How To Be A Badass Witch: Book Two Read online

  He nodded, and the man showed himself out, shooting a mocking smile at the useless guards. When he was gone, everyone’s heads swiveled to look back at their boss.

  Mariani didn’t miss a beat. “So,” he said, “next order of business...”

  Chapter Five

  Once Kera had wrapped up and after gathering her respectable number of tips, she headed out to Zee with her leathers on.

  It was time to go find trouble. This was LA; somewhere, evil was being done, and she might be the only one who could stop it.

  First things first, though. It was pure luck that she hadn’t yet been identified, and she didn’t intend to rely on luck from here on out. She had practiced some spells earlier that were designed to make both her and Zee less memorable.

  “Okay, Zee,” she said, “let’s get out of immediate sight here, and then I’m going to see if I can give you a little makeover.”

  She found a nice, dark, quiet backlot; nobody was around, and no one would be able to see her from the street. She’d found a “de-focusing” spell in her grimoire that could mask people or objects in an unobtrusive way, deflecting attention from them and making it difficult for people to remember any details about what they might have seen.

  Kera inhaled and then cast the spell. She concentrated, watching the bike, and channeled the powers required in small amounts, then increasing the flow. She visualized a generic motorcycle, something that would be hard to identify even for biking enthusiasts.

  Zee’s surface shimmered for a second, then grew hazy. When it snapped back into normal clarity, something about the bike seemed different. She had to fight to keep her eyes from sliding right past it, and when she did look, she kept looking back to double-check what she’d just seen.

  “Perfect,” she said quietly. “You like that, Zee?”

  Zee, of course, said nothing, but she figured he liked his makeover as well.

  “Good. Next thing on my to-do list.”

  She was looking for trouble, and the easiest way to find it, she figured, was to mooch off the information sources of those who were already paid to deal with it—namely, the LAPD and other of the city’s first-responder types.

  Kera spent a good thirty minutes combining a pair of audial scrying and relaying spells she’d learned with her preexisting knowledge of programming and electronics. Her goal was to create a system that would pick up 911 and police calls and transfer them to the interior of her helmet at a reasonable volume.

  It occurred to her that in the long run, she might want to get a scanner rather than spend magic on this, but right now, she counted any practice as good practice.

  She tested the setup by focusing on a local late-night pizza delivery place. Once she activated the spell, the sound of a guy asking how much it was for extra dipping sauces to go with his crusts had exploded in her ears with half the force of a gunshot.

  “Fuck!” She tore her helmet off and had to fight to stay upright as she winced. In her last year of high school, she’d learned to fire guns and had either used defective earplugs or not used them correctly some of the time, so she’d developed a case of tinnitus—mild, but bad enough. Her ears rang, and she hoped they’d return to semi-normal before the night was over.

  “So,” she said when her heart rate had slowed down, “major volume adjustment needed. Or we can try the telepathic version, as long as it can be shut off. I don’t need distress calls beamed into my mind while I’m trying to sleep.”

  She gave it another whirl, recasting the spell and rechanneling the energy so her phone relayed the audio at a much lower volume.

  It worked. Some guy was arguing with his wife over their dog shitting on the carpet, and it sounded like someone speaking at a conversational volume in front of her, though she comprehended it as readily as if the sound were accompanied by subtitles.

  “Perfect.” Kera climbed onto Zee, pulled back out onto the road, and cruised down the darkened asphalt under the sequential glare of streetlights, weaving between cars and waiting for someone to need her help.

  She didn’t have to wait long. The PD put out a “Be On Lookout” alert for a tall, heavy man in a blue jacket who’d been bumping into nightlife crowds, stealing stuff, and running away along carefully planned routes before anyone could stop him.

  Kera headed toward the neighborhood where the perpetrator had committed his last two crimes. She passed lone males three times, but none appeared to be the one she sought.

  Then, heading south on San Pedro, where a decent number of people were out on foot to take advantage of the various twenty-four-hour restaurants or the vibe of the town at night, she glanced across the street on a hunch.

  Her hunches, she had noticed, had been getting steadily better as she practiced her magic.

  Two girls and two guys were strolling down the side of the road, and a burly dude in a blue windbreaker was barreling toward them at full speed. He crashed into one of the girls, knocking her over and ripping away her purse in the same motion. He was a hundred feet away by the time the quartet grasped what had happened.

  “Hey!” one of the two men in the group shouted. “Stop that asshole!”

  Kera gunned it down the street. As she was about to catch up with the robber, he ducked down a side lane, but Kera had anticipated something to that effect. She wheeled her motorcycle around in a looping arc, bracing herself and then launching off with her foot to help regain her lead.

  The thief was either far enough ahead that he didn’t have any plan other than outrunning her, or his predetermined route required him to stick to this particular street until he reached a safe escape point.

  Either way, she had no intention of letting him escape. Kera roared toward him, her heart beating fast as she picked up speed and her mind racing with ways she could employ minimal magic to succeed.

