Hollywood Witch Hunter

by Valerie Tejeda

  As Knox neared The Armada his cool smile faded into a snarl and he hastened his step. “Are you kidding?” Knox bellowed. “This can’t be the new recruit!” His voice seemed unnaturally loud, even from inside the Hummer.

  “He knows I can hear him, right?” Arlo turned to Iris.

  “Just ignore him.”

  “My God,” Arlo said, pointing toward Knox. “Do all Hunters have the ‘I’m downing creatine’ look?”

  Iris chuckled. “Pretty much.”

  Iris stepped out of the Hummer and Arlo followed after her. “Knox,” Iris said. “This is the new recruit, Arlo Green.”

  Knox gave Arlo a once-over. “You sure we got the right recruit? I feel like this guy is more teen heartthrob than Hunter. Not like that’s a bad thing. I mean if it gets you—”

  “Just please don’t say ‘teen heartthrob’ again. This isn’t the eighties,” Iris quipped. “And I’m not an idiot, Knox. This is the guy. I actually think he’s going to make an excellent Hunter.”

  Arlo sent over a halfhearted wave. Knox glared at Arlo.

  “All right. We done with the stare off?” Iris said exasperatedly. “What’s with you?’

  “Dad called,” Knox said with a nervous sigh.

  “Oh god. What did he say?”

  “Well, he messed up our base jumping session, but more importantly he wants us to figure out what witch killed the actress, like immediately. And … he wants to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  “You know what it’s about.”

  Iris threw her hands up. “Great. Look, we know it’s Belinda. Let’s just go to her lair right now and confront her.”

  “Confront Belinda? At her lair? Have you lost your freaking mind, Iris?”

  “No, I haven’t,” she spat. “Plus, with the Oras in our jackets she won’t be able to spell us.”

  “The protective spells in our gear won’t work on their ground. You know that.” Knox huffed and scratched his face. “Also, Gerald Wexler is gone.”

  “Gone?” Iris squinted her eyes in confusion.

  “Yep. No one has seen him since Dad left for Wales. I asked Deacon about it, and he had nothing.”

  Gerald Wexler and his son Deacon were probably Iris’s least favorite Hunters. They looked more like twins than father and son. They were both short, blond, had loads of freckles, and were annoyingly narcissistic. But even so, it was odd for Gerald to just disappear after leaving Iris in charge today, and even more odd for his son to know nothing about it.

  Iris flared her nostrils and kicked at the ground. “Well, I’m going to the lair to confront Belinda, and Arlo is coming with me.”

  “Whhhaat?” Arlo jolted. “Do I even have a say in this?”

  “No!” Iris and Knox said in unison.

  Knox removed his sunglasses in the most Hollywood-ish of ways and stared at his sister and new recruit. He tapped his pointer finger against his chin and gazed up at the dark sky.

  “Fine, we’ll go to the lair. But Arlo stays. I’m not putting him in danger like that. He hasn’t been trained and it’s a bad tactical move.”

  Iris was silent as she contemplated her brother’s words. She had to hand it to Knox, he always put his team first. Despite his unending bravado, he was actually a pretty good leader.

  “You’re right.” Iris turned toward Arlo and forced a smile. “You’ll be totally fine here. My cousin Dex will take you to my room—”

  “Your room?” Knox shouted, shaking his hand in disapproval. “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t make it weird,” she said. Her face tightened. “I’ll stay in Mom and Dad’s room. I mean, do you really want to throw him to the wolves without us there?”

  Knox bobbed his head. “Good point.”

  As Knox texted Dex to come up, Iris moved closer to Arlo. “Just try to get some sleep, okay? Everything will make sense tomorrow.”

  “Sleep? It’s only like ten. I’m a night owl. My head won’t hit the pillow ’til around three a.m.”

  Iris grinned. She was a night owl too. “Well, you’re welcome to anything in the house. Just stay on the main level. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  A moment later, Dex marched through the front doors. Arlo’s eyes widened. “Good Lord, what are he and Knox twins?” He asked Iris.

  “No. But they’re twice as annoying when they’re together.” She chuckled.

