The Green Room Smoke Shop, South Central

  The time is 11:00PM. The smoke shop glows like a cheap casino in the dark—green neon “The Green Room” sign flickering, bulletproof glass smudged with fingerprints and grime. Inside, rows of vapes and cartridges, bongs, pipes, hookahs and shisha, incense, cigarillos, cigarettes, lighters, and packs of “flower” line the walls. No permits. No licenses.

  Exactly the kind of place that survived by staying invisible.

  The Machete watches from across the street, standing in a dark alley. Hurt and Pain lean on the wall, tips resting on the pavement. Behind her, six members of Los Vampiros wait in silence—hoods up, faces hard, hands already wrapped in tape.

  “Don’t rush,” The Machete says quietly. “Let ‘em see us.”

  One of the crew hesitates. “You sure, jefa? What about The Wraith?”

  The Machete turns her head slowly toward him. Her eyes staring daggers into his soul.

  He shuts up, turning away from her and looking down at the ground.

  The front door of the smoke shop swings open as a customer exits with a brown paper bag in his hand, eyes immediately locking on The Machete.

  The air suddenly feels wrong. He freezes for half a second—long enough.

  The Machete smiles beneath the red bandana. She waves at him.

  The customer bolts.

  “LV Gang!” The Machete calls, grabbing Hurt and Pain.

  “LV Gang!” the rest of the men respond.

  Los Vampiros cross the street like a wave. The Machete drags Hurt and Pain on the road.

  The bell above the door jingles as they enter. Inside, the shop owner—a thin Arab American man in his late 20s with a white graphic tee and a gold chain. His eyes are red and tired. The shop smells like a mix of marijuana and incense. He is picking something up from the floor when he hears the bell.

  “We’re closed,” he says quickly with a smile. “Come back—”

  He looks up from behind the counter. His smile dies instantly when he sees who it is.

  The Machete steps forward. Her machetes drag against the tile floor, screaming metal. She stops at the counter, looking the shop owner in his eyes.

  “You know who I am?” she asks, her voice as smooth as satin.

  The man nods his head and blinks rapidly.

  “Bueno,” she says, eyeing the cash drawer, then the security camera duct-taped to the ceiling. “You been doin’ real good for yourself.”

  She turns her eyes to the owner, nodding her head slowly. “Selling… ‘flower’, right?”

  The owner swallows. “I don’t know what you want.”

  The Machete’s eyes narrow.

  “You’re selling weed in my hood. I don’t see no license nowhere, which means this is an illegal business. So, you gotta start payin’ us, or we’re gonna have a problema.”

  She looks behind at her men and nods once. She turns back toward the shop owner.

  One of her men reaches behind the counter and opens the cash register.

  “Hey, what the—” the shop owner cries.

  Cash spills everywhere. Another rips a painting off the wall and throws it to the floor. Glass shatters.

  “Please stop!” The shop owner yells. “I just wanna close up and go home! I’ll do whatever you want!”

  The Machete raises a hand, her machetes resting on her sides.

  They all stop what they’re doing.

  She leans in close, voice calm and nasal, just above a whisper.

  “You see, I ain’t here to rob you,” she says. “I’m here to protect you.”

  “Nah,” a voice says, deep and ethereal, “I am.”

  The Machete’s eyes narrow. “She’s here.” She grabs Hurt and Pain. “La Bruja Amatista!”

  “Where… where is she?!” one of the men says.

  POOF!

  “Over here.”

  Everyone turns to the back. It’s The Wraith. She stands by the entrance. Clad in her black and skintight clothing, as well as her purple cloak and facemask. Her hair is long, black, and wavy. Her eyes glow purple. She steps forward.

  The Machete’s crew all point their guns at The Wraith.

  The shop owner shrieks again.

  The Wraith folds her arms. “What’s up Tina. Bienvenido a casa. I see you’ve got some new earrings from Abuela.”

  The Machete growls. Her fists gripping Hurt and Pain until they turn white and begin shaking.

  The Wraith sneers underneath her mask. “You know, Tina, have I ever told you much I dig that nickname? The Amethyst Witch. It’s got a nice lil’ ring to it.”

  “I swear on my papi’s grave,” The Machete says, “it’s gonna be the last thing you ever hear!”

  The Wraith tilts her head.

  “Why don’t we take this outside?” The Wraith asks. “Leave the gentleman here and his shop alone. And no, he won’t be paying any of you. Not on my watch.”

