“I’ll pass.” I crushed them beneath the pressure of my telepathy. “And when I encounter the remaining members of the Celestial Coven, I’ll be sure to find the fragments you tucked away there, too.”
I sent this piece of The Sisters Three to their death, destroying the fleeting magic.
It became clear that Amara had to die, too. If she would sacrifice one of her children for being branchless, if she’d lock another up until he obeyed her fanatical plan, then what would she do if Tara refused her? The True Witch was despicable, and I needed to end her and her Celestial Coven. Permanently.
I continuedscouring the world for leads on the Celestial Coven, sending out waves of manifestations to search for any possible clue. Since I hadn’t had much luck on my own, I allowed a manifestation to trail alongside Gladiatrix, who’d found herself in London yet again. For a woman assigned to Chicago, she found every excuse in the book to fly across the ocean and help out the UK witches.
Granted, this particular visit might’ve been warranted. Maybe.
Long, sharp claws slashed at my translucent form, and I instinctively leapt back. Glowing red eyes studied where I’d been a moment ago.
Demons really did have a knack for tracking magic, anything to feed their insatiable hunger. Perhaps this one sensed my manifestation in the atmosphere. It wouldn’t matter. The magic used to project myself in this way remained incorporeal for a reason. It prevented me from intervening physically, but it also protected my psychic forms from damage, which would inevitably injure my core self.
Gladiatrix lunged through the horde of vampires infestingthe streets of London. She hacked through dozens at a time, swinging powerful fists fueled by a combination of her unmatched strength and waves of banishment. One by one, the vampires erupted, exploding demonic energy in every direction.
Following her trail, King Liberty raced to quickly remove the fiends and wisps that formed from the leftover energy. Another masked vigilante accompanied him, banishing demonic energy too. Her fiery red curls were knotted into a long braid that went well past her waist and whirled wildly as she zipped through the streets, flying close behind Gladiatrix.
These vigilante witches were top-notch, and still, they struggled to keep up with Gladiatrix. Admittedly, I stopped chasing after her, allowing my telepathy to flow through the streets of London. Bystanders who caught glimpses of the Global Guild witch filled my vision, helping me determine her next movements. Somewhere around forty or so vampires, I lost track of how many demons she’d slaughtered.
Once every ounce of demonic energy had been purged, Gladiatrix finally stopped moving. She stood in front of a large clock tower and caught her breath. Most wouldn’t notice, but I’d trailed alongside her for months now, and I could spot the subtle signs of exhaustion she kept hidden behind a strong stance and confident face.
“Well, she’s something for sure,” the redheaded woman said with a thick Scottish accent.
She wore a mask similar to King Liberty, except the facial expression had a dramatically giant smile and clownish makeup. It was further accentuated by the jester hat on her head.
Queen of Jesters! That was her name. The mask was scarier than it was funny. There were too many vigilante witches to recall them all, but it seemed the most famous came out to workalongside Gladiatrix, which made sense. If America sent one of its best and brightest, then Britain wanted to highlight some of their best as well.
Though the Queen of Jesters wasn’t a favorite of the Crown. The original one came into place around the 1940s when the royal family realized the people wanted easier ways to become licensed. You know, instead of signing over their life and service to the royal family. So, those in charge proposed entertainment licenses for witches with magic that could be used to perform for the royal family and other elites, as opposed to serving in their private army.
Thus, Queen of Jesters was born, a mockery of the offering the royal family gave. The original Queen of Jesters possessed a cosmic branch that created explosive colors, sort of like fireworks, which she used to prank every noble’s party for the better part of a decade until the license policy was expanded so the people wouldn’t have to simply serve as soldiers or clowns for the royal family.
“I can’t sense any demonic energy in the city,” Queen of Jesters said with a whistle. “Not a trace of demon or wisp.”
“You two did most of the thorough cleaning,” Gladiatrix said. “I just slapped around soap suds.”
“If you say so,” Queen of Jesters replied. “But I say we take you on tour, clean up the whole nation.”
“You’d have to get the Global Guild to sign off first.”
“Goddamn bureaucrats,” Queen of Jesters replied with a shameful tsk. “They ruin everything.”
“They offer as much as they deprive,” King Liberty said, nodding with gratitude at Gladiatrix. “We appreciate them bypassing the red tape so you could offer assistance.”
“Always.” There was a softness in Gladiatrix’s voice. A nervousness in the word that slipped from her lips. “Vampires can be a headache. Trust me, we’ve had a spike in the states, too.”
“Really?” King Liberty asked quizzically. “They’ve been all over Europe, bouncing country to country faster than nations can rally their forces.”
“Springing from one major city to the next, night after night,” Queen of Jesters added.
“And just vampires?” Gladiatrix asked.
“Yeah, which is odd,” King Liberty replied. “London doesn’t get many demons in general, but the fact that they’re banding together, and doing so with such extreme coordination, is bothersome.”
“Well, it’s not really coordinating,” Queen of Jesters said. “They’re all vampires, of course, they work together.”
“Demons in general are typically isolated hunters,” Gladiatrix corrected.
“And vampires are notorious for being more solitary than other demons,” King Liberty said. “They’re the sharks of the demon world.”
