How To Be A Badass Witch: Book Three

by Michael Anderle

In some ways, she was the best instructor Kera had ever had.

  Kera ducked and pivoted in one motion, her mind in four or five places at once, trying to pull the many factors at play into a single cohesive action: the successful execution of a difficult move. She imagined that the dummy was in motion and wanted to kill or maim her. Then she swung her leg around behind the figure, and the upper front junction of her foot and ankle crashed into its leg near the bottom of the calf.

  The dummy toppled violently to the floor. Kera, in the same motion, rolled aside and clear, then sprang back up into a fighting stance. She stared at the fallen mannequin.

  Mrs. Kim nodded. “Good. Now, again.”

  Kera frowned but set the dummy on its feet and obeyed.

  As she continued to drill kicks and punches, throws and takedowns, clinches and submission holds, blocks and evasions and general exercises in stance, movement, and mindset, she found herself doing better despite her growing fatigue. It was as though her short lifetime’s worth of frustration and anger were finding an outlet through her actions.

  She had been a cheerleader, and then a computer science major, a stereotypical rich girl and then a bartender. Wrath and discontent at the crimes perpetrated on innocent people around her had always bothered her conscience. At the same time, she had always felt useless, as though she was supposed to sit back and do stupid rich-girl things rather than helping anyone or accomplishing anything constructive.

  These days, at long last, she was taking on both of those issues at once.

  Kera knew the day’s training session was nearly over. They had been going at it for over two hours, with Mrs. Kim sometimes demonstrating, though her illness made it hard for her to do much and almost impossible to spar with the girl. The older lady was getting tired.

  For all her strictness and perfectionism, though, there was a foundation of gentleness and care in everything she said and did. When Kera stole a glance at her, she saw the woman’s eyes glowing with pride.

  Near the end of the session, Mrs. Kim demonstrated a low-effort throw, instructing her how to move with the takedown and fall correctly to avoid injury.

  Kera moved toward the older woman, jabbing toward her face, and found her arm and wrist seized. She was spun around, and the moment she felt the pressure on her joints, she jumped into the movement and was briefly airborne before striking the mat and rolling.

  She got to her feet, huffing and blinking, surprised that such a frail person could toss her with so little effort.

  Mrs. Kim’s eyes were fixed on her. “Kera. You okay?”

  “Yes,” she replied, brushing herself off. “Would have messed my arm up badly if I’d gotten the timing wrong, but I’m fine. The mat absorbed most of the fall.”

  The woman’s mouth puckered in frustration. “I know. What I mean is...” She seemed to scan her brain for the right words. “Are you okay with...your life? That nice boy who was at dinner. How are things with him.”

  Kera’s face flushed. The Kims had danced circles around the question earlier, and she had dodged them, not wanting to talk about it. It would be rude and ungracious to try and evade a direct inquiry.

  “I…well, we had another date, and it was, um, okay, I guess.” She swallowed, feeling like a fool.

  Mrs. Kim’s expression didn’t change. “My husband was talking about him,” she went on. “‘What happened with that boy,’ he asked. We both liked him, and now we are...curiosity. Curious.”

  Kera’s shoulders slumped in defeat. There would be no getting out of it.

  “I dumped him,” she confessed. “Not because I don’t like him or anything went wrong. I memory-wiped him; used magic to make him forget what happened. Then I told him he’d said he didn’t want to see me anymore. I figured if he thought it was his decision, he wouldn’t come to my place or keep calling me. I don’t want him to get hurt. My life is a lot more dangerous now than it used to be.”

  The words had rushed out of her faster and louder than she’d intended, and having said them, she felt the skin on the back of her neck crawling with shame, yet there was also a sense of having offloaded a great weight from her shoulders. She was relieved at having just come out and said it finally.

  Mrs. Kim’s face was drawn in thought, and she made a low throaty sound. “I understand. Maybe you should think about it. This is about you as well, not only him. Think about that.”

