Bella Flores Urban Fantasy Collection

by R D Martin

  From its perch on the roof across the street, it watched the woman as she left the building and navigated her way through the darkened alley. A large hood that helped it blend into the shadows covered its face. Its sharp nose could, even from this distance, pick up the scent of blood. Closing its eyes, the observer shivered as it looked at her aura. From miles away it had sensed the magic this witch had used and come to investigate, believing the origin to be a small group combining their power. But to find so much magic in one person forced the observer to pause and wonder if this witch would be a problem. Plans had been set in motion and there was no way to stop them now.

  It watched her yell a string of profanity as she tripped over a discarded packing crate, and it shook its head. No, it thought. The best course was forward. If the witch became a problem, the observer would deal with it then. Stepping back, the observer melted into the shadows behind it, disappearing as if it had never been.

  5

  The worst part of healing from her adventures with the goblins wasn’t the injury. A simple healing spell took care of most of it. No, the worst part was dealing with Cat.

  Arriving home after her midnight run, her familiar’s green-eyed stare greeted Bella as she closed the door behind her.

  “Just where, may I ask, have you been?” Cat said in the same tone a mother would use on a child returning home after curfew.

  “Aw, you do care.” Grabbing a pair of scissors from the kitchen junk drawer, she cut away part of her pants leg, exposing her wound before cleaning it.

  “Hardly. I was happily napping, and I felt you get hurt. Do you know how rude it is to interrupt a cat’s nap?”

  “Your concern is overwhelming,” she said through gritted teeth while wiping away dried blood as she reopened the wound. “If you were really curious, you could have come.”

  “What? And put myself in danger?” Jumping onto the table, the cat looked down at the wound she was tending and shook its head. “And besides, if I came running every time you skinned your knee, you’d never learn to take care of yourself. I mean, look at you. You’re a mess. Did you lose an argument with a pixie? I know they’ve got sharp tongues, but even you should have been able to deal with one.”

  “Goblins,” she said without looking up. “An entire pack of them.”

  “Ooh, an entire pack. And you got rid of them without any help from me. See, it’s a good thing I didn’t come running, otherwise you’d never have been able to do it.” Cat sat up straight and purred, the feline equivalent of a smirk on its face. “I don’t suppose you remembered to ward the entrances against reentry, did you? You know once a goblin claims a space, they’ll just keep coming back. I bet you forgot about barrier spells to keep them from shadow-traveling in. No, you probably remembered the barrier spell. You’re not a complete waste as a witch.” Leave it to her familiar to turn a compliment into an insult.

  Applying a bandage to her wound, she traced a rune for healing on it and mumbled an incantation. As the healing magic settled in, she slouched in her seat and let out a sigh. The spell flowed throughout her, radiating waves of warmth that eased aching muscles, knit torn flesh, and soothed her battered body. Within moments, she felt as if she could run a marathon, though it was a false feeling. Healing magic was like coffee, something she could desperately use right now. The upside was the instant boost in energy the spell gave while the downside was the crash that came later. All magic had a price, and with healing spells, that price was sleep. In most cases, the price was too much for something that could be cured easily using mundane means. Using a healing spell on a headache would mean sleeping for a few hours, so it was better just to take two aspirins and use the time to do other things. In this case, when left to conventional means, the bites and scratches would take a few weeks to heal. With magic, she might sleep for a day or so, but she’d wake up fully healed and ready to go, so the trade-off was worth it. She’d have to remember to email Human Resources and let them know she’d be out sick for a couple of days.

  “Are you listening to me?” The question, and Cat’s tone of voice, brought her out of her happy stupor long enough to open her eyes. The cat, its tail lashing at a frenetic pace, stared at her with an expression that, had it been on a human face, could only be called annoyance.

  “I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

  “I said… you know what? Never mind.” Rising to all fours, the cat stretched, arching its back so much that its stomach touched the table. “I think I’m going to get some sleep.” Leaping down from the table, the cat sauntered out of the kitchen and down the hall. Pausing, it briefly looked over its shoulder at her. “I’d suggest you do the same. You look horrible.” Turning a corner, it disappeared from view.

