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

by Sami Valentine

  It wasn’t any different from what she’d learned in LA.

  “I still don’t get it,” Red said. “What is Father Time doing here?”

  “I’m calling Fat Jake in London. This time, I’m not taking no for an answer from his son.” Vic stood and walked to the hallway door. “But first, I’m taking a leak.”

  “Too much information, my dude.”

  “You need to pay attention to the little things, Red. We have no idea what butterfly effects are at play. You burp at the wrong time, and a tornado hits Atlanta.”

  She chuckled. “That’s totally the saying.”

  “Hey, I’ve seen all the time episodes of Star Trek from the original series onward,” he said, offering his credentials. “Now, this could be a situation like in ‘Cause and Effect,’ where Picard dealt with a temporal causality loop…Hmmm, but you’re aware of the loop. Is it more like—”

  “Go pee and then figure out what TV show this is like.” Chuckling, Red waved him away, skimming through a passage about Hecate, the goddess of magic and crossroads. She sent a small prayer to the mother of witches—help me.

  Her real life had just started in so many ways. It couldn’t end so soon.

  Stace rushed from the kitchen into the war room with Olivia. They were dressed exactly as they were before, down to the barrettes in the black woman’s curly hair and the blonde’s beige dress.

  Stace hugged Red with too much half-fae strength. “Are you okay?”

  Massaging her ribs, Red smiled. “I’m alive for now. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Messing with time is God-level shit,” Olivia said instead of hello, folding her arms. “You might just be nuts.”

  Stace glowered. “Yes, you kept saying that in the car.”

  Red paraphrased the committee argument over bok choy and pizza ovens. She added, “You were ready to arm wrestle for it. Had been all morning.”

  “Not exactly a surprise,” the other witch said, snorting. “The sheriff is territorial over her scrapbook of ‘Copaganda’ ideas. What else do you got?”

  “Fine.” Red rolled her eyes, wondering how often she would argue this point before the day was done. “There were two out-of-towners at the diner. Both white women. The first might have been a hunter or at least hit the gym a lot. The other had cute bangs and was too timid to look anyone in the eye.”

  Olivia exchanged a glance with Stace. “Oh shit.”

  “Precisely,” Red said, then recounted her original Fourth of July while pointing out her movements on the framed map of the town on the wall. She flopped down at the table at the unpleasant end of the presentation. “I don’t know how we’ll extract the statue, but we need to contain it at least.”

  “Containing it might not do anything for you,” Olivia said. “If that energy glommed onto you, maybe even back in LA, then we must sever the connection.”

  “Can you see it on me?” Red asked. “I’ve got twenty-twenty vision with my third eye, and I can only see the effect the statue has on the ether. It’s invisible.”

  “I don’t feel anything different about you.”

  Stace confirmed it on her end. “Me either.”

  “I almost made an Englishman cry…” Vic strode back into the library, stopping to wave, “Oh, hey, girls. What’d I miss?”

  “A recap. Now we’re at the good stuff.” Red turned to the other witch. “Do you know the sigils to contain something like this?”

  “I’ve made prison boxes before,” Olivia said. “I guess we just draw the symbols larger. We’ll need enough powdered cold iron to make a cannonball.”

  “That will do until we get the Brotherhood on it.” Red was happy to double that order. Hoping he had done more than think about Star Trek, she asked Vic, “Did you get Crispin on the line?”

  “No, his son said he’d have him call back.” Vic rolled his eyes. They had heard that since the elderly bard returned home from a hospital stay in April. “They’ll want this once they know we have it.” He looked uncertain about the notion.

  Red knew exactly how he felt. An object that could manipulate time shouldn’t be in reach of anyone. “A lot of people will. That’s why we need to hide it. Some poor schmuck already died, and I’m not talking about me. Whoever that dead guy in the cave was, maybe he died getting the statue away from the Bethesda Group or whoever they sold it to.”

  Stace stood from the table, seeming taller than her small height should have allowed. Red’s shoulders released some of the tension that had them bunched up around her ears as the Hero took charge.

