Life’s a Witch

by Skyler Andra

  Who needed cameras when the gargoyles communicated alarms through the stone to alert the sentries? Poor Obsidian cowered beneath their gaze, giving me the impression they watched him too.

  A few halls later, Tor smiled down at me again. “You like comics, huh?” He ran a finger along the Harley Quinn tattoo jutting out from my orange prison shirt then let it go.

  Tor was a guy who couldn’t stand silence. Not for more than two hallways and a couple left and right turns. He needed noise. Probably to quiet the voices in his head, not that I was one to judge. Even when his noise pissed off Knoxe.

  His reminder of my pop culture obsession made me smile. He’d given me a small light to hold onto. I was still me. In here. Out there. At the Guild of Shadows or the Guild of Guardians. It didn’t matter. I was still me. And nothing was going to change it.

  “What are you in here for, Supergirl?” Tor asked.

  At least he talked to me. The others hadn’t even bothered to thank me for getting them released. Last time I did these jerks any favors, Tor excluded.

  I patted my gargoyle on his foot when he nudged me. “Got busted stealing for a friend.”

  “For a friend. Loyalty and honor.” Tor pressed his lips together and nodded. “I like it.”

  “What about you?”

  “Tor.” A warning from the orange-haired leader Knoxe.

  Tor tucked his head even further. “We don’t really talk about it.”

  Evasive. Secretive. Unfair.

  “Involuntary manslaughter,” Pascal said from behind me.

  I gulped. Hectic. They were murderers. “Who’d…who did you kill?”

  “Tor.” Knoxe growled again. Somehow, he managed to broaden his shoulders, look wider, more threatening.

  But I didn’t care what he thought. I wanted to know what I was up against at the Guardians, the kind of people I had to associate with, and whether I could trust my teammates. Of course, depending on who they murdered, I might not be opening a highway of trust between us.

  Tor rubbed his chin. “A vampire.”

  Vamps. Wily and dangerous to humans. Killing them was kind of a rule more than a crime.

  I nodded to the rest of the team. “What about them?”

  Tor’s chin tensed and the cords in his neck splayed. “Accomplices.”

  “Fuck.” Knoxe’s ponytail flicked across his back as he shook his head.

  My throat tightened. So this was my team. Vampire killers. They could take me out and nothing I could do about it. I hugged my body. I didn’t have much time to figure them out, to discover what kind of men they really were. All I knew for certain was that I wasn’t like these guys. I’d stolen a parchment. A piece of paper. Not a hardened criminal by any stretch of the imagination. Oh God. What would my mom think?

  We arrived at a series of long, rectangular rooms with glass panels and stone walls separating them. Some kind of training room judging by the all the weapons along the wall. Metal detectors at the entrance of each area scanned us for weapons, but didn’t beep as we passed through them. Wooden racks along the far wall held swords, daggers, spears, crossbows, axes. If it had a blade, we had at least one. Pads covered the floor for a soft landing. I’d done a bit of weapons training at the Shadows but probably nothing like these guys did, and I gulped, nervous all of a sudden.

  Four demonic looking gargoyles, with sharp faces, beaks and claws, flew down from their perches, one landing on each of the guy’s shoulders. Several of them rasped and cracked as if content to be reunited with their Guardian. Tor was the only one to give his a chin scratch, and his gargoyle closed its hard eyes, raking its claw along his shoulder in enjoyment. Pascal leaned his head away from his.

  Knoxe stabbed a finger at a set of shelves with items of clothing and boots on it. “Pick your size,” he ordered me, “get changed and meet us here in five.”

  Five minutes! I doubted I could get into that thing without a pound of talcum powder and a team of assistants to zip me up. I went to tell him to shove it, but it just didn’t seem like the time to argue. Not while he looked murderous and I was in striking distance.

  I moved to the shelf, and when I found one my size, I pulled it out to examined it. A thick black body suit, inflexible like leather. An insignia with a double G, back to back. Matching boots with little fiery curls along the outside. Sexy, but more costume than practical. Hot to wear I imagined. Would give wedgies from hell and a chafing nightmare. After one Cosplay convention—where some dick spilled a frozen coke down my collar, and I’d spent the day sticky and glued to my outfit—I’d sworn off the costumes for life. At the Guild of Shadows, we wore a standard cotton uniform, nothing so complex as faux leather and calf boots.