  If she’d been standing in front of a mirror, she might have agreed. As it was, she would be more than happy to crawl into bed and forget the world existed for a while.

  After tapping out a quick email and hitting send, she made her way to her own bedroom. Slipping off her pants, she tossed them in the general direction of the garbage since they were ruined anyway and flopped onto the bed without bothering to change into anything else. Sleep was now calling her name, and she was more than happy to answer.

  Bella woke to something warm and rough rubbing her cheek. It took her a moment to realize the source of the raspy feeling was Cat, licking her face as if it were covered with sugar.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake. I’m hungry,” said Cat.

  “What time is it?” she asked, reaching for her cell phone on the nightstand. She felt as though she’d only had a few hours’ sleep and groaned at having been woken so soon. She almost choked when she saw the date and time. She’d slept for nearly a day and a half.

  Sitting bolt upright, her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer, she opened her email to see she’d missed over a dozen messages. Flipping through them as quickly as she could, she was relieved to discard more than half as junk. The rest were all messages from work. Scrolling through those, she stopped on one from her supervisor, Mr. Browser. The subject was written in all caps and contained three exclamation points. Apparently, he believed it was highly important. Her stomach twisted a bit as she read it.

  “Ms. Flores. I was informed by Human Resources that you would be out sick for the next couple of days. While I wish you a speedy recovery, as your supervisor, I feel it is necessary to remind you that there is a proper chain of command that must be followed. If you are going to be out sick, you are required to inform me, not HR, immediately. I will then inform HR, payroll, etc. You have been supplied with a copy of the company handbook that outlines this policy. Further, you have been given verbal warnings in the past with regard to your responsibilities at our firm. We will therefore consider this your first written warning. Should you receive another within the next three months, we will seriously have to rethink your future employment. To help ensure that you understand the importance of the command structure here, I’ve arranged for you to sit through an orientation with Human Resources. Also, please keep in mind that you are only allowed nine personal days per year, vacation days aside. Payroll informs me you have already taken five. This does not look favorable for your annual review. Please see me as soon as you return to work.”

  The message was signed by Mr. Browser and copied to other department heads, human resources and payroll as well. Closing the email, she moaned. There was nothing she could do now, but the thought of being forced to meet with both Browser and HR sent shivers running up and down her spine.

  Tossing the covers off, she got up, showered, got dressed, and set coffee to brew. It was definitely a little late in the evening for coffee, but since she’d just woken, she felt the jolt of caffeine was necessary. As the smell of roasted beans permeated the air, a form of magic all by itself, she opened the fridge and inspected its contents, disappointed to find it nearly as empty as her stomach.

  Closing the door with a sigh, she caught sight of her calendar hanging by the kitchen entrance. One dat
e was circled in large red ink. It took her a moment to realize the date circled was today, but as she did, she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips. She’d promised to watch Samantha today. Bella’s neighbor, Heather, was supposed to have a romantic dinner with her boyfriend and needed someone to watch Samantha while she was out. Bella had been more than happy to agree and Samantha was as excited as usual.

  Since learning magic was real, the girl looked forward to spending any time at Bella’s apartment, and even looked for things to bring over that she thought might be magical. She’d had no luck finding anything, though there was a rock that looked as if it had grown a face. Nevertheless, she was determined to find something magical in the mundane world.

  Grabbing her keys, Bella slurped down the rest of her cup and left her apartment. From the hallway, she could hear some shouting, though she wasn’t sure which apartment the noise was coming from. As she neared Heather’s door, however, it became apparent the shouting was coming from inside.

  Somewhat disappointed, Bella raised her hand to press the buzzer. If the couple was fighting, she probably wouldn’t be watching Samantha.

