My Ride is a Bitch

by Michael Anderle

  “What happens,” Dan asked, “If they try to draw us out?”

  Bethany Anne shrugged, “Depends on what they are doing. If it is something we can let go, I’ll let it go. My ego isn’t so large I have to give it a pillow at night. However, if they do something egregious? Well,” she turned to point to John, Eric, Akio, Darryl, Gabrielle, and Scott, “Them,” and then she turned and pointed at Barnabas, Stephen and Tabitha, “Them.” Next, she pointed to Admiral Thomas, Captains Wagner and Natalia Jakowski, “Them and whoever Admiral Thomas has coming up for the new ships.” And then she pointed to Peter, Todd and a few of the Wechselbalg Guardians and Guardian Marines, “and they will reply for me.”

  “What if they keep pushing?” Dan asked.

  Bethany Anne’s face went dark, angry and lines of red energy suffused her face as her eyes blazed, “They had better not cross my pissed-off line, or they will receive the reply from me personally. If I have to answer?”

  Bethany Anne never finished the question as the room erupted in shouts when Bobcat yelled out, “You learn not to fuck with the Queen Bitch!”

  FINIS

  My Ride is a Bitch

  For a minute…

  (Check out the next page)

  Because I (as a reader - not author) found this book to be f’ing hilarious. I asked Scott (TS PAUL) to let me put the beginning for you to see if you liked it as well. There IS a link to get you to the book on Amazon. It is supposed to work by country…we shall see ;-)

  QBS ArchAngel

  Bethany Anne nodded to Eric, who was on duty in front of her suite. She walked over to her personal small fridge to grab a drink.

  “Uhhh,” she muttered out loud as she grabbed the soda, “how am I going to get this shit when we leave?”

  She closed the door and turned towards her suite entrance, “Hey Eric!” she called out.

  “Yes, boss?” he called back.

  “Would you grab Stephen and ask him to figure out how I can get Coke in Yollin space?”

  “Oooh…kay?” he answered.

  Bethany Anne smiled, nothing like giving her minions something outside the box to keep them on their toes.

  “No rush, just need it in the next couple of weeks,” she finished and received his confirmation.

  She walked into her room, took off her shoes, unscrewed her drink and sat down on the bed. Picking up her tablet, she plugged in her passcode.

  Why aren’t witches real? Tom interrupted her thoughts.

  What? She asked absentmindedly as she opened the app for communications.

  Witches, why aren’t they real? He asked again.

  Bethany Anne stopped reading when she realized TOM’s question had no context. Then, her eyes opened wide. Oh shit, how the fuck is he getting stories again?

  They weren’t near the kitchen group (a requirement when the ship was built she had made damn sure was followed).

  Bethany Anne thought back over the last few days, and nothing they had done together had anything to do with witches.

  Wiccans? She asked. It’s a religion, I don’t know if …

  No, not Wiccans, true magic using witches. Or Warlocks, Magic-Users and the rest.

  Bethany Anne sat there, perplexed.

  Why the hell would we have witches and warlocks? She finally asked.

  Well, there is no reason that I can ascribe to there can’t be any.

  Bethany Anne put her hand to her forehead and started to rub. She had a feeling this conversation was going somewhere, but for the life of her, she didn’t have a clue where.

  TOM, give me a hint. Where did this idea come from?

  Well, I was listening to a story…

  STOP! Bethany Anne practically shouted across the link. Listening when? Who the fuck is putting out stories that you can hear now? Bethany Anne wanted to beat her head against the bed’s headboard in exasperation.

  She had worked so hard, in secret as much as possible, to make sure TOM didn’t have access to random stories floating around for him to hear. When he did, it caused questions that often went into wierd places…Like now.

  >>Uuuhhh.<<

  ADAM? Bethany Anne’s head dropped, her chin hitting her chest. What did you do?

  >>Well, TOM had mentioned he was bored.<<

  Now, Bethany Anne’s head turned up to the ceiling, her eyes pleading. Dear God, Just curious, what did I do to deserve an AI trying to help a bored alien? Signed in exasperation and annoyance, me.

  And? She continued.

  >>I went looking when he said he enjoyed stories. He said he had enjoyed the Bill the Vampire stories, so I found a paranormal witch story and read it to him.<<

  You…read it to him?

  It’s not like I couldn’t have set up the communications on my ship to have translated the information and sent it to me.

  >>But, since I read it to him, we could talk about the characters.<<

  Bethany Anne’s eyes looked around the room, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

  So, you two did what, create a book club of two members?

