How To Be A Badass Witch: Book Three
Page 24
Johnny left next, after recovering his and Sven’s pistols from the warehouse. He planned to sell or destroy them. They were tainted anyway, and if he needed a new gun, it wouldn’t be hard to find one. He didn’t bother to take Pauline’s compact assault rifle. She had never let anyone else touch the fucking thing.
Waving at Lia, he slunk behind the tree line, keeping to the shadows at first, then strolled casually south toward his Mustang.
Lia, alone, remembered one last thing—the security cam footage. Motorcycle Woman had smashed the camera, but there was still the data stored on Pauline’s device in the office. She retrieved and pocketed it and debated whether to throw it in the Pacific or find a nice blast furnace that would do the job even better.
Hurrying west, she went to her car, which was parked on a different street, and took time to study the flashing red and blue lights nearby. The police had raided the defunct art gallery down the road for some reason. If they didn’t find Pauline by morning, she would leave them an anonymous tip. Her former friend deserved a proper burial.
Lia drove off and did not stop until she was halfway to Santa Monica. She stopped at an all-night coffee shop and got a small cappuccino to drink in her car, alone with her thoughts.
The terror was receding. Motorcycle Woman clearly possessed astonishing powers of some sort. Lia no longer cared to speculate as to what they were since it didn’t matter. The vigilante also had standards and was capable of mercy. She could have killed all four of them, yet she had recognized that it had been Pauline who had crossed the line, dragging the rest with her.
It made no sense, but the notion growing in Lia’s mind, now that she had time to think, would not go away.
She wanted to find this mysterious person again. And help her.
Mary Mitchell sat in the position she’d assumed at the head of the table. No one had indicated who should sit where, and that seat was open, so she had taken it. The other nine members of the council—minus the two who were off gallivanting in California—were lined up down the sides.
It was 9:16 a.m. Eastern Standard Time. James Lovecraft and Mother LeBlanc were supposed to have shown up for the next video conference at nine sharp.
Mitchell drummed her fingers on the table, thinking about the dog-sized Venus flytrap she had been cultivating to eat rats and other pests. While they sat there doing nothing, she was neglecting the poor thing.
“They’re late,” she observed. That was obvious, but she wanted to complain and hear how the others would react. It would make it easier to gauge the opinions she could expect from them as the situation developed.
Rufus chuckled, “It’s Los Angeles. They’re probably stuck in traffic somewhere. I lived there once long ago, and I doubt much has changed.”
Amanda nodded. “Accurate. I spent some time there too. It’s an awful place as soon as you have to get behind the wheel. I believe there was an organization who tallied all the available data and determined that LA has the worst traffic on the continent of North America, including Mexico City.”
Mitchell felt her molars grinding together. “Well, then they should have accounted for that before they set out. Some of the rest of us have things to do besides wait for them.”
A few more mumbles went around the table, then the screen in front of them finally flickered to life. James and LeBlanc appeared on it, squinting into the camera to adjust it. They looked tired, irritable, and less than enthusiastic about the coming discussion. Mitchell was not surprised.
“Hi,” James grumped as he took a seat on a couch.
LeBlanc sat down next to him. “Good morning. We apologize for the delay, but traffic was truly abnormal. We had to spend some time on what seemed like a worthwhile pursuit but turned out to be a wild goose chase.”
“Oh,” said Mitchell. “You might have informed us in advance that you were running late.”
James’ face curdled. She suspected he was going to argue with her, but before the theatrics could begin, Hugh spoke up.
“As we are running late, please come straight to the point if you would. Did you locate this person, and what happened if so?”
The pair on the other side of the screen sighed in near-perfect unison, and Mitchell braced herself for the news. Most probably, they had failed to find their mark.
James scratched his ear and adjusted his glasses. “Our offer was rejected,” he stated. “That’s the long and short of it.”
Zacharia gasped. “What? How can that be? I sensed nothing of the sort.”
James scowled vaguely into the camera. LeBlanc put a hand on his arm and explained.
“The individual, who was not an individual but a couple, did not become combative or anything of that sort, fortunately, but it was abundantly clear that they were not interested in submitting to us and being trained. They have chosen to go rogue. Or remain rogue, rather.”
The other ten thaumaturges exchanged glances. Their faces were grave.
Mitchell proclaimed, “You know what you must do then as per our traditions, not to mention the personal agreement you made previously.”
“Yes,” James replied in a flat, morose tone. “We remember the terms. We did what we had to do.”
LeBlanc held up a hand. “Indeed, please do not worry. We have erased any memory of us but left them with the knowledge of why they no longer have their powers.”
Those who had voted in favor of Lovecraft’s initiative gave brief condolences.
Lady Mitchell folded her hands in front of her and leaned back. “Well, it is somewhat encouraging to hear that you don’t plan to do anything else foolish. You have already created multiple problems that should not have arisen and took far longer than necessary to deal with.”
Most of the other council members grudgingly concurred. The two errant ones were stony-faced.
“Well,” James intoned, “we’re dealing with it now.”
