Small Town Witch: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 5)

by Sami Valentine

  “If I let myself care for you, and something happens between us, I’ll see it all eventually. Can you really keep two worlds apart?”

  He met her eyes, answering with an earnest finality. “I can.”

  “Michel de Grammont locked his Penelope up in a castle to keep her safe.” Red swallowed against the tightness in her throat. He’d failed. Kristoff and Lucas had drained the young vampire on her bloodline initiation, triggering a century-long vendetta. There was so much Michel must have lied about, but his devotion to his lost love felt genuine. Good intentions could still lead to bad ends. Kristoff was old enough to know that. “This talk has been coming since the first time we kissed.”

  “You know what my kind do. I hardly need to spell it out for a hunter.”

  “That’s why you need to. I’ve seen too much on the road. My mind fills in the blanks, telling me to be sensible, not to trust. There’s so much I don’t know. I’ll keep assuming the worst until I do. It’s not fair to either of us. I can’t say how I’ll react, but I need to know.”

  Breaking eye contact, Kristoff tilted his head back against the wall. He breathed unnecessarily through his nose, eyes distant as if peering across centuries. “I wasn’t much better as a human. I’m the bastard son of a courtesan, but don’t cry for me. Crime wasn’t my only option.” He glanced at her, brow furrowed. “My first murder wasn’t even as a vampire. I was working a guy over for a debt when he keeled over from a heart attack. Thug in a protection racket, I guess unlife doesn’t change as much as you’d think.”

  Red studied his tense jaw, the slight embarrassment as his eyes darted to her. Perhaps confusing her for Juniper in the heat of the moment, he’d once said he wasn’t a minion anymore, he could protect her now. He was a master vampire, but he still served under another. Did he reflect on that when he sat on the throne at the tithing?

  “After my father passed and his widow threw my family off the estate, I did what it took to survive—” He leaned closer. “—and I liked some of it too. I’m not the monster you expect, but there isn’t a hero in me. I tried to be an honest man, lasted a year. Tops.”

  “What happened?”

  “I died.” He waited a beat, taking her hand. “If it wasn’t for Juniper, I would have been as vile as the Bloody Byrneses. I know it. She tempered me, just as you do, until she died. Later, Alzebeta Czernin did. Her clan might as well have been a hippie commune compared to my sire’s. When I deflected to join her son, I had to follow her rules to not torture or kill for fun. She only has a partial soul, so we weren’t angels, but I learned to walk lightly in the world.”

  Red wanted to hear everything he said, yet an ache panged her. She knew how cunning he could be when he wanted something, crafting the account he wanted, even adjusting the records of the Blood Alliance. “Don’t polish the past. It’s better you tell me than I find out on my own. You’re telling me about your good influences. Not your bad ones.”

  Kristoff chuckled darkly. “You already met my sire. When I meet my last death, the worst I will have to answer for will be what I did as his servant.”

  Provoking to her curiosity as it was, she wasn’t going to let him distract her with her ex as bait. Their relationship wasn’t about Lucas. “How do you feed?”

  “Primarily on the willing, these days. Hunting requires more time than my schedule allows.” He smirked, biting his lip as he gazed at her neck. “You remember how it feels. I don’t need to ask for seconds. They’re freely given.”

  Blushing, she looked to her lap. All vampires could produce a venom that put their victims into a paralyzing thrall. She hadn’t met any that had a venom like Kristoff’s. If she could bottle the sensation, it would be bigger than ecstasy in the club scene. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “You’ll kill if your prince tells you to.”

  “Yes. I’ll also do it if someone pisses me off enough that I’d go to the bother of covering it up.” He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “Killing is very much tied to my mood—like fucking, but I have over a century of control.”

  Red rejected her initial half-baked joke about morning wood to stay silent. She held hands with a killer, but then again, he could say the same of her. They both hunted each other’s kind. There was far more nuance to it, but this town had a way of shifting perspectives and forcing you to see from the outside, shining a light on all those parts of your past that you wanted to leave behind.

