An Elemental Witch: Bella Flores Urban Fantasy, #1

Preface

He stepped out of the shadows and stared down at people walking below. They didn’t notice him, which was the way he preferred it for now. For thousands of years their numbers had grown until they spread across the globe, pushing boundaries farther than he’d ever imagined possible. They were like ants at a picnic, crawling over all the food, making it inedible. His hand itched to reach down and squeeze them, reveling in their struggle as they tried to fight against death. Something in his center stirred at the thought, radiating warmth in a spot where cold always reined, and it was a challenge to hold himself back. But that would end soon. His servants had found the last sacrifice and were even now taking steps to ensure it fell into his grasp. It was almost time, time for their world to end and make way for his. Then he would crush them until seas turned red with blood.

Chapter 1

Coming, Bella yelled. I’m coming.

Setting the newspaper on the table, she stood and, with a last glance at the paper, wound her way through her apartment to the front door. Just as well. The only things in the news anymore were stories of mayhem, murder, and the general downfall of humanity. Publishers even devoted the front page of the paper to another missing child, the second one reported this week.

The pounding from the other side of the door grew more incessant as she approached.

Okay, okay. I’m here.

Opening the door, she stumbled back as a woman pushed her way in and brushed her aside.

Great, you’re home, the intruder said with a tone implying the audacity of making her wait at the door was a sin.

He… Heather. Hi. What can I do for you? The question was perfunctory, and she could have guessed the answer. Even though she was taller than her neighbor, Bella felt shorter than the enormous attitude spilling off the woman. It was high school all over again and she was a geek confronted by the popular girl.

Oh, Bella. Heather looked around the apartment. Can’t you fix this place up? I always feel like I’m walking into my mother’s house when I come over.

I’m sorry? Bella wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an answer or a question, but it seemed to be the only reasonable response. Before she could decide on a more appropriate one, though, like asking her not to come over, she was distracted by the high-pitched voice of her neighbor’s daughter, Samantha.

Bella! The warmth in the voice alone was enough to change dealing with her neighbor from a nightmare into merely an annoying chore.

Hey, Sam, she said, bending to give the child a hug. Samantha’s presence in the room only meant one thing and, as if on cue, her neighbor dropped the hammer.

Oh yes. I need you to watch Samantha tonight.

I—

Here’s her backpack. It has her pajamas and a change for tomorrow. I think she left her toothbrush here last time, too.

No, she—

Well, never mind. I’m sure you have a spare around. She still needs dinner, but keep her away from carbs. She’s starting to get a bit… Anyway, just make sure she has a salad.

Bella looked at her neighbor as if the woman had just grown a second head. Did she just call Samantha fat? The girl was eight years old and could hide behind a streetlamp. What was Heather thinking?

She needs to finish her homework too. She’s got a math test coming up and should study. I know you’re good with that sort of thing.

Well, yes, Bella thought. That’s because I work for a living and don’t sponge off any guy willing to put up with me for more than a week. Thankfully she caught the words before saying them.

A cough from behind the blonde gave her an excuse to turn away for a second and smother the rising tide of her embarrassment. Standing in the doorway, dressed in enough black leather to make animal rights activists take notice, was a man Bella had never seen. His hair was short and styled in a manner that screamed he spent hours on the just-rolled-out-of-bed look, though the most striking thing about him wasn’t his hair, but rather his eyes. Staring into them, she couldn’t help thinking this was a man used to having women drawn to him. He wasn’t outrageously handsome, not in the way movie stars or models are, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made it hard to look away.

Ah yeah. This is Ronnie.

Bella couldn't ignore the subtle giggle in her neighbor’s voice, and for what may have been the first time in her life, the two women were in complete agreement. Heather’s date oozed sex appeal and he knew it.

Hi, he said, waving from his perch against the doorframe. Radiating a cool composure only earned by always being the biggest alpha in the room, he held Bella’s gaze for a moment before turning back to his date. Babe, we’ve got to get going if we don’t want to miss the first set. His tone said they would not be missing it.

