The Millennium Falcon turned onto a wide boulevard. She had once dreamed of a Los Angeles without traffic, but the quiet cityscape felt eerie. Millions lived in this sprawling metropolis. Yet their van was the only vehicle on the road.
They had one last stop before hitting the highway—Quinn Investigations—the place that she’d been happiest here.
Vic smiled, tipping his trucker hat up to meet her eyes. The streetlamps reflected off his black mullet and the buttons of his denim jacket. He was the one constant in her life. “Miss the City of Angels now that we’re leaving?”
Red crossed her arms over her dark shirt. She wouldn’t have gone that far about the city itself; she missed the times they had spent here more.
Well, some of them.
She didn’t count fighting a warlock on the winter solstice or Lucas breaking up with her as high points. Her life here had been a mess in a lot of ways, but she’d been certain of her direction. The world was black and white then. Now she saw the gray. Her future felt more like a mystery once she knew her past.
Well, some of it.
That was her luck.
She smoothed her blue jeans absently. Recognition sparked her. She’d gotten this pair in a nearby mall, the same bootcut as always to fit what she called her uniform—black top and jeans—before a not-date with Lucas. For a second, she was right back there again, wondering where their relationship was going.
The déjà vu made her pause.
“Hey,” Vic said. “You’re looking really serious over there. I’m guessing the answer is no, then.”
“Did I zone out?” Red offered a wan smile in apology.
After a long day of cleaning to get their deposit back, she’d taken a nap. It had only left her more tired. The black hair dye didn’t help, making her look as pale as a vampire.
They were having dinner with Basil and Hannah once they arrived in Vegas for the night’s stopover. She’d chug a coffee on the road to look alive for the health checkpoint at the state border. Every state had its own entry restrictions, but Nevada’s only required a recent negative virus screening. It was easier than their drive into California on an old hunter’s route to avoid a two-week quarantine. After this stressful road trip, Red would be happy to chill at home.
She tried to keep her tone light and failed. “I was just thinking of how many good times we had at the agency. Feels bittersweet, at least on my end.”
“Yeah, I got the chills looking at that old medical bed of mine.” Vic’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “We’re not the same hunters that we were when we walked in, but at least we’re both walking out.”
Red changed the subject to a more cheerful topic. She had worried enough about the kind of hunters that LA had forced them to be by the end. “You know what we should have done? Ordered from Old Shanghai one last time as a goodbye to Bill the delivery guy; let him know we’ll be all right.”
Vic nodded gravely. “Bill was both a top-notch hype man and noodle dealer.”
“A real homie.” Her heart panged as she thought of the ones they’d lost—Quinn Byrnes and Joe Chang.
He fiddled through the radio stations, complaining that Green Day was now classic rock, as they inched through the end of rush-hour traffic. Arriving at a squat strip mall where an Indian restaurant perfumed the air, Vic almost parked in his old handicap spot before choosing another.
Red had walked more than a hundred times to the entrance that the agency shared with a massage therapist. Her steps felt oddly inevitable now. She plodded after Vic inside the hallway to the first interior door.
Quinn Investigations kept late hours. The lights were on and ready for Angelenos with problems the cops couldn’t help with or explain. A large desk by the window was empty. She still expected to see Quinn there.
Vic stared sadly at the blank space.
Lucas Crawford stood next to a microwave on the coffee stand. In a leather jacket and motorcycle boots, he might have been plucked from any of Red’s memories of last year. She could walk through that door a million more times, and the English vampire would stay forever the same, tousled black hair eternally flopping over his handsome face and intense gray eyes.
Holding an uncooked popcorn bag, he grinned and popped it inside the machine. “Peckish?”
Red smiled. “Your signature dish.”
“I’m starving,” Vic said. “Make it two bags. You owe us for bailing midway through drinks with Old Chuck last night anyway.”
Lucas chuckled. “I’ll throw in a few water bottles to sweeten the deal, mate.”
