Witch in Time: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 6)

by Sami Valentine

  Zach ran to block the ATV, waving his arms. “What the hell?”

  The driver, a stout middle-aged white man in camouflage, hit the brakes. He wore a black helmet with a pointed tip like a Kaiser, and his fleshy lips curled into a snarl. “Out of my way, boy.”

  Zach didn’t blink. “Are you hunting Antonio?”

  Red stood behind him. “This is private property.” She didn’t mention that it was neither of theirs. If this was a hunter, he needed to find a new gig. “I don’t care if you’re on a bounty. Who are you anyway?”

  “Shackleford, first name redacted. I’m a citizen scientist. Now move.” He patted the holstered handgun belted to his waist.

  Vic stepped out of the house, revolver at his side. “You’re going to leave that gentle Sasquatch alone, pal.”

  “So, you know what it is? What it means to science?” Shackleford demanded, spittle flying from his mouth. “Then move! I have history to make!”

  Vic and Red exchanged a glance. Science? History? Hunters only announced themselves once they realized they weren’t dealing with civilians. This was some yahoo looking to sell snapshots to a tabloid.

  “No, you don’t.” Zach dismissed the intruder with a short wave. “You’re going to get on that road now before we call the sheriff—our friend—and tell her you’re setting illegal traps in these woods.”

  Red added, “Kids hike around here, you know.”

  “Not if they have decent parents. I’ve analyzed the missing person stats around here.” Shackleford pulled out night vision binoculars and scanned the tree line. “Damn. It’s gone.”

  Vic ordered, “Never come on this property again. You’ll see the Benston family’s lawyers in court if you do.”

  “I’ve measured the quantum energy in this village, son.” Shackleford jabbed a stiff finger toward the distant settlement, helmet slipping into his eyes. He jerked it up, glaring at them. “It’s off the charts by the sea caves. These Sasquatches are the canary in the coal mine. I can’t tell if they’re coming here or running away. It’s a migration for sure. Let me do my job and I can find out.”

  “I’d rather call the sheriff,” Vic said.

  The man frowned, muttering to himself, and drove at top speed out of the yard and onto the road down the hill.

  Zach crossed his arms, glancing at the trees. “We gotta go after Antonio.”

  “Maybe our new Bigfoot friend has had enough humans tonight,” Red suggested as she flopped down by the fire, making her metal lawn chair creak.

  “Can’t blame him.” Vic joined her, resting casually enough, yet he left the revolver on the ground at his side. “I know the guy after him—not him personally, but the type. He’s a cryptozoologist. One of those people who get so much right and so much wrong. For whatever reason, no hunter ever told him what was what. In my experience, whoever it was made the right call. This will be the find of his life, I bet.”

  She asked, “What about the Black Veil?”

  Vic retrieved his beer can from under his chair. “They let some of the wilder Bigfoot and Area 51 stuff circulate. The real Area 51 is in—”

  Zach interrupted glumly as he sat beside her. “I hope Antonio finds a nice cave or something.”

  “He’s a Sasquatch. They take care of themselves. Like cats.” Red patted him on the hand, happy to let the creature have its privacy. Her mind was already turning to what was in her closet that was suitable for her casual date tonight. “He’ll come back if he wants.”

  The fire burned down as they waited to see if Antonio returned. Finally, she convinced Zach to head off, driving her and her boxes with him. Having grown tired at Vic’s new place, she caught a second wind as the forest gave way to town.

  Their sleepy street between sports fields and the cemetery had the appearance of a country lane down to the Queen Anne–style farmhouse where they lived. Cocoa Puff the hamster squeaked a welcome from his big cage in the living room.

  Red was home. Finally.

  She left the boxes unpacked in her room for the long-awaited relief of a shower. It bugged her inner neat freak to leave them that way, but she didn’t want to smell like a Bigfoot when she saw her boyfriend.

  ---

  A cool breeze off the cemetery chased away the mosquitoes as Red crossed the backyard of her house. She was meeting a far more enticing bloodsucker tonight.

