How To Be A Badass Witch: Book Two

by Michael Anderle

  This person—and Johnny was increasingly certain that it was a girl—was faster and stronger than they had any right to be. Not only that, there was no reasonable explanation for the fact that the man by the motorcycle had dropped to the ground after a weird buzzing noise or that two of the gang members seemed to have been blown off their feet by something invisible.

  Or that two of them seemed to have simply forgotten what was going on in the middle of the fight.

  Johnny smoked a cigarette while he thought.

  Eventually, he gave up. This was like street magic, right? Some sort of optical illusion. Some people just were freakishly fast. Already, he was doubting his conclusions, and, anyway, the injured gang members were annoying him with their pained moans.

  He pulled out his phone and called Mariani.

  “Vincent,” he said. “Johnny Torrez. Looks like some of your guys had a run-in with…someone. Not sure who. They’re in pretty bad shape. Keith? No, I don’t see him.” He gave Mariani the location and agreed to wait until the Union’s pet medical staff arrived.

  He smoked three more cigarettes while he waited for them, which was unlike him. He wasn’t sure what he was planning to do next. He’d intended to overwhelm this bitch. Eleven gang members should have been enough to take her out.

  If it wasn’t, they had a serious problem on their hands.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunlight streamed through the windows behind her as Kera browsed through her wardrobe, conscious for the first time since she’d graduated of how mediocre and disappointing her clothes were.

  “Blah,” she opined, pushing a shirt aside on its hanger, “blah, crap, blah, no, blah, definitely not, maybe, no, maybe, blah, blah, crap. Why is this so difficult all of a sudden?”

  To ask the question was to know the answer; it popped into her head immediately. It was because while her wardrobe had changed to accommodate her work at the bar, what she wanted right now was to resemble herself from her school days when she was a cheerleader who focused on how she dressed. She wanted to look feminine again.

  What had possessed her to get rid of all those clothes?

  Also, getting a new outfit would be tricky, given that it was spring and the weather was temperamental. In Los Angeles, it could be warm at 6:00 p.m. but be chilly by 8:00. She wanted to achieve a particular look, but she also would need to layer her clothes in exactly the right order to guard against sweating during the day and shivering at night.

  There was also the small matter that she needed to cover the lingering bruises. She’d cast a healing spell on herself to help with the worst of the fight’s aftereffects, but it would be a couple of days before she was back to one hundred percent.

  “Hmm.” She examined a midriff-baring top that might have worked in conjunction with a light jacket or overshirt, though it might also be a tad revealing for dinner with the Kims, so she wasn’t sure. She mentally filed it in the maybe category and moved on to a knee-length sundress.

  The phone rang. Kera braced herself and blew out a sigh before looking at it.

  It turned out to be a number helpfully labeled “Parents,” meaning the landline that both of them used as opposed to the one that belonged to her mom. Kera wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. It might mean that she’d get roped into a longer conversation than usual, but on the other hand, her father’s presence might serve to keep her mother in line and take some of the pressure off Kera.

  She swiped the green icon and said, “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. How are you?”

  “Hi, baby,” her father replied at once. “Have you kicked any muggers’ asses lately?”

  Before the girl could reply, her mom’s voice shouted from somewhere farther away, “Robert! Don’t talk to our princess like that, for God’s sake. She’s trying to reenter the dating market, and picking up that kind of language from you isn’t going to do her any favors in winning over the boys!”

  Kera bit down on a snicker, grateful they couldn’t see her face. “Why, yes, Father,” she responded with exaggerated mock formality. “You will be most happy to know that I have put a stop to no fewer than two muggings, evicted a gang member who was trying to do or sell drugs in my place of legitimate business, pulled a family out of a burning car, and defeated a rival gang in personal combat.”

  There was no point in lying when nobody was apt to believe the truth anyway, she decided.

  “Ohhh!” her dad marveled sarcastically, though his tone was warm. “Well-done, dear. You’ve been busy.”

