Coughing, Red nodded. The now ginger locks were hanging limp on her sweating face. The hair dye potion had finally worn off. She’d need to dig through the van to find another dose, and they had no time. She choked out, throat aching, “They have Wendy from the magic shop.”
A motorcycle shot out of the driveway, a vampire escaping with a bulging pack on his shoulder. “I’ll get you for this, Bonner! And all your fucking friends!”
“That was Yuki. He knows.” Stace disappeared in a sprint after him.
“What does she mean?” Red asked, voice raspy over her bruised vocal cords.
Zach hopped from the van hood, bringing them onto the porch. “Yuki was turned at the summer camp. He saw exactly what you did before he died.”
Her stomach sank. He had seen her with red hair with the good guys. “You think he recognized me?”
“It’s a small town with a long memory and now you look like your old self.” Face paling as if from a sudden realization, Zach stomped up into the house. “Cocoa Puff, are you all right?”
Shivering in her damp jeans, she looked down the street, hoping that a supernatural could outrun a machine. She left a short voice mail for Kristoff, giving a description of what had happened and telling him to send people to the camp and the school. The rain slowed to a drizzle. She hung up when Vic walked out the front door, half carrying a teenage boy.
“They took the Bard journals. Delilah must have told Isaac.” Vic set the youth none too gently on the porch bench. Josh had chased this one from the comic shop days earlier. “He’s mesmerized. I found the back door open and this kid on the floor in the kitchen, muttering about books and when they were buying him beer yet. The vamps must have done the breaking and he did the entering.”
“That guy who escaped, Yuki, he can mesmerize. Kristoff told me,” Red said, words scratching her raw throat. Back at the altercation in the tithing between the two vampires, Arno had commented that Yuki had a new Harley-Davidson. The blood mage had no shortage of shiny objects to bribe the locals, obviously. “It doesn’t matter how or why they’re working together now. We need to find where they have Wendy. Isaac probably has back-up victims, too. Tonight is the last chance.”
“I want you off the front line,” he said “Do some righteous witch fu from afar. Your secret is out now, but he’s getting sloppy. It means he’s cornered. If he goes down in a ritual attempt, he can at least take one of his sire’s killers down too. Might be an appealing thought to him.”
“You need me.” Her hoarse voice cracked. “He already has a witch and could be sacrificing her now.”
Zach came back out onto the porch. “Mrs. Benston called. Her daughter never left the hospital to meet up with the other fleeing mages.”
Vic pointed out the teal car slowing to a stop at the curb. “She came to us.”
Olivia Benston popped out from the driver’s seat in a puffy gray vest. Pale with bandages still wrapped around her arms, the willowy blond strode up to the porch. Band-Aids covered the facial wounds from the soucouyant. Determination tightened her features. “I’m here. Put me to work. Just like in high school.”
“This isn’t a recruitment drive,” Zach said.
“You could use a few good witches. Settle for me.”
He stepped to Olivia. “Go to your mom. It’s safer that way.”
Red piped up, “You saw what happened ten years ago with Alaric. Well, one of his kids is back and ready to party. Tonight.”
“That’s why I can’t leave. You know if it had been your granny slaughtered, you wouldn’t.” Olivia addressed Zach, crossing her arms and lifting her nose. “You all think I'm a bitch, but bitches come in handy.”
“We have plenty of problems to share,” Red said, standing in witch solidary. She liked this Olivia better than the one on the flyer. “Isaac has a sacrifice already and Aunt Gina’s journals. Wendy won’t last long after that.”
“We’re wasting daylight.” Vic squinted at the fading sun on the horizon. “She’s at the high school or the summer camp.”
“The ritual could start at any minute,” she insisted.
Zach gestured between the women. “If he wants a spare witch, he could know you two are here by now.”
“Let’s do what my coven did the last time,” Olivia suggested. “You remember, Red—the ceremony to calm the dimensional energy and fight against a portal. We don't need to be where it opens. My family owns an empty house by the diner with all the supplies.”