  Iris gave Arlo one last smile before buckling herself into the passenger seat. Knox strapped himself in behind the wheel and turned the key.

  Suddenly, bright blue lightning ripped through the night sky. Iris and Knox exchanged a knowing look as another bolt wildly zigzagged its way through the darkness before striking the same place twice.

  The Hollywood Sign.

  The witches’ lair.

  Seven

  Iris propped her chin against her fist and stared out the window as she and Knox drove toward the Hollywood Sign. She felt bad for leaving Arlo behind, but it was necessary for his own protection. He’d be safe at the Fortress, but not so much in the heart of the witches’ lair.

  Iris always considered it strange that Belinda chose Hollywood’s most iconic landmark to make her home. But Belinda was as dramatic as she was beautiful.

  In the last few months, Iris had learned everything she could in the Hunters’ school about witches and religiously read The Witch Hunting Book of Stories. She memorized all known facts and protocols and intently studied their history. As it turned out, witches weren’t always as evil and diabolical as they were today. Witches didn’t take a turn for the worse until Belinda’s disgusting curse.

  Iris also discovered there were witch covens all around the world, each with its own distinct set of rules—a result of various treaties set between the local witches and Hunters. The Hollywood Coven, for instance, never sacrificed any women under the age of eighteen and typically shied away from high-profile celebrities.

  The more Iris learned, the more she grew to hate Belinda and often dreamed of taking down the dreaded queen of the Hollywood Coven with her bare hands. The thing was, Belinda was just too powerful—a skilled Ethas with spells that manipulate air. She’d been known to throw tornados, use wind to make her fly, and even suck the air out of a mortal’s lungs. She was good at her craft and had her spells down to a science.

  “I can’t believe this was freaking Belinda,” Iris vented. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dead actress. “Why? Why did it have to be Belinda?” Her hands suddenly felt clammy, and her mouth was as dry as the desert sand. “I mean, I was watching that house like crazy. My team went over the area multiple times, and you know I never miss stuff.”

  Knox reached over and gave her a pat on the bat, keeping one eye on the road. “Look, I know you’ve got mad skills. The only conclusion is that she possibly used some sort of spell that you weren’t familiar with.”

  Iris grinned. It wasn’t often she received a compliment from her brother, or any Hunter for that matter. “But how?” she asked. “Our glasses shield us. We have all the spells down.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  She hung her head. This was a bitter pill to swallow. A sharp, sour pill that just wouldn’t go down her throat. But she was determined to get answers. She had to.

  “So what’s it like in there … the lair, I mean?” Iris had never been to the witches’ den. Not many Hunters were granted access, but Knox went with his father a few months back. Iris begged them for all the details, but they stayed pretty quiet.

  “It’s hard to describe,” Knox said, nonchalantly. “But I will say this, it’s pretty trippy, even for us.”

  They parked The Armada at the bottom of the Griffith trails and set off toward the sign on foot. The witches strictly forbade any weapons inside their lair, but Iris kept her trusty golden knife tucked into the back of her pants. She never went anywhere unarmed, rules or not.

  The city lights burned in the background, casting a warm, yellow glare around Los Angeles, b
ut the trail itself was dimly lit. The Griffith trails were a hidden slice of country swallowed up by a sea of city—at least that’s how it felt to the locals. The terrain was surprisingly rugged with fifty-three miles of hiker paths zigzagging across thousands of acres of mountains, trees, and wild flowers. A cool breeze filled the sky, and the smell of musk, grass, and gardenias tickled at Iris’s nose.

  As they neared the Hollywood Sign the air became stale and icy-cold, as if they were approaching Death itself. A heavy bruma emanated from the W, roiling and bubbling like the contents of a cauldron as it crept ever so slowly down the hill. Even the trees seemed cursed. Naked and bare, they groaned and twisted toward the Hunters as they passed by, reaching down with their gnarled and broken branches. Iris shuddered and edged closer to her brother. Knox seemed unfazed.

  Through a thicket of trees in the distance came a rustling. A steady thud of footsteps was heading directly toward them. Iris narrowed her gaze and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her knife. Knox crouched slightly, ready for an attack.