  Now the statue would be laid to rest. It had to be.

  Stace laid out their marching orders. “Okay, we gather supplies, then I can go to the cave with Olivia. We draw the symbols. Make it rain iron powder. Vic, you search the beach and turn away whoever you see. Red, once you show us the trail, get out of sight. I know you hate being—”

  Red shook her head. “I’m fine with being in the rear. I don’t ever want to go into that cave again.”

  “You won’t,” Stace promised, but the certainty in her voice didn’t reach her eyes.

  ---

  They arrived at the cliff later than Red had in the original timeline. Unless they stopped it, she’d be dead in thirty minutes.

  The Pacific waves sparkled in sublime sunlight, but the warmth was an illusion—the water was frigid. Shivering like she had taken a plunge in it, she couldn’t keep warm. Was it déjà vu or PTSD? That would be for her therapist, Dawn, to decide.

  She pointed out the trail to Stace and Olivia, grateful that her hand didn’t shake. “Go past the graffiti that says ‘O’Doyle Rules’ and look for a fern. You’ll find the hidden path to the terrace there.”

  The women descended the bluff, laden with heavy backpacks.

  Vic patrolled below.

  Red climbed an oak tree, settling on a branch with a clear view of the beach and the forest path. She used binoculars to check on him before she leaned back against the trunk. The clock on her phone counted down the time as her butt fell asleep.

  Twenty-five minutes to go. Twenty. Fifteen.

  A sharp pop echoed over the water. In this loop, she didn’t mistake it for an innocent firework. She steadied herself on the tree and lifted her binoculars.

  Down on the beach, Vic staggered, clutching his arm. His gray Metallica shirt sleeve turned black. He’d been shot.

  She scrambled down the tree, running to the bluff. “Stace, we have—”

  Red jumped up, tangled in sheets, falling off the bed, cracking her knee on the floor. Blackout curtains warded the window, but this wasn’t her bedroom in Charm. She opened the drapes.

  The Las Vegas Strip glittered in the sunshine.

  Oh fuck, when was she?

  5

  Time Loop #2 – July 3, Morning, Las Vegas, Nevada

  Pacing the hotel room, Red double-checked her phone screen for the date. She’d skipped to yesterday.

  In the original timeline, she would breakfast soon with Vic, Basil, and Hannah, then take the portal to Battle Forge. Now, she was ready to scream.

  This wasn’t a tidy Groundhog Day scenario, redoing the same day over and over. How far into the past could it boomerang her?

  She ran and pounded on Vic’s door in the luxury suite. “Wake the hell up, Constantine!”

  “Goddamn, what is it?” Vic asked, opening the door clad in boxers and a sleepy scowl.

  “I’m freaking out, but I’m not crazy. Keep that in mind.”

  He grabbed a robe and stepped out, putting it on. “I’m not going to like anything else you say, will I?”

  “You got more of a kick out of it than I did.” Red exhaled the story in a rush. “I’m stuck in an unstable time thingy. A ‘temporal causality loop’ was your phrase, stolen from Gene Roddenberry. I died in Charm twice tomorrow; now I’m here. It’s that damn Greek statue of Chronos that we found in LA. We need to figure out how it got to Oregon. Get the team. If you don’t believe me, I know you went off to gamble
and won $1,438.56.”

  “Holy shit, Red, inhale,” he snapped, alarm widening his eyes. He added softly as if he thought she’d break, “I could barely understand you, and what I caught…damn.”

  Sucking in a breath, she leaned against the wall and sank down to the floor. “Do you believe me?”

  He bundled his fluffy white robe closer to himself and sat by her. “You look like you saw your own grave, and you know how I’m paying rent this month, so yeah.”

  “I fucked up last time, Vic. You got shot in the arm,” she rambled, not caring if he comprehended. “I think whoever did it got a clean headshot on me. It might have been that jogger or that cryptozoologist. Or hell, anyone. I don’t know. One minute I was in Charm, and the next, I woke up here.”

