Hollywood Witch Hunter

by Valerie Tejeda

  “Melrose Academy? Oh no.” Silos shook his head. “I’m far too old for high school.”

  Iris huffed before taking another sip of coffee. “You don’t look too old,” she said, examining his smooth face.

  “Well, technically I’m eighteen.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but that makes you just over a year older than me,” Iris said with some attitude. “Also, eighteen is not too old for high school.” She squinted her eyes. Weirdo, she thought to herself.

  “Well, when it comes down to it, I think I just find high school to be rather dull.” He paused. “The drama, the cliques, it’s one big popularity contest. Not my style.”

  Finally something they agreed on.

  “So, you from Scotland?”

  “Aye. What gave me away?” he cooed in a flirtatious tone.

  “Besides your accent? I don’t know,” Iris said pensively. “You just don’t seem like you’re from here.”

  He beamed with pride. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Iris’s face dimmed. “Okay. Enough chatting,” she asserted. “About these visions—”

  “That’s right,” he interrupted. “The real reason you’re here.” Silos leaned forward, placing his hands on the table.

  “Yes,” Iris snapped back. “I’m not here for coffee and conversation. I don’t even know you.”

  Silos flinched. “Ouch,” he laughed, scratching his chin. “Well now, here we are, getting to know each other. Fancy that.”

  “Look,” Iris said, crossing her arms. “I just want to know what you’re seeing and when it started.”

  “All right.” He held out his hand. “Ladies first.”

  “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “The vision started yesterday,” she explained, matter-of-factly. “I haven’t had one yet today, but it basically starts with me at the Hollywood Cemetery and then a bunch of crap starts happening.”

  “Crap?” Silos snickered. “Is that how you would describe being left in the bitter cold with rain pouring down your face after a witch throws your body against a tombstone, and cracks open your skull?”

  “Yes. Crap.” She tilted her head and grabbed her coffee, biting at the straw as she sipped on the iced beverage.

  “You’re something, Iris.” He took off his glasses and peered at her with his baby blues. Iris quietly gasped. Silos had the most breathtaking eyes she’d ever seen. They glistened like a diamond in the early morning sun. The blue reminded her of the shallow water of the Cayman sea. Clear as crystal. Invigorating.

  She blushed as her body tingled in places she didn’t know existed. She instinctively looked away.

  “So,” she asked, still glancing the opposite direction. “Why do you think this is happening to us?”

  “To be honest, love, I’m not sure.” His voice sounded sincere. “But I do know this,” he said as he leaned over the table. “There’s something strange going on in Hollywood, Iris,” he whispered in her ear. “Something sinister and possibly even magical.” He lingered in front of her face. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  Iris’s chest rose. “I—”

  She jumped at the sound of her phone. It was an alarm she had set to remind her to get back to the Fortress in time for her meeting with her father.

  “Dammit,” she spat, hopping to her feet. She quickly downed the last of her iced coffee. “Thanks for the drink.” She held out her hand to shake his. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight.

  “It was my pleasure,” he said with a smile. “Another time, then?”

  “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.” Iris smirked before turning her heel and walking down the street toward The Armada.

  Silos, she thought as she walked away. He’s trouble.

  But Iris was never afraid of a little trouble.

  Eleven

  Iris paced back and forth inside her father’s office, anxiously awaiting his call. She just wanted to get it over with and move on with her already strange day.

  Facing Max Bently was like facing a lion in the wild. He was majestic on the outside, but ready to kill at any moment. It was easy to see why he intimidated so many people.

  What seemed like hours later, the computer screen lit up, notifying Iris of an incoming message. She straightened out her shirt, stood up straight.

  “Hey, Dad!” Iris said, waving at the screen. She could feel the sweat forming on her brow.

  Her father’s face was flat and his brown eyes looked worn and tired. His short hair was all over the place, and Iris wondered if he forgot to take a comb with him to Wales. It wasn’t like her dad to look unkempt.

  “Hey honey, how are you?” her dad said. His voice was steady, but dry.

  “I’m doing okay. Yesterday was crazy but—”

  “Iris,” he interrupted her. “How did a witch get past you?”

