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

by Sami Valentine

  The time phenomenon stuff could wait until morning.

  Thirsty, she bounced away to find another waitress. A fun pop song lured her to the nearby Baba Yaga pub, which simulated a divey bar, minus the grime. Surrendering to the music, Red danced in the short line for the bartender. Why hadn’t she decided to get wasted before? Slurping a margarita, she felt worlds better about her lot as she returned to Vic.

  When she saw his face, she was glad she’d remembered to get him a beer. She handed it to the glum hunter at the blackjack table. She eyed the new woman dealer shuffling cards. “Shift change?”

  “I wasn’t so lucky with this one.” He took a long gulp of the IPA. “Now I’m in the hole, but I can win it back.”

  “Oh.” Red was prepared to console him when a commotion on the other side of the room drew her eye.

  A plague doctor sprinted too quickly between the machines to be a regular janitor. The interloper must have gotten out of the Gendarme’s grip.

  She set her margarita on the table and stepped onto a chair, waiting until the vampire was under a hanging replica of the Las Vegas sign.

  “Miss, I must ask you to sit down,” the dealer said.

  Red honed her focus with her mother’s ring and yanked on the sign with a tug of air. Tomorrow a maintenance man was scheduled to repair it. Now the structure was weak. It dropped on the vampire, pinning him to the ground. Pandemonium broke out as gamblers jumped up, pointing and yelling.

  Red, unnoticed by the dealer dazed by the grisly distant scene, slipped off the chair onto her feet and calmly sipped her drink. Noticing Vic’s look of horror, she leaned in to whisper. It came out louder than she intended. “It’s just a vamp—”

  He pulled her away from the table. “Hey, hello, the Dark Veil is still a thing. Are you really that drunk?”

  “It’s an umpire. I mean vampire. Must be one of Gary’s.” Red covered a hiccup. “I saw him earlier, but he must have escaped from the bowler hats. Now they got him.”

  “Ooh, let’s gawk,” Vic said, creeping to the action with the excitement of a gossip watching cops arrive at a neighbor’s house.

  Gendarme agents surrounded the carnage, ordering the onlookers away as others inspected the vampire. Only a plague mask and a pale hand stuck out from the heavy vintage sign. Crouching, Ian pulled a syringe out of his pocket, injecting the vampire, shielding the action from view. Two medics, alchemy symbols on their uniform, raced in with a stretcher.

  Casino staff redirected gamblers to less bloody ground. A woman in a pointed witch hat approached the hunters. “Please enjoy these drink vouchers at the Nostradamus Lounge.”

  “I know these guys,” Red said, pointing with her cup.

  “I must insist—”

  “She’s fine,” Ian interrupted, dismissing the faux-witch. He waited for the woman to hustle someone else along. Behind him, the sign levitated high enough for the vampire to be tugged out by the medics. A cleaning crew in black perched on the sidelines like a murder of crows. Ian continued, “Ortega said you found the leech. This is the second time tonight he gave us the slip.”

  Red eyed his quick-moving squad. “I get the feeling you would have found him without me.”

  “Au contraire.” Vic wagged a finger at her, then leaned toward Ian, speaking out of the side of his mouth. “I think she should be rewarded with casino credit toward a blackjack game. Seems fair.”

  Ian snorted a dry laugh and pointed out another Gendarme. “I think it can be arranged. Go talk to the rookie over there.”

  “Thanks, Ian.” Red smiled, then waved her friend on. “I’ll leave the reward collection to you, Vic.”

  “I’m on my way,” he vowed and practically skipped away as if newfound winnings tumbled through his mind.

  “Gary isn’t striking tonight,” Red said to Ian. “Either that was a scout or a distraction. The real fight is tomorrow, I think.” Behind her drink, she hid a smile at his mild shock. He reined it in quickly. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t the information itself; it was that she knew it. “Now, I’m sure you already suspect what he’s up to, right?”

  Ian glanced around and led her from the other Gendarme. “Did your vampire friends tell you anything?”

  “Didn’t need to. I figured it out, saw some stuff. Long story, really.” She shrugged, world wobbling at the motion. Tipsy hunger pinched her stomach. The smell of baking doughnuts beckoned her. “Best forgotten. We should get snacks.”

