Bella Flores Urban Fantasy Collection

by R D Martin

  Turning back to the enclosure, he watched for a moment as the scorpions battled with each other before he examined the rest of the tank. Two bulbs hung from either end, giving the plants inside light and, he realized, warmth. Placing his hand on the glass caused the creatures inside to rush at him, but knowing they couldn’t get through the glass, he ignored their charge. Instead he concentrated on what he felt. The glass was quite warm and he’d felt warm air when reaching inside. But whether that was for the plants’ benefit or the bugs’, he wasn’t sure.

  Coming to a decision, he opened the top of the glass case and reached in, stopping well above where even the outstretched tails of the scorpions could get to him. This did what he’d hoped and sent the creatures into a mass frenzy as they did everything they could to attack his intruding hand.

  Uttering a spell he’d used hundreds of times to make himself comfortable on hot days, he summoned a cold wind to whirl around the cage. Leaves on the plants rustled and swayed back and forth. He reminded himself to be patient when nothing seemed to be happen, but as the temperature inside the enclosure dropped, the plants began drooping as well. Slowly at first, then with more speed, they wilted until they lay flat with bent and broken stalks.

  The scorpions seemed affected by the cold as well. Their furious scuttling slowed and took on a more lethargic energy. One by one they stopped their scuttling and lay down with their tails flat or curled behind them.

  Even when the last of the twin tailed creatures stopped moving, he kept pouring more cold into the tank until frost formed on the glass and his own magic pool emptied.

  With the slow care of a man about to handle something very fragile, he reached into the tank. Brushing aside leaves and detritus covering the shard, he made to lift it up, but as soon as he held it, it felt as if his mind exploded. Images of death, of blood and gore burst in his head. Roman soldiers laughed with each other as they piled bodies like so much firewood. Celts in blue war paint charged out of a tree line and into an open field, only to be mowed down in a rain of arrows. In one very disturbing scene a single man walked across a field in the aftermath of a battle, slowing only long enough to bend over and slit the throats of anyone still living.

  Dropping the shard, he stumbled back until he bumped into the desk behind him. Leaning against the desk, panting as he tried to calm himself, he stared at the shard. Though it was just a few feet away, it might as well have been miles. There was no way he could carry it if he couldn’t even touch it.

  Scanning the room, there didn’t seem to be anything he could use unless he wanted to tear one of the books on the shelf to pieces. Frowning at the thought but resigned to do so if it was necessary, he began riffling through the desk drawers again, hoping to find another option. Last time he’d been through them, it was in search of the shard, so he’d ignored most of its contents. He hadn’t found what he was looking for then, but this time he was more lucky. In the second drawer was a leather-bound portfolio.

  Rising from his seat and pulling out the portfolio, he removed the pages, and, tucking them in the small of his back, he reached into the terrarium using the dark brown leather as a glove. Scooping up the shard, he wrapped it tight with the supple leather and shoved it in his pocket before hurrying out of the room.

  “After that,” he said, placing his cup of coffee on the table between them, “it was just a matter of finding you so we could get the hell out of there.”

  Bella nodded, eyes locked on the two shards of the blade. Though they were broken, she could still feel their desire to kill, to shed enough blood to fill an ocean and drown the world. Being this close to it made her shiver and her stomach turn in a knot that threatened to leap up her throat.

  “So,” she said in a voice just loud enough to be heard, “what do we do now?”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Ronnie’s dead. He knew where Samantha was and I… I killed him. He said there were others too, and they would die. It’s all my fault. If I just thought for a moment. If I hadn’t been so scared, then maybe I would know, maybe he would have told me where they are and we could be out there right now bringing her home. Bringing them all home. They'll die and it’s all my fault.”

  “You know,” said Cat as he sauntered across the room. Leaping up on the table, he sat down between the two humans, and, licking a paw before rubbing it over his ears, he continued. “You’re absolutely right. If Samantha dies, it will be entirely your fault.”

  “Thanks, Cat. Exactly the support I need right now.”

  “Isn’t it, though? That’s why I’m here,” he said as if taking her words as a compliment.

  “Now’s not the time.”

  “It rarely is with humans. Always so concerned with yourselves you don't see what’s really important in life.”

  “Like what, your stomach?” she replied, putting more acid in the comment than she’d intended.

  “Well, I won’t deny feeding me should be high on your list of priorities. After all, where would you be without me?”

  “I’d be a lot less annoyed for one. You want to help? Go catch a mouse. Or better yet, don’t. Just… just go away.” She was on the verge of tears and Cat was insulting her. It wasn’t fair. Nothing seemed to be fair right now, but she shouldn’t have to deal with this too.

  “Is that what you really want? You want me to go away?”

  “Bella,” William began but stopped as she rounded on him.

  “And you. You saunter in here, all Mister Perfect. Everything is easy for you, isn’t it? Everyone fawns over your every word and you always know someone to help you out. What’s your deal? Why are you even here?”

  She knew she wasn’t mad at him, but for the moment all she wanted to do was scream. Scream and tear the world apart.