  “You can’t train in this. It’s not flexible or comfortable.” I shifted my weight to my right hip. “This is like a funny welcome prank, isn’t it?” I cocked my finger like a gun. “Good one, guys. Where’s my real uniform?”

  They all stared at me, Tor amused and wearing his cocky grin. Raze, eyes wild, like he wanted to tear my throat out. Pascal, mouth parted, like he didn’t know what to say. I didn’t take Knoxe to be the joking type. His intense eyes made me wilt.

  Tor’s cobalt eyes slanted into a smile. “No prank. We dress like this everyday.” He spun a full circle with his arms spread wide.

  I wasn’t wearing this crap.

  I opened my mouth to say something smart back when Pascal lifted his gaze for a split second to look at me, and said, “It’s true.” He returned to tapping his tuning fork with his fingers as if playing musical notes. Someone who would never lie to me. Couldn’t lie to me.

  Tor shot Pascal a thumbs up.

  “Why do you dress like Thor then with your cape and mask?” I asked Tor.

  “No, Astra Nomical.” He waved his hands at me, using full name again so I gritted my teeth. “This is my own distinct look.”

  Uh-huh. Sure. And I was The Silver Strand, my favorite comic book heroine. With a hot pink outfit and a silver streak through my hair.

  The storm on Knoxe’s face darkened as he moved to the other side of the room and grabbed two wooden poles to twirl them.

  “Tor,” he barked, and Tor stepped back into line.

  Raze got busy picking up a bowl from one shelf, adding some leaves to it and lighting them. What the hell was he doing?

  Pascal stood awkwardly by the wall, still fiddling with his tuning forks.

  “Don’t get me wrong.” I hooked the outfit over one arm. “I mean, I like your outfits a lot. They suit you, and you have the asses for it—”

  “Sexual harassment on your first training exercise?” Tor wagged a finger and turned around, showing his ass on purpose. “Big no-no in this facility, Supergirl. But big yes-yes with me.”

  He reminded me of Redpool, one of my favorite anti-hero comic characters. I cracked a smile, still unsure if the joke was on me.

  Obsidian snickered from his position atop my shoulder. The gargoyles understood everything and could speak, but only rarely.

  I leaned to one side, cocking my hip. “What I meant was, that I don’t imagine it’s very easy running, fighting, or catching vamps in that getup.”

  “The uniforms are custom made,” Knoxe growled, prompting his gargoyle’s features to sharpen like knives and reveal its teeth. “Made from the Atlatian Spider. Hardest silk known in all the gantii verse. Light as hell, and they protect us from claws and teeth. Not even a bullet can get through. You’d know if you put it on like I ordered.”

  Tor pulled his collar tighter, then flexed his biceps, showing off. I half expected him to stick out his ass again. Whatever dude. I eye rolled him, wanting to laugh.

  He winked and tapped the outfit in my hands. “I bet you’ll look like a real Supergirl in this outfit.”

  Obsidian sniffed it and squawked. Traitor!

  Tor crossed his arms. “If you don’t put it on, I’ll be the only sexy one on this team!”

  I smiled. At least Tor would make it bearable here.
/>   Tor gleamed at me on my way out, like he’d won a bet. And maybe he won this one, but there would be other challenges. And I never lost twice.

  Chapter 8

  Astra

  Yep, just as I predicted this thing was a wedgie maker, but damn I looked…good. Really good. Easy to put on, too. No powder or assistance required. I was like Clark Kent. This outfit was as badass as Tor promised. Because I didn’t have much on underneath, just a Guild issued bra and a pair of my own panties.

  When I trudged into the training room, they all stopped. Stared. Even Pascal glanced up and quickly looked away.

  Great. I waddled, stance wide, grabbing at my tight crotch, feeling uncomfortable. My new get up rustled with every movement, the fresh material rubbing between my thighs.

  Tor whistled, the kind of two-fingers-in-the-mouth-whistle that accompanied homeruns in the bottom of the ninth. “Fucking A, Supergirl. Smoking.”

  Knoxe thumped him on the chest, and he stopped.