  Pressing the door buzzer, she felt an electric tingle race up her spine to lodge in the base of her skull while the hairs on her arms stood on end. The air around her thinned as though she stood in the middle of a vacuum chamber and her chest tightened even as she tried to breathe. The feeling lasted less than a second, but it was all the warning she needed.

  Jumping to her left, she barely made it out of the way as the door to the apartment blasted off its hinges, missing her by a fraction of an inch. Rolling on the dirty gray hallway carpet, she came to a stop and jumped to her feet.

  Raising her hands in front of her, she opened herself to magic, calling it to encase her hands and arms in a blue-white fire. This was a dangerous spell, one of the most dangerous she knew, but under the circumstances it was all she could think of. Creeping up to the twisted remains of the doorway she peeked around the corner.

  Her neighbor’s apartment was built in the same cookie-cutter pattern as her own, giving her a good look into the living room. Lying on the floor like a rag doll with its strings cut was her neighbor. And leaning over her, emanating darkness, was her latest boyfriend, Ronnie. In that brief second, she could taste the magic coming from the rocker wannabe, and it twisted her lips. The taste was wrong, unnatural, and soured in a way that she didn’t recognize. She watched as he raised his hand, gathering enough of that dark energy that she could see it bubble and roil like an active tar pit in his hand. It was clear he was about to use that darkness on her neighbor, and at least to her, it was just as clear Ronnie didn’t expect Heather to live through it.

  Turning through the doorway she brought her arms up and shouted a word that could only be heard and forgotten. A blue-white fire encompassed her hands and raced up her arms before exploding away to race across the room, slamming into Ronnie and engulfing him in fire like a living torch.

  This was magic at its most raw as far as she knew. It should have destroyed him, turning him into a wisp. Instead of disappearing in a flash of smoke, Ronnie straightened and, as if she’d sprinkled him with nothing more than water, wiped her fire off himself and out of existence. Where his hand passed, not even charred leather was left behind.

  “Now, that wasn’t nice, little Witch,” he said, turning toward her.

  Rooted in place, she had no choice but to watch as Ronnie stepped away from her neighbor and stalked toward her. If there was any doubt left that Ronnie wasn’t human, it was gone. No human should have been able to move the way he did. It was as if someone had given a snake legs and taught it to stand upright but, before it got the complete hang of the thing, they’d saddled it with a muscled frame that would have been more at home on a wild cat. Even his eyes had changed into black pinpricks floating on a pool of pure white. The creature crossing the room toward her was death, pure and patient.

  Summoning as much power as she possessed, she laced her fingers together and shouted a spell to summon water and air. She wasn’t sure the spell would work, but fire had done nothing. A vortex of spinning air leaped to life in front of her hands, pouring forth a torrent of water that raced across the room and engulfed Ronnie where he stood. Wherever the water touched him it solidified, encasing him in an expanding layer of ice. The temperature of the room dropped to less than zero in the space of a breath. The extreme change caused some glassware to shatter and a large crack to appear on the screen of a nearby television. As the temperature normalized, all that could be heard, apart from her heavy breathing, was ice popping and crackling as it settled. Through its hazy depths she could just make out Ronnie’s face. Frozen behind the ice, he still had a smile.

  Stepping around the living ice sculpture, Bella ran to her neighbor. Dropping to her knees, she was more than a little relieved to see she was alive. Her face was a mass of cuts and bruises. Her left eye was purple and swollen shut and it looked like her right wasn’t far behind. From her vantage, she could tell the rest of her body was in just as bad a shape. One arm was broken and the other, twisted and splayed behind her, might have been as well.

  Putting her hand on the woman’s shoulder, readying a healing spell, she jerked back in surprise when the woman wailed. The cry, piteous and wrenching, was one word. Samantha.

  In her rush to check on her neighbor, she'd forgotten why she’d come across the hall in the first place.

  “Samantha,” she yelled, craning her neck to see around the apartment. “Samantha!”

  There was no answer. Worry for her neighbor and concern for Samantha warred in her for a moment. She feared that if she left the injured woman to search for the little girl, she might die. On the other hand, it was possible that Samantha was hidden somewhere in the apartment and couldn’t hear her yell.

