Women of the Otherworld 10.5 - Counterfeit Magic (5 page)

She’d made sure of that when she picked her outfit. It was still the same white blouse and chocolate-brown pants from earlier, but she’d bumped up the accessories—chunky necklace, bangle bracelets and gold chain belt, plus boots with stiletto heels. She was better dressed than any of the girlfriends and wives here… and looked even less likely to step into the ring.

We were wandering around, scoping out the place, when another woman walked in, unaccompanied. She was about twenty-five, short and stocky, her broad face set in a permanent “don’t fuck with me” scowl.

“I do believe the competition has arrived,” Savannah said. “As for supernatural type, I’m betting dwarf.” She caught my look. “Yes, I know there’s no such thing.”

“Not what I was going to say.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll be kind. Short people have their uses.” She set her water bottle on my head. “They make great tables. Good footstools, too, once you knock them down, which is exactly what I plan to do with that one.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

The other fighter walked to Ethan and said something to him. He waved Savannah over.

“Georgia? I’d like you to meet Mel. Mel, Georgia.
Your opponent tonight.”

Savannah extended a hand. Ignoring it, Mel looked Savannah up and down,
then
turned to Ethan.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Don’t worry,” Savannah said. “I can fight on my knees.”

“I bet you can do a lot on your knees.”

“
Oooh
, trash-talking already!
This is going to be so cool!”

“Who’s that?” Mel said, gesturing at me.
“Your girlfriend?”

“Manager.
I’m one-hundred-percent hetero.”
Savannah bent down to Mel and mock-whispered.
“Sorry. You are kinda cute, though.”

Mel grabbed Ethan’s arm and marched him off. “I thought we talked about this. I want real opponents, not pretty girls…”

Savannah watched her go. “I know, I know. Don’t get cocky. She’s obviously not an amateur.”

“Correct. Now, let’s mingle.”

* * * *

Mingling wasn’t difficult. The problem was getting away from the men so Savannah could prep for her match. As she changed, I ignored the two guys hitting on me and concentrated on Mel, who was warming up in the staging area. That warm-up included hand exercises and a lot of muttering under her breath. When Savannah emerged, I excused myself from the men and hurried over.

“I know her supernatural type,” I said.

“Witch.
I know. I asked the guy getting changed next to me, who was distracted enough to forget he’s not supposed to tell a new fighter. Any last-minute lectures?”

I shook my head.

Her eyes widened in exaggerated surprise.
“Seriously?”

“I could tell you to be careful, but you’d only roll your eyes and say you aren’t stupid. I could tell you to not overdo it, but you already know that. I could give you a dozen strategies, but you’d ignore them and do it your way. So all I can say is good luck.”

She gave me a one-armed hug. “Thanks.” She bent to my ear. “And I will be careful.
Not that you’re worried or anything.”

I was, and she knew it. I also knew better than to show it. I’m not her mother. That’s always seemed too strange a role to take when I’m only ten years older. It also seemed disrespectful to her real mother, Eve, who’s still around, in spirit if not in body. I see myself more as a big sister. Like a big sister, I can worry, but I’m not supposed to show it too much.

I had reason to worry, too. Even at twenty-one, Savannah is a more powerful spellcaster than Lucas or I can ever hope to be. Her mother was a dark witch and her father was a sorcerer, making her equally proficient at both kinds of magic. Eve was also the daughter of a lord demon, and while Savannah didn’t inherit any of those abilities, the demon blood acted as a power boost for a girl who really didn’t need it.

When Savannah walked into the staging area, every guy turned to look at her—even the one practice boxing with Mel, who snapped off a left hook to his jaw for it. Mel gave Savannah another once-over, slower now, but ending with the same dismissive sniff. She’d made up her mind about her opponent. If Savannah was in decent physical condition, it was only from too many hours on a treadmill at some overpriced health club. That wouldn’t help her in the ring.

I hadn’t been watching the match in progress, but I think one of the fighters caught a glimpse of Savannah and was just as distracted as Mel’s partner. The next thing I knew, the ref was calling the match and Tommy was striding over to escort Savannah and Mel into the ring.

The whistle had barely sounded before Mel was on Savannah, hitting her hard and fast, as if determined to make a fool of her with a short match. Savannah dodged and ducked, but didn’t throw a single punch, infuriating Mel until she resorted to magic—a knockback spell, then an energy bolt, then another knockback. Savannah easily evaded each before dodging behind Mel. She caught Mel’s wrists and held them as the woman twisted and snorted like an enraged bull.