  Mom yelled, “What did she do? I only heard a fraction of that.”

  Mr. MacDonagh sighed. “One second, Kera,” he said politely and left his daughter on the line to address his wife’s question.

  The girl listened; their voices were muffled but audible.

  “It’s nothing too serious, sweetheart,” her father was saying. “She took down a bunch of low-level thieves and general scumbags and something about helping with a car accident.”

  “What?” her mom gasped. “Is she okay?”

  “Sweetheart,” the man grumbled, “she sounds fine. I’m pretty sure she’s, you know, joking.”

  The sad thing is, I’m not, Kera thought.

  Sounding exasperated, Mrs. MacDonagh replied, “You always treat her like she’s a guy. You encourage this joking around when—”

  “No,” her husband protested, “I treat her like a person and ignore her gender for the most part. If she wanted to shoot guns, we went shooting. If she wanted a princess outfit, we went shopping for princess outfits.”

  In a lower voice, Kera’s mom quipped, “Yes, yes, she has always had you wrapped around her little finger.”

  “Not true. Well, maybe a little true.” He was using the tone he always employed when he wanted to tease his wife by pretending her accusations were no big deal.

  Kera listened, faintly amused but mostly bored. She was well-used to her parents’ tendency to get derailed into pointless side conversations during which, for the most part, they did nothing but repeat the same arguments they’d had hundreds of times over the years.

  Mrs. MacDonagh insisted, “It’s true, Robert. Now then, have you told her?”

  “No,” the man admitted, “because you keep interrupting. Makes it difficult.”

  “That’s because you never tell me anything,” Kera’s mother protested. “I have to twist your arm to get the news on what our daughter is up to!”

  “I told you what she said as soon as you asked. You could always come over here and listen. Otherwise, there’s nothing to tell.”

  “Well,” Kera’s mom riposted, “there should be more than nothing. Someone needs to get ahead of the curve in finding out what’s up. You’re obviously too slow.”

  “I think I’m going to strangle you with the phone cord now. It would make life so much easier.”

  Kera snorted with laughter.

  Her mother was laughing, too. “It’s a cell phone, Robert. It doesn’t have a cord.”

  “Curses, foiled again.”

  Kera thought about mentioning that there was always the charging cord, but that would have dragged things out well beyond the point at which her sanity began to fracture. Instead, she asked, “Tell me what, Dad? Are you selling the company?”

  “No.” He paused. “Hey, that’s an idea. Hmm, maybe I should consider—”

  “Stay on point, Dad. Seriously, you’re both like a couple of squirrels high on sugar.”

  “True enough. Which reminds me, I could go for something sweet right about now.”

  “Dad!”

  “Yes, yes. Anyway, I’m calling to say that I’m proud of you. Your mom says you’re thinking about starting a company?”

  Kera bit her lip. Damn. The last thing she wanted was for her entrepreneur father—her very successful entrepreneur father—to be disappointed when he found out she wasn’t exactly following in his footsteps.

  “Sort of?” she elaborated. “I mean, I have ideas, the biggest of which is pretty far-fe
tched. Making and marketing a product that can help you forget small things you don’t want in your brain.”

  He gave a faint hum that she recognized as his “I’m not sure what to think of this” sound. “Like what?”

  “Like Mom mentioning sex,” Kera said instantly.

  Her mother snapped, “Don’t listen to her, Robert! She’s probably throwing me under the bus solely because I made a comment acknowledging that she’s a grown woman.”

  “I see.” He chuckled. “And I understand. In any event, are you serious about building a brighter future for yourself than remaining a glorified tavern wench?”

  “I’m well beyond glorified,” Kera protested at once. “I am a deified tavern wench. Well, mostly. I’m getting there. Minor deity. But yes, I am thinking about what I can do with my life beyond this. I bought a few books on entrepreneurship and such. Mom was right; I don’t want to get promoted to bar manager and call it good. Maybe own the bar, then buy three more on top of it. Or run something else.”