Vic hugged him, patting his back. “It was good seeing you, Greg.” He smirked as the vampire snorted at the nickname. “We’re a few states away, but we can round up one hell of an apocalypse fighting crew if you need backup.”
“Appreciate that. I’ll get around to hiring employees soon enough.” Lucas thrust his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, eyes darting between them.
Many vampires his age prided themselves on being able to hold as still as marble. Lucas was always fidgeting. So full of life, it was hard to believe he was dead. Chatting with him last night had reminded Red of all the things she liked about him. And how much it hurt when he’d walked away.
He started to say, “If you—”
The stench of burning popcorn wafted from the microwave.
Lucas pivoted to retrieve it. Avoiding a face full of steam as he opened the bag, he showed her the contents. “It looks half good.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Red peeked in. Maybe a third of the popcorn was okay. The rest was either burned or still kernels. They never quite saw a situation the same, did they?
Vic took the paper bag, nibbling on the best inside, and backed away.
The vampire shoved another packet into the machine, faster than humans could see. “I’ll listen harder this time.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. They would probably still be together if he had listened harder before. A small internal voice countered maybe he would have if she’d said the right thing. It was easier to forget your mistakes and others’ when you never returned to where they happened. She was happy exploring her new relationship with Kristoff Novak, but this whole trip had resurrected all her old questions of “what if?”
The electricity cut out, leaving the streetlights from the window to cut the gloom.
Lucas pursed his lips, gaze darting to an interior wall shared with the neighboring office. “It’s that damn infrared sauna that the masseur put in next door. Keeps tripping the fuses.”
“I’ll go to the box,” Vic said and jogged into a small room off the main office.
Red tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, acutely aware of being alone with Lucas. This was where she’d fallen for him last year.
He always looked good, but vampires looked their best in mood lighting. Fluorescents stole the night’s mystery from them. He tilted his head, smiling softly at her as he used to do, like she was the only one in the city.
Her stomach fluttered from muscle memory. She looked away, cheeks heating.
His look made her want to remind him that she had a boyfriend. She figured that Delilah Byrnes had already told him about Kristoff, so she’d left it out last night. It wasn’t exactly a conversation that she wanted to have around Chuck the hunter in her apartment courtyard.
“I’m sorry Cora pulled me away from drinks. It was good catching up with you. It’s felt like a lifetime,” Lucas said. His smile was infectious.
Resisting it, Red tried to stave off that old virus. “I suppose you’d know.”
“Speaking of lives, you have yours back.” He stepped closer to her. His familiar sandalwood scent poked the old embers of remembrance, and past nights in his arms ignited in her mind. “You found your past, but what about your future?”
The question threw Red out of her memories. He didn’t always get it right, but sometimes it was like he read her mind, cutting to the quick of her fears. “I try to live in the now. I thought
we had that in common.”
“I’m thinking farther ahead these days. You always have a place at the agency with me. I know you have a mission right now, but I have the time to wait.” He cupped her cheek, pale fingers sparking electricity under her skin. His unexpected touch shorted her brain.
She didn’t know what to say.
Lucas kissed her, his arms curling around her waist. His embrace was soft, but deep passion boiled under the surface.
Heart pounding in her ears, Red jerked away from him. “What are you doing?” At least that’s what she meant to say. Instead, she said, “I need to check the tire pressure!”
She ran from the vampire and all the what-ifs he offered. Once outside, the fresh air didn’t loosen the tightness in her chest.
Did that just happen? She leaned her head back on the van door. Overstimulated and confused, her mind struggled to keep up. His kiss was better than a time capsule for reminding her exactly what it was like when Lucas had been her sort-of something. That was the difference between him and Kristoff: Kristoff knew exactly what he wanted. His sire never did. At least not when it counted.
Her lungs quivered as she breathed deep. Why did Lucas have to do that? She had been so ready to leave him in the rear-view mirror with the rest of this city.
