“Try to get back up,” Kera warned him, seeing that he was on the verge of rising to one knee, “and I’ll set your balls on fire. You saw what I did to your car. Think about all that concentrated heat focused on something a little more delicate. Nice thought, isn’t it?”
“What do you want?” he gritted out. He was holding himself back from attacking her, and she could tell how much he hated that.
“Well,” Kera said, drawing the word out, “I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t remember.”
She kneed him in the upper chest. The force of the blow sent him reeling back toward his vehicle, and the back of his head clunked into its front bumper. Johnny let out another groan and slumped to the ground, conscious only in the loosest sense of the word.
Kera nodded in satisfaction, then drew the necessary spells to mind: first, the charm of forgetting, and second, the enchantment for sleep. With adrenaline pumping through her, it took real effort to restrain the flow of magic. This time, after all, she didn’t care as much if her spells spread out.
Once the man was oblivious, she picked him up and deposited him behind the wheel of his damaged Mustang, allowing his head to rest against the dashboard beside the wheel.
With that done, Kera wrote a note on a slip of paper she’d grabbed back in the bar.
LA WITCH TERRITORY. HANDS OFF.
She stuffed it into Johnny’s pants pocket but then thought better of it. “Nah,” she said, half to herself and half to him. “You won’t recall any of this when you wake up, so I can’t afford to be subtle.” She tore a tiny hole so she could hang the piece of paper over the front of his rearview mirror. “Yeah. That works.”
Hustling now that her main task was done, Kera pulled off her leathers and wrapped her helmet in them, then trotted back across the empty lot to the rear entrance of the Mermaid.
She reentered the bar, flipped the button to turn the security system back on, and strolled up to the bar to help Jenn with the last five minutes’ worth of chores.
The brunette looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you okay? I thought I heard someone yelling out there.”
“Yeah,” said Kera. “I’m fine. Some guy passed by on the street, cussing out his girlfriend or something on the phone.”
Jennifer was almost done sweeping the floor. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at Kera’s story. They’d both seen plenty of shenanigans at this time of night.
“And your mom?” Jennifer asked a moment later.
With a jolt, Kera remembered the story she’d told her coworker. “Right. Turned out to be a false alarm. They thought my grandma was really sick, but the tests all came back fine. She just didn’t want me to be awake worrying.”
Once the girls finished up front, they collected Cevin from his office. He was mostly fine but spaced out. Kera decided a Jedi mind trick was in order.
“Hey, Cevin, we’re closed now. Jenn and I finished cleaning up. You’re done with the computer stuff, right? Anything left you can do tomorrow, on Saturday. Let’s all go home.”
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds good.” She saw him pull himself back together, which was good.
She didn’t know how to do the opposite of a sleep spell on someone.
The three left the bar behind, locking up and going to their separate vehicles. Kera waved at Jennifer as she pulled away, and then at Cevin, where he was doing his usual radio-and-cigarette routine. Then she fired up Zee and headed out of the alley, looping around the block to take a glance at the back lot.
The Mustang was gone, and so was the man who’d driven it there.
Kera shook her head and looked into the darkness. “Don’t come back, asshole.”
She revved Zee and headed home.
Chapter Thirty-One
Saturday afternoons at the Kims’ grocery store tended to be slow, and today was no exception. When Kera came in, there weren’t any other customers to get in the way.
Mr. Kim noticed her right away. “Kera! Good to see you. Come here, come here.”
Kera smiled. He had sent her so much free food that she didn’t need to do any shopping. She had come here today to see the family, and to buy something if he would let her. She walked over to the counter, taking heart from his contented smile. Mrs. Kim must still be doing well.
“How is work?” the old man asked. “Did you wear your new wig?”
“I did! It worked perfectly.” Kera gestured at her wig-less head. “I don’t wear it under my helmet, and I don’t want to damage it. And work is fine. There was a little bit of excitement with some local people—the person who damaged my bike. But nothing serious. I don’t think they’ll be back.”
“If they are, you know to call the authorities, yes?” Mr. Kim gave her an unusually sharp look. “Remember, I too was once young and thought myself indestructible.”
If that asshole comes back, a lot more is going to get burned than the hood of his car, Kera thought, but she didn’t want to worry her friend. “I won’t get in over my head, I promise. How is Mrs. Kim?”
The man’s face almost glowed, it was so happy. “She is doing well. I think she would like to see you. Would you like to come up?”
“Of course. I would love to.”
Mr. Kim bustled around, locking the door and putting up a sign to say the store would be open again soon, then led Kera upstairs.
Once again, Mrs. Kim was lying on the couch, though this time she looked more normal. Her skin was a healthier shade and she was fully awake, clearly at ease instead of wracked with pain.
She looked around at the sound of footsteps and smiled when she saw Kera. “Hello,” she said warmly. “I hope you liked the soup.”
“I did,” said Kera. “And the wig; it’s beautiful. You’ll get it back in the same condition I got it in. I promise.”
