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

by Sami Valentine

  “It wasn’t safe for Antonio at Vic’s place,” Zach said in black pajamas, sitting next to the Bigfoot. “We got in late, so we didn’t wake you. He slept in the gazebo.”

  Fully dressed in last night’s clothes, Vic slurped milk from a cereal bowl. “I think you have a new roommate.”

  Red laughed to keep from scolding them. “I need coffee.”

  It was too early for this. She had seen Zach take out rampaging vampires with his bow, but now she knew the empath’s secret—put an animal in front of him and he melted. This was like bringing a bear home.

  As she walked into the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “What does Stace think about this?”

  Zach dipped his head. “She’s at the diner…cooling off.”

  Cringe-giggling to herself, she poured coffee into a Hamsterdam Café mug and imagined Stace returning this morning to find Antonio. The half-fae had gone with Jackson Gonzales and Lashawn Constantine to some werewolf gathering, coming home before the full moon. Charm was a strange town, but a Sasquatch on a sofa raised eyebrows.

  Red rejoined the guys, inspecting the creature from a recliner. “Do you think he understands us? I told you what he brain-beamed to me. Can he talk?”

  Zach considered the question solemnly. “Much like Hello Kitty, he speaks from the heart.”

  Antonio nodded to him, matching the serious expression.

  Vic snickered, grabbing his own mug from the coffee table. “He makes some impressive Chewbacca sounds. We could take him to Comic-Con, and he would come in at least fourth in a costume contest.”

  “What about the smell?” she asked.

  Vic flapped his hand. “He’d fit right in.”

  Red interrogated the guys about their night. It had taken them a while to coax Antonio into the van to go see a shifter veterinarian, but finally they’d gotten the ankle wound wrapped. They had promised to take him to the forest far outside town today.

  “I think you boys have this situation in hand,” she said, finishing her coffee. She didn’t add that their other roommate would ensure the creature returned to its rightful home. “I’m going to check on Stace. Isn’t her meeting about the community meal program with Olivia and Callaway today?”

  “Oh shit. I forgot about that. It’s at the diner. That explains her vibes,” Zach said, stroking his chin before defending himself at their stares. “I’m an empath, not a mind reader.”

  “Keep Antonio from eating Cocoa Puffs,” Red said. “And I think she’ll get over it.”

  The Bigfoot made a low sound of objection, pointing at the large cage along the wall.

  “Exactly,” Zach affirmed his furry friend. “He loves hamsters.”

  “Fine, fine. Have fun living out your Harry and the Hendersons dreams.” She grabbed her small backpack hanging by the front door, readied last night with everything a girl needed for a morning bike ride: water bottle, keys, and a can of were-mace.

  Red trotted onto the porch, taking her bike to the sidewalk, relishing the warm summer sunshine. Vic still laughed at the idea of a millionaire living with roommates and riding around on a used mountain bicycle. She liked the old thing. Besides, she’d had enough new bikes stolen in LA. Her wheels didn’t need to be locked down here.

  In the daytime, the village looked like the picture of safety. Until the sun went down, it was. For the most part.

  She waved to Nana Sanchez on her porch and biked past the rest of the widely spaced houses on the street. The soccer fields to her right were empty. Only a broken patch of sod hinted at the helicopter that had landed in the night. Taking a shortcut through the cemetery, she reached Lili’s Diner, sweaty and hungry.

  At a crossroads, the diner was nestled into the trees near the graveyard. A few vehicles were parked in the gravel lot. Lili’s was officially closed for inside dining to humans, allowing only takeout and counter service.

  There were a lot of reasons why Zach and Stace wanted Red for a roommate, sentiment at the top of the list, but the rent money certainly helped. She kept telling herself that she’d figure out a permanent place, but she hadn’t decided if she wanted to find her own rental or not. Just another one of those future things on her to-do list.

  After long stretches camped out in the van with Vic, the expansive farmhouse was like a palace. She had enough privacy and company, but getting a place seemed vaguely like the thing to do. Wasn’t that what people with real lives did?