  In a white sundress and matching Chuck Taylors, she had taken care with her hair, loosely curling the dyed black locks. Times like this, she missed her natural red color. The hair dye was the easiest part about pretending to be dead and staying under the radar of the mysterious Mr. Gabriel and his threat of more assassins. It was harder not to talk to her hunter contacts. In the Brotherhood, only Fat Jacob Crispin knew she was still alive.

  Still, her vanity missed her red hair. Even when she’d ignored her growing attraction to Kristoff, she’d always been flattered by the way his gaze would zero in on it, making his blue eyes glitter.

  Red grinned to herself. All her friends and enemies were either out of town or occupied. She might actually have a night in with Kristoff and had delicious ideas of how to spend the time.

  Dealing with his work schedule and hers had left them stealing weekends and nights together when they could. Yet they were still stalled on third base. Or what she thought of as third base. A conversation with Hannah made it sound like her generation was more sexually advanced. Maybe Red and Kristoff were near the short stop instead. It wasn’t as if they didn’t want to.

  Every demon attack in the last two months had seemed like a conspiracy against her love life, coincidentally timed when they were on a date and getting to the good parts.

  Imagining the night ahead, an abrupt vision of Lucas kissing her popped into her thoughts.

  Red shook herself to shoo it away. She wasn’t impressed with how she’d fled like a dork. Even if she hadn’t kissed him back, that wasn’t the conversation she wanted for tonight. She yearned to close the door on all the demons except for one.

  Kristoff Novak leaned on the back gate of the farmhouse, gaze devouring her as she approached. Tall and broad shouldered, she could climb him. His dark blond hair lay parted to the side, golden threads caught in the house lights. He usually looked immaculate in a suit, but they had both skipped their typical uniforms tonight.

  There was something about him looking more casual in black jeans and a matching tank top that was hard to resist. Black and red line tattoos circled his biceps. She could just bite him. And before the night was over, he might let her.

  “Is it laundry day?” she asked, caressing his muscled arms, needing to touch him.

  Brow furrowing, Kristoff looked self-conscious before his usual cool, cocky reserve dropped like a mask. He had built an empire, yet there were times when Red saw the poor boy that he had once been, surviving in the Prague slums. The suits were less of a fashion statement than Red had once thought.

  Nedda had once told her to be gentle with Kristoff, and as they grew closer, she understood the not-so-friendly advice more and more.

  “Aren’t I lucky?” She kissed him quickly, smiling against his lips, running her fingers through his soft hair. The kiss warmed her down to her toes. His scent—charcoal soap and some enigmatic fragrance like a winter forest—awoke her body. Her muscles forgot the efforts of the day as she sank against him. “I like seeing these tattoos.”

  Kristoff grinned, deepening the dimple in his chin and revealing one in his left cheek.

  “And this dimple,” Red said, stroking his cheek. “You have to smile just right for it.”

  “I forget it’s there.” He held her hand against his face, thumb rubbing a circle on her knuckles. “No mirrors, after all.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You should take my picture again; try to capture that smile. I’d like to see it.”

  “There it is again.” She entwined their fingers and led him to their favorite path in the cemetery.

  Crickets chirped underfoot wh
ile brilliant stars twinkled above. A tang of clean sea air mingled with the scent of a nearby juniper tree. Beautiful, yet it was another symbol of the past life she had left in Los Angeles.

  “How was Portland?” she asked. It was a part of his world that she hadn’t seen. She imagined a lot of tense boardrooms in skyscrapers and knocking minions in line. “You told me you’d be busy.”

  “I might as well have slept at my desk. This time it’s not because the hospitality and entertainment divisions of my company are hemorrhaging funds during the shutdowns.” He glowered at a bouquet on an unassuming tombstone. “It’s an audit on the tithe collection for the Prince. Enough said.”

  “I know an accountant if you need one. Just give Lashawn the full moon off.” Her joking smile faded. “Is it really bad over there?”

  “I have my brother on it. Truly, I’d rather leave it all in the office.”

