Solomon decided to drop everything at hand and take his cat to meet up with the witches who were out shopping for Christmas presents. Bayonetta had informed the magus that Jeanne, unable to tolerate the hassle of shopping, was currently riding Solomon's motorcycle through the city.
Riding around aimlessly.
The magus chewed on that word and instinctively felt he should keep an eye on the news—just in case there was a police chase happening in Manhattan. Crime rates were already on the rise during this time of year, and the NYPD was so swamped they had detectives out on patrol. For police officers to waste their resources chasing a speeding witch on the eve of Christmas was hardly something to brag about.
"Damn it, we lost her!" Officer Carter slammed her hand against the steering wheel.
"Well, this was just a patrol assist anyway," said the pudgy Detective Fusco, trying to calm down his partner before she got serious enough to spend the entire day chasing down a speeding biker. To be honest, he'd recognized at a glance how expensive that white-haired woman's Ducati motorcycle was. There was no way an old NYPD patrol car could keep up with that kind of racing machine in Manhattan traffic.
"It's Christmas! Look how many kids are on the streets!" Carter's voice rose to a near-scream. "Did you see how fast she was going? What if she hit a child? We have to catch her! Give me the radio, I'm calling for backup!"
Inside her helmet, the motorcyclist's face lit up with a mischievous smile.
She couldn't stand slow, tedious gift-shopping. She needed a thrill. She veered from 10th Avenue onto West 23rd Street through the High Line, then sped up 11th Avenue northbound toward Silver Towers. From there, she turned right and cut through the Pod Times Square Hotel via West 42nd, heading into Madame Tussauds, then all the way to Grand Central on East 42nd. Her next target: Lexington Avenue straight to East 33rd Street and up to the Empire State Building—drawing a swarm of police cars behind her like moths to a flame.
Drivers along her route hurled expletives at the reckless rider, but Jeanne cheerfully replied with a raised middle finger. A few even tried to chase after her, slamming their feet on the gas, though none could match the persistence and coordination of the NYPD. She paused at East 33rd to be spotted—setting the stage for her next act: showing New Yorkers how to ride a motorcycle up a skyscraper.
Then a man in a suit appeared in the middle of Fifth Avenue, holding a chubby gray shorthair cat. He stood smiling at the white-haired witch. The passing traffic and pedestrians seemed not to notice him. Jeanne knew something was off right away—wherever this man went, people always noticed him, no matter how simply he dressed.
Jeanne revved the throttle and charged forward without hesitation, aiming the Ducati directly at him.
She crashed into a field of shattered glass, the pavement beneath her wheels suddenly functioning like a treadmill. No matter how she accelerated, she remained in place. Solomon walked toward the stationary motorcycle, still cradling the cat.
"This is my motorcycle, Jeanne," he said with a chuckle. "Guess I'll need a new license plate now."
"You never use it anyway," the witch said, removing her helmet and irritably brushing back her tousled white hair. "You're always too busy to drive. I figured you wouldn't mind."
"You figured right." Solomon handed the cat into Jeanne's arms and took the helmet from her. "So what's your plan?"
"Ride up the Empire State Building!" she grinned wickedly. "It's going to be so fun!"
"Carter, that biker's back," Detective Fusco sighed, reluctantly returning his donut to the box. He knew that once his partner started the car, he was in for it. "Patrol's already picked up the chase. They say there's now a man in a suit riding the bike, with the woman in leather on the back."
"Perfect, that means we can fill both back seats," Carter said confidently. "Harold and John said they'd need our help later anyway. We can wrap up this little mess first."
"Do what you want," Fusco muttered.
He would never forget what happened next. Though he had seen Iron Man soar through Manhattan skies and had lived through the Battle of New York, this was the first time he'd witnessed someone ride a motorcycle straight up a skyscraper.
"That was awesome—I mean, outrageous!" he coughed, catching himself.
"Issue an APB," Carter said. "Looks like New York's got another major headache."
————————————
"I know what you two were up to!" Bayonetta said, hands on hips, jabbing the magus in the chest with one finger. Solomon and Jeanne averted their gazes in perfect sync, pretending nothing had happened. "As soon as I saw the news, I knew it could only be you two. No one else would pull something like that." The black-haired witch wore an off-shoulder black gown; the winter chill didn't seem to affect her beauty in the slightest. Though Solomon now stood taller than Bayonetta, facing the woman who had raised (trained, tamed) him, the magus instinctively shrank under her commanding aura.
"Just wait—Miranda will come after you for this!"
Solomon hadn't expected Bayonetta and Athena to be on such familiar terms that she'd casually call her by name.
Miranda Minerva was Athena's alias. If they weren't still in public, Bayonetta might have shouted her real name out loud. The witch sniffed at Jeanne's leather jacket, then leaned in to sniff Solomon's neck. Her expression shifted instantly.
"You two had time for that, huh?" Bayonetta pinched Solomon's tie between slender fingers, like a hunter dragging home her prey. She leaned back against his chest, the high slit of her dress revealing long, toned legs.
She looked to Jeanne. "I'm taking this boy with me. Any objections?"
"Not at all," Jeanne shrugged. "Just tell me how long you'll need so I can explain it to Minerva."
"Back before dinner," the witch declared proudly, lifting her chin. "And remember to bring the gifts—the children at the orphanage are our children too."
"My mother left you the orphanage?" Solomon asked in disbelief. "Why?"
"You think no one noticed the situation you're in, silly boy? The children at the orphanage have all been well educated, their personalities shaped by your foster mother. When they grow up, they'll be exactly what you need—officers, clerks, artists, and so on." Bayonetta raised her head, her finely lined eyes brushing softly against the magus's face like silk.
Still holding his tie like a bridle, she exuded a fearless, commanding presence.
"Your cause needs people. The children who've come of age will be called back. Your foster mother prepared everything for you long ago, my little boy."
(End of Chapter)
[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Mutter"]
[Every 50 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]