  She put on her medical mask and found that Lili’s was surprisingly popping.

  The crimson vinyl booths along the windows were half full. Even if they were impervious to human viruses, supernaturals tried to blend in with the times. More or less. Herman the possum shifter had a mask dangling from his ear as he read the day’s paper at the long counter. Everyone looked human now, but Red had been in Charm long enough to notice who didn’t come around during the full moon or whose aura shone a little too brightly.

  The curvy brunette waitress, Maudette, chirped a friendly hello. She added casually, twirling her hair, “Vic around too?”

  “He’s busy, but he’ll have a story for your next date, trust me.” Red ordered a muffin to go without the usual small talk for the sake of the woman behind her in line. Waiting for her order at the counter, she checked out the out-of-towner.

  The other woman was heavyset in a bodybuilder way and wore a dark gray jogging suit. Her ash-brown hair was bobbed. Plain faced, her heavily lashed eyes were her best feature. She had a way of checking out the entire diner even as she scrolled through her phone. The day rush was usually locals. After dark, sometimes they’d get a hunter passing through. Maybe this one had decided to stick around for breakfast after checking out at the motel down the street.

  When her order was up, Red put the bagged muffin in her backpack. “Thank you. Now, where are my gal pals?”

  “You’ll find them in the back room.” Maudette winced. “Have fun, honey.”

  “That’s a good sign.” Red waved to the waitress and made a detour to the ladies’ bathroom. A few minutes later while washing her hands, she stepped aside for a young, unmasked woman to use the sink.

  “Oh, no, I don’t need to use the facilities. I wanted to speak with you,” the woman said, fidgeting in her curiously unseasonal bulky cream sweater and white slacks. Thick black bangs covered her forehead. The rest of her lustrous hair was pulled back in an elaborate braid that reached her waist. Round silver glasses made her sea-blue eyes seem large and dreamy. Something about her poreless skin was like the Immortal Alchemist’s complexion. “You’re a witch, correct?”

  Scanning the female’s bright shimmering yellow aura, Red figured she was some kind of benign supernatural. She dried her hands with a paper towel. “Yeah.”

  “Splendid. I seek a lost object. You can be my local guide. I must hire a witch.” Her accent was hard to pinpoint, each syllable precise and measured as if rehearsed. “I have gold.”

  “Hey, thanks, I bet you’re looking for a treasured heirloom or something, and I hope you find it. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m not taking on any jobs right now. Ask Wendy at the magic shop. She can refer you to someone way better.” Red opened the bathroom door. “I promise.”

  The other woman’s hands fluttered about as if she didn’t know what to do with them after reaching the end of her script. “Um, okay.”

  Red wanted to help, even if the woman talked like a non-playable character in a video game, but the Bigfoot in her living room was the real business of the morning. Or rather, seeing how Stace was and how they were going to break it to Zach that he couldn’t adopt Antonio.

  She went to the back room of the diner, where her friends were planning a charity initiative to make and distribute meal and grocery boxes at the diner for the unemployed. Maybe it was because of the nightly threat of demons, but people took care of each other around here.

  She’d volunteered to help with the grunt work but wasn’t sure if she was local enough for the committee. It wasn’t as i
f she remembered living here the first time. A more critical voice asked if she was too shy to join the committee.

  Red ignored it.

  Stace Bonner, Aisha Callaway, and Olivia Benston hunched over a table in the break area. A lull hung over the room like the pause of a gun between reloads. Red almost wanted to back out.

  “Why don’t we move on? Or take a break?” Stace asked the other women before turning to Red with wide, exasperated eyes. She had perfect skin from her fae heritage, dark and even, with the petite build to match. Even holding her katana sword, she still fit in most overhead airplane compartments. Temples adorned with thick barrettes, she looked adorable in a puffy-sleeved yellow crop top and checkered pair of culottes. And tired.

