Several tense seconds followed my proclamation as people tried to make sense of what had just happened. I couldn’t really blame them, I had just stopped a whole bunch of bullets in midair. That type of thing didn’t generally happen.

“Honestly, you should all just fuck off,” I told them calmly, starting to get impatient for them to do something. “Like, who shoots at people at a peaceful protest anyway? That shit’s just not cool.”

“What the hell are you?” one of the militia guys asked, staring at me with wide eyes.

Considering the question for a moment, I glanced at my gauntlets. “I’m a witch, you can call me Gauntlette if you want. Doesn’t really matter though, because I’m here to stop you lot from gunning down a bunch of innocent people. Please turn around and leave.”

No movement, they all just stood there, side eyeing each other like one of them was going to make a move or something. Herd mentality, a bunch of wannabe predators meeting the real deal. I know that’s talking myself up a little, but… fuck, I could stop bullets with my mind. What the hell were they going to do?

Running out of patience, I gave a long, deep sigh. “Alright, I’ll start with the guy who just tried to shoot someone.”

Giving a slight motion with the fingers of my right arm, I activated my gauntlets’ primary function. The bullets froze over in an instant, moisture drawn to their sudden lack of heat, which I had just stolen and absorbed.

Now it was time for ol’ lefty, and with a flourish I sucked all that mundane energy into the smaller gauntlet, then pumped it like I was cocking a gun. The process let out a sound like steel gravel being crushed, and it was followed by my larger right gauntlet lighting up like a whacky celtic christmas tree.

Celtic whorls all full to bursting with energy, I grasped reality once more and punched it. A wave of almost visible force exploded outwards, striking not just the gunman, but everyone within ten meters of him. Guns and bodies went flying, landing with clatters, dull thumps, and the sharp snap of breaking bone.

I’d say I felt a little sorry for them, but I’d be lying. They had come looking for a fight, now they had it, wasn’t my fault if they couldn’t handle it.

“Oh lord,” someone cried, and I winced as more guns were levelled at me. “She’s just killed them!”

What were they talking about? A trip to the hospital and a few months and they’d all be fine.

The man who’d called out was staring at me with wide eyes and gun raised. I could see him make the decision, his expression subtly changing as signals began to process what he wanted to do.

I moved quickly, arm coming up just in time to catch this second round of bullets. I didn’t wait this time, crushing their energy into raw magic with practiced efficiency. My next spell was a shotgun spread of small projectiles, made of magic and as real as any plastic riot round.

People dropped, crying out in pain, while others tried to run for cover. One though, he raised his assault rifle towards the crowd.

With a surge of wild energy, I leapt through the air, no finesse to my movement, no artistry to my spellwork. My large right gauntlet impacted his face with a sickening crunch. The punch sent him backwards at an alarming speed before slamming through a shop window with a spray of safety glass. That was going to do some permanent damage… but, you get what you get.

Protestors were moving now, some trying to run away, others going for recently discarded guns. For the most part, the militia people were leaving, although a few were pointing weapons still.

In a moment of panic, I sought out Eva, had she been hurt while I was fighting? No, she stood there in the crowd, staring at me with wide eyes. Good, with her fine I could finish off the last of the militia people, send them running.

It was as I was taking out the last of those with fight still in them that the cops arrived. I had but a split second’s warning before they fired, and this time I wasn’t ready to catch their bullets.

My right arm whipped up to cover me as I turned side on to the onslaught, a tower shield of energy flickering into place just in time.

Since I was now well away from the main crowd, the cops didn’t seem to be interested in mincing words. Bullets ricocheted off my shield, tearing up the concrete around me like it was hailing bullets. Sweat trickled down the side of my face as they finished firing, a physical indicator that my internal reserves of power were pretty badly diminished.

If this were a game, then I’d describe my problem as running out of mana with no way to regenerate it. I had a finite amount at my disposal, and only a month or so of rest would see it refilled. Shit, I was about to become another casualty of the death of magic. I needed to get the fuck out of here.

“Witch,” a voice called, amplified through a megaphone. “You’ve caused an awful lot of trouble for me, and I would greatly appreciate it if you’d stop.”

