GENRE: YA Paranormal
I laid on the throttle and smiled at an answering purr from the engine. My baby was a patch job - all spit and spare parts, mostly junk or stolen.
The two guys on my right were South-side gearheads with shiny chrome monsters that they probably got straight off a dealer's lot. I could take them easy. The last rider had a cherry-red rice rocket, a Ninja maybe. It was hard to tell in the dark.
A girlfriend of one of the Southies walked in front of us, waving a yellow bandanna like a flag. Her arm came down and we were off with a squeal of tires and a burst of engine smoke. The Ninja took an early advantage but I gained on him. I leaned forward and the bike inched closer until we were side by side. Less than a dozen yards from the finish, I took the lead.
Without warning, I hit an invisible wall. I lost control and veered off the street. The race was over. The Ninja was being congratulated by his friends and I was on the sidewalk, my bike overturned. I wasn't even worried about the two hundred bucks I just lost. Or that any minute a Southie would come up and tell me girls shouldn't race anyway. A stench had overwhelmed my senses, strong and acrid, so hot that it seared the hair from my nostrils.
The smell of burning sulfur and ancient spice.
The scent of magic.