All right, Ronnie. We’re going. Turning back to Bella, she pushed everything she had into her arms. He’s taking me to Ten Three Eight! Heather almost squealed with excitement. It was one of the newest hot spots in the city, difficult for even celebrities to get in to.

A whirlwind of instructions fast enough to forestall any objections followed suit, and before Bella knew it, the door of her apartment slammed shut.

You know, came a small voice from the kitchen. Bella turned to see the child licking a Popsicle stick as though there were still some sugary goodness on it. You should stand up for yourself more. People are gonna walk all over you if you don’t. There was a pause as Samantha examined the stick before dropping it in the trash. Turning, the girl pulled open the freezer and bent over the drawer, eying its contents. Have any more Popsicles?

Wandering into the kitchen, Bella watched the child rummage through her cabinets and smiled. She’d always wanted to be a mother, but it never seemed to be the right time. Besides, she'd have to date first, and as much as it pained her to admit, her dating life sucked. When her last boyfriend walked out, he'd left behind a broken heart, a mountain of bills, and an empty bank account. Not an experience she wanted again soon.

A squeal from Samantha brought her back to the present. Samantha had pulled a chair up to the counter and climbed on so she could reach the upper cabinets. Standing on the chair, the child shrieked and her arms cartwheeled wildly as she tried dodging something leaping out over her head. Her little hands snatched at the edge of the cabinet, barely slowing her fall as her feet slipped beneath her. The loud thump of something slamming into the opposite wall and sliding down matched Samantha’s as she bounced on the tile floor, rolling to a stop against the fridge. When the girl giggled, Bella released the strangled breath she’d been holding. Since the girl was fine, she turned her attention to the intruder…

Almost human in shape, the creature had dark gray skin with off-white splotches, making it perfect for hiding in shadows. Hair covered its head and back in broken patches like mange on a dog. Approaching it, her eyes began to water. As a child, she had visited an old woman with too many cats. The woman's home was thick with the smell of overflowing cat boxes, piles of dirty laundry, and unwashed animals. The miasma wafting from the creature on her floor now was so foul it made the memory seem like a spring day.

Pushing herself up from the floor, Samantha held her nose against the stench as she walked over and poked it with the toe of her shoe.

What is it? she asked, stepping away from the thing as it moaned on the floor. In any other home, people would freak out at the doll-sized creature drooling on their kitchen tile. But for Bella, and to a certain extent Samantha, this was just a normal Thursday night.

It’s a troll, Bella replied, shaking her head to clear it. Troll stench was powerful and hung around long after the creature left, like it had a mind of its own. It was a popular myth trolls were stupid, hulking brutes, dragging clubs behind them. The only thing the myths got right was their stupidity. Trolls came in a variety of shapes and sizes, though the vast majority of them were under two feet tall. The small ones were scavengers, living off the scraps of larger creatures. One of the more remarkable survival traits of trolls was their ability to travel through shadows. Not having to deal with pesky obstacles like walls and doors meant they made perfect little thieves.

The first thing Bella did after moving in here was place wards around the apartment to keep out trolls, shifters, Hobbs, wights, and all the other nasty little supernatural creatures attracted to big cities. Closing her eyes, she cast her mind out, checking on her spells and nets. Finding nothing wrong, no holes or tears in the magic, meant the troll could only have entered her apartment if someone, or something, let it in.

Sam. Go wake Cat, she told the child, pointing to a room down the hall. Samantha turned and skipped away. A few moments passed before she returned, though this time she held a large black cat in her arms. Setting it on the floor, she stepped back with a flourish and a giggle. The cat did not appear to find the situation funny in the slightest, as it turned and gave the child a disapproving huff.

Oh, enough. Did you do this? she asked as she pointed to the trembling heap of troll on the floor.

The animal stood and, in the way only cats can, sauntered around the humans and jumped on the counter. Staring down at the troll, it shook its head.