  A shadowy feminine silhouette appeared through the thickening fog. Iris drew her blade, the gold winking in the twilight. Knox sucked in a breath and balled his fists.

  A moment later a jogger with a bouncing ponytail and spandex pants burst through the haze. Iris quickly hid the blade behind her back and waved as the late-night fitness guru sped by, oblivious to the impending danger lurking around her.

  Knox looked at the knife and then at his sister. Iris shrugged and deftly slipped it back into its sheath. The siblings chuckled before hopping the fence that led to the base of Hollywood’s crown jewel.

  Iris stared in awe at the towering monument. She had lived in Hollywood her entire life, but had never been this close. While mortals saw a neatly manicured and well-kept series of letters, Hunters saw the sign as it truly was—painted in the blood of human sacrifices and overgrown with thorny vines that writhed through the paneling like silent serpents, waiting to strike at any Hunter who wasn’t invited.

  “Hey!” Iris shouted, her face turning a light shade of red. “We know you see us here! Come out, you asshats!” A prickling heat crept up her neck as the adrenaline coursed through her veins.

  “Just let me handle this,” Knox said, puffing his chest. “Hey, witches. This is Knox Bently. We’re just here to talk. If you would let us in to the lair, that’d be great.”

  “Wow. Aren’t you the polite little Hunter,” Iris snickered.

  The W rumbled like an earthquake as it slowly slid backward, revealing a twisting stairwell that led to a dark under-earth abyss.

  “Look,” Knox said as he turned toward his sister. “There’s something you need to know.” He paused. “When we step into the lair, we have to go through a Protas spell first, a test they make us do for their own protection.”

  Iris’s eyes grew wide. “What kind of test?” she asked, feeling a bit uneasy.

  “An illusion. A mind game. So don’t believe anything you see in there, all right?” His tone was assertive.

  Iris nodded her head, trying to hide her confusion.

  “Oh, and Iris.” Her brother’s gaze was strong. “Don’t die.”

  “Wait.” She blinked hard. “What—”

  The fog wriggled its way toward Iris and Knox, multiplying and expanding as it drew near. Suddenly they were enveloped. Iris reached out for her brother but grabbed only a handful of bruma.

  “Great,” she muttered with disdain. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

  The bruma answered by dissolving away, settling to the ground like a sea of smoke. The fog cleared and Iris noticed the Hollywood Sign that was in front of her just a few moments ago was now gone. The dim glare emanating from the bruma provided just enough light for Iris to see she was alone in a small four-corner room with black walls and an equally black ceiling and floor. A cube of desolation.

  In the far corner Iris spotted the silhouette of a man. She sucked in a breath as he turned around to face her.

  “Dad?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?” She smiled and started to run toward him, happy to see a familiar face. But his eyes were cold, dark, and uninviting, so much so, that his look stopped Iris midstep.

  “The real question is: what are you doing here?” His voice boomed against the walls. The bruma coiled around his feet, slithering up his legs and waist as he sauntered toward Iris with a malicious grin. The edges of his body looked blurry, and he flickered slightly like the worn images from an old film reel.

  “You’ve forsaken everything it means to be a Hunter. You’re entitled and incompetent. An innocent woman was sacrificed on your watch!” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You think carrying the Hunter gene makes you one of us, but the sad truth is you’re just not good enough, Iris, and you have no right to be on this team.”

  Iris flinched and swallowed hard, fighting against the lump crawling up her tightening throat. “That’s not true!” she finally managed to get out. “I do deserve to be here! I don’t know how that actress was sacrificed but I’m going to—”

  Her father leapt across the room, quickly closing the gap between them in huge, jagged strides. He drew back his hand and slapped her across the face. Iris was flung against the wall. She sank to the ground and grabbed her stinging cheek.

  She looked at her father in abject horror. He may have lied to Iris in the past and even looked down on her for whatever reason, but he’d never raised his hand to her. He wasn’t that kind of man.

  This isn’t real. This isn’t my father. It’s just a spell, Iris reminded herself.

  She closed her eyes, focusing hard on her brother’s words. Don’t die. Don’t die.