  “Sweet Jesus, that’s how it resets?”

  “I’m on reset number two,” she said. “We need to go to the Synod, see what they’ve got. I don’t know, call Perenelle or something.”

  “We can’t spread this around. This is raw power that you’re caught in. The alchemists are good people, but they like to experiment. That statue should be dumped in the Mariana Trench and forgotten.”

  “Okay, so no alchemists. What about the Brotherhood?” Red asked. “You tried to get ahold of Fat Crispin in the future. Try again.”

  “Stay steady, intern.” Vic patted her shoulder. “We’ll have Basil and Hannah here. The soul man can do his thing, see if this magic is attached to you.”

  “First, you put on pants. I’ll text them and make coffee.” She shrugged off her unease when he returned wearing the same Led Zeppelin shirt he had chosen on the original July 3.

  The arrival of Basil and Hannah in their same breakfast outfits (a gray suit for him and a black hoodie for her) made more than a sartorial statement. Would anyone act differently unless Red deviated from the original timeline?

  She explained as concisely as she could, expecting more pushback and concern for her sanity. “Not much shock and surprise from the peanut gallery?”

  Basil scoffed. “Bizarre things happen to you. When you have a normal day, I’ll be more impressed.”

  Hannah grinned. “You’re always doing something cool.”

  Vic cut in, “We need to keep this on the down-low. This thing must have been trading hands for a while, maybe centuries. It’s hot goods.”

  “No Gendarme. Not yet,” Red agreed. “I already did the 101 research in the last time loop. We need the academy library.”

  Hannah nodded. “I can totally help. Me and Lee are tight. There is a patron-librarian confidentially thing, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t give ’em too many clues, kid,” Vic warned.

  The teen scowled. “I’m good undercover.”

  “You got this,” Red assured and then turned to Basil. “Do you mind? Research instead of breakfast?”

  He grinned. “I have faculty access to the restricted section.”

  “Let’s get a bagel on the way,” Vic said, grabbing his denim jacket. “All this sci-fi stuff is making me hungry.”

  “It’s very paranormal.” Hannah put her nose in the air, striding out of the hotel suite. “This statue is obviously an object imbued with an enchantment.”

  Red followed down the hallway with the guys behind them. “It’s more like a primal power. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  “Ooh, I want to see it,” the teen witch said, entering the elevator.

  “You don’t. I swear.” Red held the door for Vic and Basil.

  “What about Kristoff?” Vic asked. “His buddy Nedda is a director in the Dark Veil Assurance. Get her to run a search on the Bethesda Group and any shell companies. I remember Cora Moon mentioning a few.”

  “They had weirdly religious names,” Red said. “I’ll shoot him a text.”

  Basil’s lips thinned at the conversation’s turn. He had a lot of reasons to hate vampires, and he avoided them as a rule, but this antipathy against Kristoff was more than caution.

  “Do you sense anything on my soul, Basil?” she asked, instead of her real question, which was what he had against her boyfriend.

  He touched her shoulder, closing his eyes. “No.”

  “Anything on my aura?” Red asked the other witch.

  “Someone wrote ‘wash me on the back,’ but that’s it,” Hannah smirked. “You’re fine, chakras and all.”

  “Keep an eye on it then,” Red said.

  Vic suggested, “Maybe we can borrow one of those doohickeys the alchemists use to check auras.”

  “Sweet,” the teen said. “I get to steal stuff.”

  “Ideally, borrow.” Red half-assed at being a good influence. “But I’m not your boss.”

  “I am.” Basil nodded judiciously. “And I’ll allow it.”

  “This is why we love you.” Red shot him a sappy grin and led the way from the elevator, marching down to the casino floor.

  Hannah blushed and squeaked, lips trembling in horror. “It’s Jeremy!” She looked around and grabbed Vic’s arm. “Kiss me or something.”

  Vic snorted. “What? No.”

  “Come on,” she wheedled. “I don’t want him to see me. This is what they do in movies.”

  “Children,” Basil sighed.