  There was a moment of silence. Kera winced.

  To her surprise, her father said, “Okay. That works for me.”

  “Works how?” Kera asked suspiciously.

  “Well, your mom came to me with a suggestion, and after hearing what you’re up to, I’m in agreement with her. We’re going to release the first stage of your inheritance.”

  Kera’s jaw dropped. “I thought that was restricted until I, and I quote Mom said, ‘get a real job to go with the college degree.’”

  “Well, now it’s not,” Robert stated. “Apparently, something you said touched a nerve. Or a heartstring. Whatever.”

  Kera smiled. “You pushed her about it, didn’t you?”

  He coughed. “I’m, uh, gonna plead the Fifth on that.”

  Kera’s brain came afire with emotions and possibilities, but there wasn’t time to entertain them all right now.

  Also, she felt suspiciously close to crying. She had known that her choice of job confused and worried them, and she had been determined to make them see that she was more than a job. And determined to ask for more in life than a good 401(k) match.

  But for all her stubbornness and joking, she had felt their disappointment keenly.

  “Thank you, both of you,” she said when her voice was stable. “I mean, not because of the money, but because you believe in me.”

  “Sweetie,” her dad explained, “we’ve always believed in you, but sometimes you need to get through certain parts of life mostly on your own, without easy access to cash. If you’d chosen a different path, the money would likely have made you dig in too deep, and you might not have survived without the necessary mindset or experience.”

  “Huh.” Kera blinked. He was being vague, but she knew that when he was talking about the ins and outs of starting and running a company, she should listen. He had plenty of experience under his belt with that. “So, there was legitimate wisdom involved in the decision, and not just Mom having an anxiety attack from thinking that her little girl was a bar slut?”

  “She never said that,” Robert asserted in a soft voice.

  Kera decided to egg him on. “Yeah, I’m calling that a lie.”

  “Fine.” Her dad sighed. “I’ll amend the statement. She never said it that way. She was much more, uh, dignified and diplomatic about it.”

  “Tavern courtesan?”

  They both laughed.

  “Anyway, sweetie,” the man concluded, “got to go have a look at that company. The one I’m thinking about selling now. Remember, you put the thought in my head, so if I sell it, there’s technically nothing holding us out here on the East Coast anymore.”

  Kera’s throat and gut tightened. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. That’s not good, Dad.”

  He ignored her. “The money will transfer next Friday. Have a good time thinking about it until then. Love you, honey.”

  “Love you too, Dad. And Mom.”

  They hung up in near-perfect unison. Kera tossed the phone onto her bed and fell backward onto the mattress beside it, staring at the girders of the ceiling.

  “He’d better not sell that company,” she murmured. “If they move out here, I’ll move back East. Or to Alaska.”

  She indulged in a minute’s worth of unpleasant possibilities and the “woe is me” thoughts that accompanied them, then shook them off and dismissed them. She had other things to focus on.

  Kera stood back up in front of her wardrobe. “Okay. New clothes?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kera had walked the short distance to the Kims’ shop, wearing a flattering yet tasteful blue dress that stopped two inches above her knees. She had layered it with a slate-colored dress shirt open in front to cover her shoulders and offer a little extra warmth if the night should turn cool. When she arrived out front, no one else was present.

  She almost leaned against a lamppost but decided that would look strange, or stranger than it would in her usual work or riding attire. Instead, she pulled out her phone and pretended to be checking things so people wouldn’t bother her or wonder what she was doing there.

  Two or three minutes later, someone approached, and Kera looked up. It was Christian, wearing a polo shirt and jeans, with a light jacket thrown over his shoulder. “Hi, Kera,” he opened, smiling in a way that was warm but a tad awkward. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks,” she responded, putting her phone in her pack. “You don’t look too bad either.”

  They stared shyly at one another for a moment.

  Kera remembered that he had no idea where they were going. “Well, this is the place.” She gestured with a flutter of her hand.

