And Joell dropped their shield. The energy crashed out of them like a breaking dam.
Rayna’s flames hit a dumpster, which promptly melted and slumped into a sewer grate. A second later, the sewerexploded, flinging flaming garbage thirty feet in the air.
“Gross!” Brianna cried, covering her head with her arms.
The witches, coated in garbage, had no time to do anything about it.
Lioness’s bird became a killing machine with glowing red laser eyes. It fired blindly, carving a smoking "C" into the side of a nearby storage shed.
Brianna’s energy pulse rebounded off the silencing field and shattered every car window in a three-block radius. Car alarms shattered the air.
The faceless entitystaggered. Then it flickered, like it was losing signal. Its form changed and finally collapsed in on itself, then vanished with a wet, suckingpop.
The red glow on the disc blinked out. Joell gasped and stumbled back. “Grab us, Vic!” she shouted, loud and clear.
Victoria’s relay kicked in. One by one, the witches vanished in streaks of light and wild energy, like someone had worked a teleport spell, doubling the charge.
The battle raccoon was last. It paused, looked around, and then vanished with an indignant squeak.
The L.A.W. mansion’seast wing had a teleportation landing bay that doubled as a yoga studio, becausepriorities.
The witches blinked in, mid-stumble, covered in soot, sweat, and garbage. A yoga mat slipped and bunched up under Rayna’s left boot.
“Someone,” Rayna wheezed, “owes me coffee. And a tetanus shot.”
Victoria stood waiting by the door, cool as ever, holding a vintage teacup and wearing noise-canceling headphones around her neck like this was a Tuesday.
“You’re welcome,” she said, removing them with a flourish and bowing.
Brianna dropped onto the floor. “What the hell was that thing?”
“No idea,” Victoria said. “But your synchronized magic spike gave me enough signal to yank you out before it decided to wear your skins like a quilt. So, go team!”
Lioness looked dazed. Her sketchpad still glowed faintly. “Did I…? Was that raccoon real?”
“Oh, you meanthisguy?” Victoria tilted her head.
From behind a storage locker, the armored raccoon reappeared, tiny hammer dragging across the floor behind his smug little strut. It climbed up onto the bench beside her and began grooming its ears like it hadn’t just waged war five minutes ago.
Rayna pointed. “Wait. That’syours?”
Victoria smirked. “His name’s Reginald. He’s been with me since the Battle of Battery Park.”
Reginald stopped grooming just long enough to glare at Rayna.
Joell rubbed her temples. “You have a familiar, and it’s a murder-happy raccoon in knock-off armor?”
Victoria raised a brow. “You try bonding with a war-spirit on a budget.”
“I thought you didn’t have a familiar,” Brianna said. “I don’t have one—even a secret one.”
“I keep him for emergencies. He mostly protects my Chateau in Montreal.”
Lioness knelt in front of Reginald, wide-eyed. “Can I draw him again?”
“He’ll expect royalties,” Victoria said, sipping her tea.
Rayna took a deep breath and regretted it immediately. “Gods, is thatus? We smell like a landfill.”