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  Dana’s face remained blank. “What problems have you had?”

  “Not much. A lot of the witches turn up their noses at me, probably because of the dark aura, but nobody has caused me any real trouble. Don’t worry about the naysayers. You already fit in better than I ever will.”

  She laughed with her tinkling melody, and my heart swelled almost to bursting in my chest. All the hours I’d spent tracking her down and training had paid off big time. “You’re the fun one.”

  Then I took Dana’s hand and led her to Gracie’s office. While we waited for the older woman to end a call, Dana struck up a conversation with the receptionist. I only half-listened as they chatted about spring flowers.

  After a moment, I realized the lady had never uttered a kind word to me. But there she was, kidding around with my sister like they were old pals. And just to be sure I got the point that she still disliked me, the receptionist frowned at me when Gracie invited Dana and me into her office.

  What did I ever do to her? I’d never understand how to get along with people.

  Gracie led us to a conversation area and motioned for us to sit. I explained how we wanted Dana to live with me.

  “Won’t be a problem,” the older woman said. She turned to Dana. “We’re very pleased with your sister’s strength and courage. I get goosebumps every time I hear about the risks she takes to protect us, but she always comes through.”

  My sister grinned. “I know that terrified feeling. She destroyed my former owner, but it was touch and go. He was a tough warrior. During their battle, I was so freaked out I thought I was going to faint.”

  My face was warming so much I finally cleared my throat.

  Gracie paused mid-sentence and caught herself. “Oh, we’re making Moira blush. On to business. Dana will have to formally join the clan and promise to hold our secrets safe.”

  She nodded.

  “Moira, do you need more of anything for your quarters?” Gracie asked.

  The clan had always bent over backwards to keep the fighters happy. “Nope, we’re good, but Dana’s going to need a job.”

  “Did you talk to Ian about adding her to the Garda? I’m sure he can get approval for another disciple.”

  I shook my head. “Dana and I’d prefer something a bit less stressful, at least while she’s settling in.”

  Gracie ran down a list of open jobs, but nothing seemed suitable. Gracie told Dana, “Most of the clan’s work consists of operating an organic farm nearby where we grow raw materials for beauty products and nutritional supplements.”

  Dana shook her head. “I don’t know anything about farming or manufacturing.”

  I wasn’t worried. “She doesn’t need to decide for a while.”

  “Exactly,” Gracie said, and she kept asking about Dana’s skills.

  Finally, I said, “Sis, you should relax for the rest of the day. I’ll be busy chasing an asshole for Ian and training.”

  Then I told them about my plan to buy Cara instead of fight for her. When they’d approved, I stood to leave.

  Dana stood, too, and gave me a hug. As I left them, Gracie was still coming up with other projects around the compound that needed doing. I had my own problems to worry about, such as whaling on the sorcerer in Fresno.

  -o-o-o-

  PROMPTLY AT TEN a.m., a large black SUV pulled up in front of the inn. Tran Anh Thao, one of the Vietnamese detectives, stopped and waved at me. I still didn’t know much about the asshole I was supposed to fight, but we had a long drive ahead of us. Thao had plenty of time to tell me everything I needed to know.

  Raphael Benito, the Garda’s designated healer, sat in the front passenger seat. Magical battles tended to be brutal, and although I usually won, I often ended up bruised and battered. With Raphael along, I’d only have to suffer for a few minutes instead of the hours it would take us to drive back to Monterey.

  Thao handed me a folder with a summary about our target. It turned out that the scumbag in question, Trevor Turnbull, owned a small factory where he made illegal diet pills.

  “I thought those were legit,” I said to Raphael.

  He shook his head. “The legal ones are worthless, and the illegal ones are dangerous. Turnbull’s pills are a combination of meth and Chinese herbs. Powerful and addictive.”

  “One of my second cousins, who lives in Fresno, found him,” Thao said. “My cousin recognized Turnbull’s dark aura at a grocery store.”

  “Why hasn’t Turnbull moved already?” I asked. “We’ve given him plenty of time to clear out.”