  Iris struggled to find her breath. She tried to reply but the words died on her lips. There was nothing to say. She knew she had messed up big time. And now she was completely deflated.

  “Iris? I’m not trying to be curt, but I need to treat you like I would any other Hunter.” He paused for a brief moment. “So tell me. What happened?”

  “I … uh …” She searched her mind for answers, but the truth of the matter was, she didn’t have any. “I … don’t know,” she said honestly.

  Her dad let out a loud breath and put his face in his hand. “I’m not going to lie, Iris. The board members are furious; they think you may not be ready to stay in the field. We need to get some answers here.”

  Not ready to stay in the field? His words were like taking a bullet. Actually, Iris would have rather taken a bullet. With her heightened ability to heal and the recovery injections they had at the Fortress, she would have survived a bullet with no problem. His words cut much deeper.

  “We’re going to figure this out, Dad.” She gulped, wiping her clammy palms on her pants. “I promise.”

  “Good. Let me know when you find something.”

  “Okay, I will,” she said, tightening her jaw.

  The screen went black and Iris stormed out of the office and down the hall, crashing into Arlo in the process. Her gaze was glued to his tight white T-shirt, and she felt her cheeks turn rosy. Between Arlo and Silos, Iris had been blushing a lot in the last twenty-four hours.

  “Well, good morning to you too,” he said with a grin.

  She finally found his eyes but quickly looked away. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention at all,” she said, embarrassed.

  “Hey, it’s no big deal,” he replied with a dismissive wave. “Are you all right?”

  Before she could get out the words, Knox joined them in the hall. “Well, if it isn’t my little sister and the new recruit. What a surprise,” he said with a wry smirk.

  Iris gave him the look of death. She wasn’t in the mood to be teased.

  “So, Arlo,” Knox started, changing the subject. Iris assumed her brother had picked up on how pissed she was. “You ready to see the Bently Fortress’s infamous underground facility?”

  “I’m ready.” Arlo paused. “I mean, apparently I have the hunting gene, right? I’m thinking I’ll be a Hunter for a while and then pursue my music dreams later. It’s a pretty badass plan, if I do say so myself.”

  “Wow. Going from Hunter to rock star. That is a stellar plan,” Iris said sarcastically.

  “Win-win.” Arlo smirked.

  But something about this didn’t feel right to Iris. How could Arlo be so okay with becoming a Hunter? She expected a fight today, or even another round of convincing him after his apprehensiveness yesterday.

  “All right, kid, let’s get this freaking show on the road, then,” Knox said, slapping Arlo on the back.

  “Kid?” Arlo whispered to Iris. “Aren’t he and I the same age?”

  “Just let it go,” she replied, shaking her head. “Trust me.”

  Knox and Iris led Arlo on a tour of their vast mansion, educating him about witches i
n the process. Knox told Arlo how witches were cursed, thanks to Belinda, and how they rapidly aged at eighteen, requiring the sacrifice of shallow, beautiful, young female victims to sustain their beauty and youth.

  “See, that’s why the biggest coven is here in Hollywood, Arlo,” Knox explained. “They need to be here to survive. What better place to find young, hot, shallow women? And we’ve learned that sometimes they go after beautiful people who may not be shallow, just so they can say they nailed them.”

  “You mean like a trophy lay?” Arlo asked. “I remember all these assholes at my school going after the popular girls just so they could say they ‘did’ them.”

  “Ha! Yeah. Same concept.” Knox chuckled. “I’m guessing the actress killed yesterday was a trophy kill. She was a nice girl.”

  Iris felt stinging acid creep up her throat. That made her death even more unbearable.

  “But,” Knox continued. “There are witches in other cities too. Mostly urban places like New York and Paris—and of course there are a few where they found you, San Francisco.”

  “San Francisco? So that wasn’t just a fluke?”

  “No,” Knox said. “But it most likely was just a nomad witch passing through.”

  Arlo had a concerned look on his face. “They wouldn’t sacrifice my family, would they?” he asked worriedly. “My mom and sister are still in Sonoma and my cousin Jaco lives in S.F.”

  “Well, they never sacrifice men. They don’t get any years for that,” Iris said. “Plus, they want the beauty. They wouldn’t want to risk getting a mustache or beard,” she joked.