  >>Yes, exactly!<<

  A moment later TOM agreed as well.

  And who, or what, did you read? She asked.

  Conjuring Quantico by TS Paul.

  That sounds like a FBI book, with…Well, witches. Nice title at least. What’s it about?

  >>The story has a similar timeline to present day, but paranormals are real and generally hidden. Your World War I and II weren’t fought for the original reasons. Bad witches forced Vampires to fight against their will in WWI and the mad guy in WWII had a demon involved.<<

  Well, that was a reasonable explanation for Hitler as anything she supposed. The protagonist is an old crone witch?

  No, she’s young and quite effective...well mostly effective if you forgive the SNAFU’s… young woman who works for the FBI.

  And, that’s how we get Conjuring Quantico… Ok.

  Ok..what?

  >>Yes, what is OK?<<

  ADAM, bring it up on my tablet, I want to read what TOM is talking about before I dig deeper into something that has me really, really concerned.

  What question is that?

  Why do you believe magic could be real? She replied.

  CONJURING QUANTICO

  TS (SCOTT) PAUL

  IN KINDLE UNLIMITED

  Chapter One

  Ever had one of those days where nothing seems to go right? That’s been my whole life.

  My name is Agatha Blackmore and I am a witch. That is witch with a W, not a B, although I can be that, too. In the paranormal world I am what could be considered a prodigy. I cast my first spell at four, did my first transmutation at seven, and was forced to join the FBI at seventeen.

  My own family is terrified of me. My aunt Cordelia is afraid I will turn her into a pink chicken. Again. One of these days I just might. It’s her fault that I had nowhere to go and no one to train me. She called all the witch schools and told them of my little problem. The Witch Council had to step in and make me an offer I couldn’t refuse. They would teach me if I joined the FBI and went to the Academy.

  My grandmother agreed with their plan and here I am. Fortunately for the FBI, they have really good insurance.

  This is my second term with the FBI at the Academy. If they didn’t need me so badly, they would have kicked me out by now. My first term was easy compared to this one. In addition to the culture shock of having actual classmates, I had to deal with other paranormal races. I’m not a racist or a classist like many witches can be.

  I was raised by my grandmother after my mother was hospitalized. Contrary to the belief of many in my hometown, it was not because I put her there. Daddy was killed by a drunk driver when I was six. Mom just wasn’t the same after that. I accidentally created an incident at my seventh birthday party that polarized the town against me. If only my uncle had not tried to give me a unicorn.

  Like many young girls my age I wanted a pony. I tried to fix it. Power meet crazy. That is how I e
nded up with Fergus.

  “Agatha snap the hell out of it! It’s not your fault this time. How were you to know they were behind you?”

  “Fergus, I should have checked. Magnus always said to cast a reveal spell before attempting any diagnostic of any kind. I didn’t do one first!”

  “Magnus? Which one was he?”

  “He was the first trainer, remember, the one with the funny white hair?”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t the one with the hooked nose?”

  “No, that was Erik. He was the German one. Magnus was the guy with the funny accent who always called me Missy.”

  “I think you’re wrong. The Missy guy was the Texan. Mannerly or something like that. He didn’t stay very long.”

  That is the problem right there. The FBI only had mercenaries on staff. The Witch Council had promised the FBI that they would send trainers to fix my magical problem as part of the deal that allowed me to join.

  I kept breaking them.

  They gave me conflicting instructions or approached my problem the wrong way. None of them were actually injured; well, except that one guy. Brady something. How was I to know the bridge by the highway had an actual troll living under it? I have to agree with Fergus though. He did look pretty funny being chased across the front lawn by a large hairy beast.

  My magic is broken. I can do little stuff, but anytime I try a large spell or something off-the-cuff, there is a fifty-fifty chance of something unusual happening. That is what happened today.

  “Agatha, cast the spell exactly as I have written.”

  “But, Sir. Shouldn’t I cast a reveal spell first? I really should check first.”

  “Young lady! You will do as I have asked or I will tell the Witch Council you are refusing to cooperate. Now do as I say! Cast the spell.”

  The instructor’s name was Montgomery. Not Monte and definitely not Gomer. He resembled that old guy from the first Dinosaur movie. The one about the theme park.

  “OK, Montgomery. Here goes.” I cast my first diagnostic spell. It was supposed to examine the crime scene and identify any magical traces. The effect was that each foreign trace would light up and glow. It was pretty cool when he did it. I glanced at my cheat sheet and began the spell. It must have been either my pronunciation or a hand motion but something was wrong.