  “He built his factory years ago,” Thao said. “It would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to move it. Turnbull must’ve hoped he could remain hidden.”

  According to a three-page summary, Thao had personally checked Turnbull’s magical strength. I trusted the detective’s opinion that I could take the sorcerer. I definitely wanted to be reasonably sure I could win. Every magical fight was unpredictable, but as long as my opponent wasn’t more powerful, I’d take him on. I’d fought hundreds of times as a gladiator, and so I had experience on my side. That usually counted for a lot.

  While I settled my mind through meditation, I tried to ignore the churning in my stomach. Cara was in a hell of a fix, and if I could buy her soon, she’d be free. Nothing was more important than getting her away from Wang while I still could.

  So, I centered my thoughts and prepared for battle.

  -o-o-o-

  THAO PULLED IN front of an ordinary-looking farmhouse on the edge of Fresno. It sat across the street from a typical California suburb filled with small ranch-style houses.

  “He’s a farmer?” I asked.

  Thao snickered. “His fields have all turned to weeds, and he doesn’t own any animals. So, he doesn’t need that lovely red barn, except to hide his pill factory.”

  Being a city girl, I never would’ve figured that out on my own. Time to deliver the clan’s justice to our enemy.

  I ran down my checklist of things I needed to consider before I launched myself at some strange sorcerer. The first item was, change into your innocent identity.

  That was what Ian affectionately called Jailbait Me. I used a glamor spell to switch into that version of myself and became a clueless teenager who walked from door to door trying to get people to sign her petitions. In this case, I wanted to outlaw the sale of snakes as pets.

  Instead of wearing my typical black karate uniform, I wore a loose-fitting UC Santa Cruz sweatshirt and faded blue jeans. I’d lost fifty pounds and six inches of my height with no boobs or hips to speak of. My dark brown hair was parted in the middle and dropped to my shoulders. In short, I was plain and forgettable.

  The point was, this persona would usually convince someone to open the door, particularly if a sorcerer was evil enough to attack a helpless young woman. And weren’t they all?

  Once he unlocked the door, I’d change into Real Me and attack. That approach had worked like a charm a half-dozen times already.

  As I left the SUV, I checked my back pocket to make sure my miniaturized staff was still there. It was. I strode toward the front door, trying to look eager and gullible, holding a clipboard containing fake signatures for my petition.

  Then I plastered a goofy smile on my face and rang the doorbell.

  Nobody answered.

  After I waited a minute, I punched the doorbell again, twice this time. If Turnbull thought I’d be deterred by being ignored, he was nuts. One of the things I’d learned about hidden sorcerers was they couldn’t stand the thought of attracting any attention from their neighbors. As I stood on the front porch, I waved at people passing by and talked to them in a loud voice.

  After my third attempt, I’d rang the bell four times in quick succession, a middle-aged man opened the door. He looked exactly like Turnbull’s photograph in the summary.

  “Yeah, were not interested,” he said. Then he tried to slam the door in my face. How rude!

/>   I stuck one of my shoes in the doorway. It contained a steel sole so my foot wouldn’t be crushed. “Excuse me, sir, I am trying to save the snakes. They make terrible pets.”

  I’d learned that the crazier my pitch was, the more likely the sorcerer would actually listen.

  “Wha?” He stopped smashing the front door against my foot.

  When he backed up and shook his head to clear it, I slipped inside. Then I closed the door behind me. No need to offer him an easy escape route.

  While he was still standing there baffled, I grab my shrunken staff from my back pocket and conjured a spell to make it grow. Then I transformed into Real Me and said, “I challenge you for magical power.”

  As usual, the rules of magic froze me in place for ten seconds. He got the chance to either run or prepare for battle. Lucky for me, sorcerers tended to be a macho bunch. So far, none of them had tried to run away. Turnbull was just as tall as I was, six-foot, three-inches, but he outweighed me by forty pounds. The asshole was too cocky, and the gods only knew what he planned to do with me if he won. He’d have absolute power over me, so it wouldn’t be good.