Vic shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
The empath conceded with a grumble, nodding to him. “Round up your brother to protect them. Isaac is meddling with unnatural forces. We don’t want aftershocks from the riftquake. I need to drop this kid off at the police station.”
“Keep me posted,” Red said.
Zach touched her upper arm. “Please hide until we call for you. I’ll do everything I can to get you justice. Maybe we can get him alive so you can—”
“I’d rather you not.” She frowned. They had to get this guy off the streets. She told herself that was the important thing. “Don’t give him an inch to escape.”
Olivia jangled her keys, grinning. “Get in the car, losers, we’re going hexing.”
“I thought it was a calming spell?” Red asked.
“We can do both,” the blond called over her shoulder, trotting to her car.
“Follow in the van, Vic. I’ll go with her.” After grabbing her backpack of hunting supplies and wringing out her hair, Red trotted to the passenger side and slid inside. She closed the door and proceeded to give the short notes on Isaac as the other woman drove. “Where is this place anyway?”
Expression darkening, Olivia sped past the diner. “Fifteen minutes away from each ambush site. Be ready to drop everything when they call so we can be the ones to kill that fucker.”
Red laughed. It was like the other witch had read her mind. “Oh, Olivia, I think I like you now.”
22
Arriving at a spacious Tudor-style home, the witches trotted into the backyard nestled in a thicket of trees. Red couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder.
Distant gravestones peeped through the oaks. The rain had let up, but the dark clouds looked like a bruise on the sunset. An eerie stillness lingered in the air as if the very land were bracing itself. Magic residue glowed over a greenhouse, outlining the shadowy contours within.
Oliva unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. “My Great Aunt Helen used to live here, but we haven’t cleaned out her stuff since she retired to Arizona this year.”
Red’s third eye didn’t need the illumination. Protection sigils blazed on the domed ceiling. Dangling light bulbs dangling reflected on tinted glass-paned walls, moist with condensation. Potted bushes and trees lined the chamber, shielding the occupants from outside peepers.
She walked inside, the scent of rich loam and fragrant herbs tickling her nose.
Moss grew in the cracks in the concrete floor. Raised flowerbeds, thick with basil, mint, and other strange plants that she couldn’t identify, occupied one half of the large greenhouse. The other side was devoted to a tidy work area with a stout table and shelves sagging with clay pots, garden tools, and disturbingly a two headed cow fetus floating in aged formaldehyde. A white circle was painted on the floor.
“The hex we’ll do is like crockpot cooking,” Olivia said, “We can set it and forget it, then focus on sending soothing vibes to the rift. I’ll text my mom to get her to rally the others to contribute from out of town. We’ll get it started, and they can take it from there after we bounce to go after Isaac.”
Red strode to the table, rasping, “Let’s start cooking then.”
“Drink this already.” Pulling a small bottle out of a basket labeled with a red cross, Olivia handed it to her. “It’s for your throat. You sound like you’ve been smoking a pack a day for thirty years.”
Red sniffed it as the other witch rattled off the ingredients, then gulped a shot of the tincture. Grimac
ing from the rubbing alcohol aftertaste, she set it down. The pain eased in her throat even as she coughed. “Nasty.”
“Gather up some rusty nails, four cat bones, and a black candle. Think about Isaac as you anoint it. Everything he cost you. Get angry.” Olivia grabbed a big mason jar from the battered antique shelf, a relic cast off from the main house.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Piss in it,” she grunted, more like a dockworker than a debutante, walking behind an oleander.
“You are way less prissy in real life than you seemed on that flyer.” Red collected the spell items from a dusty plastic desk organizer that still bore a faded sale sticker, repurposed for the garden. The drawers were labeled with Great Aunt Helen’s cursive, and the setup seemed so normal like she’d find seed packets instead of animal bones. “Hexes, kinda extreme, yeah? Could it bounce back on us?”
“We’re not freakin’ Wiccans. This is justice. Greater good, yadda. Don’t get caught up in that binary from the Brotherhood. Magic is what you do with it. Now you’re making me bladder shy.”