  “Would you hurt my friends?”

  “I appreciate your loyalty to them. I’d never casually trigger that.”

  She snorted at the diplomatic answer. “Can I get a real answer?”

  “Fine. It wouldn’t be worth it for how upset you’d be with me.”

  Red pulled her hand away. “So, it’s about impressing me, staying on my good side?”

  “You matter to me. I don’t feel anything about them.” Kristoff took a second to consider. “Vic is amusing, I suppose.”

  She bit her inner check, not trusting herself to speak without yelling at him. This radical honesty idea felt pretty crappy right then, but she had asked.

  “What do you wish me to say? Most humans are meaningless to me. Uninteresting. They are the gray background in my world. Few ever become technicolor. You have always been the exception to the rule. Your friends are safe from me because of that and because I’m not stupid enough to off a Hero that I need to regulate this town.”

  “It’s all logic then?”

  He tilted his head back, stroking his chin. “If I was being logical, I would have either killed you or stepped away long ago in LA. It’s what all my friends say.”

  Red sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ve heard the same from mine.”

  “You make me want to be better around you. Perhaps you’re the reason I can even feel something at all.”

  Her heart fluttered as she softened under his gaze. It looked so earnest… She balled her fists. “I don’t fall for lines.”

  Kristoff snorted. “Fine, my jaded millennial. Think about it. So many of the terrible things that you imagine I could do are things I’m too smart for in this social media age. Massacres and mayhem are noticed, questions are asked, it’s terribly inconvenient. Yes, by human standards, I’m a very very bad man, but I’m not controlled by my demon. I channel my bloodlust into my work. I think you can relate.”

  Red looked away, his words cutting deeper than he could have guessed. Trudy had ripped her blinders off when it came to the true nature of her work. Usually she’d protest she wasn’t a killer, but it’s what the Brotherhood once paid her to do. She stood, walking to the exit. “This was a mistake. I should go.”

  He waited until she reached for the doorknob. “You want to know if you can get in my bed and sleep easy in it.” The air shifted as he appeared behind her.

  She turned, gasping at his speed.

  Blue eyes gone amber, fangs drawn, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “…If this is a face you could love.”

  Red didn’t pull her hand away. “I won’t ask to become a vampire.”

  He retracted his fangs, kissing her knuckles. “I’m not thinking about how this could end.”

  “I am.” She wanted to ask what would happen if he couldn’t heal her after a bad fight. Would he let her go? He couldn’t easily turn her himself, but he could ask his brother. The question didn’t get past her throat. There were answers she already knew. “I can’t start this without knowing how bad it could get.”

  “How bad do I have to be before you feel like you know me?” he whispered huskily, his breath caressing her ear, awakening every nerve. Her pulse jumped under his mouth. The maddening sensation rolled over her body. His words made her rub her thighs together. “From the beginning, you’ve seen what I am capable of—I bit you the night I met you.”

  She pressed against his shoulder to push him away. Her fingers curled behind his neck instead. “I know what you are. Maybe it’s enough of a dealbreaker.”

  Chuckling against
her neck, he ran his hand over her hip. “That’s part of my appeal, admit it.”

  Red shivered. She should push him away. Her heart raced. “Claimed or not, I could kill you.”

  He cupped her jaw, staring into her eyes. “That adds spice.”

  Tipping her face to his, slipping her hand around his neck, she warned, “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “You always say that.” He kissed her deeply, a half moan half growl trapped in his throat.

  Hungry and intense, his kiss felt like a claim. The spark between them, burning beyond death and across lifetimes, melted her resistance. Power and passion rocked down to her core. Common sense and coherent thought ignited like paper on a flame, dissolving into ashes. Her lungs fluttered, but she didn’t want to come up for air.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair. Cool lips trailed down her jaw. Surrendering to temptation, she tilted her head to the side. He was addictive. Dangerous. Thrilling. She shouldn’t want more.