  Instead, he dashed to a coat closet near the front door and grabbed a long black staff.

  While I was frozen, I mentally prepared a protective ward. Holarthon, elbo protège.

  A buzzing started in my ears that told me the fight was on. He and I pointed our staffs at each other, and he yelled a Dunarsh shocking spell.

  I had also chosen a shocking spell but used light magic instead. “Holarthon, elbo choque.”

  Our bolts passed through each other. His hit my ward, which vibrated but held.

  My lightning slammed into his invisible shield. His short black hair stood on end, a sure sign that some of my electricity had penetrated. His ward was already cracking.

  I’d gotten the better of that exchange, so I fired another lightning spell before he could recover.

  But this one didn’t have the same oomph. Virtually none of my lightning got through this time.

  My fight with Eichmann to free Dana had confused my mind more than I’d thought. I came out of that battle stronger, but it would take a while for my magical core to blend his magic with mine. In the meantime, I was weaker. So, I switched tactics. His gut overflowed his belt, but I was battle hardened.

  I tried a roundhouse kick but only made contact with his ward. That was a waste of time. All I could do for the moment was wait for him to wear himself out.

  “You bitch. I can’t believe O’Rourke sent a woman after me. How did you find me?”

  Anger fueled attack spells, so I didn’t want to say anything. My answers would only make him madder. Instead, I focused on my ward. He was sure to hit it again.

  His eyebrows scrunched together like he was thinking right before a fireball erupted from the end of his staff and blasted toward me.

  My protective shield cracked but held, but it couldn’t take another shot that powerful.

  Luckily, he bent over, his chest heaving. His spell had taken too much power.

  I doubted he’d kept his focus on maintaining his barrier, so I lunged at him, jabbing at him with the top of my staff. It smacked his ward but punched through. I rammed it as hard as I could against his breastbone.

  He screamed in pain and twisted sideways and backwards. Then he started swearing at me.

  Like that would somehow help? You’re going to let a woman kick your sorry ass? Ha! I can’t wait to tell the folks back home.

  I punched him with my staff again and followed up with a lunging kick to his chest.

  But instead of dropping to the ground, he shape-shifted into an enormous grizzly bear.

  I gulped. A blast of adrenaline made my whole body tingle. Now I had his problem—how to keep my focus.

  By the Mórrígan, the son of a bitch must be eight feet tall!

  Before I could get a ward up, he swiped at me with a massive front paw. His four-inch-long claws shredded the top of my karate uniform and raked my stomach. His claws must’ve been magically sharpened. Blood gushed from my wounds and soaked my jeans.

  I screamed with pain and brought my free hand to feel the wound. My skin and stomach muscles had been sliced open, but he hadn’t disemboweled me. A tiny blessing.

  The searing pain almost overwhelmed me. My mind couldn’t focus. Need to…with the few brain cells still functioning, I pushed the pain aside. It was life or death now. Forget about fighting back. I could barely stand.

  Closing my eyes, I put all my effort into turning inward. My last chance for survival, I chanted, Holarthon, elbo protège.

  He roared at me and slashed with his paw again, a killing blow, but my protective barrier formed just in time.

  Relief flooded through me, but I pushed that away, too. No distractions. Every ounce of my willpower went into maintaining the ward.

  The massive bear raged and hurled spells from his deadly paws, but after a shaky start, I could ignore how much I hurt. My quaking legs firmed up again. I’d fought while suffering so many times before.

  Turnbull threw everything he had at me, and I couldn’t attack back. Wear yourself out, you bastard.

  When he began to pant for breath, I carefully opened the part of my mind where I stored my fury. It was mostly gone, but this son of a bitch was doing his best to kill me. That was enough to light a fire.

  I built up my rage as the bear stood against my ward and slammed his huge paws against it.

  You could run and I wouldn’t be able to follow, but you’re not satisfied. You want blood, you evil asshole. Big mistake.

  I screamed with a chanting voice, “HOLARTHON, ELBO FRAPPE!”