  The Machete takes a deep breath.

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  “Okay Bruja,” The Machete says slowly, grinning behind her bandana. “Outside.”

  She nods to her men.

  POOF!

  The Wraith turns half-spectral and phases through the door. The Machete and her crew follow The Wraith outside.

  *

  Outside of The Green Room, South Central

  The Wraith floats out into the street, surrounded by parallel-parked vehicles. The Wraith materializes as Los Vampiros step out into the street to face her. No one else is outside, there are no cars driving past. Just two forces whose actions have placed them on a collision course. The Wraith steps forward toward them.

  “I know why Mai got you pardoned through her foundation,” The Wraith says. “Kinda weird how y’all get pardoned and go right back to crime. First The Siren, now you.”

  The Machete, Hurt and Pain in both hands, narrows her eyes.

  “It don’t matter who got me pardoned,” The Machete responds. “Or why. I’m here. And this ain’t about Mai; this is about me, you, and the prophecy.”

  The Wraith clenches her fists.

  “It has everything to do with Mai,” The Wraith replies. “She’s using you.”

  There is a beat.

  “I know,” The Machete says, smiling behind her bandana. “But I don’t care. I’m using her too. She brings the clout, I bring the pain. Seems like a good deal.”

  “You’re more than a weapon, Tina,” The Wraith says. “Don’t you get it?!”

  “The only things I care about are mi barrio, mi familia, and mi dinero. In that order.”

  The Wraith shakes her head. There’s an uncomfortable sensation in her belly.

  “Did you choose any of that, or was it forced on you? By your dad? Your grandma?”

  “The fuck do you care?!” The Machete barks.

  The Wraith sighs. “Let’s just say I have an idea what that’s like.”

  The Machete throws Hurt and Pain on the floor, and folds her arms. “You gonna keep preachin’ to me Bruja? Or are we gonna get to it?! Because I ain’t listenin’!”

  The Wraith narrows her eyes.

  The Machete nods her head, and her men step in front of her. They pull out their pistols and…

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  They begin firing at The Wraith.

  The Wraith turns invisible and flies into the air. The men stop firing.

  “Where did she go?” one of them asks.

  The Machete looks around.

  “Up here.” The Wraith materializes in mid-air.

  She stretches both of her hands forward, and celestial tendrils emerge from her fingertips. They whip around in the air, before stretching downward toward the men below. The tendrils wrap around the men’s guns.

  “What the—” they all say.

  The guns are pulled away from the men’s hands with little struggle. The tendrils retract until halfway below her fingertips, dangling like marionettes.

  They look up and see The Wraith with their pistols dangling from their fingertips.

  “Grrrgh!” The Machete growls, as she picks Hurt and Pain back up.

  The Wraith tosses the guns into the air with her tendrils and blows them to bits with a celestial blast. Bullets and chunks of metal fall to the ground.

  The Machete and her crew below watch in amazement.

  “Y’all done?” The Wraith asks as she gracefully descends back to the ground.

  The Machete seethes. “Go get her!”

  The men hesitate.

  “I’m not gonna say it again motherfuckers!” she yells, her usual poise and confidence beginning to fracture.

  They get into fighting stances and advance toward The Wraith.

  The Wraith closes her eyes for a moment, before opening them. She gets into her stance.

  One man goes first. He throws a wild haymaker, but The Wraith flies backwards, then upwards, and kicks him in the face—he is knocked out immediately. Another man runs forward, nearly tripping over his unconscious comrade, but The Wraith punches him and knocks him out as well.

  The Wraith flies forward and knees another man in the face, he also falls to the ground.

  She tries to mind her strength so as to not kill them.

  The remaining three decide to try their luck by charging at her together, but The Wraith spin-kicks one man and causes the back of his head to smash into the man behind him—and the man behind him as well.

  With all six men down, The Wraith looks at The Machete—who is standing just a step away from her. The two of them stare each other down for a beat.

  “RAHHHH!” The Machete cries as she lunges at The Wraith.

  The Wraith turns invisible, before materializing behind The Machete and firing a celestial blast into Machete’s back that sends her flying a few feet away. The Machete falls flat on her face, and Hurt and Pain tumble alongside her. Due to her impenetrable skin, there isn’t a scratch on her.

  The Wraith places her fists in front of her face.

  SVOOM!

  Celestial blades emerge from them.

  She puts them down to her sides.

  “Get up,” The Wraith coldly says.