  “I don’t, wait. I mean I’m not.” He seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “Oh,” said Cat as unconcerned as if he’d just leaned the weather was nice. “Let her have her tantrum.”

  “Tantrum?” She turned to stare at her familiar. “Tantrum? This is coming from you? How dare you? I feed you, keep you safe, cater to every whim, and ignore every insult you throw at me and this is what I get?”

  “See?” said Cat, leaning to the side to look up at William. “Tantrum.”

  Unable to hold the building press of emotions inside anymore, she screamed. Electricity crackled around her, leaping from her outstretched arms to ground itself on anything it could. William leaped out of the way, turning the dive into a roll as he escaped the wild energy. The lightbulbs overhead grew brighter for a moment, gave off a high-pitched whine, and blew, letting off thin wisps of smoke.

  As strong as the power was, it quickly died down, leaving cracked stone countertops and glowing red appliances in its wake. As distraught appliances cooled, their tinking and moaning acted as a counterpoint to the only other sound in the kitchen, Bella’s heavy breathing.

  “Bella,” William said in the most soothing voice he could. Rising from where he crouched behind a wall, he dropped his hastily constructed shield. “Bella? Are you okay?”

  Looking at him for a moment, chest heaving and breathing heavy, she bellowed again, though with less ferocity than before, turned on her heel, and stomped to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  “Don’t,” said Cat as William moved to follow her. He hadn’t moved from his perch on the table, though it looked as if every hair on his body stood on end.

  “But we’ve got to. I mean she’s—”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “She’s in pain, Cat. We have to do something.”

  “Yes, she’s in pain. But no, we don’t have to do anything. She’s been on the edge of exploding for some time. She needs to come to terms with how she’s feeling before we can do anything.”

  “And is this what you call coming to terms?” he asked, waving toward the drooping, melted kitchen faucet.

  “Actually,” Cat said, trying to smooth his fur as best as possible. “This is
just recognizing there’s a problem. She’s in her room now, exhausted and screaming into her pillow as she replays everything over and over in her mind. She’ll sort through things, and after a good sleep, she’ll have a better grip on them. She still won’t know what to do, but at least she won’t be ready to explode anymore.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.” Satisfied his fur was as groomed as it could be for now, he leaped down from the table and sauntered past William into the living room. “Give her time.” Leaping up on the arm of the couch, Cat stretched out and yawned. After settling himself, he tapped the television remote with his paw.

  William knew when he was being dismissed. Turning, he headed toward the front door, pausing when he heard Cat speak again.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. Where else?”

  “The spare room is that way?”

  “Why would I…?”

  “Hey, it’s normally my room. Be grateful. It’s not every cat who’ll give up a comfortable bed for a human.”

  “Okay, thanks,” he said, more than a little confused. “But I think you can have it. I’ve got my own place.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cat said, not turning his attention from the television. “I was under the impression you cared for her. My mistake. Could you open a can of food before you go?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “A can of food? In the cabinet. Please open before you leave,” he said as if talking to a very slow child.

  “No, before that.”

  “Oh. No, that was my mistake.” Rising, Cat turned away from the TV to look at William. “I thought you liked her, but I’m big enough to admit when I’m wrong.”

  “I, uh.”

  “Can of food, please. In the cabinet on the left. The beef if you would be so kind. The salmon doesn’t really taste like salmon.” Cat gave a slight shudder before turning back to the TV and pressing the volume button. The room filled with the noise of an old soap opera he’d watched before. The acting was poor, but better than some others. His ear twitched as he heard the pop of a can open in the kitchen. Holding his breath, he waited. The next sound was a door closing. Relaxing enough it seemed as if he was melting into the couch, the familiar purred with content. It hadn’t been the front door.

  18

  Stumbling from her room, barely aware of her surroundings, Bella launched herself toward the coffeemaker as though it were the only life preserver in a vast cold sea, its heady aroma dragging her to it. The machine had cost her nearly an entire week’s salary but had been worth every penny. It did everything she could ask for and then some. It roasted beans to perfection before grinding them into a fine powder. Once ground, it filled the gold mesh filter with just the right amount of bean to brew the perfect cup of coffee. If she was feeling in true need, it even filled the espresso basket and forced water through until the thick slurry of coffee goodness poured into her waiting cup. The only thing it didn’t do was steam milk. But, that aside, it was as close to perfection as she’d been able to find. Stopping in front of the brass and chrome machine, she discovered it was also a melted pile of slag.

  It was like losing an old friend, and, looking at the mass of melted plastic and metal she’d almost come to consider family, she could have cried. It would be hard, not to mention expensive, to replace it, but she’d do what she must.

  Looking around, she was surprised to see a to-go cup near the edge of the table with a plain bagel sitting next to it. The rumble in her stomach told her it was the medicine she needed to cure the gnawing beast of hunger trying to dig its way through her stomach.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so just got a plain. Hope that’s okay.”

  Spinning so fast it made her long braid of dark hair whip against her face, she made a noise somewhere between choking and spitting.

  Leaning in the door frame, William stared at her with his arms crossing his chest and a hesitant smile on his face. He’d changed into something clean and comfortable that somehow made him look bigger than he was.

