Jennifer Griffin

I liked the house. It was quiet and had enough space. I would be all by myself, too, which meant, freedom, I could do as I wished, a feeling every nineteen-year-old would love.

When my grandmother showed me the vision that I should move to another city, I rejected it. I was reluctant for a whole day. But I told my mother, and then she told me to do as our dead grandmother had said.

I needed to move to California. That was my grandmother — always showing me things, always directing me. She showed a vision — this city, the river Cesar E. Chavez National Monument, the signboards. She meant that moving here was important to develop more power. It was a good move anyway because I applied to universities in two different cities—California and Chicago (where I grew up).

So I rented a house in California, paid for it to be cleaned, and moved there two days later.

I drove down here all by myself because my mother had to be at work.

It was a lot quieter than I expected, but I loved it anyway—the quieter, the better when deciding where a witch should choose to live.

I walked around the rooms. The main living room was spacious and had long, tall windows. I could sit there and watch the lonely street; in the last couple of minutes, only some birds had flown past.

I believed the things the old witches had told me. I believed all I needed to do to develop my power was in this city.

This was what my grandmother did. She wanted me here.

The bedroom had the same length as my room in Chicago. The best part of it was that I had no neighbor here. When I opened the window to the left, no perverts were looking out his room for a naked lady. It was just trees and a small river running down. There were houses, but they were far away. Anyone would need a telescope to see from there.

The other room in the house was the “secret room.” It had no windows. I smiled as I stepped into the darkness, using the light from my phone in one hand. I waved my hand at the little lamp on the table, and it turned on. I wanted a green hue and got it by waving my hand again.

I sat on the floor and looked at the ceiling. Then, closing my eyes, I held my breath and released it slowly. I could hear a loud sound like a woman's voice, heavy and burdened with pain. A good pain. It was the type of sound a witch would make when her magic worked. When I opened my eyes, the wind blew gently, shaking the chandelier above my head, and the metal clinked against one another.

I got up and turned around and round.

It would take some time to get used to the new house. The secret room still needed more things — oils, feathers, pots for mixing herbs. My mother said these things were easier to buy in the good old days, when vampires, witches, werewolves, and humans co-existed. I loved those times, but it was the same period where heads were hung on a spike for having the affinity for blood and witches were burnt on a stakes.

Things have changed, but in more good ways than bad. Only a few people knew and believed that people like us existed.

I walked out of the room. I picked out my coat, put it on, and headed to the parking lot, where I parked my car. I needed to have some fun before I resumed life here. After that, I would go to college, and I needed to get acquainted with the city.

For tonight, I needed something, and I knew exactly how to get it.

I stopped the car at a turn to my house and watched the road. I looked to the left to find any sign of a bad omen. It was a strange world we lived in where humans would ignore the signals and symbols staring at them. But I was trained to see with the eyes and then with the inner eyes.

I chose the right turn.

I drove for a while before I came to a club. It was a good time to have a taste of a California guy. I stopped the vehicle outside and scanned the place for a short minute. The signboard at the top said The Haven. Not a bad one.

You could tell this was a favorite place in the city. A club was on the other side, just as quiet as my secret room. Nothing was happening except the lights at the entrance. But yes, a lot could be going on inside.

I stood outside my car and watched as everyone walked past me in the parking lots, looking at the building like they couldn't wait one more second before they got in.

I just needed a boy. Probably older than my age. I was nineteen. I liked them to be strong and taller. He could be black or white as long he knew how to satisfy another white girl; that was all I needed. It was just for the sex. It was always for the sex.

I found him around the door. He was tall, bearded, and had brown hair. He was more than six feet away from me, but I could read him like an open book. He was walking into the club, holding a girl's hand.

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Oh, it was the other way round. The way the girl gripped him said a lot about the kind of man he was. He didn't want to be here, perhaps. He looked around as he tried to follow his girlfriend, who was leading him inside like a toddler who wasn't used to walking alone. He wa stupid. He was trying to please her. I wanted him. And nothing could stop me, not even if the girl walking beside him had blonde and smooth flawless skin like she was baked freshly like a perfect cake from a professional chef. I wanted that one for the night, and I would have him. So I locked the door of my car, adjusted my coat, and headed into the club.

There are two things I could do to make him follow me home to have an amazing round of sex. I had to either look into his eyes or hold his hands and cast a short spell. That was all I ever needed to do.

I cleared my throat and began walking toward the door as fast as possible. I didn't want to risk losing him if he got into the building before I could.

I couldn't catch up with him before they got inside the building, but I was quick enough to see the spot where he was standing.

They ordered drinks. Then they walked around the hall and sat in a corner while his girlfriend placed her hand on his thigh.