Red grabbed the black candle and examined the small bottles of oil on a lower shelf in rows. She picked a belladonna and oleander infused one to boost the hex’s energy. Either plant was toxic when ingested. She wanted Isaac to choke on her anger. A message from her and all the people who had lost someone to his mad scheme to prove something to his sire. Finding a box of plastic gloves, she put a pair on and rubbed the poisonous fluid on the candle.
Her mother’s charred body, immortalized in the coroner’s photos, flashed in her mind. Pain revved up her magic. A cold draft stirred in the closed greenhouse, breezing over the garden beds, making leaves and stems shudder in its wake. Two tomatoes fell off their vine.
Olivia came back from behind a shrub, gingerly holding the half-filled jar. “That’s good enough. Don’t break my windows.”
Red nodded, throwing the gloves away. She studied the other witch combining the cat bones and nails into the vessel with a small chant. Hannah Proctor had taught her some spells, and so did Trudy, but hexes never came up except for defending herself against them. She tamped down uneasiness. If all she could do was magic in the background, then she was throwing everything at Isaac.
They lit the candle together, conjuring a black flame with sallow green smoke.
“That should fix his luck,” Olivia said, setting the hex jar out of sight in a corner cabinet before cleaning her hands with sanitizer. “Now we need to assemble a smoky quartz circle. It’s going to be a lot of meditation after that.”
Lashawn walked into the greenhouse, taking off a rain poncho. Mud caked the hem of his tan jeans. “Can we sit down, then? I’ve been walking all day,”
“Does this place have a TV?” Vic asked, beside his brother.
“Hey guys.” Red made introductions quickly between Olivia and Lashawn, then got to business. She bounced on her heels from repressed energy. The sooner they could set this mystical chill pill up, the sooner she could go after Isaac. “Did you hear from Stace? Where did everyone else set up? Is there word of—”
Vic raised a hand to block the barrage of questions. “No Isaac yet, but we’re all in position. Callaway is blocking off the roads to keep the townspeople out of the fighting zones. Stace, Jackson, and Arno are going up to the summer camp. Kristoff, Delilah, and Zach are going to the high school. Between them, they have at least a dozen each of the Prince's men. We have some too, patrolling outside, awaiting your orders. Novak insisted.”
Red hid her smile. It was a sweet gesture, sending hired guns to do her bidding. Not like in the traditional sense, but in their weird supernatural world, it might as well have been a box of chocolates. “I still think I should go. Being sidelined doesn’t feel right.”
“We would have you do the same thing, but at least here you're out of the way. And nobody needs to worry about the humans and…” Vic trailed off, eyes darting at his brother. “I’m not a supe, but I can stand guard while you do some hocus pocus.”
“We’re near the cemetery, but I didn’t get a good look at the grounds for weaknesses. Olivia can give you the scoop while I set up.” She grabbed a basket of smoky quartz off the table and strode to the middle of the floor where an old circle had been painted years ago.
“Let me get that.” Lashawn took it from her and crouched to place the crystals on the ground.
“Thanks.” Red knelt on the concrete, cold seeping through her jeans, and reached for a gray rock. “This is magic by numbers. Follow the line.”
Lashawn arranged a few before he glanced over to his brother. He lowered his voice. “It's hard. Isn't it? You want to go after him.”
Red slammed down a quartz, chipping it. She inhaled through her nose. Calming breaths, she told herself, control your emotions, she wore the ring. “More than you know. If I weren’t something that might let him win, I would be first in line to tear him apart.”
“You sound a little like Vic, but way more sensible.”
She huffed a short laugh. “I’m white knuckling it, trying to prove that I’m a pro.”
“Of course you are. You might as well have graduated from the Constantine school of hard knocks.” Lashawn quirked an eyebrow. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
Shrugging, Red busied herself with the crystals. “I’m fine.”
“In the real sense, or fine like you might conjure a tornado?”
She stilled, bowing her head. “What if I wasn’t stationed here because my magic is going funky or Isaac didn’t want to sacrifice me. Maybe it’s because of my recent… flukes with boys.” She cringed, sounding like a teeny bopper. Kristoff was a lot of things, but the century-plus-old vampire wasn’t a boy.