  Kera stepped off the mat and removed her gi, partly as an excuse to turn her face away from the woman’s keen gaze.

  What the hell does that mean? she wondered. She clearly doesn’t think I made the right choice, at least not entirely. I know it’s about me, in part. I’ve got all these conflicting stupid emotions, and now I feel like everything became more complicated than it was to begin with.

  Mrs. Kim beckoned. “Come into the house and eat.”

  Nodding, the girl followed her. Once she was seated at the Kims’ dinner table, the lady brought out two trays heaped with food, some of it fresh, much of it left over. Kera suspected her host was now cooking extra with every meal with the intent of giving it to her later.

  Mrs. Kim pointed to a bookcase visible through the doorway that led from the dining room to the living room. “More books in there. Study while you eat. I must go and do an...errand.”

  She nodded and walked out.

  Kera shrugged. “Okay, then. I just hope she isn’t worried about grease stains on the pages.” She helped herself to a wad of extra napkins before she went to the case and examined the spines of the tomes therein.

  Most of the books dealt with magic, religion, the occult, and mystical traditions, as well as related or overlapping topics such as herbology, yoga, and obscure aspects of nature and science. There was a wealth of information among them, and there was no way Kera could read and absorb all of it in the course of a single meal.

  She decided she’d need to make room to open the books and read properly, so she dug into the food. Her mouth was watering; the calories she’d burned during martial arts practice seemed to have depleted her energy almost as much as casting spells did.

  She started by tearing into a big slab of grilled pork belly and supplemented it with spoonfuls from a bowl of spicy budae jjigae stew, along with some fried rice. Additionally, there was a bulging manicotti, a turkey club sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and half a tray of brownies. Kera sampled everything, making a huge dent in the enormous mass of food in only five minutes.

  After wiping her hands off carefully, she opened one of the books and began to read the introduction. The author said much that was carefully vague but mostly accurate. She explained that magic was, to some extent, a kind of contract between the magician and the greater forces within the universe.

  She also mentioned that much of what was called “magic” had turned out to be aspects of the natural reality humans didn’t understand well. Kera nodded and finished the turkey club, then forged ahead to the more confusing nuts and bolts of the book.

  As her eyes moved over a particularly obtuse passage, one which would have required intense concentration to understand, the young woman’s mind glazed over. She couldn’t think about this stuff as hard as she wanted to; she was distracted.

  It was because of Mrs. Kim’s cryptically disapproving comment earlier. Her obvious disagreement with Kera’s decision to cut Chris out of her life.

  She tightened the muscles along her jaw. “I love that woman,” she muttered, “but she doesn’t understand the nuances of my situation. She isn’t thinking clearly. She’s falling back on what she knows, which is how things turned out for her decades ago and in another country. There’s no way things can work out as smoothly between Chris and me as they did between her and Mr. Kim.”

  She sighed as the emotions flowed out and away again, leaving her feeling marginally better. She returned to her reading with a clear mind.

  At first, anyway. Ten minutes later, the thoughts began to turn back to the subjects of love and companionship, which now seemed
distant and foreclosed-upon. It was like when her great aunt had been moved to a care facility in a different state; she was still alive, but Kera had doubted she’d see her again.

  Her heart ached. She was in no condition for serious research, after all.

  “Maybe,” she posited, “just maybe, there are, like, cute guys who are also witches. Or, uh, sorcerers? Whatever the term is. It would help. If that hypothetical guy is out there, please let us meet.”

  She spent a moment enjoying the notion until something else occurred to her. “Ugh, with my luck, those bitches who’ve been going around the country are going to find him and snuff out his powers. Maybe his life, too.”

  Shoveling another mass of rice and meat into her mouth, Kera searched for a way to make something positive out of that, difficult though it was.

  “If they kill him, I could go on an everlasting rampage of vengeance. Shit, that sounds kind of fun.”