  Tor grabbed my collar and yanked, nearly lifting me off the ground. “I’m glad it fits.”

  “Not as good as Sable Assassin,” Pascal added, not in a mean way, but truthful and tactless, typical of someone on the autism scale.

  “A person can hear me walking a mile away.” I adjusted the collar. “How the heck are we going to sneak up on a vamp when I’ll scare them off?”

  “Give it time,” Tor said. “The material’s stiff. It’ll relax with your body warmth.”

  The way he said the last two words sent a shiver of delight charging through me. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the idea of his heat, me snuggling up to him. Damn, I was a sucker for those cobalt eyes and emerald hair.

  No. No way in hell, Astra. Don’t get close to anyone in here.

  “Maybe do some yoga moves.” Tor bent over, sticking out his ass again, groping it. Any chance to show off. “Stretch the material a bit.”

  Raze smiled—brilliant, beautiful—and I lost my breath. Guarded and reserved, he didn’t seem the type to smile much. Crying shame.

  I laughed, mimicking Tor, just for shits and giggles.

  “Would you knock it off, Tor?” Knoxe barked again. “We’re a professional unit, not clowns.”

  “Professional clowns.” Tor retreated, leaning against the wall.

  Honestly, what was I getting myself into?

  Knoxe carried two long wooden staffs over to me. “Let’s see what you got, Nomical.” He let his impatience show in his voice, like I was a child he expected to disobey.

  “Nomical?” I tried to make light of it, maybe cheer the guy up a little... he sure needed it. Too serious for his own good. “Is that like a guy last name thing? Does that mean I’m one of the guys?”

  He sneered. It was bad enough I’d gotten no “welcome” or a “nice to meet you” from the leader. The way he spoke to me, I might as well have been a piece of baggage he’d rather left on the curb.

  Meeting the team hadn’t exactly filled me with the warm and fuzzies. And I couldn’t say I was excited or enthused for my first exercise. More like confused, longing for home, and wishing I’d never agreed to steal that damned paper for Luna. Frustrated, I picked up a dagger and hurled it at dummy. Of course it bounced off it. Silver Blazes. I was better with my magic. Not so good with weapons.

  They all stared at the mannequin. Well, not all. Not Knoxe. He crossed his arms. “I meant your battle skills.”

  Why didn't he say so? Or just give me the staff. I would’ve figured it out.

  I glanced out the window at the sentries patrolling the area. They moved past our training room, watchful, alert, and it set me on edge. I was used to being observed by my instructor but not by guards who could taser me at any time.

  “Tor.” Knoxe threw one of the staffs at the Thor wannabe and he caught it. “Don’t go easy on her.”

  Tor twirled his staff in front, behind his back, to the side and even overhead. Holy shit. I was a little out of my depth. Going to get my lady balls kicked pretty soon.

  “Wait.” Raze stepped forward with his smoking bowl, circling it in the air, brushing the smoke my way. “We acknowledge the traditional custodians of the land and waters. We show our respect for elders past and present.”

  My knees weakened at his deep and gruff voice. All the grit of Vin Diesel, but ten times as sexy. I imagined him talking dirty in one of the romance audiobooks I listened to, and I shuddered. I’d masturbate to his voice! The idea had me simmering.

  Cool it, girl. He’d never be interested in you. And he’s an inmate remember? Think of your mother’s heart!

  That was an ice-bucket to the old hormones.

  He bent down and covered me in smoke, and I coughed, trying to breathe.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I retreated a step. Who the hell wanted to smell like burned leaves and herbs? And how exactly would this help me train?

  “It’s a smoking ceremony.” His sexy growl stoked my inner fire. “It’s an indigenous welcoming gift. We’re on tribal land, and as Guardians we respect their customs.”

  Oh. I didn’t know the first thing about indigenous ceremonies or their culture. But I resolved to find out more. Especially if it took a lot of long, alone-time sessions with him…gazing into those predator eyes…oh, yeah, sign me up.

  Before I had a chance to thank Raze, Tor said, “It also cleanses you of bad juju.”

  “Excuse me?” No bad vibes here, pal.

  “Surrounded by dark forces.” Raze fanned more smoke toward me, and I glared at him.