  The Machete does a kip up.

  “Ungh,” The Machete groans. “That wasn’t nothing.”

  The Machete stretches her hands downward. A black, electricity-like aura is emitted from her palms.

  BUZZT!

  Hurt and Pain float up and return to The Machete’s hands. The aura dissipates.

  The Wraith simply watches.

  The Machete charges at The Wraith.

  “RAHHHH!” she cries.

  The Wraith charges at her as well.

  They clash. Blades colliding against blades. Sparks fly as metal clashes with celestial energy. Neither can land a hit on the other.

  The Wraith flies backwards, her blades dissipate; she fires another beam at The Machete, but The Machete jumps to the right—out of the way—and charges again.

  The Wraith flies upward, and uses her Celestial Tendril technique again. The tendrils squiggle and squirm until they attach to The Machete’s blades. Like tug-o’-war, they begin to struggle for dominance.

  The Wraith floats down to gain better leverage, feet just above the ground. She tries to fly backwards, using every possible advantage she has over The Machete.

  Hurt and Pain are snatched out of The Machete’s hands.

  The Wraith, using her tendrils, tosses them behind her as her feet touch the ground.

  The Wraith extends an open palm and curls her fingers inward. They are three feet from each other.

  “Run the fade,” she taunts.

  “Nah,” The Machete says, breathing heavily and chuckling.

  The Machete extends her hands outward; the same electric black aura from earlier comes out of her hands again, and her machetes are called back.

  “I tried to be nice,” The Wraith says, shrugging her shoulders.

  She stretches her hands outward and uses her Celestial Tendril technique.

  The Machete runs around frantically trying to dodge the tendrils, but they wrap around her wrist. She drops Hurt and Pain.

  “Dammit!” The Machete curses. “Let me go you freak!”

  The Wraith pulls her close as The Machete struggles, before she spins and hurls The Machete into a nearby SUV—knocking her unconscious. The SUV’s car alarm begins blaring.

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  The Wraith walks toward her and crouches, trying to guard her ears from the loud noise. She cradles The Machete’s head, pulls her away from the SUV, and checks her pulse. Thankfully, it is still beating.

  “She shall live,” Naomi says in silent communion.

  The Wraith removes the mystical earrings from The Machete’s ears. She rises back to her feet before she drops them on ground and stomps on them, leaving a small puddle of blood. A black aura is released but it quickly dissipates.

  “Yeah,” The Wraith replies, rising back up to her feet. “I was worried that I overdid it, but as long as this mess is over, it’s okay.”

  “Agreed.”

  The Wraith takes one last pained glance at Tina in her unconscious state.

  “Poor thing never had a chance in life,” The Wraith laments. “She’s only twenty-two. I hope she gets it together someday.”

  “There’s always hope,” Naomi says, “but as you know, redemption is a choice.”

  The Wraith opens her right palm. A purple orb is formed, and her burner phone materializes.

  She dials a number. The phone rings a bit before someone picks up. She looks around and observes all of the Vampiros laying unconscious on the road.

  “Mendoza,” The Wraith says. “I caught The Machete and six other Vampiros trying to shake down a smoke shop.”

  “I knew she’d be back eventually,” Mendoza says. “Three of our CIs within Los Vampiros and a woman were all found hacked to death too. She’s our prime suspect.”

  “Holy shit,” The Wraith says. “Well, they’ve been… incapacitated. But they’re all here for you. The smoke shop owner should be able to answer any questions you have.”

  “Alright. Thanks for everything you do, Wraith.”

  “You and the LAPD are the real heroes, Arielle. Gotta go.”

  The Wraith disconnects from the call. She holds the phone in her palm again, and forms an orb that absorbs the phone and seals it away.

  The Wraith stretches her palms downward and flies up to a nearby rooftop.

  *

  Moments later, there are police cars everywhere. Tina Madero and her crew, now conscious, are all under arrest. The shop owner stands outside his shop and is giving a statement to the other officers.

  Mendoza sits Tina up, removes her bandana, and handcuffs her.

  “What the Hell?” Tina asks.

  “Nice seeing you again,” Mendoza says, smirking. “Puta.”

  Tina grimaces, refusing to give Mendoza the satisfaction of a response.

  She is pushed into the paddy-wagon where she meets the rest of her crew. Mendoza slams the door and they are driven away.

  The Wraith stands on the rooftop, brooding and watching the police vehicles drive away.