3)

I got up early the next day to help in the kitchen, but before I could do anything else, I got ambushed by my mom.

"We can do something with your hair if you want to. No pressure, really, it's all your choice."

We went up the main stairs in the entrance, the ones that hardly ever got used since Mom knew I didn't want Ami there making comments while my mom tried to do something with what was left of my hair.

Up until I was eleven I had long black hair like my Mom’s Mom, until I started training with my Uncle and it just kept getting in the way, and because I didn’t want it cut short like my Mom’s.

We had a problematic relationship when I was a kid. My Mom had gotten used to doing things her own way, which often only made sense to her, and my Dad let her get away with it since he was often gone for days at a time.

Now that I was older, our relationship had changed. More like a mentor and a student, than the tyrant and the horribly oppressed child.

She frowned at me in the mirror and tapped me on the top of my head. “Hold still, I still have to get the other side.” I eyed the curling iron suspiciously, there was a lot of heat coming off of it.

Mom wasn’t putting in curls but what she called waves, which made my hair have sort of ripples that made it look bigger rather than lying flat, she did this by wrapping some of my hair around the iron and pulling on it which sort of hurt. Comparing the two sides, the other still being flat, I kind of liked it.

"Can I wear makeup?" That go me another finger tap, a little harder, and a sharp look at me in the mirror again. "When you turn fifteen you can start wearing a little bit for practice."

I sighed. "The other girls my age are wearing makeup." I hadn't met any of them yet, but it could be true. My Mom rolled her eyes. "The other girls your age turn into wolves, a wolf wearing lipstick would be silly."

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I tried to imagine Grandpa’s girlfriend in her six and a half foot tall werewolf form with bright red lips while doing a pose, which got another finger tap to stop me from giggling.

When Mom was finally satisfied and released me, it was time to pick out my outfit. I didn’t want to go too fancy since this was a barbecue, and I didn’t have anything fancy anyways. So I spent the next hour picking through and trying on various combinations of what I had available.

I finally settled on my light green tank top and a set of faded jean shorts that fit me fairly well. The top matched some of the colors of my eyes and made my skin tone look more like a copper color than just dark.

The only jewelry I had was the half heart shaped necklace my Grandpa had once bought for my Grandma Briana back when they were together, which I was not going to wear and have to listen to him go on about me wearing it.

I had offered it back to Grandma Brianna once, but she had just looked a little sad as she smiled and told me to keep it since it hadn’t belonged to her in a long, long time.

Before I headed downstairs, I focused on my ears as I took in a breath, then exhaled to let my magic flow from my core to circle around my head, calming my mind and allowing me to reach out with my senses.

In the distance I could hear car doors being closed, and the sounds of voices other than my family.

Our guests had begun to arrive.

The technique to improve my senses was not something the Ichiban side of my family used, but something I had come up with for myself. My uncle had taught me another technique that could sharpen all of your senses, but it wasn't as strong. On the other hand, it didn't make you deaf if there was a sudden loud noise.

Mine only lasted a few moments, but I could call it up as needed. But then I was the granddaughter, the grand niece, and the great granddaughter of witches. I had more magic than anyone on the Ichiban side of my family.

It was only enough to make me into at most a weak witch, especially compared to my sister Ami, but it made me a very good magical warrior.

Witches, and other magic workers, do magic that affects the world around them. Magical warriors do magic that affects themselves. Having weaker magic made it easier to use it on ourselves. Ami’s magic is too big for her to hold inside, which is why she was making things fly around on their own before she started training with the witches.

Now she does it on purpose.

Downstairs I grabbed the big clear glass garden salad bowl and headed outside to the table that Grandpa had covered with ice and towels under a tarp to keep the cold dishes from warming up.

Which is when I spotted the girl that would become my frenemy for the next four years.

I would later know her as Deloris Sanders, granddaughter of Adora Kerras, the town sheriff and leader in denial of the local werewolves. As well as my Grandpa's girlfriend.

Right then she was just the chunky blond in the skimpy summer dress that was arm in arm with Neal Evans.

The guy who I had let my Mom go at my hair with a heated metal rod for.