Bad News Bears | B&K
The scratch of a pen to a sales order slip competed with the crinkle of a paper bag being shaken into usefulness. Bonnie watched the customer sign their name on the bottom of the receipt as she placed the amethyst pendulum into the bag, as well as some fat, white candles, and an assortment of dried herbs. One of these days she was going to have to talk to someone about getting Ida Mae’s caught up with the times. A tablet and emailable receipts were not only more convenient for all parties, but environmentally conscious to boot.
Once the customer had signed their life away, Bonnie traded them their goods for the signed sales bill. The bottom copy went to the patron with a smile and a cheerful, “Have a great day.” Their wave was returned and she leaned over the counter to watch them leave.
Sleigh bells chimed from the hydraulic arm as the door opened and the customer stepped out into the thoroughfare outside Ida Mae’s. Once it shut again, Bonnie rounded the counter and scampered over to the table near the back of the occult shop. “How’re we doin’, Kiki?” she asked with a grin, dropping into the chair across from the raven haired beauty seated at the table.
Though they’d bumped into each other plenty of times at NOU, the tie that connected them best was --surprisingly-- Scott McCall. As far as werewolves went, she was closer to either of the Hales, and maybe even Hayley, than she was with Scott. But he and Stiles were the Turk and J.D. of NOU, and she and Stiles were… talking? Add Kira being friendly with Scott to the mix and, vualá, squad goals hashtag trends once more.
Kira was sweet. A little artless in some areas, but smart as heck and maybe a little too compassionate for her own good. Her presence in Ida Mae’s was at Bonnie’s invitation. Elena said she was going to drop in on Alaric after classes, Caroline was Spirits knew where doing Spirits knew what, and Bonnie had needed help rifling through historical records. That, and she genuinely enjoyed Kira’s company. So, two birds, one stone. Luckily, today was one of those days with not a lot of foot traffic through the occult shop slash bookstore.
Grabbing her own pile of papers, Bonnie scanned through the information, muttering the reminder, “So we’re looking for unexplained natural disasters over the last hundred years. Localized earthquakes, sudden electrical storms, wildfires, animal deaths by the dozen, that kind of thing. When the magic in an area is wonky your first and last warning sign is nature.” And the magic in New Orleans was the textbook definition of wonky. All its synonyms, too.
Marcel had stated that this kind of thing had happened before. If Bonnie could figure out when she could also figure out why, and if she knew why she’d know how she’d be best able to protect her friends.
Not finding anything interesting on the first page, Bonnie moved it to the back of her pile and started reading the fresh page. She didn’t make it far before a force so powerful crashed into her like a tsunami. It felt like she a hurricane in a bottle, overly full with cataclysmic power, unable to contain the energy that didn’t wash over her, but bulldozed through her; a stampeding herd of elephants bottlenecked with nothing but her to block their path.
A pained shout burst out of her. It blackened her vision and the world around her. Bonnie had a brief sense of falling out of her seat but was too caught up cradling her head to care that she’d collapsed. Curled into a ball, face hidden behind her hair, Bonnie cried out as unspeakable power crashed into her, flowed through her, then poured out of her again.
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