Witch Clan: Warriors! by John Stormm (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

it through in places here that we had not expected.” Rumsdon pointed out.

“But we caught and killed them all quickly,” Dauntless added.

“We certainly hope we did.” Rumsdon said uneasily. “Fortunately, we have a pervasive media and the Devils look and act foreign enough to tell apart from out own with those tall pointed ears and odd colored eyes and hair. I would have suspected that boy or even the valet if it weren’t for their ears and the Examiners passing them as human. We need to tread gentle with these ones. We may need them later and if it looks like we could make an easy victory or that we might need to protect ourselves from their world, than we need to be able to distance ourselves from any fracas we might stir and make it look like it was someone else‘s idea.”

"Well, Mordred will be on tour, garnering resources and I’ll be the Master of Ceremonies for the Solstice Event,” Dauntless pointed out. “I’ll need to look spotless.”

“That’s the idea,” Rumsdon said with a slow smile.
Which Is Witch, And Vice Versa

Johnny was certain he was being watched, and by a good deal more than one set of eyes by the feel of it. It had been such a lovely, cool spring day in Ivory City and he had been dying to explore it more fully. He didn’t think he stood out much from the crowd as his choice of clothing wasn’t all that different from their own. Even the iridescent green overcoat was a darker green and didn’t stand out. It could easily blend him in with the trees and shrubbery that decorated the better neighborhoods. There were the ever present Yellow Jackets which served as the local police. As many corners as he had turned, he was certain he saw the same deadpan face beneath the yellow helmet that turned up in each new place. There were one or two others about who seemed to be paying attention to a pretty Asian girl chatting with a book seller, but the deadpan cop was looking anywhere but the girl every time Johnny glanced in his direction.

Digging into his pocket for some of his allowance money, he bought a sandwich from a street vendor and puzzled what was so beguiling about the Asian girl at the book seller’s stand outside the shop. She was pretty, to be sure, but she couldn’t have been older than twelve and surely these men would be better interested in a more mature woman with interesting curves. The girl was drawing the shopkeeper’s attention to a book to the far left of the shop display when a dark haired boy walked out of the shop with an iron bound antique book under his arm and turned to the right. Did he just steal that book? There was no one in the store he could have paid. But still, all eyes were on the girl who glanced at the boy and ended her discussion and walked the other way down the street.

“I’m Frankie,” said a husky lad with light brown hair and gray eyes he hadn’t noticed eating at the same cart.

“Huh?” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you standing there. I’m Johnny.”

“I figured,” the fat boy replied. “With Charlene in the neighborhood, no one notices much of anything else.”

“Like noticing the kid that just stole the antique book out of that shop?” he asked with a smirk.

“Pretty much like that,” Frankie replied uncomfortably. “I’m surprised you even noticed the Dodger with Charm working the front like that. You really are as different as the say on the scrybox .”

“Uh, you saw that?” he asked.

“Everybody saw that,” Frankie said with just a little exasperation. “You’re world news and here you are walking down our turf as big as life with your own personal Yellow Jacket tailing you like a lost puppy dog.”

“Turf?” he asked, “Are you part of a gang or something?”

“Wanna lose the Jacket?” Frankie said nodding at the deadpan cop, “Then we can talk more about it.”

“I was just wondering what I might do to lose him,” he replied with a big grin. “and I think I might like to have that talk. Got any ideas?”

“Leave it to Foggy,” the fat kid said with a smile, “ and when you see your chance, head for Broome Alley to the right of the book shop across the street.”

“Who’s Foggy?” he asked.

“At your service,” Frankie said with a wink. “Just ask for the Witch Kids when you get back in the alley.”

“Which kids?”

“Exactly.”

The fat kid ambled over to the deadpan Yellow Jacket with a sandwich in each hand and attempted to engage him in conversation. Johnny couldn’t make out what was being said but he was close enough to notice the man’s expression glazing over and took it as his cue to move nonchalantly across the street, out of the cop’s peripheral vision and into the alley beyond. He made his way quietly about a half a block down the alley when he noticed the dark haired boy discussing the iron bound book laid out on a crate with a red haired pair who must have been brother and sister. He was thinking how he might approach the group when his thoughts were interrupted by a throaty feminine voice coming from just over his right shoulder.

“Is the prrrretty blond boy trying to track our Dodger?” a raven haired, svelt lass with pale hazel eyes perched languorously across the top of a tall slat fence purred.

“Actually,” he said, “Foggy said I could meet some pretty cool kids this way. He’ll be catching up as soon as he’s done distracting the Yellow Jacket around the corner from here.”

“For a bite of that sandwich,” she purred. “I’ll introduce you to the gang myself.”

“I can wait for Foggy,” he said. “But you can have the sandwich anyway, if you like.”

“Ooooh, I like a soft touch,” she said lithely leaping from her perch to accept the sandwich. Wolfing it down and fastidiously licking her lips and fingers, she grabbed him by his ears and kissed him full on the lips and leaped away up several odd piles of trash and debris to a ledge where she proceeded to open and examine the contents of his wallet. By this time, the trio by the crate were watching him with no little amusement.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he shouted. “I only said you could have the sandwich you thief.”

“Thieves are what we are,” she said spitefully, “and stealing is what we do. There’s not much else a Witch Kid can do to survive around here. Get over it about your money. You’ll just get more anyway.”

“It’s the idea of being prey,” Johnny growled and ran up the wall to her perch and snatched his wallet out of her stunned fingers.

“He chased down the Cat,” the dark haired boy exclaimed.

“In our own backyard,” the redheaded lad remarked.

“If you want something from a friend,” Johnny growled at the girl, pinning her with his eyes, “you simply ask.”

“Witch Kids have no friends,” the red haired girl called up to him.

“Except maybe other witch kids,” he called back, never shifting his gaze from Cat. “You might be surprised to hear you’re not the only ones in all the worlds.”

“He’s the kid from the news scry,” Foggy supplied, walking up and gawking at the spectacle. “I told him I’d introduce you when Charlene’s charm failed to hold him and he noticed Dodger taking the Tome from the book store. I figured you all would like to meet him.”

“Stunned, I’m sure,” The red haired girl responded.

“Downright blinked, if I say so myself,” her brother replied smiling.

“Do I need to lam it out of here,” Dodger asked nervously, “or do we really have a new witch kid from another world?”

“This sounds cornier than a Saturday Matinee,” he said stepping off the ledge and drifting down to the alley below, “but I come in peace. Just don’t try and make a victim out of me or I’ll show you why that’s a bad idea.”

“Did he say Saturnsday?” Foggy asked.

“What’s a ‘mattinay’?” Cat called down from her perch.

“I heard a threat mixed in all that,” the redheaded boy said levelly. “Just why is it such a bad idea to treat you like any other wizard in this city? We’re the Witch Kids and like it or not, this is as much our city as anyone’s.”

A boisterous gust of wind blew through the alley, bringing with it the threat of rain. Johnny glared ominously at the twins as his eyes flashed and lightning struck the chimney on a building across the alley from Cat’s perch.

“Because I won’t let myself be anyone’s lunch,” he said with a voice that held a distant echo of the thunder ringing in everyone’s ears.

“You’re NOT taking away our turf,” the redheaded boy insisted.

“I didn’t