  Chris blinked rapidly. “Here?” She hadn’t told him their date would take place at a grocery store. She’d given him a place to meet her and left it at that.

  She tried not to laugh. “Yep. Trust me. Here.” She offered her arm and he linked his through it, then they opened the door and stepped in.

  Mr. Kim was at the counter, ringing up a family of three who were purchasing a vast armload of junk food. His eyes darted up to acknowledge her, then he returned to his customers. Kera and Chris waited politely behind the trio until they shuffled out with their repast.

  “Kera!” Mr. Kim exclaimed. “Right on time. So nice to see you both. Let me see if there are any more customers about to come in. If not, I will close up the store.”

  She nodded. “Okay. This is Christian, by the way.”

  Mr. Kim glanced at the young man. “Hello, Christian. We’ll talk in a minute.” He went to the doors to flip the Yes, We’re Open! sign around, then trotted back to them, motioning with his hand. “Come this way, behind the counter. We live here, you see. Upstairs, mostly.”

  Kera could practically see a light bulb switching on in the air above her date’s head.

  “Ahhh,” he said, “gotcha. I was kinda wondering why we were going to the store for our date.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I would have minded, as long as the company was good.”

  The girl couldn’t resist snickering. “Suuuure. But yeah, they have a nice, cozy little place here, really. You can’t even tell you’re in the middle of the city. Kind of an oasis of peace.”

  Christian gave appreciative nods as they passed down the dark narrow hall behind the counter and emerged at the landing of the flight of stairs leading up to the family’s living area. It was decorated in a simple, tasteful, comforting way, with muted colors and lots of potted plants.

  As they approached the base of the staircase, a small East Asian woman wearing an apron came out of what was presumably the kitchen to look down at them. “Hello, Kera,” she called.

  Kera waved and led the way up the stairs. When they reached the top, she introduced her date.

  “This is Christian. Christian, this is Mrs. Kim. Mrs. Kim, I’ll let Christian tell you all about himself in a minute.”

  “Yes, yes.” Mr. Kim came up the stairs behind them. “Dinner should be almost ready. Go sit down in the dining room. Sam is there.”


  They headed into the small dining area connected to the kitchen and pulled out chairs to sit opposite Sam. He greeted them politely, but Kera could not help noticing his faint twinge of disappointment at seeing her with a man. She got the sense that his regular grocery deliveries had stoked his crush on her.

  Pretty normal for sixteen, she told herself. She had been a mess of hormones and emotions at that age.

  “Dinner will be ready soon,” Mrs. Kim called as her husband came to join them at the table.

  “So,” Mr. Kim started, “you are Christian. We’ve known Kera since she moved here. She is becoming like a second daughter. Or, uh, second child. You know what I mean. Sorry, Sam. How did you two meet?”

  Sam, to his credit, laughed it off as the two began their account of how they met a couple years ago at college. Both had been enrolled in more or less the same Computer Science classes throughout a large chunk of their educational career. They’d been in project groups together and had helped each other study.

  “Always,” Chris clarified, “in a public place or something. It wasn’t, like, at either of our houses.” He cleared his throat and tried to look smooth.

  Kera picked up where he left off, more than a little charmed by his attempt to make sure the Kims knew he wasn’t being ungentlemanly. “So, yeah, we graduated and lost touch, I guess. I got a job at the Mermaid, and he got a job at…uh, what’s the company’s name again?”

  Chris waved a hand. “TechGuide, but not important. It’s the same as most any other major tech company, and you can’t throw a rock in this state without hitting one of those. Nothing terribly exciting, but it’s a pretty good secure job with decent pay and some chance for advancement. I can’t complain too much. Anyway, uh, my friend Ted and I decided to go check out the Mermaid, and the rest is history. So far.”

  Mr. Kim rubbed his jaw. “Kera, why didn’t you go to work for a tech company too?” he asked. “It isn’t my business, I know, but I’m curious.”