  He tightened his embrace, murmuring against her neck. “I promised to be on my best behavior. When should I stop?”

  Swallowing back a whimper, she dug her fingers in his hair. She closed her eyes, lost in his charcoal and wintry forest scent. A whirlwind built up in the room, shaking the pictures on the walls, sending a calligraphy scroll crashing to the floor. She didn’t care.

  “You want to know my beast? This is how I like to feed, with my prey pulling me closer. I could bite and heal you before you even noticed. All you would know is pleasure.” He slid her jacket over one arm, rough palm stroking from her neck to her shoulder. His dark seductive words wove their own spell. “I would do it right here. No messy arteries. You’d melt right into me.”

  “No biting.” Pulling him back by the hair away from her neck, she kissed him roughly. Their mouths sealed together, devouring each other.

  He pressed her up against the doorway, leg between hers, hands slipping under the back of her shirt.

  Panting for breath, she leaned her head back. Her hands moved of their own accord, running down his muscular arms. She was in sensory overload.

  He broke the spell. “I’d ask you to stay…”

  Common sense rushed into her as much as breath as she panted, leaning her head against the door. She nibbled her bottom lip, mind battling her hormones for control. “I can’t.”

  Blue eyes twinkling at her, he ran a hand up her back to stroke her hair. “You know my intentions. I want you. You’re the one who gets to decide what to give.”

  She glanced at the bed over his shoulder, and her belly clenched. “I sh-should go.”

  He grinned, dropping his arms to his side. “I’m not holding you.”

  Unable to look away from his mouth, reddened by her kiss, she let go of him and groped for the doorknob behind her. Turning, she opened the door and walked into the threshold.

  Kristoff touched her lower back, rubbing his thumb in circles. “The front desk will arrange your ride home.” He stole a quick kiss as she looked over her shoulder.

  Ducking a blushing face, Red scurried to the stairs, ignoring Arno at the end of the hall. She scampered to the shed above, releasing a shaking breath as she closed the trap door.

  Daylight stung her eyes as she power-walked across the country club’s lawn. His words echoed in her ears as loud as the waves breaking against the cliffside.

  You’re the one who gets to decide…

  18

  After the driver left her at the empty house, Red sat on the front steps for a long time. She had a key. She had a code to the security system. She could go inside, but her legs wouldn’t move. The Oregon sun was too weak behind the hazy clouds to warm the goosebumps on her arms.

  Kristoff had answered all her questions, yet she was as confused as ever. She touched her lips.

  Next door, Nana Sanchez stepped onto her porch in a loose pink dress and waved. “Red, honey, I have something to show you.”

  She wasn’t in the mood for company, but it was too late to dodge inside the house. Smiling for the kindly old woman’s benefit, she trudged through the yard to the neighbor and felt a little better after a warm rosewater-scented hug. She walked inside the tidy wood-paneled den, past a couch with a folded San Marcos blanket in a floral pattern. She guiltily eyed a figurine of the Virgin of Guadalupe by the TV.

  “I found something, mjia. After we talked about that old telenovela, I went through my videos. You’ll never believe it.” Nana retrieved a remote from a plaid recliner. She pointed it at television on the low table and turned it on. “Look.”

  Paused on the screen, Brooke Peters was caught mid-smile. She held a cake decorated with burning candles shaped like the number seventeen. A festooned gazebo filled with teens was behind her. It must have been a party in Stace’s back yard.

  Vision swimming with tears, Red stepped closer to the TV and crouched in front, fingering hovering over her mother’s face. Young and happy, she was only forty-one. This was recorded in her last year of life.

  “Your mama was so pretty, like Susan Sarandon. I’d tell her that all the time.” Nana sighed, wrinkles deepened from old sadness. “You have her smile.”

  Covering her trembling lips, Red could only nod. She had seen pictures, but she never thought she’d hear her mother’s voice.

  Brooke sang Happy Birthday with the others, setting the cake on the picnic table. “Blow ’em out quick, Emma.”