Peeking around the side of my magical shield, I searched for the owner of that voice, but before I even found him, alarm bells began to ring within my head. Those weren’t normal cops...

A man strode forward, and like the rest of his buddies he had no identifying features to his uniform. Navy blue slacks and shirt, black tactical gear over the top. No name badge, no ensignia for whatever precinct he came from or whatever… just black and blue.

His head was perfectly visible however, naturally bald on top and sides shaved to match. His face was all angles, eyes sunken and piercing as they attempted to beat me with a baton purely through force of will.

“If I stop, does that mean I can leave?” I asked with a wry, sarcastic smile.

His answering laugh was chilling. “We will see, won’t we?”

Maybe it was his laugh, or maybe it was the look he was giving me, but some part of me began to really scream for me to leave. I was pretty sure I knew who they were, especially because of the way he didn’t seem phased by my use of magic.

Since the formation of the United States of America, the hunters had hidden themselves within its institutions, using the reach and power of the mighty country to further their quest to eradicate magic from the world entirely.

This group of cops were almost certainly some of those hunters, and by the looks of things they were excited to finally find a witch. Not many of us left these days, especially with so many disowning their heritage and attempting to live as normal people.

With my suspicions in mind, I opted not to listen to the hunter guy’s villain monologue, like a good little heroine would. Instead, I ran. Like, just turned and hoofed it in the opposite direction, making for the nearby industrial park.

Bullets once again pinged past me, the air protesting their passing with whiplike cracks. Shit, running wasn’t going to be enough. With a flick of one wrist, I yanked myself through the air, skipping like some sort of deadly preschooler turned cannon ball.

I didn’t fully take to the air like I had on my way here, their bullets had drained my reserves to the point where I wasn’t confident in my flight capabilities. Pulling myself up into the air only to run out of mana would definitely not be a good time.

God I was a moron, I really should have planned this out better, which is to say I should have planned it out at all. Turns out you don’t need to be going through puberty to make dumbass teenager decisions.

Still, I’d saved a bunch of people from a real bad situation. That had to count for something, right?

Another bullet chipped the asphalt next to me, reminding me that right now, it didn’t count for shit. Nothing did, except getting away. I dodged down a side street and kept running, only to find another group of unmarked law enforcement blocking my path at the end of the street.

Turning, I saw the hunter rushing me, his movements far too fast to be merely human. Fuck, was that a sword?

I barely caught the vicious serrated blade on my large gauntlet, absorbing the kinetic energy of the impact. Magic surging, I skipped backwards, spinning and activating the conversion process in the same motion.

The amount of power that had been in that strike… if I hadn’t been able to turn all of that force into fuel, I’d have been sliced in two. He hit like a rocket propelled truck!

“Jesus, dude,” I laughed nervously. “Let’s turn that intensity down a few notches?”

“Killing a beast such as you quickly, it is a mercy,” he explained nonchalantly, like he was talking about the best way to fillet a fish or something.

“Wow, alright,” I blinked, ice forming in my gut.

When I’d listened to grandfather’s stories, he’d mentioned a few times that hunters had uncanny abilities, but he’d never really elaborated on it. I guess superhuman speed and strength were a part of that?

If I made it out of here, I really needed to figure out where mom had kept all of grandad’s magic books, because as things were I was way over my head.

Movement in the bottom of my peripheral vision, the hunter’s feet shifted slightly, scuffing the concrete. I didn’t wait for the strike that would follow, yanking myself backwards and into the air using the juice that he’d just provided me. I didn’t have enough for flight, but I could try and put a block between us.

Of all the things I’d practiced with these gloves, actual fighting wasn’t one of them, just how to throw spells. Flying though? I’d done a hell of a lot of that, and although I was still rough at it, something I’d also perfected was landing. It was kind of a requirement to learn, really… without broken bones at least. It really was too bad I couldn’t absorb the energy of my landings.

When I hit the ground, I landed gauntlet-first and tucked into a roll, coming up to find myself in what appeared to be a small cemetery attached to a tiny old church.

Alright… a little creepy… Where now?