“It tried.” Bruiser walked through the kitchen doorway from the restaurant proper.
The purple smoke-mist rolled away from him, like a wave spun away from the shore when it was spent. The mist moved almost as if Bruiser was damaging it, and when he put on a burst of speed, it sparked where it touched him. His skin was burned with the purple swirls, and flaked off. Just as fast, his magics repaired the damaged skin. But I smelled his blood. His Onorio magics were offering him protection, but he needed out of here. Fast.
He reached my side and took my hand. “No purple etchings or burns here. What does the spell in the ring do?”
It was the hand wearing the wooden ring amulet. “Ahhh,” I said, relief shooting through me. “It gives me fifteen seconds to get away from anattackworking. And it looks like it gives me some kind of localized protection even without being activated.” For a moment I was blank on how to activate the ring, and then it came to me. A lot of Molly’s more weaponized spells required a drop or two of my blood to activate them, but this was less a defensive working than the kind of thing witch children learn when they are tutored in magic. It was a game. I made a fist and rapped with the ring on the countertop,tap-tap-tap, fast. I felt the purple mist-smoke spell stutter and sputter and I grabbed Bruiser’s hand. “Come on!”
Together, we raced through the restaurant and into the night. Lights and sirens were everywhere, first responders still arriving, and Commander Walker and his wife were walking back through the mob of local LEOs, coming back to the entrance and the media gathered there. “Oh crap,” I said.
Bruiser must have read my mind because he dropped my hand, raced ahead, picked up the commander—not a small fellow—and his wife, and carried them kicking and screaming away. And the purple mist followed them. It rose into a shape like a huge maw, a shark mouth, full of golden-electric lightning teeth, sharp as razors.
So it wasn’t here for me after all. Or not just me.
I reached up and yanked the hair ornament out of my hair. If Molly’s gift didn’t work, I was out of ideas. “Get down!” I shouted. And threw thedisc into the purple smoke-vapor maw. The wooden disc clipped an electric fang and whirled deep inside the mouth, like skipping a stone off another stone.
It exploded inward, into the shark mouth. It blasted the smoke-formed head into purple dust and exploded back through the restaurant, taking apart every molecule of the working. A magic hand grenade. Purple dust blasted out into the street through the open doors. The purple cloud shimmered away.
I spotted Jodi working the scene and Wrassler propped against a marked car, a big, totally-smitten grin on his face. When he saw me looking, he made a megaphone of his hands and shouted, “Best first date ever!”
I laughed and the laughter caused me to start coughing up purple dust.
From the corner of my eye I saw movement. At the entrance of the alley, a small woman raised her arm.Gun.
I reached for my weapon. Hidden in my clothes.
Four gunshots sounded. Overlapping. The woman fell back against the wall.
Eli and Syl moved toward her, weapons extended. The woman gasped several times, her chest moving. Then she lay still.
The commander, cell phone in hand, pushed his way through the crowd and stood over her. “Cancel the ambulance. We need the medical examiner and crime scene.” He closed his phone. “Natalia Bussey. A witch who cursed her unfaithful lover in 2004. The witches didn’t stop her, so I did. I put her away in a human prison. I was notified six weeks ago she had been paroled.”
“And you didn’t think it necessary to tell me?” Mrs. Walker asked, her tone like liquid steel. “We’ll discuss this at home. Tonight.”
The commander blew out a breath. “Yes, dear.”
The commander’s wife looked at me, her eyes flashing with banked fire. “Thank you, Ms. Yellowrock.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
—
I didn’t stay for the mopping up—dusting up—of the spell, nor did I hang around for the press conference. Bruiser dealt with city politics and the press. Jodi and Wrassler hung out with the cops working the crime scene. I hitched a ride home with Eli and Sylvia, took a long hot shower, and putlots of Molly’s healing lotion on my burned, bruised skin. Meanwhile Eli and Syl shared a bottle of wine and made plans of a more amorous nature.
I went to bed. Alone. I thought I’d not sleep, but I must have slipped into dreams because I woke when my Onorio climbed into my bed and wrapped me in his arms. Which was a grand way to end a very bad triple date.
Life’s a Bitch and Then You Die
First published as a serial short online in 2017 and takes place while Jane was sick. It is from Beast’s and Wesa’s point of view, and it answers some questions asked by fans about secrets Beast keeps. In the timeline, it takes place before (and perhaps after) “Of Cats and Cars.”
I studied the landscape through Beast’s eyes.
Good hunt in snow, she thought at me.
Uh-huh.
Would be better to hunt bison with Ed, in Ed car.
We don’t have Ed. He’s in France. We don’t have Ed’s car. We don’t have bison. Yeah, I know about that hunt bargain so don’t give me a hard time.