Vic unlocked the van with the remote, awakening her from her thoughts, and hopped into the driver’s seat. His silence hung awkwardly in the air until he started the engine and the speakers came to life. Obviously, he had caught some of the incident in the office.
At the next red light, he made a big show of trying to avoid the commercials on the radio, his preferred method of delaying a hard conversation. Or when deciding to have one.
He tapped to the next station, and the Bangles blared from the speakers. Drumming on the steering wheel, he sang to himself, “It’s a hazy shade of…” After the chorus, he asked a little too casually, “So, are we ready to leave LA now?”
“Bring on Las Vegas.” Red pinched the bridge of her nose, anticipating a headache from overanalyzing every second of the night. It had felt like goodbye last winter when she’d walked out of Quinn Investigations even though she’d promised to return. Now, she knew it really was.
It had to be.
---
After midnight, the Strip dazzled in neon splendor to nearly empty streets.
The Circe Casino, officially closed to humans, crawled with supernatural tourists who wore their scales or fur as proudly as their souvenir T-shirts. The cheeky, occult-themed décor of the casino hid the alchemy academy in plain sight. The other change, beyond a new headline singer to replace poor Diego Blanco, was the increased janitorial staff, dressed morbidly like plague doctors, wiping down slot machines.
Red dodged around a family of kitsunes in fanny packs taking pictures with a Merlin lookalike. Even in a mask, she didn’t want to be accidentally caught in a picture. She’d been declared dead, after all.
Basil and Hannah found them in the controlled chaos. Welcoming them back with all the latest school gossip, the teen witch barely stopped for breath under her surgical mask as they walked into the elevator.
“It looks so weird without the normies around, huh?” Hannah asked. “Other casinos have opened up, but we’re still waiting.”
Basil explained, “Fremont Street’s influence on the state governor. The vampires would be happy if the Circe was closed all summer. They know where to hit the academy where it hurts—in the revenue.”
“The alchemists’ loss is your gain. You’re going to love this suite,” Hannah said, brown braid bouncing on her shoulder from her peppy stride. She wore a cardigan over her pink sundress to beat back the arctic air conditioning. “I wish we could throw a party in there.”
Tired, Red was happy they couldn’t. “You’ll enjoy it more when you’re old enough to drink.”
“I’ve got two years. Be prepared.” Hannah laughed, but the promise in her eyes was serious.
“I’m already laying down the sandbags,” Basil said in his faux British accent, the only clue to his Wisconsin roots in his pronunciation of “bag.” He had a healthy tan, but nervousness pinched his thin face. In a gray tweed jacket and tailored shorts, he was far outside his usual bright color palette. He looked like a schoolboy sent to the countryside to escape the London Blitz, weary but keeping a stiff upper lip.
Was life as an academy lecturer that bad?
Hannah and Basil steered them out of the elevator into an elegant hallway decorated in an upscale version of the witch kitsch theme below. It had a fabulous view of the Bellagio Casino.
Vic whistled as they entered a suite that had taken its interior design cues from Aladdin, creating a vibe of one thousand and one nights of luxury. The giant floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the blazing orange grid of the desert city.
Hannah piped up with a smirk. “It’s been empty for weeks. I laid it on thick that you’re friends with Perenelle Flamel and got freebies.”
Red said, “You’re the best!”
“This isn’t everything.” Basil hustled them to a short table surrounded by floor pillows and laden with sealed ceramic dishes. “Wash up and enjoy the feast I slaved over.”
Red obeyed and eagerly rejoined the table with Vic. They sat cross-legged on the pillows and clapped as Basil presented Moroccan dishes with a flourish. His inspiration had been taken from the suite’s décor. Conversation bounced back and forth, yet the soulmancer grew more withdrawn as they emptied their plates.
“Basil, did you have Perenelle check out your class when she was here?” Red asked, to draw him into the conversation of the Immortal Alchemist’s visit last month. Conflict between the academy and the local vampires had brought Perenelle in from Europe to advise the Synod. The rumors had even reached Old Chuck in LA.
