Witch Clan: Warriors!, John Stormm [books to read in your 20s female TXT] 📗

concern in her deep brown eyes.

"I'm, I'm not sure," he stammered. "I'm a little off guard from that trick, but I'm mighty impressed with how easily you did that. A little closer here or there, and I'm not sure that I'd be getting up off this couch under my own steam ever again."

"I wouldn't hurt you, sweetheart," Emma said smiling and sat on his lap and hugged him close.

"I was worried about the other guy," he replied. "But it'll serve 'em right if they try to manhandle my good woman." He squeezed her back.

"C'mon Gramps," Johnny whined, "You promised you'd attack me in the backyard with the plastic whiffle ball bat."

"That I did, boyo," he said in his gruff chuckle. "Excuse me, hon. I've got to go abuse our grandson with a bat."

"You two lads take care not to hurt each other," she admonished them both as she straightened her apron and headed for the kitchen.

Trying to herd Johnny into any confining area of the yard was like herding cats. It just didn’t work. As much as he swung his bat, he’d miss. Johnny twisted, jumped, dove and rolled under his swing or just seem to evaporate when he thought he had him.

“You understand, of course,” he said huffing and puffing for his breath, “If I can’t clobber you, we can’t practice our fighting.”

“Little Fox says the best block for a skinny kid is just not to be there,” Johnny said from just out of reach.

“True enough,” Little John replied walking in the back gate into the yard. “Mind if I have a little batting practice, Willard.”

“Sure,” he said, handing over the bat. “We’re about due for a pinch hitter.”

John took a stance in front of Johnny and set him up for a slice to the boy’s left side and suddenly dropped from his knees and spun counter clockwise and caught Johnny behind his knees and knocked him onto his back on the thick lawn.

“And the horsehide is knocked outta the ballpark,” Willard roared excitedly. “I was beginning to think it couldn’t be done.”

“If I hadn’t trained him myself,” the little man said quietly, “and known which way he was going to move, I would’ve missed too.”

“I’m feeling a whole lot better about this mission as the weeks go by,” he said, slapping the little Mohawk a friendly thump on the shoulder blades.

“What did I tell you about hitting me like that?” John roared and shot a quick jab at Willard’s face.

In what appeared to be a twitch, Willard’s large right hand engulfed the warrior’s fist in a tight grip.

“Ooooh,” John said with a grimace. “I’d hate to even think of the new shape of my hand if you didn’t like me.

“We can’t rely on luck, now can we?” he replied warmly, releasing his grip.

“How about my maniacal men folk washing up for dinner?” Emma called from the back window.

“Only if you promise not to hurt us,” they responded in unison, laughing.

Emma blushed, shaking her head as she pulled back inside to set the table. Willard was feeling his stomach settle from the worst of his worries and an appetite coming on. They jostled each other playfully at the big sink in the summer kitchen as they readied themselves for the prize of one of Emma’s meals.

The meal was warm and hearty as the conversation was jovial. Willard reminded himself that they would only be gone for the better part of a weekend. That is, if things went well. But it was disheartening to imagine that almost a year of their lives would pass in that short time and still there was the possibility of danger in every day of that time. He had to admit, he couldn’t dream of three more formidable people to pull off a job like this, and the more he thought of them, the more impressed he was. But the time for whiffle ball bats and living room role plays was soon to come to a close. Someone was knocking at the back door to the summer kitchen.

“That’s strange,” Emma said rising. “Who would be knocking at the back?”

Johnny did a double take from his position at the table.

“Someone we don’t want seen at our front door,” Johnny replied. “It’s Shabriri.”

“Naw,” he drawled. “It’s probably Mrs. Genovese from next door wanting to trim her grape arbor from our side.”

“She knows she’s welcome to come over and help herself anytime,” Emma said. “She even helps prune our fruit trees. She doesn’t have to ask anymore.”

Emma walked to the back of the house and pulled the curtain aside on the back door and jumped back with a start.

“This isn’t a dream,” she said and let the tall stranger inside.

Master Shabriri hunched through the low summer kitchen and ducked under the lentil to the kitchen proper.

“Great sufferin’ sons of Satan,” Willard exclaimed, dropping a loaded fork. “You look bigger in person.”

“At last, we meet,” Shabriri said with a slight bow. “I’ve heard so much about you, Willard. I was hoping we would get the chance to talk before your family crosses over. On this side of the Rifts, while they are gone, you are your city’s best hope of safety.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the flushed red complexion and the tall pointed ears.

“We’ll come to all of that,” Shabriri assured. “First, we need a full meeting of the minds. I trust you’ve all been taking this mission seriously.”

“Serious as a heart attack,” he quipped. “We can even show you how to make one. You know, if you only had a pair of horns, right about here, you’d look like...”

“Master Shabriri,” Emma interjected quickly, “is there a reason you chose to come in the flesh as opposed to a dream or thought form?”

“Not a single reason,” the Master replied, “but, many reasons. First, there is a common complication when dealing with humans that they never believe anything out of their norms unless confronted with it face to face. Even then, they will deduce the entire episode was due to abnormal diet or weather conditions.”

“I’m a believer,” Willard said solemnly, holding up his right hand.

“From this,” the Sidhe continued, gazing oddly at Willard, “we need everyone to be absolutely certain that none of this is whimsy. Secondly, Willard is a part of this family and all of you are involved. To leave him out in any way is to cut your overall effectiveness. We can’t reach him on the level we reach the rest of you and we need him too. Hence, I need to be a part of his reality as well.”

“You want Grandpa to cross over with us?” Johnny asked, wide eyed.

“Not at all,” Shabriri replied. “That haunted hill of yours, where Elvyra lived still remains a prime concern for us for its Rift activity. With the three of you in Logres, and Mordred’s suspicions, along with his control of the Rift Wand, he may begin searching for a means to enter your world covertly. If they manage to find a means to cross over, that will be the likely entry point. Are there any weapon sites nearby that park?”

“I’ll be busted and blistered if there’s not an armory across the street on the Culver Road side of that very park,” Willard pointed out.

“It’s strange how such things wind up so near to power sites,” the Master mused aloud. “Do you see the problem we have, Willard?”

“Let’s make that my problem, handsome,” he replied, “I’ll trim the branches that come this way, and the rest of you can nip our problem in the bud. I’ve been wanting to see what this stuff I’ve been learning can do to those murderin’ devils.”

“Don’t do anything rash,” Emma warned. “I want you whole and healthy when I return. We’ll work together on a plan. This clan hasn‘t been in a good war in a century. Together, we‘ll win this one and it will take all of us to do it.”

“Are you going to call for a circle, Grandma?” Johnny asked.

“I might involve a few,” Emma said thoughtfully. “It might be in our best interests to get Leona over here to help your grandfather scry out any nasty surprises on the hill. She knows her way around it. We don't really need your aunts to find a means to sway things in our favor. They would only try to invoke the Sidhe, and the Sidhe are already involved. But for the three of us, it will likely be the best tactic to just assume we are alone in this and give it our best efforts to win.

"You’re right. No distractions,” Little Fox said. “The time thing will be too much to try and coordinate through. Our best hope is to get our overall plan done before we leave and trust each group to do their parts.”

“Smart choice,” Shabriri said. “A few more weeks to your solstice and then you will be making your appearance, in the flesh, as you say, in my world and then beyond. The rest of you, I can talk to at any time. I’d like a word with Willard now.”

To his credit, he fought valiantly against the ancient prejudices that Shabriri's appearance brought out in him and listened intently. Johnny was part Sidhe, and Emma and her family had dealt