  “Have fun with this.” Red shook her head with a giggle and kept walking. She passed a yellow floor sign and a handyman on a ladder.

  He repaired a large reproduction of the iconic Las Vegas sign. Hanging from a ceiling track, the bulbs were dim and dusty in the heavy metal frame. He leaned to reached inside its wired depths. The sign lurched in a shower of sparks. Supports breaking, it rolled out of the technician’s grip.

  Red only had time to fling up her arms.

  Time Loop #3 – July 3, Morning, Las Vegas, Nevada

  Red groaned, waking with jagged breath in the darkened hotel room, and covered her eyes. She’d been smushed like a cartoon character under an anvil. Either you laughed, or you cried. She did both.

  On trembling legs, she got up to open the curtains to the harsh Nevada sun.

  “Okay, let’s try this again.”

  ---

  Red gathered her friends, streamlined the exposition, and hustled them to the library. They took a different way this time, with a warning to a maintenance person.

  She didn’t release her paranoia until they had passed under the great banyan in the academy.

  The library’s vaulted ceiling and stained-glass windows gave it the aura of a cathedral to knowledge. It was the largest occult book collection in the West. There had to be something here.

  Hannah directed them away from the crowded tables of studying alchemists and into the stacks. “This is the mythology section. I guess we start here.”

  Vic grabbed a book on primordial Greek gods and waved another at Basil. “The teacher has homework now.”

  “Ha-ha,” Basil said, deflecting the book. “There are secluded tables on the other side.”

  “I’ll grab one before these nerds beat us to it.” Vic trooped off.

  Red checked for eavesdroppers before saying, “I think Hannah is right that the statue is a conduit or an anchor for the energy. Something must be powering it for it to constantly radiate that much force.”

  “Could it have been triggered?” Basil asked. “You could find the off switch then.”

  “That’d be awesome,” Red said. “But when I first saw it, an entire warehouse had been turned into a prison box to contain it. Why wasn’t it switched off then?”

  “It probably can’t be.” Hannah considered. “If they’re channeling this much Chronos energy, the statue must be for more than storage. Most witches work with one or two deities in their spells. It adds spice, but the gods don’t actually throw their weight into it.”

  “Unless you get their attention,” Red said.

  Isaac Gruber had sacrificed a lot of humans to the underworld gods, but eventually one had helped him open a Blood realm portal. That god had been unseen and distant in the cosmos. The statue of Chronos
was very much in their world.

  “This isn’t introductory magic,” Basil said. “I doubt we’ll find anything in a mythology book either. Follow me.” He took them to the farthest corner of the stacks. A single velvet rope looped around two bare bookshelves standing alone. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

  Lee, androgynous in a bowtie and cardigan, appeared from nowhere and hustled over as if alerted by an invisible alarm. Out of breath, round cheeks red, the nonbinary librarian pushed up their glasses. “Hannah, I thought we had a deal about you hanging around here. This section is only for faculty and the Synod.”

  Basil stepped forward. “She is my teaching assistant. I need help browsing a topic; not quite sure what I am looking for yet.”

  “I’ll help instead!” Lee said brightly, walking to the velvet rope and lowering it for the soulmancer.

  Basil whispered to Red, “I’ll do my best.”

  He walked through the rope and disappeared completely with Lee as if under an invisibility cloak. The two shelves looked empty as ever. Dust motes shone in a sunbeam between them.

  Time felt like a living entity to Red, and it crawled. Checking her phone didn’t make it move faster.

  She paced around the velvet rope before leaning under a portrait of Perenelle Flamel. The Immortal Alchemist was painted in dreamy impressionist pastels with her late husband, Nicholas. Both had startlingly violet eyes.

  “How often have you tried to get in there?” Red asked to stop herself from peering at Hannah’s wristwatch.

  “Ugh, that rope will fling you back, then the librarians swarm you. Not all of them are as nice as Lee.” Hannah frowned, rubbing her hands together. “Can I ask you what it’s like to die, or is that too uncomfortable?”