Red also simply wanted a topic shift. She’d thought enough about vampires tonight.
“She’s too busy to bother with peasants like me,” he said archly with a long look at her.
Hannah chimed in, “It’s been pretty intense lately. Gary O’Sullivan has been crazier than usual on Fremont Street, earning his nickname. There was—” Her phone rang, and she excused herself from the table and went out to the balcony.
Vic stood, venturing toward the kitchenette. “More drinks, anyone?”
“I’d fall asleep,” Red said, waving him away. She smiled at Basil when they were alone. “How are you, really? You’ve been quiet. Is the vamp situation freaking you out?”
“So good of you to inquire. After the fact.”
She deserved that. “Yeah, I’ve been in outer space lately with everything in Charm.”
“I simply need more attention, or else I wilt.” Basil sniffed, regal nose in the air. “The occasional text won’t do.”
“I’m sorry. Don’t wilt.” Red pouted dramatically to make him chuckle.
He relaxed under the apology. “I know it’s been mad for you lately, what with looking for those Bard journals. I wish my powers extended to lost objects.”
“I solved the mystery of who killed my mom, but those journals might have the backstory to fill in some of the gaps. Maybe it will help me figure out who we were before Charm.” She tried to play off her disappointment with a laugh. “So much has happened that my brain might explode if I actually found them. I can’t even count it on my fingers. Meeting Stace and Zach, seeing where I come from, dating Kristoff—”
“You’re dating Novak?” Basil fussed and took her hand, his soulmancy tapping at her like a doctor performing a reflex test to a knee.
“What was that?”
He scowled. “I needed to make sure you weren’t mesmerized.”
Annoyed, Red drew her hand away. “Of course I’m not. What does that mean?”
“Obviously the obvious. We’ve both met him.”
She didn’t like hearing that. It was one thing when Stace and Zach didn’t trust her boyfriend. They hadn’t seen the good he had done in LA. Basil had. Kristoff had healed him on Christmas.<
br />
“He’s a perfect gentleman to me,” she said, expecting a sassy response or snicker in return.
Basil gulped, eyes widening. “There are things—” He gulped his mint tea. “Forget it. Let’s not ruin our tajine.”
“Done talking relationships now?” Vic asked, walking back to them with a beer bottle.
“Yes,” Red said.
“For now,” Basil warned, raising his glass, studying her over the rim.
Vic flopped down. “Good enough.”
Hannah ran in from the balcony. Tears streaking down her face, she shoved her phone in her purse, missing the first time in her distress. “Jeremy broke up with me.”
Vic drank his beer, gaze locked on the horizon in the window, a crestfallen realization on his face. He hadn’t dodged relationship talk after all. A look of long-suffering tolerance came over him.
“Oh, honey.” Red stood, wobbling for footing among the floor pillows. “I’m so sorry.”
“I need to g-go,” Hannah said, sniffling on her way out.
“I’ll handle her,” Basil said. He left the table, gesturing for them to sit. “You two are knackered. Finish up dinner, and we’ll see you tomorrow in the Pyramid.”
The soulmancer was out the door before Red could follow.
“Well, that isn’t how I expected the night to go,” she said, settling back on the floor pillows. What had he been trying to tell her before? She felt so out of touch with his life.
Vic shrugged. “At least we have the view.”
“Should I go after Hannah?”
“You heard Basil. He has it. He’s more up to date on whatever her saga is than you are anyway.”
Red made a sulky face at her plate, guilt tugging at her. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll hear about it at breakfast anyway.”
If only Kristoff wasn’t stuck in meetings in Portland, she could call and tell someone how uncomfortable her trek down memory lane had been. She stared out the window at the lights of Vegas. The casino had been her home last spring.
Somehow, the view had changed even if everything looked the same on the surface.
Witch in Time: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 6) Page 3