  After all the anxiety she had been suffering over what would happen when the people behind the book finally found her, if indeed they could, she needed to take her aggression out on someone.

  Minutes later, Mrs. Kim returned, and she had brought a friend.

  “Kera,” she began, “this is Richard. He is a family friend.”

  Kera stood up to introduce herself properly. The man before her was in his early thirties, in excellent physical conditions, and might have been hapa, but was probably full Korean. He wore a blue t-shirt and loose-fitting athletic pants.

  “Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “You can call me Rick.”

  Kera took the hand, shook it, and smiled. “I’m Kera, but Mrs. Kim probably told you that. What, uh, brings you to their residence? Sorry, you’ve probably been here more than I have.”

  The older woman stated, “Sparring partner. He will help you.”

  Kera raised an eyebrow as the man nodded.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Due to her illness, she asked me to help you get in more practice with someone who can, you know, fight for longer and take a few good hits. Not that she’s helpless.” He gestured at the small lady beside him. “But you know what I mean.”

  He seemed vaguely embarrassed, and Mrs. Kim leaned in to tell him, “Kera is stronger than she looks.” Then she added a couple of comments in her native language.

  Nodding, Rick looked at Kera again and said, “Okay, then. We can wait half an hour or so since it looks like you just got done eating. Cramps tend to ruin things.”

  Kera shrugged. “Nah, give me five minutes to clean up and we’ll be good. I have a really high metabolism.”

  All three contributed to clearing the table and filling the sink with soapy water. While they worked, Kera asked Rick about his background in martial arts.

  “Tang Soo Do,” he explained, “which has some overlap with both Tae Kwon Do and Shotokan karate, so it will seem familiar. Mrs. Kim told me about your background. I’ve been practicing since I was eleven. Twenty-three years. Currently a fourth-degree black belt. I also studied some judo and Brazilian jiu-jitsu, but only for about a year each, and I’m rusty in those.”

  Kera gave a slow nod as she slipped her dishes into the sink. He was trying not to sound boastful, but his record was impressive as all hell.

  She replied, “Nice. I’m, uh, less advanced than that by a considerable margin. I mean, I’m not bad, but try not to kill me, hey?”

  He laughed. “Deal.”

  The trio headed out to the small dojang. Mrs. Kim asked Kera to take her shoes and socks back off but didn’t make her put her gi back on since Rick hadn’t brought his. Both of them were dressed in sportswear that would serve well enough.

  He announced, “Light to medium contact. Is that okay?”

  “Sure,” Kera said.

  They took up positions on opposite sides of the mat, stretching and warming up before facing each other and settling into fighting stances. Kera paid close attention to her opponent and the way he moved and held himself. It all spoke of great skill and easy confidence.

  Not using magic against him, she decided. That would defeat the purpose. Well, maybe a slight boost to speed and strength, but otherwise, we’re doing this au natural. I need to find out how good I am against someone who lacks supernatural abilities but is extremely good.

  While Mrs. Kim watched, Rick asked, “You ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kera told him. She raised her fists.

  They advanced at counterintuitive angles, feinting and changing direction with rapid movements. Each tried to throw the other off by tricking them into an incorrect guess as to what would come next. As they closed the distance, Kera saw her opening.

  He was about to overstretch himself by trying for a kick at her legs. She went low and punched at his lower torso, only for him to suddenly be behind her, slamming his forearm into her back while knocking her legs out from under her with his foot. As she fell, he grabbed her arm and pinned it behind her once she was on the mat.

  “Oof. Smooth. I guess you win this exchange?”

  He let her get up, and they went at it again. This time, it wasn’t over so quickly. Kera stayed on her feet and they dodged around each other, trading fast blows amid serpentine movements, trying to wear each other down. Rick was possibly the most skilled martial artist she had ever fought.

  Over the course of twenty minutes, she landed two or three decent blows on him, but mostly she got her ass handed to her. He refrained from hurting her, but she would probably have some good bruises to remember the occasion by.