The cat made a sound somewhere between a hiss and a cough. I’m surprised at you, Bella. Killing a harmless troll like that. You’re supposed to be a good witch. When did you switch to dark magic? Never mind. You know, I never thought it possible, but I’m starting to develop some small fraction of respect for you. Well done. The cat’s face broke into a wide grin.

I didn’t kill it, she said. Trust her familiar to look on the dark side of any situation.

Oh, it replied, doing nothing to hide the disappointment in its voice. Well then. Forget the bit about respecting you. I still don’t.

For heaven’s sake, Cat—

And I’ll thank you to refer to me by my proper name, Felix Labarde Jupiter Ramiro de Lepta III, if you please. As it gave each word of its name, the cat straightened as though reciting a title belonging to a noble family.

I’ve called you Cat since I was eleven. It was true. Bella had received her familiar as a gift on her birthday in a box tied with a red ribbon. Inside, the cutest little kitten stared up at her and mewed, begging for food, affection, or both. Unable to decide on a name, she’d settled for just calling it Cat. Had she known the headaches the animal would cause her later, she might have given it an altogether different one. Something more in tune with its true nature, like maybe Demon.

She couldn't complain. They gave all children in magical families familiars at the first signs of puberty. Familiars, like her cat, played an important role in both developing powers and keeping the young witch from hurting herself or others. They were sponges of a sort, absorbing the wild magic their owner unleashed. The time spent absorbing raw energy would give it the ability to speak, some limited magic powers of its own, and a life as long as its person.

A familiar’s attitude was all their own, though. Bella owned Cat for almost three years before it spoke to her. The possibility she didn't have any magic worried her father, but the animal had a good reason for not speaking earlier. It just didn’t want to.

Yes, and I’ve been asking you since to call me by my full name.

Every time you say your name, it gets longer. Why is that? I wonder. And when did ‘Jupiter’ get added into it?

The ways of cats are inscrutable, unknowable to mere humans like you and beyond the understanding of all but the highest of beings.

And by highest of beings, you mean other cats, right?

Of course. What other being could be more important in this universe than a cat?

She raised her hand to tick off a list of beings, starting with earthworms and mice, when Samantha's shout interrupted.

It moved, the girl said, pointing at the troll.

All eyes turned toward the intruder, still reeling from its unexpected impact with the wall, as it struggled to push itself up. Finally standing upright, it staggered around like a drunk after last call before managing to see the assembled woman, girl, and cat. Freezing in place, it stared at the small group. Trolls, stupid as they were, had two modes of thought when dealing with other creatures. Fight or run away. As it bared its pointed teeth, its decision was clear.

Okay, Bella said, doing her best to keep her voice light and steady. Let’s keep calm here. Raising her hands to show the creature she meant no harm, she lowered herself to her knees, hoping to seem less intimidating.

Inching forward, bracing for both the possibility of the creature attacking and its overpowering stench, she drew near. The creature appeared to be calming down, or at least a little less likely to attack, so she held out her left palm like she would for a dog. If she could keep it calm long enough, they might stand a chance of getting rid of it with minimal damage.

That’s it. You’re okay. See? We’re all friends here.

Her voice was light, her manner nonthreatening, and most important, at least from the troll’s point of view, she hadn’t tried to kill it. For a troll, that was as good as being best friends. His impression of the situation changed, however, when the cat jumped from the counter, shouting, That’s it, Bella. Get him.

What ensued would have been tragic if it hadn’t been so comedic. The troll, deciding flight was a better option than fight, jumped, its powerful legs propelling it in a trajectory meant to take it up and over her. Unfortunately, her familiar's cry startled her too, making her bolt upright. Rather than making the leap over her, the troll now found itself atop her head. Not knowing what else to do, it grabbed her hair and held on for all it was worth.