  “Hi,” Olivia said quickly to Red before facing Callaway. Her straight blonde hair spilled over her beige shift dress and matching blazer as she leaned over a binder on the table. “I don’t want to leave this point without feeling like I fought for it. These meals need to be nutritious. More veggies. Where are the bok choy, brussels sprouts, seasonal anything? And then the pantry boxes themselves.” She flipped through laminated pages. “I’ve already dickered with my mother on how generous the Benston Foundation grant will be. We don’t need to be cheap.”

  Callaway sighed, crossing her arms over her sheriff’s uniform. The Black woman hid behind a mask emblazoned with the Charm Police Department logo, but her brown eyes revealed her straining patience. “I agree, but boxed milk and canned goods with pop-tops will go farther. We must consider shelf life and what people know how to cook. Not everyone has the same pizza oven as Gwyneth Paltrow.”

  Olivia shifted in her seat. “I realize my privilege.”

  Stace stood. “I’m going to take a beat on that note.” She scampered away from the table to Red in the doorway.

  “How’s it going?” Red whispered to her.

  Stace shook her dark curls. “Let me count the ways that my morning has sucked. It began with me returning from an intense trip meeting my boyfriend’s family and wondering why the hell my house stinks. And now I have to play mediator.”

  “Have you told them that today isn’t the day for squabbling? They might take it down a notch.”

  Stace squirmed, looking back. “I don’t know. Not really one for putting my heart on my sleeve.”

  Red smirked. “Is that what you think?”

  “I know.” Stace chuckled. “I try to put on a solid front here as the local hero. Especially in front of them.”

  Nodding, Red didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have the same history with the Charm Police Department or Olivia in high school as Stace did. Fresh starts were a benefit to her amnesia as much as the memory loss was a burden.

  At the table, Olivia raised her voice. “Don’t act like you aren’t doing this for the good PR, Sheriff.”

  Callaway retorted, “Says the socialite.”

  Shoulders slumping, Stace gestured to the women behind her. “This will be super fun. I can’t believe you didn’t want to join in.”

  “Do you need backup?” Red asked.

  “I’ll save the support for back at the house,” Stace said. “I’ve brought home wounded animals before, but a Bigfoot is different from a chihuahua. It’s not an easy breed to rehome.”

  “I’ll take your lead. Whatever you decide, you’ll have my vote.”

  Stace giggled. “If only everyone was like you.”

  “I know.” Red grinned and waved to the room. “I’m off to the sea caves, then.”

  “I hope you find something. I want good news today.” She sat back down at the table. The other women were too deep in their debate to notice.

  “Me too,” Red whispered to herself, exiting into the dining area.

  The woman from the bathroom tapped her shoulder and skittered a step back as if the act had taken all her courage. “Pardon, I am still looking for a witch. I have gold.”

  Red kept up a cheerful smile even as paranoia gripped her suddenly. She had a reputation for being buds with the local white hats but had never set out her shingle as a hired witch in this town. Did the woman sense her magic, or had she been told? And by who?

  “Hey, I gotta be honest, I’m not that good at scrying. Try the magic shop. There are plenty of witches in town. I’ll be back here tomorrow if you can’t find one.”

  The black-haired supernatural froze, uncertainty making her voice trail off. “Well, I suppose…”

  “Good luck!” Scurrying out the door to the bike rack, Red rode away from the diner. It wasn’t even noon, and she was already ready for alone time.

  It was easier to be an introvert in a big city. People liked to chat more in a small town, and it was impossible to avoid acquaintances. She’d spent so long moving from place to place that having people who knew and remembered her was still weird.

  Her worries felt silly after a mile on the sunny road.

  If she had noticed which diner patrons might be shifters, why wouldn’t someone notice her witchery? She’d used a strategic blast of air magic to separate two dudes fighting in the parking lot last month.

  Red pedaled along a country road, curving around the cemetery. It was the one that she took to Kristoff’s cottage. She wished he were there. Not that he could help her more. He’d already done so much to track down Isaac Gruber’s minions.

  The sea caves were the last landmark with any connection to Isaac. He’d washed up there after their first fight, and according to his blood sister Delilah, he had known the area well. It was the ideal place for a stash since the lingering dimensional magic around Charm confused scrying spells.

