Women of the Otherworld 10.5 - Counterfeit Magic Read Online Free PDF

warming up in the staging area. That warm-up included hand exercises and a lot of muttering under her breath. When Savannah emerged, I excused myself from the men and hurried over.
     
    “I know her supernatural type,” I said.
     
    “Witch. I know. I asked the guy getting changed next to me, who was distracted enough to forget he’s not supposed to tell a new fighter. Any last-minute lectures?”
     
    I shook my head.
     
    Her eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “Seriously?”
     
    “I could tell you to be careful, but you’d only roll your eyes and say you aren’t stupid. I could tell you to not overdo it, but you already know that. I could give you a dozen strategies, but you’d ignore them and do it your way. So all I can say is good luck.”
     
    She gave me a one-armed hug. “Thanks.” She bent to my ear. “And I will be careful. Not that you’re worried or anything.”
     
    I was, and she knew it. I also knew better than to show it. I’m not her mother. That’s always seemed too strange a role to take when I’m only ten years older. It also seemed disrespectful to her real mother, Eve, who’s still around, in spirit if not in body. I see myself more as a big sister. Like a big sister, I can worry, but I’m not supposed to show it too much.
     
    I had reason to worry, too. Even at twenty-one, Savannah is a more powerful spellcaster than Lucas or I can ever hope to be. Her mother was a dark witch and her father was a sorcerer, making her equally proficient at both kinds of magic. Eve was also the daughter of a lord demon, and while Savannah didn’t inherit any of those abilities, the demon blood acted as a power boost for a girl who really didn’t need it.
     
    When Savannah walked into the staging area, every guy turned to look at her—even the one practice boxing with Mel, who snapped off a left hook to his jaw for it. Mel gave Savannah another once-over, slower now, but ending with the same dismissive sniff. She’d made up her mind about her opponent. If Savannah was in decent physical condition, it was only from too many hours on a treadmill at some overpriced health club. That wouldn’t help her in the ring.
     
    I hadn’t been watching the match in progress, but I think one of the fighters caught a glimpse of Savannah and was just as distracted as Mel’s partner. The next thing I knew, the ref was calling the match and Tommy was striding over to escort Savannah and Mel into the ring.
     
    The whistle had barely sounded before Mel was on Savannah, hitting her hard and fast, as if determined to make a fool of her with a short match. Savannah dodged and ducked, but didn’t throw a single punch, infuriating Mel until she resorted to magic—a knockback spell, then an energy bolt, then another knockback. Savannah easily evaded each before dodging behind Mel. She caught Mel’s wrists and held them as the woman twisted and snorted like an enraged bull.
     
    “What?” Savannah said. “I’m only holding your hands. That means you can’t cast sorcerer magic. But you’re a witch. Don’t need your hands for that.” She leaned around Mel. “You do know witch magic, don’t you?”
     
    With a snarl, Mel pulled free and wheeled on Savannah, fist flying. Before it could land, Savannah nailed her with a right hook that sent her reeling, probably more from surprise than force. She bounced back, fingers rising as the first tentative cheers rang out.
     
    “You really like that knockback, don’t you?” Savannah said. “Fine, then. I’ll let you have it.”
     
    Mel hesitated, fingers raised.
     
    “Go on,” Savannah said. “I won’t even move. Hit me with your best shot.”
     
    The knockback struck Savannah in the shoulder, spinning her into the ropes.
     
    “You call that a knockback?” she said as Mel ran at her. “ This is a knockback.”
     
    Savannah hit her with one that hurtled her against the ropes. The tentative cheers turned to a collective whoop.
     
    Mel scowl at the