As the creature pulled hair from her scalp, she began flailing about to dislodge it. The troll’s grip tightened, and it soon became plain there was no way to remove the unwashed parasite from her hair without losing most of it. Laughter rang through the kitchen as Samantha howled in pleasure at what was, to her young mind, the funniest sight imaginable. Even Cat seemed to be taking perverse enjoyment from the situation as he sat back and watched, an unmistakable grin splitting his feline features.

Taking a moment to calm herself was a mistake, since the troll’s odor caused her eyes to water and her lungs to burn. Mind clouded with the combination of stench and desperation, Bella couldn’t think of a single spell to dislodge the creature without doing some damage to herself as well. It was the stench, however, that gave her an idea of how to deal with her unwelcome passenger.

Moving slow enough not to startle the troll and force it to rip out more of her hair, she left the kitchen to make her way down the hall to the bathroom. It felt as if the trip were taking forever, rather than a few seconds, but she kept speaking to the troll in as soothing a manner as she could. The welcoming sight of her walk-in shower greeted her as she flipped up the wall switch and flooded the room with light.

The previous occupant of the apartment, an elderly gentleman, had not been able to lift himself over the edge of a tub. In a last-ditch effort to remain independent, he’d remodeled the bathroom to include a large walk-in shower, tiled floor to ceiling. Its door was almost as high, leaving a gap of less than a foot. When the landlord found out, he’d threatened eviction, but the elderly tenant died before anything was done.

Stepping into the shower and pulling the door closed, Bella gave the creature a final chance to dismount. When it still refused to let go, she resorted to her last option and turned on the water.

As the spray hit the troll it let out a terrible shriek and leaped from her head to distance itself from the water. Try as it might, though, there was no escaping the liquid torture. The strong tile walls were impenetrable and the glass door only wobbled in its frame when struck. Huddling in a corner, keeping as far away from the source of the spray as possible, it glared at Bella.

With the creature no longer attached and its smell diminished by the unwanted shower, Bella’s racing pulse calmed, though she could feel the flush of anger creeping up her cheeks. If Cat hadn’t yelled at that moment, she wouldn’t be in this situation. With her arms held straight at her sides, blue sparks flashed between her fingers like miniature lightning bolts. As they increased in intensity, the pulsing electricity encircled her lower arms and began traveling up. As her ire increased, so too did the brightness of the cascading magic until it was so hot the water in the shower turned to steam.

The troll’s whimper drew her back to her surroundings. Its angry glare was replaced with one of such abject terror Bella thought the troll would have clawed its way straight through the tile if it could. Guilt cut through her anger like a knife, and the bright blue arcs faded from existence as she released her hold on the magic.

Turning off the water, she did her best to soothe the troll. Lowering herself to the floor, she beckoned the creature over, trying once again to show she didn’t mean any harm. Unlike when it had hesitated before, this time it was fearful. She was patient, though, partly out of understanding, but more because she wanted it gone.

Exiting the bathroom a few minutes later, she held the troll wrapped in a towel and pressed as firm to her chest as a newborn babe. Setting it on the small kitchen table, she turned to take her ire out on her familiar, but paused at the troll’s piteous mewing.

All right, little guy. I guess it is time to go. Walking across the room, she unlocked and lifted the kitchen window. Bits of old paint flecked off as it slid up in unused tracks, giving access to the fire escape outside. Stepping back, she waved her hand between the window and the troll, hoping it would get the message. As slow witted as the creature was, even it recognized the escape offered.

With a hoot of excitement, the troll jumped from the table, the blue towel billowing behind it. Scrabbling across the floor, it made one more leap and cleared the windowsill, landing on the rusted fire escape beyond with a muted thud. Giving her one last glance, it swung itself over the railing and disappeared into the night.

Finally rid of it, Bella slid the window closed and turned her attention to the other two occupants of her apartment. Cat, sitting on the living room couch, regaled Samantha with daring tales of his exploits and adventures while the young girl stared up at the feline from her seat on the floor…

Sighing, Bella dropped into a nearby chair. Waves of exhaustion washed over her and she allowed Cat’s sing-song voice to lull her into a quiet stupor. As the drowsiness took over, she thought there would be time enough tomorrow to tell off her familiar. It had been, she admitted, an adventurous night. She needed to remind Samantha not to tell anyone about it, but that too could wait. With a yawn Bella leaned down over the table and, resting her head on her arms, stared at the girl and cat. As though sensing her gaze, the animal turned its head and stared right back, not even pausing in its story.