  Finally, they parted, and Mrs. Kim announced, “Good for now. Rest.”

  Panting, Kera approached her sparring partner and shook his hand. “You’re good,” she observed.

  “Thanks.” Despite being a decade older than she was, he was only sweating minimally. “You’re not too bad either. Room for improvement, but for someone of middling rank and experience, I would say you’re doing great. You’re really fast and strong, more so than most people I’ve fought. You’re not on PCP or something, are you?” He laughed.

  “Oh, ha,” she replied, making herself grin stupidly, “I’m afraid not. Thanks, though.”

  Does he know? Is he in on the whole secret of thaumaturgy, gatha, or whatever you call it the way the Kims are? Or is he in the dark about my ability to augment myself?

  They spent a minute or two catching their breath and gulping from a water bottle Mrs. Kim had brought out. When they were done, she said, “You should fight again.”

  Kera tried not to wince. “Honestly, he might kill me after that, plus all the training I did earlier.” She hoped it sounded like a joke. “I mean, maybe some other time?”

  Mrs. Kim frowned. “No. You need more practice. Come. We talk.”

  Rick waited while the women walked outside and stepped closer to the house. Once they were alone, the older lady turned to the girl. “There. You see?”

  Kera blinked, waiting for clarification.

  “You see that speed and strength are not enough. Not by themselves. You must have technique. Need more practice! Less feeling bad for yourself. You spar again.”

  Kera sighed. ”Okay, but I have to leave and get ready for work soon.”

  Mrs. Kim led her back to the dojang by the shoulder. “Ten minutes.”

  She repeated her instructions to Rick, who gave an awkward shrug before resuming his combat stance. “Sorry, Kera,” he quipped, “but I’m not going to talk back to her. After all, she could kick my ass if she wanted to.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stephanie sat alone in her bedroom, a single dim lamp in the corner leaving the room relatively dark aside from the white glow of her tablet.

  She had hurried through her closing tasks tonight, desperate to get home and download the book she’d found on Kera’s phone. With all the strange things that had happened lately, she was worried that Kera had somehow gotten in over her head.

  She still couldn’t find the book on Amazon, but it did have a presence, including multiple reviews on GoodRe
ads. One of the more recent ones commented that it had been pulled from publication sometime in the last couple of weeks.

  Stephanie idly chewed her nails, a bad habit she thought she’d nixed years ago, as she read what the various users had to say. Their reviews and comments were a mixed bag. That was how it always was on the Internet; reading people’s thoughts about a movie she regarded as “pretty good,” Stephanie always found some folks who thought it was an abject turd and others who considered it the best film in the history of cinema.

  For this book, even by Internet standards, different individuals’ results varied to a ridiculous degree.

  The majority, probably three-quarters, insisted that the book was nonsense. That none of it was real and its authors were frauds or charlatans, and that any other reviews to the contrary were the work of shills, lunatics, and the intellectually disabled.

  There were also some who regarded the book as an “entertaining reference.” They didn’t take it seriously as an instructional manual and had picked it up to learn about magic—or as the book called it, thaumaturgy—as an idea, for academic reasons, or just for fun.

  But in addition to these, there were several that claimed magic was real and functional and amazing. Persons who had gained the strength of six men, charmed others into doing their bidding, cured themselves of influenza, or learned to light fires remotely and extinguish them at will.

  “Boys and girls,” Stephanie whispered to the screen, “either you are all crazy as hell, or Kera is into something more people need to know about. For real.”

  Two reviews, among the longer and more detailed ones, made reference to miscellaneous crap that had been in the news. Incidents in South Carolina, Florida, Texas, New Mexico, and elsewhere that involved people who claimed to have strange powers or had been implicated in weird happenings, only for everything to vanish a short time later without conclusive proof. They went on to suggest that what might have been going on was low-level mass hysteria or a bizarre hoax.

  Stephanie leaned back, and her eyes went distant.