  Red let him evade her question. It was fair. They both had things they wanted to leave at the village limits.

  Week after week, Kristoff returned to the undead rat race, balancing his businesses and duties to the Portland Supreme. She knew some of the players like Nedda the DVA director of the Pacific Northwest, his friend Donal, and their liege lord Prince Marek. Kristoff would hand over his calendar if she asked for an accounting of his time, but there was an unspoken boundary over that side of his life.

  Kristoff always dodged her suggestions that she make the drive to see him. He seemed to want her tucked away in Charm. Maybe from his enemies or maybe just to have an oasis to escape to. She could understand it. He was hers.

  He draped an arm over her shoulders. “How was your trip? Give me something more interesting than spreadsheets to think about.”

  “It was weird, to be honest,” Red said. If he wanted to relax tonight, she’d have to edit the tale. She didn’t like lying to him. They had a mutual agreement about that. It didn’t feel right to say nothing about Lucas, but the drama between the three of them was another LA leftover to toss aside. “I remember almost two years of my life, and for more than half of it, I never really looked back. Vic and I would save the day, or try to salvage it, then ride off into the sunset.”

  “You weren’t tempted to stay?” He avoided her gaze, studying the McGregor Mausoleum on a distant hill. She knew what he was thinking.

  Even all the way in California, his sire’s shadow stretched between them.

  “It was a relief when I popped out of the portal toward home.” She stalled to say it right. “Vic and I had drinks with Lucas and Chuck at my apartment complex. I told you about that. Then we stopped to see the office before we left town.”

  Kristoff stiffened and nodded. “How is he?” He wasn’t talking about the old hunter cowboy.

  “Offered me my old job back. I ran out, saying something about tire pressure,” Red said, skirting around the full truth, trying to obey the letter of their honesty policy, if not the spirit. He might not fly down to curb stomp his sire, but it would be more fuel on a century-old rivalry. Did it matter when she’d already made her decision and it wasn’t Lucas?

  She turned in Kristoff’s arms to face him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I hope it’s not awkward for you to hear. I don’t want you to be jealous or anything.”

  “I was jealous of blueblood Lucas Crawford before you.” He said it as a joke, but his eyes were sad.

  “It was good to close that chapter.” She smiled ruefully. “And get all my stuff. I’m trying not to think of all the rent money I wasted while that place was empty. I really should have a financial agent. Or listen to the one I have at Smith and Reaper.”

  “You were putting that inheritance into circulation. It’s good for the economy.” Kristoff chuckled. “How was Vegas?”

  “I haven’t been as good a friend to Basil as I should. Poor guy needs more attention.” Red shot Kristoff a mischievous look. “I could go for a certain kind of attention too. Stace is with Jackson and Lashawn in Nevada; the guys are doing their thing. No big baddie hanging over our heads. You and I might just have the night to ourselves. Don’t you want to get started before something happens like usual?”

  Lifting her in his arms, Kristoff raced at vampire warp speed toward his cottage, the mile done in a minute as she giggled and held on. Setting her down on her feet, he fumbled with his house keys as she kissed his neck.

  The door opened, already unlocked.

  Arno Novak paced in the living room, tie askew. His hair was darker than his older brother’s, and he lacked the dimples, but the resemblance was clear down to the designer suit and cleft chin. He narrowed his brown eyes in annoyance at her.

  Red slumped her shoulders, walking inside. If only she had knocked on wood when she’d announced they had the night to themselves. She waved awkwardly, adjusting her white dress. “Hey.”

  “Are you okay?” Kristoff asked his brother, lust falling away to concern.

  “Your phone is off,” Arno complained, frustration clipping his words. “I’ve been calling. For two hours! The helicopter is parked in a nearby soccer field. We must go. It’s important we’re both seen in Portland now.”

  Red asked, “What’s happening?” It couldn’t be good.

  “I don’t have time to explain, even if it were your concern,” Arno snarked, holding up a palm to her. “Donal is being a serious prick, Kristoff. I don’t know why he’s reaming me over every tithe we’ve collected west of Beaverton, so bat your eyelashes at him. He’s not as charmed by me.”