  In front of her cake, Emma closed her eyes, keeping them closed as she bent over to blew out the candles. What did she wish for? Did she get it?

  Brooke hugged her, kissing her head. “Love you, Junebug.”

  Making a face at the camera, she hugged back. “Love you too.”

  Revealing a squirt gun from her pocket, Brooke shot her daughter in the shoulder, laughing. “I told you I’d get you back when you least expected it.”

  “Mom!” Emma chased after her, the camera bouncing as it followed. The image froze on the screen.

  Red’s heart skipped a beat. She could have watched the video all day.

  Nana put a gentle wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “You should have this.”

  “Thank you.” Red wiped her face, pressing the eject button on the DVD player and pulling out the disk. She stood shakily.

  Hugging her, the short elderly woman patted her back. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  A sob escaped Red. Seeing that playful side of her mother and hearing her voice was better than Christmas. She sniffled, tightening her arms around Nana before drawing back.

  “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

  Red smiled and shook her head. “You already did something wonderful for me.”

  “Go watch it, get your tissues. If you get hungry, come on over again, okay?”

  Thanking Nana Sanchez again, she left in a daze to curl up on the couch at Stace’s house. The home recording played on the flat screen TV.

  In the video, her mother crossed her arms, smile twitching on her lips. “Zach, how is this supposed to be a surprise party if she sees you with that camera? I’ve been planning this party from France. You’re not tipping her off in the home stretch.”

  “Aw, come on, Brooke. I need a good angle.”

  She nudged him through Stace’s kitchen, which looked virtually the same in the present day, down to the broken clock stuck on 2 p.m., and into the back yard. “She’s coming. Go hide.”

  Emma appeared, walking from the driveway, head bent over a book.

  “Surprise!” Brooke called out first, starting a cascade of yells. The camera lingered on her proud wistful smile before flashing back to the delighted birthday girl.

  Tears in her eyes, Red slumped to the side, curling her knees up on the couch. She hugged a pillow, watching the video over and over. Rain pelted the living room window when she woke up. Somehow, she felt her mother like a soft touch on her brow. Sleep called to her again, luring her into dreams of her mother in the kitchen and setting a cup of tea on the table for her.

  “…ac
ross an ocean, Junebug. They were bribes. Each one connected to the same source. When you find him, you’ll find who killed me.”

  She didn’t remember more than a snippet of the dream, but when the sun set, she rose with an idea. There was one place the team hadn’t searched yet.

  ---

  Red walked between the gravestones with Stace, tendrils of fog curling around their ankles.

  Frogs leapt out of their way. Crickets chirped, hidden in the sodden grass. The storm might have passed, but energy still cracked in the air. She rallied as many of the good guys as she could for a patrol. They were still waiting on Zach.

  After her nap, she’d realized Kristoff might have sent guards to the town wells, but there was another way that the killer might send an offering to the underworld—the bottomless pit by the sea. The Etruscans would think either would lead to Orcus’s lair in the underworld. For all they knew, it did lead to hell.

  The Venus retrograde required for the ritual was nearly over. The killer had to know that the hunters and the vampires pressed in on both sides too. Hopefully, he hadn’t guessed the drama happening behind the scenes at the white hat headquarters.

  “Is everything okay with you and Jackson?”

  Stace wrapped her arms over her black crop top and pink pants. With her dark curls tamed into a sleek bun, her eyes seemed unusually big in her delicate face. The katana on her back belied the vulnerable expression. She shrugged. “You know men, they like to bury things.”

  “Yeah, it’s the same with Vic.” Red hadn’t heard from him until long after she had texted an update about her morning trip to the country club. She felt a little better when he replied he was meeting Lashawn after the latter was done with work. “I’m sorry about all the chaos since I came.”

  “It’s always crazy in Charm. It was an emotional day, but not your fault. It was a long time coming. We’ve never really talked about his apprenticeship with Fowler. I knew he had reasons for being a lone wolf, but hearing his story… I can’t believe he never told me.”