  “This is war, Red.” He took the margarita away from her. “If you know something, you need to tell me.”

  “You’ll win. That’s comforting, right?” She pivoted to dart off for a sugary treat.

  Ian grabbed her arm, releasing her quickly once he had her attention. “You were waiting for that vampire to get under that sign. Why? What do you know?”

  “I can tell you the story better if I have some food.” Red steered the interrogation to the doughnut shop.

  Vic had told her something, but she couldn’t think of it. The vague warning couldn’t drown out her hunger.

  Once nibbling on a bear claw, she felt like story time. She said between bites, “I’m just passing through. Repeatedly. Entirely separate from your business here. Really. One of those unstable temporal causality loops caused by old Greek statues, you know. It’s an Oregon thing, like not being able to pump your own gas. In conclusion, pretty wack.” She frowned at herself. “Do the kids even say wack anymore?”

  Ian asked sympathetically, “You’ve been in this a while, haven’t you?”

  Reality seeped through the tequila in her belly. She wiped the sugar crumbs off her upper lip and nodded.

  “The Synod can free you. Why don’t we head to the academy now, and I can get one of the brains on it?” He raised his eyebrow. “Maybe get you some coffee first.”

  She perked up. “Hey, we can wake Hannah too.”

  “It’s a school night, so we’ll play it by ear,” Ian said, guiding her out of the doughnut shop to a small hallway with a floor-length mirror.

  They stepped through it into a stone corridor that emptied into the open foot of a tower dominated by a giant brass staircase. Ten floors of dormitories rose unseen above. It had been Red’s first sight of the academy.

  Darius Jefferson, the First Alchemist on the Synod, paced the end of the hall. Gray dreadlocks flowed over his monk-like robes. Concentration deepened the wrinkles on his dark-skinned face.

  “What’s he doing here?” Red asked, misjudging the volume of her whisper again. “Is it about that vamp scout?”

  Ian took a fortifying inhale and strode forward as Jefferson peered at them. “Wait here.”

  She shrugged, wishing she still had her margarita. He had dumped it. Damn cops were all buzzkills—even the magic kind.

  Already growing bored, she wandered over to a green man carved into the stone wall. It was new, replacing the usual tapestries. The academy’s décor was constantly shifting, which she had first assumed was whimsy. There was a method to their madness. It was to keep the floor plan confusing to outsiders. Some doorways disappeared at will, but the walls generally stayed in place. She’d walked this passage nearly every day for weeks, learning most of its secrets. Including its strange acoustics. If you stepped on the right flagstone on a tapestry-free day, the empty tower amplified whoever was speaking at the mouth of the hall.

  She inched to the side, feeling out the spot.

  Ian’s voice carried to her ear. “She doesn’t seem credible now, but I believe her about this object. She’s trapped in its spell.”

  “If what you say is true,” the First Alchemist said, “Then you might have won us this war. O’Sullivan has a secret weapon, and now so will we.”

  “You can’t possibly—I mean, sir. It appears volatile, maybe uncontrollable.”

  “And we have a legion of scholars to unlock its secrets. Sober the hunter up and get on a jet to retrieve it.” Jefferson’s expression turned thoughtful. “Is Charm anywhere near Coyote Creek in Oregon?”<
br />
  Vic had found Red on the banks of that creek nearly two years ago. With little known outside the region, how had the First Alchemist heard of it? Red stopped breathing, trying to be quiet as possible to catch every word.

  “Hours away,” Ian replied. “Isn’t that where Flamel disappeared to on her last visit? Said it was a research trip. Sir, do you think she knew of this statue—”

  “What the Immortal does is her concern…even if it makes a man wonder. Regardless, I want that statue.”

  “We need to free the witch first—” Ian noticed her stare. “She heard us.”

  Red bolted back through the mirror into the casino, weaving through the slot machines to the blackjack tables. The First Alchemist’s order might as well have been a cup of coffee, cutting through the liquor to make her focus. She would have happily turned over the statue before she learned he planned to make it a weapon.

