Shadow in the Witch House: The Chronicles of Randy Carter Book 2

Shadow in the Witch House The Chronicles of Randy Carter Book 2 Sonya Lawson SauceBox Press Copyright Copyright © 2022 by Sonya Lawson Cover Design by artists at 100 Covers All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Note to Reader (CW) Dedication One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six Twenty-Seven Twenty-Eight Want More? Acknowledgments About Author Note to Reader (CW) This book contains scenes that may depict, mention, or discuss abusive relationships, animal abuse, animal death, assault, attempted murder, blood, bullying, cheating, child abuse, cults, death, divorce, emotional abuse, fatphobia, gun violence, homophobia, hospitalization, misogyny, murder, sexism, and/or violence. Please take care of yourself as you read. Dedication To Lynn, a Columbus native. We may not be blood, but you'll always be my sister. One Resting macarons for at least forty-five minutes before putting them in the oven was crucial. It was during this period they formed their skin, then the hardened outer layer got more solid in the flames of the oven and created the slightly tough bit. Gave the macaron a delicious crackle and snap on the first bite. It was the rough edge right before the ooey-gooey middle of the cookie and the sweet richness of the inner cream—ganache, buttercream, jam… whatever was stuffed in the middle there. The skin was key, which meant so was the hardening part. The process made it tough enough to come out of the oven just right. If macarons weren’t a perfect metaphor for the shitstorm of my life, and the hope I had that I’d come out tougher but still good, I didn’t know what would be. Back to where I was: still maybe a wee bit in shock from the events that had taken down the black church and what we’d hoped was the seed of Starry Wisdom’s power. It was still before the complex set of emotions I had about leaving Macy for dead in the shadow world—namely relief mixed with guilt mixed with a bunch of bitch-had-it-coming—had a chance to fully set… but after Nyarlathotep—the Prince of the Dreamlands turned from starry lion to slightly goth hot dude—showed at my café, all golden-brown, smooth skin and piercing night-sky eyes and power, making my own magical thrum purr in my chest. Harley and Gareth were still appropriately freaked out by him. Any sane person who knew something of Outer Gods or magic should’ve been. I’d never claimed to be fully sane, so I’d invited him out for a drink. Partially because my magic somehow compelled me toward him. Something in me reached out for him when I was in his presence. Partially because he hinted all the blood and magic we shed back in Upper Arlington wasn’t enough to take out the baddies who were behind the Starry Wisdom cult. Harley pushed Merry and Mia into her slick, black luxury sedan against their very vocal protests. My sisters didn’t know who Nyarlathotep was, but they would fight tooth and nail to stay by my side if they caught even the faintest whiff of trouble. Harley, fully invested in my sisters now that she was dating Merry and obviously happy about it, took no prisoners. Standing in my café, facing off with the stubborn might of two-thirds of the Carter sister clan, Harley held her ground. She crossed her arms over her chest, looked them over, and visibly deflated. Rubbed her hand over her brow and said, “I’m tired. I’m sure Randy and Gareth are as well. They need to have a discussion, but none of us can do what we need to do and get the rest we need if you don’t agree to get yourselves safe.” Merry and Mia shuffled their feet, handed out fierce hugs and a few side-eye glares, and let plenty of mumbles and grumbles rip, but they exited after Harley’s little speech. Lucky for her, they didn’t see her look back at me with a wink, or the pep in her step as she followed them out of the back kitchen door. I held in a laugh, but barely. She was already fitting into the Carter family so well; guilt trips were a standard weapon in our family arsenal. Harley’s words had implied it, but Gareth’s hard eyes and rigid stance confirmed he was going nowhere. If I was going to chat it up with the Outer God Nyarlathotep, he was coming along for the ride. I didn’t bother questioning either man. Harley had been right about one thing. I was tired and wanted to get to my bed in the near future. “Come on then,” I said to no one in particular as I walked to the back of my café. I called back, “Lock the door back, would ya?” as I grabbed my wristlet and keys from their place by the back door and exited into the warm night, waiting for the men to follow so I could lock up behind us. We had plenty of wards around the place, but I was fuzzy on whether they protected from magical enemies and dangers or all types of dangers, like a run-of-the-mill burglar. Another thing I needed to add to my ever-growing list titled “Shit Randy Should Probably Know about Magic if She Wasn’t Clueless.” As I led the way to a bar a block down, Gareth stepped to my left to be my shield from the street. Nyarlathotep stepped up to my right, his appearance easy and sexy but his eyes cunning and alert. Add their power to the fact both of them made my skin buzz with lust and other things—Gareth with his quiet, calming influence despite his outward buff, blond biker vibe and the Prince with his thrum of power that sent my own into hyperdrive—and I