  “Stop! Stop! You must stop! Stupid girl!” Stupid him. I was committed and had to finish the spell, even he knew that.

  As I said the last word, a bright flash of light lit the field up and I heard a sound behind me that was a cross between a grunt and a screech. “Uh, oh.”

  I spun around just in time to see what looked like a large rabbit hop by. The animal was twice the size of a normal rabbit but now had antlers.

  “What did you do? That is not the spell I gave you!” The new Council teacher was beyond mad. His face was inflamed and fire was spitting from his eyes.

  “Sir, it is. See!” I held out the spell to him. He grabbed it from my hands and began checking it line by line.

  “What is this notation right here?”

  I peered at the line halfway through. “It looks like the word verða.”

  “It’s not. It’s the wrong tense. It needs to be umskipti. I didn’t write it that way. Why is it on here?” He thrust the paperwork back at me.

  “Sir, I copied it exactly from your notes.”

  “I do not make mistakes! You are trying to blame this disaster on me and I won’t have it!” He stormed away, ranting to the heavens. I stared at the paper in my hands. We used old Norse as a modern magical language for all our spells. The word ‘change’ actually has five different spellings in old Norse. I guess now I know what happens when I use the wrong one.

  “You just broke another one, Agatha!”

  “How? I don’t see what it is I did wrong! He just walked off.”

  “Uh, did you see the creature a minute ago?”

  “Yeah it looked like a rabbit or something.”

  “You made another one, Agatha. That used to be a rabbit and a deer.”

  That horrified me. Those poor creatures. Somehow my use of the wrong word for ‘change’ made my magic modify those beautiful creatures. “I guess he is going to report me...”

  “It’s not your fault, Agatha.”

  I patted my shirt pocket and told Fergus thanks. I walked back to my dorm. I really needed to go to my lab and check on the experiments I have running, but it can wait a few hours. All of my magic classes were conducted on the old football field. There was very little in the way of risks of collateral damage to be had there. The school had posted signs that told of danger and death for the unwary. And those signs were taken very, very seriously. But animals generally can’t read.

  The Academy was set up like any military school would be. The only difference is we were in training to be law enforcement. After the Demon wars in the 1940’s the FBI made accommodations for any Paranormals that wished to join. We were citizens just like other Americans. More dormitories were constructed, and the curriculum was adjusted to have subjects similar to those found at any local college. My first term was like that. Basic math, English, science, and history. Like many Paranormals I was home-schooled by my grandmother. I am not dumb. Not at all. But I didn’t have a diploma or even a GED to show for my studies. The FBI is picky about that. My witch training didn’t come into play until the end of the first term. The Witch Council deemed it necessary that I stay during winter break and learn to do Magic. So for the past three months it has been a never ending carousel of teachers and instructors who all tell me different things.

  Classes were due to start back up in a day, so many of my friends were coming back today. I could see cars and trucks in the parking lot as I walked across the field to the dorm.

  “Hey Agatha!” I waved at the trio of girls in the bright red convertible. They were sirens and triplets to boot. They were here to train to become Sea scouts. An underwater version of the FBI that only a few races could participate in. I knew of a spell or two that worked underwater. Maybe this year I could see if they would let me use them?

  I heard a yell then a scream as a very large box began sliding out of a truck heading for the ground. I made a quick hand motion and hoped for the best. Off-the-cuff magic was always a bad idea, but I was learning. It was as if time stopped around the truck. Everyone was frozen including the box and those unloading the truck.

  “Nice one, Aggy!”

  I glanced over my shoulder at a very large man with a hairy chest and arms. He stepped up to the box and lifted it easily off the truck and set it on the ground. I just rolled my eyes. Werewolves. Always have to show off. He looked back at me and smiled. “You going to let them go now?”

  “Of course. Thanks Chuck.” He frowned at me. Chuck’s real name was Charles Winthrop Jr. and he didn’t let anyone forget it. I took Lucy’s advice and called him Chuck. His parents might be scary but my grandmother was worse.

  I made a dispel motion with my hand and muttered ‘bak.’ The people unfroze mid scream. Glancing around them they noticed the box on the ground a few feet away and us watching them. “Are you guys OK?”

  Checking themselves they just stared at the box. “Chuck over there set it down for you. Are you OK?”

  “We’re fine... Thank you. Uh, how?”

  I smiled. “Sorry, I should have said so in the beginning. My name is Agatha Blackmore.” I held out my hand to the couple. Who visibly flinched and withdrew in horror. “Is something wrong?”