  Vic spotted her and crowed, “I’m back on top! And I just got the number of this Zoey Deschanel lookalike. Hottie with hipster glasses and bangs. Where—”

  Frantic, she waved her arms to cut him off. “We need to go. I did the exact thing you told me not to, and you were right!”

  His face fell, paused in mid drink. “You called Lucas? Never phone an ex when you’re drunk.”

  Red tugged him from the table. “Not the now you, the you from before.”

  Vic quirked his head at her, taking his arm back. “Huh? The me from—”

  She nudged him onward. “Never mind. Where’s the van?”

  “We used the academy valet to have the Falcon ready for the portal tomorrow. I don’t even have the key. What’s going on?”

  “I told Ian about that freaky Chronos statue in LA, and the Gendarme are after me now.”

  He did a double take and dropped his beer. “They are?”

  Red didn’t let him stop to retrieve it, power walking through the casino. “Trust me when I say we need to motor. We need taxis…Oh shit, Gary has his people out tonight.” She tried to think over her racing heart.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like and trust the alchemists in general, but the Synod was more desperate than she’d realized. Whatever Gary was packing, they were freaked. Curious and cornered was a dangerous combination for this breed.

  Ortega appeared from a bathroom up ahead, bone-dry hands proof that she hadn’t used the facilities. She was patrolling. Ian would have told his partner first. Once she turned around, she’d see the hunters.

  Drawing on her magic, Red narrowed her eyes at a full ashtray at a slot machine yards ahead of Ortega. The cigarette butts flamed up, smoke billowing from them. The agent trotted over to the conflagration.

  Red pulled Vic into a screening chamber with dozens of TV screens showing different sporting events and races. She gestured to a supply closet off to the side. “In here.” This door was a trickster, but a third of the time it opened into the parking lot. She stepped through and bit back a curse.

  She was back in the dormitory tower!

  Right back where she’d started, but seven floors up in a hallway off the giant staircase. Shit. What was she even doing? She was fit for drunken dancing to Britney Spears, not planning an escape from a magical fortress.

  Red declared, “Okay, we need a designated hero. Hannah can get us out of here. At least, she has a car and is sober enough to drive it.”

  Vic scouted ahead to the aloof walkway connecting the hall to the stairs. He flagged her forward. Perching ravens on the walkway rails cooed at their approach. More nested in the ceiling beams.

  He asked, “Why are we leaving again?”

  She trotted up the steps toward Hannah’s room on the top floor with the other novices. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I just wanted a break from this treadmill of fate. I found that—”

  “Watch out!” Vic pointed to the ground too late.

  Red had already slipped on bird shit, falling backward.

  Instinct summoned her magic. She tried to lasso air around a rail post to catch herself. Her concentration was 100 percent, but her strength splintered. Arms flailing, she rolled down the stairs. Her neck landed wrong.

  The crunch was deafening in her ears until the darkness stole all sound.

  She flopped over in her hotel bed to face the bedside clock. 7:30 a.m. on the dot. Routine settled on her even as the expected hangover didn’t. Breathing deep, she opened the curtains, staring unflinchingly into the bright shimmer of morning Las Vegas.

  What had she learned? Keep the Alchemists out of her business. Her drunken escapade had satisfied that urge completely.

  A small smile tugged at her scowl. She’d also learned how to conjure fire. The triumph faded. Her last attempt to save herself with air-powered telekinesis had floundered. It wasn’t just the alcohol weakening her. Her magical muscles were weak. She didn’t have the stamina, even if her instincts were right.

  Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she pointed her ring finger at the alarm clock. She levitated it up and down like bicep curls for her magic. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the time.

  Time Loop #33 – July 3, Early Evening, South of Reno, Nevada

  Red clutched the steering wheel as the Millennium Falcon burst through the portal into a barnyard outside Reno. Twilight hung on the horizon. She didn’t let up the gas as the van touched down with a squeal.

  Vic glanced behind him. “The Gendarme—”

  “They’re too busy with Gary O’Sullivan by now and won’t notice we took the wrong portal, I promise you. I needed a change anyway. We’ll mail those books back.” She turned onto a country road, memory guiding her from their trip to trap the Lopes Pack. Back in the day when time moved like it should. “We’re not far from Tony in Tahoe. We’ll switch seats at his place. I need to study how to create a containment box strong enough for Chronos. I kept getting interrupted on this one chapter in the last loop, and it’s driving me nuts.”