  Zee rocketed past the thief, who turned to look at her with wide, bloodshot eyes. Kera turned, hit the front brake, and spun toward the sidewalk. She threw herself off the bike using a tiny speed spell, and, planting one foot, launched a spinning roundhouse to the man’s midsection. She caught Zee before he fell over, thanks to the spell.

  The thief let out a loud “oof,” almost a bellow, and collapsed in a heap, groaning. The purse fell out of his hands and tumbled a couple of times before coming to a stop.

  Kera figured her part of this was done. Around the corner came the four people Blue Jacket had attacked, along with a couple of stragglers they’d picked up. “Hey!” the same guy shouted again. Police sirens were approaching, and any of them could handle it from here. She didn’t have any desire to test how well Zee’s makeover worked in close quarters with a large group of curious strangers, so she hopped on Zee and sped off down a perpendicular street, getting well out of sight before the crowd came too close.

  Traffic was moderately heavy as she cruised north toward downtown on Hooper. She hopped onto the I-10 long enough to cross over to San Pedro, then continued into the Fashion District.

  Unfortunately, the next 911 call to come in was for a burning apartment complex about three miles to the southwest, a distance that could take forever to cross in Los Angeles, even at night.

  Fuck, Kera scolded herself, wishing she had turned the other way. Fuck fuck fuck. If the fire department got there first, they could take care of it, but from the updates she was getting, they were held up.

  That meant it was up to her. She hauled ass down major streets and cut through narrow alleys and little-used residential lanes where necessary, taking every shortcut she could find or think of.

  Until she came to a point where an alley ended at a fence, right before it would have opened onto Normandie Avenue.

  No. A wave of pure fury swamped her…until she remembered just how many skills she had at her disposal.

  A fence wasn’t going to stop her.

  Looking around, she found a long plank of wood. Braced with a few cinder blocks, it ought to make a reasonably sturdy ramp, at least if she supplemented what she
was about to do with a levitation support spell.

  Kera built the ramp as fast as she could and started reciting the incantation associated with the enchantment as soon as she climbed back onto Zee. She sucked in her breath and took off at top speed.

  The bike’s front tire aligned perfectly with the wood, and as the weight of it started to shift the board, she felt an instant of sickening panic. She focused on the magic and channeled the energy it took to keep herself straight and buoy the motorcycle on its upward course.

  She roared up and off and coasted through the air three feet above the fence, then descended slower than physics would dictate but faster than was comfortable and landed on the far side of the street. She had only just missed the sidewalk, and one car was closing in on her as she revved the engine and roared away.

  The car honked and swerved, which didn’t do anything for her nerves, but she was focused on the red glow in the distance.

  “Sorry,” she called over her shoulder, more out of form than anything.

  She followed the glow, and by the time she skidded to a halt next to the building, the sirens of an approaching fire truck were close. The other good news was that only half the structure was in flames, and that most of the people within had evacuated.

  Most, but not all.

  Kera parked Zee in a shadowed corner of a nearby lot and approached on foot, shouting at the gathered crowd. Many of them were in their underwear or pajamas and looked miserable.

  “Who’s still inside?” she called.

  “My ma,” someone choked out, voice hoarse. “Fourth floor. I thought she was with me.”

  Kera didn’t wait. She dashed toward the front doors, kicked them down and barreled into the smoke-filled building.

  This would require multiple simultaneous spells. While jogging toward the stairs, she cast one to increase her speed, another to bolster her strength, and lastly, a cooling spell to neutralize patches of fire and heat wherever she found them.

  She blitzed up the stairs to the fourth landing. When she reached it, she saw an inferno waiting for her. Flames no longer licked up the walls or clung to the carpet. The fire was everywhere, roaring and hungry. She could feel its energy like a living thing.

  Not good. She threw out her arms and strangled the flames, killing their heat and dissipating the black smoke they created. Then she sent out her mind to look for anything that seemed human, also listening for telltale sounds.

  “Hello? Where are you?” she yelled.

  A faint voice responded from two doors down, audible only due to her magically amplified hearing. She couldn’t make out the words and wasn’t sure they were in English. A patch of fire had burst through the floor in front of the apartment and was eating away the walls near the entrance.

  Kera extinguished the fire, tore open the door, and found a sixtyish Hispanic woman quivering in fear and despair.

  “It’s okay,” Kera called to her, panting. “Come with me.” Crap, where was her Spanish when she needed it? “Ven conmigo. You’re safe. Seguro.”

  She ran for the nearest window. When the woman could not stop trembling enough to follow her, Kera went back and physically lifted her over the damaged patch of floor. She didn’t want to traumatize the poor woman, but they had to get out of there.

  When she looked out the window, she saw that a fire truck had pulled up around the corner. The crowd was conversing with some of the firefighters as they prepared to storm the building. The rest of them were getting their hoses ready.

  Kera guided the older lady to a window and cast a moderate-strength suggestion spell on her, hoping it would make the woman trust her judgment. Then, gripping her around the waist, she opened the window and jumped out.

  The levitation-support spell worked, though again she had to cast it in a breathless hurry. The woman in her arms jabbered madly in fear, but the pair floated down as though they were moving through water instead of air and landed on their feet on a patch of grass with a soft thud.