I stood before the bartender and ordered a drink, too.

“Something hot, please," I said.

I turned around and stared at the guy, but he wasn't even looking at me. He would sip his drink and grin at the lady beside him. It amazed me. How could he do that in a room filled with all sorts of human species, almost all dressed, watching, acting like they wanted to get laid this minute?

I was served my drink. I sat on the stool and drank while watching the guy. The bartender wanted to start a conversation. "Hey, red," he said, "are you looking for someone…."

"Yes," I said. Then, before he could ask who, I put the rest of my drinks down and walked towards my target.

I knew the dangerous person between the two, the one who would raise a lot of hell. So I walked to the lady, stared into her eyes, placed a hand on her shoulder, and said. "Hello, dear, I want to steal your boyfriend for the night."

I turned around and looked at the boyfriend too. Staring into his eyes and holding his hands, I bewitched him. He didn't resist. Jennifer Griffin wasn't a woman you could ignore when she walked past you. And not when she used her powers on you.

I led him out of the hall and then outside. He walked with me, smiling as I led him out. My car would have been the perfect place to know what he's got, but I would rather spend the night with him. I wanted to hear about the city and things I should know. I'd moved here all too suddenly because my grandmother showed me a vision. I needed to know this part of the city a lot better.

As I drove to my house, I engaged him in conversations.

“What’s your name?”I asked.

“Darius. You can call me Grace.” Grace was my grandmother’s name. “Do you find me attractive?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I like tall girls. Your eyes too. You look like someone who can take any man by just staring at him.”

For that, he wasn't lying. But most men didn't need that much to win them over anyway. They were available for taking all too often.

When we arrived at my place, I parked the car outside and reached for him. He knew what he was here for. I sat on him, dipped a hand into his shirt, under his vest, and rubbed his skin. He touched my hips to hold me in place. That was an invite that I wanted to see. So I crossed over to his side of the seat and sat on his lap. Squirming and kissing him, I pressed my body against his.

His hands were on my butt, and he squeezed each of them and released them simultaneously. I stopped and giggled. I had picked the right choice of man, the one who knew exactly what to do and where to touch. It was mere entertainment, though. In the morning, he wouldn't even know if this happened. Then, he would go back to that possessive girlfriend and would never remember me.

He moved his hand to my waist and slowly worked his fingers around it. Masseur? Was that what he did for a living? I exhaled and wiggled my waist.

He rubbed again, and I lifted my head up. Shutting my eyes close, I could feel his hands on my back now. He was hard underneath me, and each second I spent with my eyes shut was transitioning.

I saw things. All these things were in a blur, like a mix-mash of colors a painter was working on. I could make sense of a few things because I had seen them before. My old grandmother's shelf. A city that she took me to when I was a child. We went there in spirit. We sat in her secret room like a yoga teacher and her student. Then she held my hands and asked me to close my hands. We went into a city I had never been to before.

Darius man held my nipple in his lips in a soft grip and jolted me out of the trance.

“Oh!” I said, looking down at him. He could have asked me to take off the vest, but he didn't. Instead, he chose to have the nipple through the fabric. I held his hand and stepped out of the car with him following.

“Come on, let's go inside,” I said.

We went inside the house and resumed our sorting of each other's bodies right on the couch. I was the first to lose my clothes because I wanted him as fast as possible. I didn’t want to lose the vision that appeared a moment ago. There was a chance of seeing more of those things again, making me want to get on with what we had started. So I pushed him onto the sofa and helped him out of his clothes, trousers first and then shirt followed.

His manhood stood and poked out his trouser when I pulled them down. So I held and stroked it up and down a few times before straddling him again. He slid in. Yes, he was long, and the deeper he got into me, the more I wanted to push back and scream his name. Darius! or whatever he called it. His hands were on my waist, guiding me to move gently, and I did.

He lifted me off him and turned me around, the kind of initiative I wanted. Take control of me when I need you, too, but I would like to dictate things most of the time. He slid in from behind while his hands held me by the waist like one firm belt fastened too tight. Each slamming of thighs against my buttocks sent me screaming and mumbling words.

I didn’t want to say some incantations. They just came out of me on their own.

I shut my eyes tighter and lifted my head up. The images were forming in my head, a city or somewhere that looked like a small town. Everything came as a blur, like flashes of light and images. In a second, I was in a trance, and in the next, I was back to reality with this young man holding and trying to take the whole length of him at once.

Another flash of images, a room with two people. Another flash and I saw a blurry image of a girl and a wolf.

The place wasn’t California. It looked like a faraway local neighborhood. I needed to know exactly what my grandmother was planning. Something was peculiar about the girl and the wolf, but that could wait till I was done with Darius.