  The sandstone bluffs were pocked with grottos and caverns. They rose in uneven, staggered heights from the pebbled shoreline to their full height at the country club grounds. Smugglers, bootleggers, and demons had used the caves through the centuries, adding crude stairs and tunnels to the natural formations.

  Red wasn’t going spelunking today, just looking for the entrance of what was supposed to be a man-made cavern.

  Like every day, she told herself this was the day that she would find the Bard journals that Isaac had stolen before he died. Gina McGregor had meticulously researched the house fire that had killed Red’s mom, Brooke Peters. More than that, she’d investigated who the mysterious Peters family were before they moved here. Red hadn’t finished the dossier on the case to know what McGregor had found. It was the last piece of the puzzle for her.

  She had learned basically everything about her origins. She had found herself—Emma Peters. It was funny how she’d searched so long for a name she didn’t use. Her life could really begin.

  A real future.

  Still, she quested over Charm for her past, searching for a hidden cache that one of Isaac’s henchmen swore existed on the shoreline.

  She turned on a maintenance road that wove through trees to the graveyard. It looped into the quiet grounds, which, for all their eeriness, made for a pleasant bike ride.

  Even this far away from town, she could hear the pops and crackles of early home fireworks. Her fellow Americans celebrated the Fourth of July by nearly losing their thumbs with pyrotechnics.

  She ignored the fork in the path toward Ghost Beach. As she pedaled harder against the steep incline, the lane looped back into the forest. The country club came into view over the trees on a grand hill overlooking the sea. She wasn’t going that far and turned her bike onto a narrow path into the forest.

  The oaks and firs thinned to reveal a breathtaking view overlooking the Pacific. Beaming brilliantly, the sun was brighter than she had ever seen on the typically foggy coast, dispelling all the shadows. A rock monolith jutted from the sea like a finger pointing to the gods.

  Resting her bike against a tree, she drew the salty air deep into her lungs. There was always something about water that calmed her.

  One day, she would be as good as her mother at wielding the element.

  She turned on her spirit gaze to keep a lookout for auras. Like a photo filter,
rainbow-colored misty threads of ether appeared on the Charm landscape like Spanish moss. It might have been daytime, but there were more than vampires out there.

  She might not have found the journals yet, but she usually unearthed something scary or merely odd. Last time, she’d stumbled across nudist retirees playing volleyball. She respected her elders, but she didn’t need to see so much of them.

  On the beach below, a lonely figure jogged in the distance.

  Red dismissed the human as a concern and studied a rough map saved on her phone. A small terrace was supposed to be a quarter of the way down this section of the sea cliffs. It was an entrance to a man-made cave best seen from the water. However, the map claimed there was a hidden trail branching off the main one.

  She carefully picked her way down a rocky footpath worn into the bluff. It curved diagonally through the walkable patches, with periodic steps carved into sandstone when the rock face became a sheer drop. If only the stair builder had included a rail.

  Waves crashed in warning on the narrow strip of pebbles and boulders far below.

  The magic in the air felt thicker as she descended. A strange unseen mystical force brushed over her. Neutral, it wasn’t demonic, but her witchy alarms rocketed up.

  It couldn’t be.

  She had felt this once before and never again since. She couldn’t describe it then. Now, she could. It brushed over her aura like tree sap, sudden and sticky. Her steps slowed like a primordial ant in amber. The seconds stretched as she turned to retreat. If this was what she thought it was, the gang needed to know.

  Hell, maybe even the Brotherhood. They could send Hannah to help too.

  Red reached into her backpack for her phone, sighing at the somber text message from Zach that Antonio the Bigfoot had been killed by the cryptozoologist in their yard. Her heart hurt for the creature. He deserved a quiet life in the woods.

  Leaving a voice message, she replied, “I’m sorry about your little buddy. I got more bad news at the sea caves. Ask Vic about the Bethesda Group warehouse back in LA. If I’m right…well, let’s just hope I’m not. I’ll rope Stace into this one since you’re tied up. Sorry again, Zach.”