  Her survival instincts kicked in, and Iris swiftly jumped to her feet. She grabbed her knife out of her back pocket and rushed toward her dad, reminding herself he was just a mirage. Just a test. Just a figment of her imagination. If she couldn’t die, then he had to. Killing her father was her test.

  With glassy eyes and a shaky hand, she jabbed the blade in his neck and wailed as his body dropped to the ground and disintegrated into thin air.

  Eight

  The bottom of the black room opened up into a grand, underground labyrinth carved from the bedrock. The bruma was gone. Her dad was gone.

  Iris had passed the test.

  The interior of the den was strewn with oddities from around the world. Exotic rugs and vintage paintings hung from the walls and marble support pillars. Witches clad in skimpy dresses on sofas that looked like they belonged in the Victorian era, caressing and whispering sweet nothings into the ears of eighteen-something boys who were obviously spelled. It was nothing like Iris expected.

  Standing a few feet away from her was Knox. She’d never felt so happy to see him. Iris ran up to her brother, throwing her arms around his neck and holding tight.

  “You made it,” he said as he hugged her. Iris released her hold and took a step back.

  “I did.” She sighed. “I had to kill a psycho-version of Dad.”

  Knox flinched. “Whoa. Really? That’s intense.”

  “What was your test?”

  “Um. How do I put this?” He paused. “I had to resist temptation.”

  Iris gave him a grave look.

  “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  Suddenly the room seemed overtly aware of the Bentlys’ presence and all eyes turned toward them. Iris felt completely naked even though she was fully clothed.

  “Ew. Who let you guys in?” said Levana, sitting cross-legged in a high-backed velvet chair. She was wearing a red silk blouse and tight jeans that accentuated her curves. Slithering around her right arm was a black viper caressing her caramel-brown skin like it was as sweet as sugar. The sight sent a chill down Iris’s spine. She was never a fan of Levana’s Matas spells and always hated discovering her victims. A witch was bad enough, but a witch who could summon poisonous snakes? The worst.

  “Nice to see you again too,” Iris shot back at Levana. “We’re
here to see Belinda. I’m assuming she knows we’re here, hence the creepy magic door and the spell test.”

  Levana paused, standing to her feet. “Belinda seriously let you guys in? I have a hard time believing that.”

  “Well,” Iris said, gritting her teeth. “Believe it.”

  Levana huffed and flipped her honey-brown hair. “Looks likes Belinda is full of surprises, isn’t she?” Levana smirked. “I see you still haven’t branched out with your wardrobe, Iris.” The witch looked her up and down. “You know there’s a whole world of fashion outside of Hunter gear, right?”

  Iris rolled her eyes. “Just take us to Belinda,” she ordered.

  “Your wish is my command.” Levana’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Iris and Knox followed Levana passing a series of open rooms, each with an over-size heart-shaped bed placed smack in the middle. Several were filled with witches making out with their spelled boy toys. Iris made a face of disgust, but the witches seemed too preoccupied to notice.

  Levana opened a pair of ornately decorated silver doors, exposing the throne room beyond. At the end of a rectangular stone table sat Belinda, atop a lofty chair made of silver and adorned with precious gems. In her hand she held a silver scepter, crowned with a ruby the size of a fist. She tapped it to the ground and the doors swung shut behind the Bentlys. She peered flirtatiously at Knox and licked her lips. Iris shook her head. Apparently even witches, who could spell any man they wanted, were also attracted to Knox. Figured.

  Sitting to Belinda’s right was her second in command, Anaka, a blue-eyed beauty with dirty-blond locks who originally hailed from Moscow with Ashkenazi ancestry. She was an Ethas who could control water and summon rain.

  Renpa, Belinda’s third in command and seated directly to her left, was a particularly charming witch with black hair and piercing yellow eyes. She had a delicious shade of dark brown skin, and lots of black eyeliner to boot. According to The Witch Hunting Book of Stories, Renpa lived in Egypt many years ago, where she apparently ruled alongside Cleopatra—a detail forgotten in history books. Renpa was a Matas who could summon lethal spiders at the snap of a finger. Totally gross.