  She repeated herself.

  Arno snapped, “This is family business.”

  Now she really wanted to know. Donal and Kristoff were buddies the last she knew. The hard look on Arno’s face kept Red quiet. She was the girlfriend, but he was the brother.

  “I’ll drive back before dawn,” Kristoff said. “Don’t expect miracles from my charming allure.”

  “If I could pimp you out in time, I would. Donal is calling a meeting with all the city masters in ninety minutes.” Arno checked his watch. “Correction, eighty minutes now. I have a suit waiting.”

  “Fucker. He knows I’m out of town.”

  “That’s the point, I believe,” Arno said dryly.

  Red strained to recollect what she knew about Portland’s supernatural politics. All Kristoff would say was that Marek was a stronger supreme than Cora, with a more orderly reign over his subjects. How far out of order would it get tonight?

  “Let’s go.” Arno gestured to the door. “People are already talking about you spending all your time here.”

  Red asked, “About us?”

  Arno shot her a withering glance. “We have lives outside of you, duchess.”

  She lifted her hands and backed up. “Okay then. If you need any help—”

  He sneered. “We don’t.”

  Kristoff moved between her and his brother. “Take it down a notch. I’m saying goodbye, and then we can see what Donal is up to.”

  Arno muttered in Czech, turning away from them to text on his phone.

  Kristoff replied in kind, curt and irritated, then took Red’s hand, guiding her outside. “I apologize for him.”

  “I might have jinxed us before,” she said. “I missed you, but you can come down another night when you don’t have to look all sexy in a conference room. Try to make Donal happy.” She patted his cheek. “Not too happy though.”

  Arno brushed past his brother, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry; you’re looking at the straightest vampire in the books. Even a little bi-curiosity could help us now.”

  Red snorted. “I hope your night improves.”

  Shaking his head, Arno stomped away into the trees, grumbling about responsibility.

  Kristoff watched him. “He’s still sulking that I skipped the last trip to New York and the headaches with our Manhattan club. It’s going to be a fun helicopter ride.”

  “I bet,” Red said. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “The soccer fields are on the way to my place. Can you carry me, run, and make
out at the same time?”

  If her night was ending early, she’d make the most of it. It turned out, Kristoff could, but only for a bit before cracking his shin on a tombstone. She giggled as he righted himself and sped to her house, leaving her breathless with another kiss.

  Red leaned against the back gate, almost wishing he’d taken her with him. She walked into the dark house. Humming, she made chamomile tea in the kitchen, mentally marking the day off on her calendar and planning her exercise outfit for the day. Her phone vibrated in her purse. She pulled it out to see a text message from Lucas.

  I kept writing this and deleting it, but I had to tell you how I feel, kitten. I’m sorry for startling you yesterday…It continued for many more exhaustive paragraphs. The words I need to see you jumped out as she skimmed.

  She sighed, her thumbs itching to text back. That was a reply better written in the harsh light of day. Nothing good ever happened from texting an ex-boyfriend after dark.

  All she wanted was a quiet night with Kristoff. At least she could get some sleep and have a lazy morning. She was wrong on the last part.

  3

  July 4, Morning, Charm, Oregon

  Bouncing down the stairs in exercise pants and a tank top, Red wrinkled her nose. Why did it smell like a music festival at her house?

  The stench derailed her train of thought about biking to the beach. She followed it to the living room. Everything was normal except for the Bigfoot watching cartoons.

  Vic, Zach, and Antonio lounged on the couch. Guffaws broke out as Homer Simpson tasted a hot chili pepper on screen and shrieked.

  Drapes flapped in the open windows as sticks of patchouli incense battled the forest ape funk. A small suitcase, cherry blossom pattern on its hard body, leaned by the front door. It was Stace’s, but there was no sign of her. The paperboy, late on his route, threw a newspaper into the front yard.

  Pinching her nose, Red smiled and walked to the guys. “Hey, you found him!”