“What?” Savannah said. “I’m only holding your hands. That means you can’t cast sorcerer magic. But you’re a witch. Don’t need your hands for that.” She leaned around Mel. “You do
know
witch magic, don’t you?”

With a snarl, Mel pulled free and wheeled on Savannah, fist flying. Before it could land, Savannah nailed her with a right hook that sent her reeling, probably more from surprise than force. She bounced back, fingers rising as the first tentative cheers rang out.

“You really like that knockback, don’t you?” Savannah said. “Fine, then. I’ll let you have it.”

Mel hesitated, fingers raised.

“Go on,” Savannah said. “I won’t even move. Hit me with your best shot.”

The knockback struck Savannah in the shoulder, spinning her into the ropes.

“You call that a knockback?” she said as Mel ran at her. “
This
is a knockback.”

Savannah hit her with one that hurtled her against the ropes. The tentative cheers turned to a collective whoop.

Mel scowl at the audience, then barreled down on Savannah. Halfway there, she stopped dead, frozen in place.

“Binding spell.”
Savannah glanced at Ethan. “I suppose that’s illegal?”

Ethan looked over at his brother—it was a fighting call, not an administrative one. Tommy just shrugged helplessly.

“Don’t get many witches in here, do you?” Savannah said. “Not ones who know their own magic well enough to cast a binding spell, at least. Still, I’d make it illegal. Otherwise, I could just run over and knock her down, which would be terribly unfair.”

She released the spell. Caught off guard, Mel toppled. Savannah launched a fireball, whipping it toward Mel’s head, making the other woman shriek and duck.

“Damn,” Savannah said. “She screams like a girl. Who’d have thought? Witch magic again.
Fireball.
Minor burns only—no worse than
an
energy bolt, which is legal. Well, unless you cast them like this.”

Savannah whipped an energy bolt at her opponent. It hit the top rope and snapped it, both ends sizzling and jumping like a live wire, onlookers scrambling out of the way.

“Deadly,” Savannah said. “
Which is why I’ll stick to the basic version.
”

She turned on Mel, who gamely leapt up, fingers out to cast an energy bolt of her own.

“Knockback,” Savannah said.

Her cast sent Mel to the mat.

“Fireball.”

Savannah singed the ends of Mel’s spiky hair,
then
sent the fireball whipping around her, locking her in place as effectively as any binding spell.

“Minor energy bolt.”

Sparks flew from her fingers, and hit Mel like an electric shock.

“And, just because it makes a cool special effect: fog.”

She enveloped Mel in silvery mist, but her lips kept moving, and from within the fog, Mel gave an agonized shriek. She crawled out, coughing and sputtering,
then
collapsed on the mat.

Savannah won.

Black Magic Woman

As Savannah retreated to her corner, I whispered. “What did you use?”

“Energy bolt,” she said.

“After that, I mean.
The last spell.”

“Fog?”
When I shook my head, she shrugged. “That’s the last one I used.”

It wasn’t. And I knew by looking at her face that I wouldn’t get the answer I wanted.

Savannah has a secret stash of dark magic spells. She thinks Lucas and I don’t know about them. We do. We know dark magic is in her blood. We trust her to use the spells with care. But she still won’t admit it.

Elena says it’s like when Savannah started having sex. She’d lie about spending the night at a friend’s place and hide her stash of condoms. Lucas and I knew what she was doing, and we knew she was responsible enough to handle it. The subterfuge made us feel like we hadn’t raised her properly, if she thought she had to hide it from us.

I suppose she thought it might change our opinion of her. Or that she’d be subjected to “discussions” she didn’t need. I’m not sure using dark magic is quite the same, but I suppose the basic analogy fits. I only hope that someday she’ll trust me enough to talk about it.

The main thing was that Mel wasn’t seriously injured.
Just seriously pissed off.
She was still shouting for a rematch when Tommy hustled her out of the gym. No one paid any attention. All eyes were on Savannah as people crowded around, congratulating her, trying to talk to her, trying to set up matches.

She heard none of it. She was on the phone, lost in a call.

A few minutes ago, after taking the towel from me, she’d asked if I’d placed a bet.

“No, but Adam did.”

“Betting against me?
The bastard.”

“Do you seriously think he’d bet
against
you?” I lifted her iPhone. “He even had me record the match, though I don’t think we should tell the
Gallantes
that.
Definitely against house rules.”

She’d snatched the phone and called him, and left me fielding her congratulations as she laughed and teased and traded quips with Adam. If she did share her dark magic secrets with anyone, it would be him. I hoped she did.

Finally I got her attention and motioned that she needed to get off the phone. We’d come for information and now that she was the center of attention, we needed to take advantage of it.