  They had only just touched down when a half-dozen people rounded the corner at a full run. Kera was pretty sure one of them was the son.

  Too many witnesses to do anything more, she thought. And the cavalry’s here, anyway. They can handle the rest.

  “Adios,” she told the woman.

  And then two people screamed. Looking up, Kera saw a woman and a small boy leaning out of a window on the second story and waving their arms.

  She didn’t pause to think, just dashed around to the rear of the building and busted in by the back entrance, knowing she had to rescue them as fast as humanly possible.

  Or faster, she supposed, since supernatural means were in play. This time the spells came a bit quicker, her memory working to her advantage. The mother, thankfully, was inclined to trust anyone who would get her child out of the building safely, so she did not waste a single second.

  Kera once more bashed out a window and dragged the two out, pushing off as hard as she could to get distance from the building. Again, she landed more gently than she should have, although her exhaustion plus the extra weight meant this landing was a bit harder.

  There hadn’t been time to find an exit that wasn’t watched, so Kera rolled free of the mother and child and prepared to run.

  “Who are you?” a voice called. “Hey! Wait.”

  Kera didn’t hesitate. She sprinted for the nearest patch of shadows and took the long route to where she’d hidden her bike.

  Out in the fresh air, adrenaline still pounding, a young woman snapped a picture with her phone. She’d gotten out quickly, only to watch in horror as Mr. Alvarez searched for his mother and as Kristen and her son Kieran leaned out the window, screaming for help.

  And then she’d seen…what had she seen? Mr. Alvarez had called out for the person in black to stop, but they hadn’t. They’d just saved people from a burning building without any equipment and then run off.

  When the woman’s boyfriend and sister came over and looked at it, they were confused. The photo was weirdly blurred, as though someone had gone through with editing software and censored the image.

  “The hell?” her boyfriend marveled. “It’s got to be that guy from the highway the other night. He must be a frickin’ alien. No one can get a picture of him that’s in focus.”

  Chapter Six

  The majority of the blaze was out, but the Fire Department was still pouring water on the smoldering remains of the ill-fated housing complex. Dawn had broken perhaps half an hour ago, and Doug Lopez and Mia Angel were on the scene.

  Doug stuck a microphone in the face of a tired, sweaty fireman. “What information do we have about the cause of the fire? Was anyone injured? Are any witnesses still present?”

  The guy gestured toward the crowd of evacuees. “Talk to them. And it was probably a bad wire. The usual shit.” He shuffled off.

  Mia shook her head. “Doug, you are uncanny. I swear, you always manage to pick the one person who’s least interested in talking to the press.”

  “You pick the next one.” Doug scowled at her. He wasn’t a morning person, and his remarkable lack of success at picking interview subjects was a sore point.

  Mia pointed, and they headed over to the unhappy group of former residents. Cops were talking to one man, and a local church group had shown up with volunteers to tend to their needs and find them temporary lodging.

  Mia insisted on trying a softer and slower approach, and after a minute or two of preface, the useful comments started to flow in from some of them.

  “Motorcycle Man,” a girl in her teens offered. “He showed up again—that guy who saved those people on the I-10. Well, probably. Who else would it be?”

  Doug and Mia exchanged quick glances. Their hearts fluttered, and they practically drooled. If Motorcycle Man kept showing up, someone would eventually get video.

  Right?

  “Please, tell us more.” Mia flashed her reporter smile, the one that practically screamed, “I will pay you for any video footage you
have.”

  The survivors obliged. No fewer than three of them had been rescued from the burning building by the mysterious individual in the black leather outfit and big shiny helmet, an older woman who barely spoke English and a young single mother and her boy. The reporters interviewed each of them in turn, with the Hispanic lady’s son translating for her. Doug spoke Spanish, but Mia did not.

  Gradually, the incredible story took on shape, color, and flavor.

  Mrs. Ramirez chattered away.

  “My mother slept through the first part of the alarm,” her son explained, “and then she didn’t know what was going on. I thought she was with her friend Valeria on the first floor, so I went down there. We got out right away, but by the time we realized what was happening, the fire had spread to half the building. My mother says that she couldn’t get through the door by the time she found her phone. She called me and told me to tell the firemen she was still on the fourth floor. Then this guy in black came out of nowhere, rushed in and pulled her out through the doorway, then they jumped out a window.”

  Doug blinked. “A fourth-floor window?” He repeated the question in Spanish.

  The guy conferred with his mom, Doug interjecting occasionally until he caught Mia’s glare and gestured for the son to start translating again.

  “She says yes,” the son said, “but she probably got confused. Maybe they went down to the second floor?”

  Mia and Doug thanked them and headed over to the young woman and the boy.

  As they walked, Doug murmured in Mia’s ear, “She’s adamant that she never left her apartment.”

  “Okay, but the fourth floor?” Mia asked him.

  “I’m just saying,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, this guy ripped a car apart, so…”

  “Fair enough.” Mia plastered on her reporter smile and went up to the young woman. “Hello, I’m Mia Angel, Channel 7. We’ve heard that the two of you were saved by a good Samaritan. Would you be willing to tell us what happened?”