their hands sting, though my presence gave them the worst burn yet.

I peered at the bandages on my hands then felt the one on my forehead as I dressed into a pair of Rick’s pajamas. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to have a sun-shaped scar on my forehead from now on, does it?”

Jessica snickered, tossing the remaining bandages onto the bed. “Let’s hope not.”

We joined the others in the game room where all the boys were now relaxed, though some were still wearing pieces of their weird armor. Each one of them rose and smiled at me.

“It looks like we have a new friend,” Andrew said, grinning. “We discussed it, and we thought we ought to introduce ourselves to you properly. I’m Andrew Cartwright, but everyone calls me Red.”

He extended his burning hand for me to shake. I shrugged, my palm still stinging, but I took it. Though it burned, it was more like the friendly burn as before. Each boy went up to me and introduced himself, adding on an unusual nickname.

“Daniel Smith. They call me Swift.” The boy in brown shook my hand, peering over my shoulder to make sure my wings were not out.

“James Peterson, Sir Iron Fist.” As the stocky boy in green shook my hand, he proved he had an iron grip by nearly crushing my fingers.

The boy in blue adjusted his glasses before taking my hand and nodding. “Sir Strength Heart, Edward White, but call me Eddie.”

I laughed and nodded back. “Ok.”

The boy who had taken off his hockey stuff, the same one who had the garlic earlier extended his hand. “Peter McCabe. Ex-zombie.”

I held back.

He blinked at me. “What’s wrong?”

Cringing, I said, “I can still smell the garlic on your hands. I’m allergic.”

Dropping his hand and rolling his eyes as he hung his shoulders, he walked back from me. “I’ll go wash my hands….”

“Use lots of soap,” I called after him.

The others laughed at him, especially Rick who agreed with me. Then the thin, blond haired boy in gray walked up to me.

“I’m Sir Cooly. Semour Dawson.”

I shook his hand.

He held on though, looking me right in the eye. “I’m the oldest here. I’ve seen lots of battles and monsters in my day. If I didn’t trust you, you would not be alive right now. Don’t betray that.”

When he let go, I had the curious feeling that he wasn’t lying, though he looked younger than Andrew.

Jessica came up to me, grinning. “Jessica Mason. They call me the chosen one, but don’t listen to them. You know Michael Toms, Sir Long Shanks.”

Michael waved to me, grinning.

I waved back and chuckled. Then I turned to her and asked, “Why all the funny names?”

Jessica’s laugh had a fresh and good-natured sound. “That is a long story, but I guess we could tell you it. But let’s have dinner first.”

I followed her to the remains of the pizza, sniffing the air and then peering at it. “Does it have garlic?”

“In this house?” Rick said, finding a spot on the floor next to Jessica. Of course. A werewolf would not order pizza with garlic in it.

We all sat down and talked for the rest of the night. Peter eventually returned with a garlic-free hand, sat right next to me and shook my hand, introducing himself once more. We hit it off.

It was strange sitting there among so many ‘normal’ teenagers being accepted for what I was. Rick was laughing, sharing wild stories about his misadventures with his best friend Andrew, whom he called Abey as Andrew called him Howie. It was wonderful. In fact, if it were not for the growing feeling of homesickness for my family especially, I would have wanted to stay in Middleton Village forever.

Home.

Michael Toms and I flew back to California in his dad’s private jet. Can I just tell you how cool a private jet is? All this room, comfortable chairs and tables, and a space to lie down. We landed at the airfield just outside of town. My entire family was on the airfield waiting for me with Jane and Mr. McDillan, including Will who had taken a break from college to see