  Coughing as she fought to choke her bite of bagel down, and aware of how she must look in her sweatpants and Disney princess T-shirt, she could only nod.

  “Uh,” she said in a rough voice. “Thanks.”

  “No prob.” Waving a hand, he pushed off the wall and made for his own cup on the opposite counter, passing close enough she could smell the soap he used. “I also fed Cat, at his insistence. You know, that animal is picky. Half of one can, a teaspoon of another. How do you do that every day? It would drive me crazy.”

  “Oh, I just open the can and leave it for him. He’ll eat anything really.”

  “But he, you.” Pointing from the living room and back to her. “I mean, he said this is how you feed him every morning.”

  Unable to stop herself, she laughed as the hot coffee, the bagel, and his confusion combined into a sensation that wormed its way into her and warmed her at the core.

  “Uh, no.” Turning around, she shuffled back toward her room, coffee in one hand and food in the other. She could tell he was pretending her outburst hadn’t happened, and if he was, so could she. But, she thought, he was still here. “Give me a sec,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away. “I’ve, uh, got to change.”

  It took more than a second for her to change. Her white sleeveless T-shirt hugged every curve while showing off her toned frame. The stark white of the shirt against her skin almost made it look as if she’d just come in from a day on a tropical beach, and her stone-washed jeans looked as if someone had poured them on. With her hair in a tight braid, he couldn’t decide if she was going for a look that said comfortable and sexy or ready to kick butt at a biker bar with a glass of wine.

  “Close your mouth. You’re letting flies in,” sniggered Cat from his perch next to William. Looking down to glare at the feline sent the familiar into a laughing fit.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked as she sauntered into the living room. She hadn’t heard Cat’s comment.

  “Nothing. Uh, nothing. Your familiar just thinks he’s funnier than he is.”

  “Oh, he’s been like that since he was a kitten. Remind me sometime to tell you about his encounter with a skunk.”

  The laughter stopped so quickly it was like someone flipped a switch. With a back stiff as a board and tail pointing straight into the air, Cat passed the two of them and, giving Bella a scornful look, disappeared into the rear of the apartment.

  Smiling, she walked past William into the kitchen. Rummaging through a junk drawer, she pulled out a map and began unfolding it to reveal an aerial view of the city.

  “So, listen. I was thinking. Now that…” She took a second to clear her throat. “Now that Ronnie is dead, maybe whatever was blocking my tracing spell is gone too. I mean, it couldn’t hurt to try again, could it? And besides, with you here, even if the block is still in place we could push through it, right?”

  Biting the inside of his lip, he nodded and stepped toward her and the map.

  “So, is that what you’re using as the focus?” he asked, pointing to the toothbrush on the counter.

  “Yeah. It was in the bathroom and I thought, well, maybe we should try it again.”

  “I thought so,” he said. “Do you have anything else?”

  “Why? It worked last time.”

  “Yeah, for a bit, but they blocked it. Now the spell blocking the tracer has an affinity for that focus.”

  For a moment she wanted to argue with him, but he was right. Even with her own wards, she could always tell when something pushed away tried to return. There was a flavor left behind, something that made it easier for her wards to work against it. If they wanted to succeed, they needed the best chance possible.

  “Okay. Her bag’s over there,” she said, pointing to the silver unicorn backpack in the corner. “See if there’s something in it while I check the spare room.”

  Nodding, William walked over and picked up the sequined bag. Dumping its contents on
the table, he started sifting, trying to find something as connected to the girl as possible. Broken crayons, a nest of different-colored string, and various other craft supplies seemed to take up most of the space. Other identifiable junk took up the space left over. A rock with a face carved into it, a book left outside for so long the cover had warped after being soaked by rain and dried in the sun multiple times. There was even something tucked in a Ziploc bag that could be a very worn dog toy or an old stick wrapped in leather. He was just about to open the bag when he spotted something small and purple beneath it.

  “Got something,” he yelled, picking up the compact brush with strands of Samantha’s hair attached to it. Dropping everything else and pushing the junk to the side, he picked up the small brush with the type of caution normally reserved for picking up a bomb and walked into the kitchen.

  “Yes. That’s perfect,” said Bella as he approached. Giving him a quick hug, she snatched the compact brush from his hands and began pulling off the short bits of hair.

  It took less than a minute to wrap the hair around a bit of silver dangling from the end of a necklace. As a pure metal, the silver wouldn’t interfere with the spell, and the weight of the charm would give more pull than the hair tied around it. Summoning her magic, she let it hang in the air above the pendant until she felt William’s power flow alongside hers.

  Taking a breath, she began the Pelago spell. The purpose of the spell was to combine the magic of multiple witches, creating something stronger together than any single witch could do on her own. The trick to getting it to succeed, at least as far as she knew, was to open up herself to the strange magic as much as possible. This took an enormous amount of trust since letting herself be open to someone else like that meant letting them see everything that made her, well, her. All her hopes and fears, her insecurities and triumphs, even her most wild emotions and embarrassing dreams were open to be read.