  “That’s kind of out of the way,” he said dryly. “And Tony, like everyone else, thinks you’re dead.”

  “Oh, we’ll give him a Twilight Zone moment, but he might know something. We’ll pump him for information.” Red smiled, lying through her teeth.

  It took over an hour until they arrived at Tony’s ranch. She waited for Vic to get out of the van before peeling out.

  She picked up his call after a few miles. “Hey, buddy, sorry about the grand theft auto.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Keeping you out of this. I’m already behind schedule. Say hi to the gang for me.” She hung up.

  By 3 a.m., she’d reached Eugene, Oregon. She stopped for snacks at a gas station, deliberating on carrying on or finding a place to take a nap in the van. She decided to continue.

  A tree woke her later.

  Time Loop #60 – July 3, Morning, Las Vegas, Nevada

  Red levitated the padded stool in the corner, lifting it up to the ceiling and setting it down when Vic opened the door. She smiled. “You’re right on schedule. I was deciding on breakfast. I’m getting the huevos rancheros this time.”

  “And you thought to rearrange the furniture beforehand?”

  “Check this out.” She pointed to a candle on the dresser. The wick erupted in a tidy flame.

  Vic clapped. “That’s awesome! When’d you figure that out?”

  “That’s not my only trick,” she said. “What I’m going to tell you next will blow your mind…”

  ---

  Red had eggs that morning, oatmeal with blueberries the next, then marmalade on toast. She moved down the buffet line with each new loop. It was as close as she had to pleasant variety.

  Hope or stubbornness kept her on her to-do list—alerting Zach, ordering iron powder from the magic shop, texting Kristoff for intel and more little details—to prepare for her marble foe. She’d planned different highway routes, even a few plane rides. It didn’t matter. Each morning began with a magical workout in Vegas, and the night ended somewhere along a lonely Oregon
highway.

  Sisyphus had his boulder; she had the Millennium Falcon.

  7

  Time Loop #84 – July 3, Morning, Las Vegas, Nevada

  Another morning, another loop.

  Red drank a mimosa through a swirly novelty straw in the high-rise hotel at the Circe Casino. Wrapped in a bathrobe, she sat cross-legged on the living room floor. A coffee and a box of doughnuts rested by her hip.

  The Oregonian newspaper opened on its own in front of her. Using her mother’s ring to flip hands-free through the pages was a lazy way to check off her daily elemental magic practice. More papers were stacked in a barricade behind her.

  The suite was more window than wall, so she could see for miles.

  Las Vegas was harder and sharper in daylight. A traffic accident blocked Tropicana Avenue as drivers ambled toward it unknowingly. Most were too late for a detour. They’d be stuck for an hour. Or maybe they were like her, perpetually looping. Only they were unaware. No one else noticed the anomaly until she told them.

  Lucky ducks.

  Vic walked out of his bedroom, yawning and already dressed. Ruffling his hair, he stopped when he spotted her. “Where’d all this come from?”

  “I called room service for socially acceptable breakfast booze. There’s plenty in the fridge.” She frowned at her cold, half-empty mug of coffee. “Need more java though.”

  “And they brought you every newspaper in the country too?” He inspected one. “Did something particularly interesting happen in Duluth today?”

  “More than you think, but not what I was looking for. Trying to find a pattern…” She sipped her drink, squinting down at the city. Every time she looped back, she had a little more foresight, more knowledge. For all the good it had done her so far.

  “Fill me in because you’re creeping me out with that million-yard stare. Usually, people look perkier with a mimosa.” Vic winced as if forcing himself to ask, “Is this because you saw Lucas last night?”

  Startled, Red laughed. “I’ve been having the same conversations with you over and over, but that always feels like a fresh take.” She repressed her manic giggles as his expression grew more alarmed. “Honestly, I haven’t had a chance to think much about him, which is kinda funny considering how much time I’m swimming in.”