“Good,” Mitchell responded, “but do not think there won’t be a reckoning once you return. Clearly, we must all agree on a new set of policies to avoid such entanglements in the future.” She flashed them a grim smile.
James, who looked as though he wanted to set the screen on fire, said, “Of course. Looking forward to it.”
Kera covered her mouth and turned away from a couple strolling down the lane toward the pond. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Kim said on the other end of the line. “We’re fine. We had a nice dinner. Teriyaki chicken. Chinese, but good enough. Sam spent the night with a friend. How are you? I heard there was some unpleasantness.”
She took a deep, rattling breath. “I’m fine. I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not telling me everything, but I trust you. Please reach out if anything is wrong, okay?”
“Sure,” the man responded. “We will see you soon.”
Kera echoed the sentiment and hung up. Certainly, nothing terrible had happened, or she wouldn’t have been talking to them.
She turned around, hugging herself. Hollenbeck Park was nice in the morning sunshine, and the night of sleep—and several breakfast sandwiches—had done her good.
Her phone buzzed again before she could put it away. It was a text message from Stephanie.
“Huh,” Kera muttered, swiping the screen. Apparently, Stephanie wanted to talk about something—and about Cevin doing even better than before with the woman the waitresses had begun calling “Supermodel Chick.”
Kera walked away from the pond toward her bike. “I should go see what that’s about. It might be significant. Or Stephanie is just bored.”
She’d deal with it later. Right now, there was something she needed to take care of.
Or someone: Christian.
With the memory of him came the avalanche of feelings unleashed by what the Kims has tried to tell her. Mrs. Kim’s disapproval of her shutting herself off, and Mr. Kim’s concern for her.
Her promise to them that she would make it through the night instead of throwing her life away, which implie
d she needed to have something to live for.
“God-fucking-dammit,” she grumbled. “This is crazy. I mean, I did vanquish the hell out of the person who was causing the worst of my problems, but it’s still moronic, insane, ridiculous, and so forth.”
She could not be certain, but she suspected that Pauline had been behind most of the attempted hits on her; she had certainly been responsible for the attempts to leverage the Mermaid. With her gone, things might calm down some, but the life of a vigilante thaumaturge was guaranteed to be complicated.
Did Christian need that in his life?
Not necessarily, but she couldn’t choose for him.
A few minutes later, Kera had been buzzed into the building and stared at Christian’s door. She hadn’t expected him to answer her call, but he had, and now there was going to be a discussion that might be unpleasant and end with him telling her to get out.
But she was going to be honest.
She knocked on the door, and he opened it quickly enough that he must have been standing there, waiting for her. He didn’t look great if she was honest. He hadn’t been sleeping enough, and it looked like he had lost some weight. He hadn’t shaved for a few days.
She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, and although he was clearly still wary, he smiled back.
“You said you wanted to talk?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Kera stepped inside and let him close the door behind her. “I, uh…I lied before. Now I’m going to tell you the truth.”
The Story Continues
Kera’s story continues with How To Be a Badass Vigilante, coming soon to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Editor Notes
December 16, 2020
Hey, readers! To give Michael Anderle a small break since he’s been very busy lately, I am writing these notes instead of him. Thank you so much for making it not only to the end of this book but the end of this trilogy!
During the course of these three volumes, Kera has learned a lot about herself, which I’m guessing is what’s happened to many of you during 2020. It’s been one hell of a year, hasn’t it? I needed some records from an event that happened in January, and when I mentioned the date I needed the docs from, my thought was, “Wasn’t that, like, ten years ago?”
What did I learn about myself this year?
I learned that when the going gets tough, DoorDash delivers Dairy Queen Blizzards! I love Reese’s PB cups plus cookie dough plus Butterfinger (hey, go big or go home!), husband likes chocolate strawberry with fudge chunks. I had one the night after the election when I couldn’t take the tension anymore. Even my nutritionist said that was fine.
I learned that Facebook, no matter what people say about it, is a wonderful place to reach out and touch your friends and family when you can’t do it any other way. I also learned that sometimes you just have to take a break for your mental health.
I learned that Michael Anderle and our operations manager Steve Campbell never lose their sense of humor no matter what is happening. Well, I already knew that, but this year it was particularly apparent, and may I say, vital! Also, Mike’s and my goal this year was to get Steve to snort coffee through his nose during Zoom meetings by us cracking jokes just when Steve takes a sip. So far I came closest, but Mike made several valiant efforts.
It was so much fun that we will be keeping that game going next year too!
The next part of this series, How to be a Badass Vigilante, will be coming to you in February, and it’s available for pre-order now. We hope you enjoy Kera’s further adventures, and as always, if you have the time, a review would be much appreciated!
Hoping you had a tolerable if not stellar 2020 and that your 2021 is loads better. The world has reshaped itself yet again, and there will be many new adventures to be had—and I’m not just talking about in our 2021 lineup of new and continuing series.
Wishing you all the best this holiday season and in the coming year,
Lynne Stiegler
Books By Michael Anderle
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