  I brushed it away. “I fought the Serpent Brotherhood, for Pete’s sake! So, maybe I absorbed a little dark magic. But I don’t need a clearing, and I resent the insinuation.”

  Raze glared at me but continued to smother me with his haze.

  Behind Knoxe and Tor’s backs, Raze encouraged smoke their way, until the leader inhaled a lungful of smoke, coughed and waved Raze away.

  They were a mixed bunch. A predatory smoke blowing demon exorcist, a superhero wannabe, a socially awkward guy who played with tuning forks, and a ball breaker in charge.

  If not for the whole lack of appreciation thing, and the grunting jerk of a leader, I might have actually been convinced I’d died and gone to heaven surrounded by four hunks, three of whom were dressed like my wildest wet dream! Seriously? This was too good to be true.

  I tugged the neck of my outfit as Raze finished, bowed deep with respect, and retreated to stand against the far wall.

  Tor lifted his staff preparing to fight. “Ready?”

  Damn. We hadn’t trained much with staffs at the Shadows. Their whole vibe was to subdue, send to sleep, and return gantii back to their own world, not engage in conflict. I wasn’t very good with any of the weapons, but I’d give it a go. Maybe they could give me some tips.

  I caught a staff from Knoxe who stood firm by the edge of the training mats. He didn’t even look at me.

  “Go.” Good God. There were only the four of us in here and none of us were deaf. His yell was overkill.

  Tor struck first, jabbing me in the stomach, and I was too slow to bat him away. I stumbled backward. He didn’t even give me a chance to clutch my stomach before he swat at me again. I deflected the first blow, the second caught me on the forearm. Hell, it hurt.

  So, the outfits could deflect a bullet, just not the pain that accompanied the blast. Must have been like Kevlar. Got it.

  Damn. Tor was way taller than me, so I had to aim low. Nuts and knees low.

  Tor lunged, swiping his staff, and I cracked it away. He smiled and winked. Got it. Intimidation 101. Let him think he had the edge. But when he attacked, I thumped him in the side of the leg, and he grunted.

  “Nice one, Supergirl.”

  “Tor!” Silver Blazes, it seemed like Knoxe only knew the one word. “Stop going easy on her.”

  “I'm sussing out her technique, boss.” His second swipe caught me off guard, slammed into my sternum.

  I wheezed, but didn't press my hand to my chest
.

  Tor didn’t even give me a chance to recover, throwing two more blows, one I sideswiped, the other I blocked. He flung out his leg to catch me, and I jumped out the way. Before I hand the chance to steady myself, he slammed his staff into my hip, throwing me off balance, and I crashed to the floor.

  I sat up, gasping for air. Crap. I was going to get my ass kicked here.

  “Again.” Knoxe's shout echoed off the stone. He held out a hand, and I accepted. Yanked to my feet, I was shoved forward for another round. This guy was a drill instructor from hell.

  Raze and Tor exchanged a glance. Pascal looked up, then tucked his head. Dear God. Did I have to fight him, too? Did they?

  Tor thrust at me with such speed that I managed to block one move but caught another whack to the neck. I sputtered, stumbling backwards, clutching my throat. Fuck, that hurt.

  He mouthed the words, sorry Supergirl and his mouth curved into a frown. At least he wasn’t a complete ass. Probably went easy since I sucked so bad at this.

  “Again.” My stomach hardened at Knoxe’s shout.

  “Come on, man, she’s not trained in combat like this.” Tor’s plea fell on deaf ears.

  Knoxe raised two flattened hands and brought them together. The symbol to fight. Tor shook his head and raised his staff, his expression strained. He didn’t want to do this.

  Another assault came, one strike I swept aside, and a kick I blocked. I thumped my staff on Tor’s knee, and he hobbled backwards.

  “Nice.” Tor rubbed his leg for a bit.

  “Did you want her to come over and kiss it better?” Knoxe paced the length of the mat, his eyes narrowed, staring hard as he studied me. Tor didn’t answer. “Fight!”

  Fuck. I was going to die today. I panted, already tired. I couldn’t take much more. The Shadows didn’t require us to build stamina. We weren’t soldiers like the Guardians. The Shadow’s job was to defend and clean up afterward.