  A ball of white-hot lightning erupted from my hand and hit him in the stomach. His very furry stomach.

  His hair ignited, and the flames quickly spread to cover his body.

  He roared in pain and dropped to the hardwood floor, rolling to try to put the fire out. But it was too much. He passed out and transformed back into a man.

  The buzzing in my head stopped. I’d won ugly, but I’d won. Relief flooded through me, but when I tried to move, I realized how hurt I really was.

  Turnbull’s transformation had put out the fire, and he laid motionless before me, still unconscious.

  Chapter 3

  EACH MOVEMENT TOWARD the door sent stabbing pains through my torso. I could hardly breathe. Blood continued to run down my legs, but thank the gods, he didn’t appear to have cut any arteries.

  I slowly shuffled to the front door, leaning on my staff to stay upright. It took all my concentration to pull the door open and wave the guys inside.

  Raphael rushed forward, followed by Thao.

  “I’m fading out!” I gasped while leaning against the doorframe. My head was spinning.

  The healer lifted me, ignoring the dripping blood soaking his clothes, and carried me back inside. Thao closed the front door behind him.

  Raphael laid me on the sofa and placed his hands on my stomach over the cuts, singing in Italian, as usual.

  The pain eased then disappeared. A wave of relief washed over me. That’d been too close.

  I took several cleansing breaths. Then I ran my hand under the shredded karate top, and my body was whole. “You’re amazing,” I told him.

  He patted my cheek, “Bella, Moira.” Then Raphael turned to help Turnbull. Thao walked out to the SUV and brought in a clean karate uniform and undershirt. I changed clothes in the downstairs bathroom, and by the time I returned, Turnbull was as good as new.

  “There’s no time to lose, you son of a bitch,” I told him. “Here’s your task. You’re going to send an immediate message over the sorcerer’s gladiator network to someone named Wang Hui. He owns my sister, Cara. You will hide the fact that you’ve been beaten, and you’re going to tell the bastard you just heard my sister might be for sale. Tell him you’re one of her biggest, longtime fans, and you have to have her for your harem.”

 
Unlike a few minutes ago, he was positively docile. Magic had forced him to submit to me. “Yes, Master, of course, right away.”

  Thao headed out to the barn to collect Turnbull’s slaves and shut down his illegal drug-making operation. As soon as the detective left, I took Turnbull to his home office. There, he logged onto the gladiator network and sent Wang a supposedly secure message. But I knew their security had been breached.

  While we waited for a response, the sorcerer ran down a listing of his assets, now mine. The guy was stinking rich, thanks to earning millions of bucks a year selling his deadly and addictive diet pills. The clan would get a third, and I was entitled to the rest. In the past, however, I’d followed Ian’s practice. He always gave half of his share to the sorcerer’s former slaves. I saw no reason to do any differently.

  “How many slaves do you have, or should I say, did you have?”

  Again, he was completely polite, despite the fact that he had to know I planned to strip him of his entire fortune. And maybe even more painful for him, I was going to take his magical power, but not quite yet. I needed to wait until Cara was safe, in case he had to interact with Wang. Turnbull would have to look like a legitimate sorcerer, including having a magical aura.

  “I had twelve until a few minutes ago, Master.”

  His off-the-cuff estimate of his net worth was nine million bucks, so the twelve slaves would share three million. That gave them a quarter-mil each. At least it would help take the sting out of what cruelties they’d suffered.

  Unfortunately, Wang did not reply to the Turnbull’s offer. That meant his crew were going to have to wait a bit longer for their freedom. I couldn’t take a chance that the word might get out about how I’d beaten their master. We needed to maintain the status quo as much as possible until I’d freed Cara.

  So, his crew would have to come back to the Monterey compound and chill out for a day or two while Turnbull and I finalized buying my sister. That would no doubt disappoint his slaves, but, technically, nothing but my own sense of right and wrong forced me to free them at all. They belonged to me now.

  Thao rented a van so we could take everyone back to Monterey. Then he said to me, “Turnbull’s workers would like the chance to thank you for saving them from such a horrible master.”