“There’s no rush.” Mrs. Kim gestured at her bathrobe and the blanket over her legs, smiling. “I will be here on the couch for some time, I think, so I will not be using it.” She reached over to pat the chair beside the couch. “Come, sit. I have heard things about you from my husband, but I would like to hear more from you.”
“Of course.” Kera sat down, noting that Mrs. Kim seemed a bit winded from the minor effort of speaking. She tried to keep her story light and amusing, telling Mrs. Kim about college and her current living situation and even mentioning Christian.
After a few minutes, however, Kera could no longer ignore the exhaustion in the woman’s eyes.
She hesitated but knew she could not leave without trying to help. “I don’t know how you feel, but if you’ll let me examine you again and maybe try a little more reiki, I might be able to help again.”
Mr. and Mrs. Kim exchanged glances, then both gave the girl a nod.
This time, it didn’t take as much sugar and fat and caffeine, which was a relief. Still, it took a lot out of Kera, and the old man watched her closely as she channeled subtle, carefully-directed streams of healing magic into his wife.
Kera’s heart rate quickened each time she pushed against the outer edges of the cancer. She knew she was approaching her limit in each push when she grew dizzy and had to struggle not to pass out, and by the sixth attempt, she was able to pull back before reaching that point.
She was excited. Though she still didn’t dare try to eliminate the disease at its source, she was pushing back the tumorous tissue. She was winning, and it was losing.
When it was over, Mrs. Kim needed to rest, and Kera figured she’d require the same. Strung out and drained, only a mixture of energy drinks and politeness kept her going. In fact, she found herself dreaming of the prepackaged cupcakes downstairs. She might treat herself to a pack of those before she tried to drive.
Mrs. Kim reached out to squeeze Kera’s fingers. “Thank you,” she said. “Tonight, I will be well enough to cook again. The smells, the textures…it is good to be able to do the simple things.”
“And she has another appointment on Tuesday,�
�� Mr. Kim added. “We will see what they have to say.”
“Good.” Kera smiled, though she felt a stab of worry. “Uh, don’t mention me, okay? Doctors can be…very dismissive of reiki.” That hung together as an excuse, she was fairly sure.
“Of course,” Mr. Kim assured her.
On the couch, Mrs. Kim had fallen asleep, her lips curved slightly in a gentle smile.
“Come, come.” Mr. Kim offered Kera a hand to help her up and guided her back downstairs, where he offered her a candy bar. He shook his head when she pulled out her wallet. “No, no. And, Kera, you are safe with us.”
She blinked at him, perplexed, though something in her core went cold with a faint premonition of dread. “Safe? How?”
The old man gave her a rueful smile. “I lied to you. Very sorry. I have studied reiki. I know what it is.”
Oh, shit. Kera tried to keep her face straight. “I…see.”
“Reiki,” Kim went on, “doesn’t make you eat so much, only to grow thinner. Don’t think I don’t notice this. You have lost weight, and unless you have a tapeworm, I know it’s because of what you did for my wife. You have...sacrificed for her. You have done things most people cannot do.”
It took Kera a second to realize that the cold numbness spreading through her was a form of shock, not magic, though her recent expenditure had likely not helped. “Mr. Kim,” she murmured, “I’m...”
He raised a hand, palm outward. “No, don’t worry. When you are ready, you can share with us, but you should know that no one will find out from me or my wife talking, or our son. She is my life, Kera. I was afraid for the future. Now it looks like we will make it to July.”
Kera nodded wordlessly. She did not trust her voice, and her chin was trembling.
“I think we should have you over for dinner,” Mr. Kim said. “Sometime after her appointment on Tuesday. You work on weekdays, right?”
She nodded again.
“How about Saturday?”
Oh, shit, she thought once more, though it was a different kind of alarm from what she’d felt a minute ago.
On the other hand, the distraction was a welcome one. She felt herself blushing. “I, uh, I have a date Saturday. I asked a guy out.”
Mr. Kim’s eyes widened. “Well, then. You will have to bring him by to see if we approve of him.” He reached over to pat her hand. “You think I am joking, but I am not. You have been a good daughter to us, and we owe it to your parents to look out for you. I take this seriously.”
Kera laughed; she felt giddy with something like relief. “Okay, I think I can manage that. Maybe on our second date, if nothing else. Anyway, I should get going now.” She gave the old man an embrace, then turned to leave.
“One more thing.” His voice carried more authority than usual. He waited until she turned back, surprised, before switching into his usual tone. “Be safe, Kera. The abilities you have are unusual, but you are not the only one who has them. Playing with those forces can be dangerous, not only to your health but if others find you. That, I have some knowledge of.”
“Mr. Kim…”
He shook his head. “When you are ready, come talk.”
Kera nodded and headed out through the store into the warm sunlight with her head full of a jumble of thoughts. She stopped beside Zee, resting her hand on his surface, and spent a moment untangling her brain.
Mrs. Kim is getting better, she clarified to herself, and she’s going to make it to treatment. I achieved the incredible without killing myself.
Having sorted that out, she was thrilled.
But there was still that chilly undercurrent to it, the vague, perilous sense that something might be wrong and there was more going on than she knew or could handle.
