That had been one hell of a night. Emphasis on hell.
I dragged myself out of bed and felt like I had aged ten years in one day. 
My head felt stuffy, my eyes felt gummy, and there was definitely a crick in my back. I had not slept well. We hadn’t gotten back from the hospital until just before dawn, so I had gotten . . . what? Two, three hours of sleep.
Shit.
And now I have to get to work.
Come on Ange, pull yourself together. The world still turns. Things still need to get done. There’s ten billion people on this planet and no one cares that you’ve had a garbage night.
Done with my morning pep talk, I march myself over to my standing mirror in the corner. It was one of the nice spelled kind that I got at Bon Vivant Luxury department store before my life went to shit. 
I tapped on the glass surface to get different angles of my pajama topped body. More taps for different lighting and there was even a blur filter when you really just couldn’t handle any fine details of your own body. 
Yeah, all of them looked pretty bad.
My designer knock off silk pajama shirt was rumple and sticking to me in patches from sweat. 
My face looked washed out and gray with oh so appealing blue veins threading through my skin. I would like to blame that gods awful complexion on me being dead, but I’ve always looked a bit like a corpse in the morning. 
My curly hair that always had a mind of its own, was flattened to my skull on one side and snarled up into a woolly beast on the other. I tried to comb my fingers through my hair, but of course, they just ended up getting tangled in the mass.
Yeah, this was going to be a half bottle day.
I had always envied Kari’s smooth, sleek black hair. No morning frizzies, no having to beat tangled curls into submission. Her hair always had the glossy polished look only found in the Far East. Like a really expensive lacquer wear.
And what did she do with all that effortlessly orderly hair?
Absolutely nothing.
Half of the time I don’t think she even bothers combing it after rolling out of bed.
Hmph, lazy and sloppy, like everything else about her.
Well, enough stalling Ange, time to shellac and plaster yourself back together again. 
I started opening up the drawers of a cute little antique desk I got at a boutique in Logan’s Reach. I was using it as a dressing table, and it worked pretty good. At least good enough that Tina hadn’t figured it out and gotten into my make-up again. 
I seated myself on the little vintage puff I found at a flea market, and started attacking my hair and beating it into submission. 
It didn’t end up taking a half bottle of “Tame UR Mane” magic potion to get my locks to start looking like they belonged on a human head. It took almost a whole bottle. 
Damn, this stuff was expensive too.
With a quick spritz of “Insta-Shower” potion to freshen up and a thick slathering of make up to top it off, I looked almost human again. 
I cracked open a window to let out the lingering steam from the shower potion, then picked out my outfit for the day. 
Hmm, muted colors would probably be smart. No one was going to be feeling great today, and maybe cheerful colors would just seem a little heartless.
Opening my wardrobe, I started shuffling the hangers around. The shoulder of a T shirt caught my eye, and I pulled it off the rod to read the front.
“My Curse Words Actually Do Something!”
Not anymore, they don’t.
Even more rare than being born with magic, I had been a combat witch. Or technically, a kinetic manipulation witch, but most just called us combat witches. A kind of magic user coveted by police forces, military, and secret services across the globe. 
In a family of hundreds of witches, I was the only one. That's how rare it is. We specialize in moving things. We could potentially move even the most heavy things. Trees, building, mountains. Or we could move very small things, very very fast. 
It was a shirt one of my brothers had given to me for a birthday. Back when we all still had magic and it had become kind of a tradition to give sassy magic themed T shirts to each other. Which one was it that gave me this? Was it Rory? Angus? Little Sean? With eight brothers, it was hard to keep track of them all.
I really should just get rid of this thing. It’s not like it has anything to do with me anymore.
I slid the shirt back into the armoire, and shuffled the clothes some more.
 I ended up going with gold fleur-de-lis stud earrings, camel work slacks, cream colored knock off designer silk button up shirt, and cute little faux Kimmy Chu ankle boots with gold zips on the sides. And if the four inch heels bumped me over six foot tall than . . . 
Good. 
I pulled my hair into a high tail and called it good enough.
Stepping out my room door, the apartment was weirdly quiet. 
Usually in the mornings this place would be an angry hive of chaos. Everyone running in every direction. 
Today, it's as if the whole group was under a Slowed Time spell. 
The twins were still in their pajamas, yawning and scratching their heads, looking confused. The constant din of morning clatter, was nowhere to be heard. And, there was a sleepy eyed little dream stumbling across the living room. 
She rubbed her little eyes, wandered around in a stumbling circle, tripped over her own feet, and then landed on her bottom on the carpet. 
It was insanely cute. 
See this is why I get up in the morning. This is what I live for and what gives me purpose. 
Tina was still looking around, her little hamster cheeks puffed up, trying to find the meany that tripped her, when I hurried over and scooped her up off the floor, propping her up on my hip.
"Morning sunshine, you still sleepy?"
Tina rubbed her eyes again and nodded, mumbling something.
“Wewz wahwee?”
It took me a long moment to figure out she was asking where Kari was.
Jeez, what to tell her? I couldn’t give Tina all the details about what happened to her sister, it would just scare her, and she wouldn’t understand most of it anyway.
“Um, Kari’s sleeping at the hospital, remember? We told you last night that she was with the doctors, right?”
Tina finally stopped rubbing her eyes and looked up at me.
“She’s not better yet?”
There was the tiniest trace of whine in that voice, and far more of disappointment.
I tried to school my face as best as I could, shoving down a frozen trickle of dread, and went with a gentle smile. 
“No sweety, she’s not better yet. It might take some time. She’s very sleepy, so we should let her rest at the hospital.”
Tina huffed and clamped a hand on her hip, being an adorable tiny diva.
“Well, somebody needs to wake her up.”
She shoved and squirmed her way out of my arms again when she saw the someone up for the task. Noah was strolling across the living room towards the kitchen. 
Why was no one dressed yet?