Karma's Shift (Magical Midlife in Mystic Hollow Book 2)

all this supernatural stuff and then everyone would be in trouble. Karma would know exactly what she was doing, which would make a nice change.
“I guess we need to go talk to the witches,” Carol said. “That’s got to be our next move.”
Each of them looked as upset as the other. Carol seemed to suddenly need to knit, while Deva looked like she was trying to set the peacock that was painted on the wall on fire with just her gaze and Beth… she still had that same angry but distracted expression on her face.
“What?” I asked, again feeling like the ignorant outsider. I hadn’t even known there were witches or anything supernatural in town when I was growing up and now? Now, I knew they were there, but I had no idea who was what. I mean was the postman a shifter? Was the cashier at the grocery store a witch? Anyone could be anything, it was truly mind-blowing. The only creatures I’d met that might stand out were vampires and sirens, mainly because of their skin tones and the fact that they seemed to have a unique way of moving through the world.
“It just bothers us to think it could be one of our own,” Deva whispered. “Using magic to murder isn’t natural. It means the witch has gone dark.”
They all shook their heads. If I had walked in at that moment, I would have asked who died. That was how serious and sad they all looked. They didn’t even know who it was that might have turned to the dark side, but they were acting like it was one of their friends that had betrayed them and everything that witches stood for by committing murder using magic.
I knew the murderer wasn’t in the room with us, but clearly, the three of them had complicated feelings when it came to the other witches in the community. They hardly ever talked about them and I hadn’t been introduced to anyone, so it was like they didn’t want anything to do with them. Yet, their reaction to one of them using dark magic was the opposite, like they were best friends with all of them.
I had to assume it was more of a community loss since I didn’t want to ask yet another question when they all looked like someone had just kicked them when they were down. The last thing I wanted to do was add to the stress and disappointment they were feeling by picking apart their feelings on what was happening.
What were we going to find now?

12
Daniel
I let the axe fly, swinging downward with a slight whistle through the air as I carefully steered it in the right direction, and split the wood cleanly. The log cracked apart, splinters flying, as the ax split it. I pulled the pieces up one at a time and did it again until they were the right size.
The scent of fresh pine filled the air along with the loamy scent of the earth that moved under my feet every time I swung the axe. As I tossed the fresh firewood on the pile, the sound of a car approaching made my ears perk up like I was a damn wolf or something. Bears didn’t make cute little faces when they were listening or confused by something. There was no head tilting or wagging tails, and yes, I’d seen full-grown male shifters wagging their tails before when they wanted to get their point across. Bears were… grumpier. More solitary. More self-reliant and reserved. More everything really.
But I was a little biased.
Every shifter, even out of their fur, had better hearing than any human and was naturally stronger. It was part of what helped us stay hidden from prying eyes. So, when I was splitting wood for the fire, for example, I was able to do so at my own pace when I was alone but the moment, I sensed someone nearby I would drop the intensity with which I swung the ax to make it more believable that I was just a regular human. If I was feeling particularly indulgent, I may even swing so lightly that it took a couple of tries to break the wood apart, but that was only when I was pandering to someone.
A few minutes later, the sheriff’s car pulled through the trees and parked in front of my place. “Howdy,” I said as Sheriff Danvers got out of his cruiser. “What brings you this way?”
“Thought I’d stop in and say hello,” Samuel said. He took his hat off and tossed it onto the passenger seat. I always hated that hat and having to wear it to be in proper uniform. The strange divots on the dome, the scratchy beige fabric, I hated all of it, but then I wasn’t a huge fan of clothes in general, something I didn’t have to worry about while in my bear skin.
When he looked back up at me, he put his thumbs around his belt and rested his hands there in a way that I’d only ever seen cops do. I knew part of it was ease of access to things they may need, but I couldn’t help thinking part of it was because we all wanted to be the sheriff growing up, and probably watched more than one old spaghetti western. After an awkward pause, Samuel added, “I was in the area.”
Sure. The area of my cabin that was out in the middle of the woods. He was in that area? Right.
I wouldn’t push it though. Samuel clearly had something to talk to me about and he’d get to it in his own time. One thing I’d learned over the years was not to push. Sometimes the more you pushed the more people clammed up. Let them talk at their own pace and they might just spill their guts to you.
“Well come in, have some coffee.” I stomped up the porch, knocking the mud and