How much does Mr. Kim know? she wondered. And who else knows? As she swung a leg over Zee, she could only think of one person—or group.
Whoever had put out the spell-book.
Melvin’s Legendary Barbecue lived up to its name so far.
More importantly, James was in the mood to appreciate it. They had located their second prospect and found her to be far more promising than the first—a young black woman with a touch of power. She’d been performing miracles of the small, unobtrusive variety, mostly gentle channelings to help plants grow, which seemed to be her passion. The full spectrum of her powers would not manifest until she was older.
Which was good. It meant the council’s thaumaturgists had time to prepare.
Now he and Mother LeBlanc could have a well-earned celebratory meal.
“Ribs,” James opined, “are a finer form of meat. More of a connoisseur thing. You don’t get as much meat-meat as with some other cuts, yet the quality more than makes up for quantity.”
He was acquainted with people among the old New England gentry who would have turned up their noses at Southern cuisine. They were fools, he felt, who didn’t know what they were missing.
Across from him at their table, Mother LeBlanc simply smiled.
“What?” James asked her. “Did I say something amusing?”
“It’s the advertiser in you,” she told him. “Whenever you enjoy something, you cannot rest until you have described precisely why it is so wonderful.”
James glowered. “It is a service I perform for this jaded, indifferent world—trying to reawaken the spark of their zest for life.”
“That was lovely,” she said courteously.
“I thought so.” He dug into his food, cutting more glistening morsels off the charred rib bones, and settled into the companionable silence of a good meal.
When they were done, Mother LeBlanc produced two cloth napkins for them to clean their hands and mouths. James winced to see the streaks of barbecue sauce and grease on the white cloth and found himself wondering if she had a washing machine hidden in her gown.
Come to think of it, she must have some way of keeping the gown clean. He had often wondered if she had several identical gowns, but this trip had resolved that question handily. There was no way she had managed to stow other versions of that gown in her tiny suitcase.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. When he looked up, she was watching him.
James did not want to admit that he was trying to puzzle out the mysteries of her spells. Each thaumaturge had their own methodology and areas of expertise, but it was hard on his ego to explain that he had no idea how she made her dress work.
“I’m thinking about where we’ll go next,” he said. It was a white lie. It was what he should be thinking about, and he had been, up until the cloth napkins made him wonder about interdimensional laundry service.
“Well, what does your scrying spell say?” She raised an eyebrow and sipped her lemonade.
James pulled out his phone and accessed the web camera in the council chamber, and he and Mother LeBlanc leaned close to peer at the screen. Though they made a strange couple—both well-dressed, a white man and a black woman, her clothing hearkening back to an entirely different era—no one seemed to notice them.
Magic was useful that way.
On the screen, the image of the council chamber resolved from a mess of pixels, and James zoomed in to see the map.
There was no doubt about where they should go next. The glow, brightening and fading at intervals in multiple areas of Los Angeles, showed there was someone very powerful at work there.
“Los Angeles,” Mother LeBlanc murmured.
“That will be…different.” James rubbed his head. “I’ve never gotten a handle on LA.”
“You don’t have to,” she pointed out. “You just have to get a handle on who this recruit is.”
“With my luck? A movie star we can’t remove from the public eye.”
“Don’t be pessimistic, James. It doesn’t suit you.” She smiled at him and pointed at one dot. “This. This is a truly impressive amount of magic. Frankly, if there weren’t more recent ones, I would be worried that this person was dead. This could be our most promising recruit in more than a centu
ry. James, we thought we had hit the jackpot when we found the girl and her plants. This is even better.”
James had to nod, but he was cautious. “A lot goes on in LA, and if whoever this is is involved in the upper levels of those games, they might be dangerous.”
“They might.” Her eyes met his. “Or they might be exactly the recruit you were looking for when you proposed this initiative.”
The Story Continues
Pre-order How To Be A Badass Witch Book Two now to have it delivered at midnight on December 11, 2020.
Creator Notes - Michael Anderle
November 23, 2020
Thank you for not only reading this story, but these Author Notes in the back!
For those who have read my story, please jump to the bottom to catch up on the latest. I am going to drop in a little “about me” up here at the top to catch up any new fans.
Who Am I?
I wrote my first book Death Becomes Her (The Kurtherian Gambit) in September/October of 2015 and released it November 2, 2015. I wrote and released the next two books that same month and had three released by the end of November 2015.
So, just at five years ago.
Since then, I’ve written, collaborated, concepted, and/or created hundreds more in all sorts of genres.
My most successful genre is still my first, Paranormal Sci-Fi, followed quickly by Urban Fantasy. I have multiple pen names I produce under.
Some because I can be a bit crude in my humor at times or raw in my cynicism (Michael Todd). I have one I share with Martha Carr (Judith Berens, and another (not disclosed) that we use as a marketing test pen name.
In general, I just love to tell stories, and with success comes the opportunity to mix two things I love in my life.
Business and stories.
I’ve wanted to be an entrepreneur since I was a teenager. I was a very unsuccessful entrepreneur (I tried many times) until my publishing company LMBPN signed one author in 2015.
How to be a Badass Witch Page 24