“It’s not like that. The Novak angle wasn’t talked about in front me, at least. I’ve got super hearing, so eavesdropping is easier.” Lashawn pushed up his glasses, smiling. “You really shouldn't call it a fluke. It doesn't quite mean what do you think.”
She straightened on her knees and cocked her head at him.
“It means a lucky accident.”
"Oh.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I thought it meant unexplained phenomenon."
"I'm not judging you. I just have a word of the day calendar,” Lashawn said, handing her another rock. “I know what it’s like to want what you shouldn't. I'm Henry Constantine's son, and I became an accountant."
"Then you’re really mixed up about numbers." Red let out a desperate chuckle at her own bad quip, setting the last crystal in place. "I'm not sure if it’s the same as wanting to date an unsouled vampire."
"It’s not like I’m helping the world. I work for a bank, helping companies avoid their taxes.” He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. “At least you’re cancelling out any bad karma."
“We’re ready?” Olivia asked, going to the circle and sitting cross-legged inside.
Red knee-walked over the quartz to the other witch and shifted onto her bottom with a sigh. “As we can be.”
Vic hovered behind them. “Will Isaac be able to sense this ritual?”
Olivia shook her head. “Not with what he's channeling tonight. It’d be like feeling a feather through pair of snow pants.” She fluttered a dismissive hand at the men. “Go guard something. We need to concentrate.”
He gestured to his brother and backed away. “We can watch YouTube on my phone if it gets boring.”
Red turned her attention away from the Constantine boys to Olivia. “You lead this dance. I know less than you’d think about this stuff.” She licked her lips, not comfortable confessing why hotshot teen witch Emma Peters no longer knew this spell. “A shaman said I got a few too many hits to the head.”
“Sink into the connection, and I’ll guide you.” The blond witch dropped her head back, razor-straight locks flowing down her shoulders. She whispered clipped foreign syllables. The quartz circle emitted a growing silvery radiance, soothing like a lavender bath. Plants reached out their leaves to be closer. The f
inal birdsong announcing sunset ceased as if the animals were listening.
Red stretched her neck, counting her beath to focus, and closed her eyes. She tossed her magic out to connect with the circle. It felt like the eye of a hurricane. Outside it, chaos wobbled the natural rhythms. The pressure built up as dimensions rubbed against each other like tectonic plates. Olivia’s magic, persistent like a weed, led hers along. Another energy thread, floral like a rose, stretched to join them from a distance. Then another and another. The witches were rallying against Isaac.
A brick shattered the greenhouse window, rocketing toward them.
Deep in her meditation, Red jumped, heart racing. She harnessed the air molecules, willing them to a small shield to block it. The projectile dropped to the ground, cracking on the concrete.
A bloody paramilitary helmet followed to ping against the transparent shield. It was like the ones Kristoff’s guards wore. Guess she wouldn’t be able to give them orders now. Intruders poured in through the broken window, villagers from the tithing. The call for revolt and mayhem had been answered.
Vic fired his gun, hitting a stocky male in the shoulder. The blessed silver bullet sizzled, smoke curling from the wound.
The demon bolted for him.
Lashawn picked up a shovel and swung it at the vamp’s face, knocking him down. Even in human form, his werewolf strength was apparent as he decapitated it with the shovel head.
Three more pinned Vic in a corner, batting away his gun.
“Hold the circle.” Charging outside the crystals, Red shielded Olivia, sending off a whip of stinging air like a lion tamer with an unruly beast. She lifted her ring hand, visualizing a hook to pull the vampires away. A cold iron bracelet slammed shut on her wrist, cutting off her magic. She gasped, looking up from the bracelet to Yuki.
He laughed in her face. “For a smart girl, Emma, you could be a dumbass.”
Prickling at the insult, face burning, she punched him in the chin. She wasn’t stupid. “Fuck off.”
Yuki wrestled her to the ground. “You fulfilled every small-town kid’s dream—you got out of here.”
Small Town Witch: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 5) Page 25