  Mind made up, she turned back to the injured woman and began chanting. The spell at its core was the same one she’d used on herself, but it was much more involved. As it took hold, she could feel every broken bone, every scrape and bruise on the woman’s body. Tracing small rune patterns on the woman’s arms and legs, Bella moved to her chest. Tearing the collar of the woman’s bloodied shirt, she traced a special rune on the skin above her heart. It flickered like a candle flame before sinking into the woman’s flesh to fade from view, and she slumped as energy wicked away from her. The damage to the blonde had been too extensive and she wouldn’t have had the physical energy needed to survive much longer, so Bella supplied the power for the spell herself, like a living battery.

  As beads of sweat formed on her forehead, she sat back, propping herself up with shaky arms. No longer in danger of dying, the woman still needed to spend some time in a hospital. Wiping the perspiration from her forehead, she turned her attention to finding Samantha. Standing, she scanned the hallway and, wondering how the child could stay hidden in this heat, started toward the back rooms.

  That thought was all the warning she had before hearing ice shatter behind her. Whirling around, she saw Ronnie pushing chunks of ice away from himself, the smile still plastered on his face as though this were something he did just to relax.

  “Oh, little Witch. Did you think this would keep me?” The humor in his voice was clear as he stepped away from some larger pieces.

  Fear gripped her heart as she realized he’d been playing with her. The look in his eyes said she was nothing more than an amusing plaything.

  “You know,” he continued, moving his gaze between Bella and the unconscious woman on the floor. “You interrupted my fun. I had such plans for that one. It was so… nice, watching her squirm at first. Her screams were delicious. She begged me, begged me to stop, begged for her daughter back.” His grin got even wider as he spoke, as if he was reliving a cherished memory. “She didn’t want to keep playing, though, but then you came over. I’m so happy I didn’t kill you when I opened the door. Now we can keep playing.” There was a touch of mania at the edge of his voice now and it turned Bella’s stomach
.

  In two strides he was across the room, and with the speed of a snake, his hand flashed out to catch her by the throat. Where his skin touched hers, there was a numbing sensation that changed to a burning one. No wonder the ice had done nothing to him. He was a walking, talking freezer with skin so cold it made ice cubes seem warm. Struggling in his grasp, unable to speak or even breathe, she pounded on his chest, flailing madly.

  Darkness formed at the edges of her vision and she heard her father’s voice in the back of her head. “Magic,” he’d said, “is wonderful, but it won’t solve all your problems.” He’d said that after catching her trying to use a spell to make herself skinny. Taking his advice, she’d tried a number things to lose weight, but either they didn’t work or she didn’t like them. She’d even gone for a few karate lessons before realizing she didn’t like that either. Though she didn’t remember much of the lessons, she remembered one thing.

  Reaching up, she wrapped the fingers of both her hands around Ronnie’s thumb and pulled down hard. She felt a sickening pop, heard a scream from her attacker, and she could breathe again. Taking giant gulps of air, she felt her vision clearing, and she watched as Ronnie backed away, nursing his broken thumb.

  His wailing was music to her ears, and just as she had with the goblins, she reared her leg back and lashed out with as much power as she could muster. The kick didn’t send Ronnie flying across the room, but it landed squarely in his crotch with a satisfying thud. It was a perfect kick and should have left him a quivering heap on the floor. Instead, all she got was a grunt as he stepped back to put a little more space between them.

  “You,” he said, “you are going to die.” Whatever animated Ronnie, whatever gave him rational thought and the ability to make decisions, had fled, leaving behind nothing but manic anger. Dropping his injured hand to his side, he straightened and stared at her. It was as if he was trying to peer into her soul and it made her feel dirty. The darkness she’d felt from him before returned, though this time when it coalesced she could see it. The darkness swirled around him, flowed like a physical thing, coating him and hiding him from view. It was overpowering in a way she’d never felt before and, if she lived through this, hoped to never feel again.