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

anything but heroic. Images of these men murdering defenseless fae folk at a woodland shrine filled him with a dark, unholy passion. Had anyone been close enough, they would have noted the unnatural gleam in his eyes as he approached the rooftop. Spreading his arms with the cape, he created enough wind resistance to slow his descent enough not to hurt himself landing in their midst. The sound of fabric snapping in the wind also alerted one of the Shadows below to his presence and raised a force lash to take aim. The faint, rising whine of the unit’s capacitor charging gave Stormy the telltale that he was about to be fried in flight. Angry gray eyes flashed and the deafening boom of thunder cracked the night with the added blast of the crisped guard’s force lash overloading as the lightning bolt combined with the exploding capacitor removed the threat.

Hitting the roof in a roll and utilizing his fae belt to increase his weight by several times in the somersault, he plowed into a second Shadow, sending him screaming over the edge to crash in a senseless heap in the dumpster in the alley below. Turning, to the sound of twin capacitors charging, he adjusted his weight and cart wheeled between the two guardsmen attempting to draw down on him. The Shadow realized the error too late and fried his counterpart, whose exploding lash unit knocked a third guard aside in the blast. Unaware yet that it was a closer call than he imagined, Stormy halted the tumble in a defensive crouch wondering why the smell of burnt flesh and fabric smelled so close. A two inch wide slash of char striped his left shoulder. He noticed the pull of his singed shoulder when one of the remaining guards closed on him. The guard grabbed his throat to strangle him and he responded by grabbing the man’s ears and planting both feet into the guard’s stomach, pulling him down on himself and using his feet to launch his attacker off the front of the building to the unforgiving street below. Wincing with the pain, he jumped back to his feet again only to find the last guard had him dead to rights. By the sound of it, the capacitor was reaching its crescendo when the unsuspecting Shadow was torn apart by a large whirlwind before his eyes. It was then he felt his cape being yanked off and saw it wrap around nothingness as Sally’s father, Windwalker appeared before him with the scarlet cloak wrapped around his loins and spitting a black bean into the palm of his large hand.

“I figured a game was afoot,” Mr. Gwynn explained, “when none of the girls showed up tonight to help in the kitchen. Boy, does your granny have any idea that you’re trying to take on five confirmed killers all by your lonesome?”

“No sir,” Stormy replied, holding his left arm close so as not to aggravate the wound anymore. “I had to help, since Charm was nabbed trying to help me get away from my escort. There are five more of these below that the gang are taking out to get her free. We should probably go help them.”

“You helped enough for one night, laddie,” Mr. Gwynn insisted as he hunted around for something better to preserve his modesty. “Sally will sail you back to the alley, and I’ll assist the gang in getting back home. This will likely be some kind of repeat of what we did for Dodger. We’ll all meet in the back room and tend to all the injuries as we can and have your granny meet you there.”

Johnny dreaded the chewing he knew he would be getting from Grandma and Little Fox for this evening’s foray, but his conscience would never forgive him had he failed his friends. Whether Grams or the Mohawk warrior understood that or not, he would take his desserts patiently, knowing he did his best for all concerned. He lightened his weight and Sylph got them both back to the safety of the Eatery. He was sore and Sally was nervous and looking for something to occupy herself until the rest of the gang got there so she slathered an aloe based cream on his burnt shoulder.

“This stuff usually works great on the burns we get in the kitchen,” she chatted nervously, “but I don’t know how much it will relieve the burn of a force lash. People rarely survive those. This looks small, but still very nasty.”

The cool, moist salve did manage to take a lot of the sting out of the burn and kept the surrounding skin from cracking painfully. It looked to be the third degree variety of burn. It was likely going to leave a big scar. To Johnny’s way of thinking, this would be all the badge of honor he would ever require to remind him of the choices he had made. The noise from the alley entrance announced the gang returning victoriously from the night’s mission. Within the hour, Grams and Little Fox were at his side in the Eatery as the Witch Kids intercepted them and did their level best to crow about his contribution to Charm and the gang’s well being.

“Are you and Grandma mad at me?” Johnny asked his mentor.

“Very much so, sport,” Little Fox replied quietly. “You managed to get through this one alive, and that’s always a good thing, but don’t you think you could have gotten through this better with another two or three adult helpers?”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny admitted. “I didn’t think…”

“A common failing for young men and women,” Emma pointed out, “they fail to consider all the angles and repercussions of their actions. This is why you want to take advantage of older and wiser counsel before you make such far reaching plans. I understand why you did what you had. I’m more than a little upset you didn’t think much of the help we might’ve been able to give your group.”

“Before any of you were born,” Windwalker added, “I was a Witch Kid here in this very alley. I led some of your mothers and fathers on these streets. Did I suddenly grow too old and stupid?”

The room went silent as all the kids stared down at their shoes in shame. The first indication of any agreement or argument to the contrary were Charm, Sylph and Jinx piling on the hulking chef in a group hug.

“We promise not to tackle anything this big again,” Sally promised, “without checking with you first.”

“We were the stupid ones,” Jinx admitted to the adults present, “when we forgot the best friends we’ve ever known in our rush to help each other. Some of us could have been killed out there, and we could have avoided it by at least having the extra counsel, not to mention some extra witch power.”

“Grandma, I’ll understand if you are going to ground me or punish me somehow,” Johnny offered.

“What do you think of me now?” Emma asked incredulously. “Nothing I would ever do to correct my boy would come close to the hurt that burn you took is doing to you now. Let me have a look at that thing and see what it‘s going to take to keep you all in one piece. I only wish your great grandmother were here to treat you.”

“It’s okay,” Johnny said. “Sally put some salve on it, but what I really need now is a hug to help me get better.”

“All the hugs you want, Sonshine,” Emma said, holding him gingerly to avoid disturbing the shoulder injury. “All the hugs you want, but don’t you ever leave me out like this again. I know there’s no stopping you sometimes, but at least I can do all in my power to see you get through these things in one piece. Whatever happened to your doppelganger the Apple Banger in this adventure?”

“I dunno,” Johnny replied. “Maybe he didn’t come because I didn’t feel scared. I felt like I was the guy to be scared of.”

In all the chatter, John Little Fox was an island of silent introspection as he watched his young charge bear his wounds stoically. After all, in only a year’s training, the boy had managed to go on the warpath and take out at least four, fully grown, professional guardsmen by Windwalker’s account. This was too much, too soon. A long talk would be in order and that would have to be soon too. How could he protect the boy from himself?

News From A Foreign Front

Rarely had Rumsdon ever yanked his proverbial chain so hard as this when he called Dauntless Dick from his PR session to attend him at the Pentacle. None the less, the effect of a whispered word and the abrupt cancelation of the Q and A session would have a stunning impact with the media concerning his competent handing of matters of national security. He smiled to himself about his own mastery of self image as he was escorted into Rumsdon’s mahogany and leather upholstered inner sanctum.

“I take it that you’ve come upon some interesting developments experimenting with that rift wand,” he said, getting straight to the point.

“At best, we may have located the plane of Atlantis,” Rumsdon explained, handing him a snifter of brandy. “I wanted to brain storm this over with you before we break it to His Excellency. At the very least, we’ve certainly located another human plane and a locale there with access to at least two other planes.”

“It’s human, but you’re not sure it’s Atlantis?” he asked. “Why?”