Yes, she thought, she’d have to do something about him, but in the morning. The last things she heard as she drifted to sleep were Samantha’s laughter and Cat telling her what it felt like to jump on the back of a dragon. A dragon, she thought. As if.

Chapter 2

Standing in line, explaining her order to the barista for the third time, Bella couldn’t help feeling a sense of frustration. Not toward the counter girl, though. It was obvious the young brunette had an intelligence level equal to a jar of mayonnaise. No, her frustration wasn’t with the barista, it was with her boss.

Working for the Milo Insurance Agency, or at least a local branch of the international firm, was supposed to be part of a fulfilling career path, one encouraging her to help people in need. After graduating from college, something she was one of the first people in her family to do, she had accepted a position with the company. In her imagination, she’d seen herself arriving at the steps of a burned-out house, the family covered in soot from the fire, parents despondent and clutching children tight to their chests. As she approached, she imagined seeing the spark of hope in their eyes, once beaten down and all but extinguished, light up again. She would experience the joy of telling them they would have their home rebuilt and everything they owned replaced. That was the dream.

Instead, she got coffee.

Not that she couldn’t do the job. Graduating with honors with a keen grasp of numbers, she’d excelled in math and science, much to the pleasure of her teachers. On any particular day she arrived early, one of the first people in the building, in fact, and started waking the office up. She turned on copy machines and sorted after-hour faxes by department. In the break room, she made coffee and cleaned out the fridge. Time permitting, it wasn’t uncommon to bring in pastries, cookies, or other snacks, just to make the day a little better. Having done all that, she got down to actual work.

To call what she did exciting would be an overstatement of such magnitude as to imply anthills were just small mountains. It took a special mind to work in insurance, unless the individual worked in sales. Insurance salesmen were a strange group best left alone. Given the chance, they would try to sell ice to Eskimos and sand to desert nomads. Not because they were a mean or spiteful bunch, but because they enjoyed the excitement. She much preferred working behind the scenes with unchanging numbers and a most definite lack of excitement.

There were times, though, if she were honest with herself, some excitement would be nice. Sitting in a cubicle with gray walls, splitting her attention between rows of numbers on spreadsheets and a computer so old it surprised her it worked, she sometimes wondered how dreams of helping people had led to this. If she squinted while tilting her head, she could almost see she was helping someone somewhere, but mostly it seemed the only thing she helped was the company. She’d brought this to her supervisor’s attention during a staff meeting.

Had Bella been a more pessimistic person, she would have thought the hell of her workday was retaliation for speaking up. Her supervisor was Jonathan Browser. A fat, balding man who tried to distract from the lack of hair on his head using a bad combover and growing a beard so scraggly birds wouldn’t use it to build their nests. Worse, someone brought in the cinnamon rolls she’d left in the break room and he was eating his way through the entire tray.

After a coworker finished his presentation detailing the ratio of claims accepted to claims rejected, Browser’s face split into a wide grin, sprinkling crumbs into his beard and onto his shirt.

How can that ratio be so low? she’d asked. Isn’t our job to help people? If we’re denying all those claims, how can we?

Innocent as the question may have been, it still spread a blanket of silence around the room. Looking at her colleagues, she missed the shift in her supervisor’s face. The happy piggy look disappeared, replaced by a cold and calculating one.

Ms. Flores. His voice was low and harsh from too many years of unhealthy habits. Our job here is not to pay out hard-earned money to every Joe and Sally with a sob story. Our job is to ensure the company stays solvent, so in the unfortunate event a policy holder has a valid claim, we have the money to pay them.

I understand, sir, she said, sinking back in her chair under his