  “Oh. Phew,” Arlo said. “But there’re no guy witches, huh?”

  “Nope. Well, there used to be warlocks back in the day, but they’re extinct now,” Iris explained.

  “So anyway,” Knox said, getting back to business. “That’s why we Bentlys have been hunting witches since the sixteenth century—to protect humans.” His voice was filled with pride. “And once Belinda’s curse took effect, the Hunters set up camp here in Hollywood.”

  “But why go to all that trouble if some of the humans they are sacrificing are horrible?” Arlo inquired. “I mean, sure, shallow brats don’t deserve to be murdered by witches, but is it ever hard to want to protect people who are awful to begin with?”

  “Well. Why do soldiers go to war? Why do cops enforce the law?” Knox asked rhetorically. “Sure, some of the people they’re protecting are the scum of the earth, but that’s not the point. The point is to protect our species from the greater evil. And these witches are definitely the greater evil.”

  They came to an abrupt stop in front of an ornately engraved, golden door at the end of the hall.

  “You ready to see what only a handful of humans know exists?” Knox asked with a devious grin.

  Iris swallowed hard as a mixture of fear and excitement surged through her body. She knew that once Arlo walked through that threshold his life would change in ways he could never imagine. And suddenly, she felt worried for him.

  “Yes. I’m ready,” said Arlo, a slight tremor in his voice.

  “Iris, you want to do the honors?”

  Iris pressed her palm against the scanner. A blue light flashed beneath her hand, chirping happily as it read her prints.

  “It’ll only open for Bentlys,” Iris said, turning to Arlo.

  Identity verified, the locks retracted with a clack and the massive door swung open to reveal a gold staircase leading to the underbelly of the Bently Fortress.

  “Why all the gold?” Arlo asked.

  “Witches are allergic to gold. It gives them nasty burns if they come into contact with it. And in a highly purified concentration, it kills them,” said Knox.

  Knox reached into his pocket and handed Arlo a small dart. “This is a tox. We use these little babies in all our weapons instead of bullets. It took some trial and error, but our ancestors eventually figured out how to kill these awful demons but not hurt us mortals. What you’re holding there represents the culmination of hundreds of years of knowledge wrapped into a single, deadly, witch-killing package.” Knox pointed to the tox. “The tox won’t hurt a human, but colloidal gold in the dart will drop a witch dead. We also have gold knives that are pretty sick too. Iris is like a knife-throwing expert.”

  Iris stood a little taller. She appreciated the compliment from her brother. It had been a rough couple of days.

  “Will one dart do?” Arlo asked, peering at the weapon.

  “Depends,” said Knox. “The more powerful the witch, the more tox we need.”

  While the exterior of the Bently Fortress was inconspicuous and quiet, underneath, it bustled with covert activity. The underground cellar looked like a fully functional CIA facility, complete with a dozen headset-wearing agents working at their assigned stations and an array of large monitors hanging from the walls. Head shots of women and maps of various countries flashed intermittently across the screens. They were tracking witches from across the world in cities like Milan, Hong Kong, and Sao Paulo.

  Suddenly, an alarm blared and flashing red lights dropped from the ceiling.

  “Got another one,” an agent called out, pulling up a picture on the main screen.

  “Another one? Already? Where’s she located?” asked Knox, turning his attention to the monitors.

  “Venice, Italy,” the agent replied.

  “Tag her, put her in the system, and contact the Italian Branch,” Knox ordered. “And shut off that damn alarm.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The witches have a core temperature of one hundred six degrees, giving them a unique heat signature,” Knox explained. “If any untagged witch is picked up by our thermal imaging satellites, the information is instantly routed here for sorting and processing.”

  “There are hundreds of Hunters gathered in different branches across the globe,” Iris explained, “but this facility is the main hub for all major decisions. We’re kind of like the White House in our world. Nobody makes any major move without contacting the W.H.O. first. And I’m not talking about the World Health Organization. Our focus is on witches, not the flu. The W.H.O. stands for Witch Hunting Organization.”

  Arlo nodded his head and squinted his gaze. Iris hoped he wasn’t too overwhelmed.

  “Over there is our underground shooting range.” Knox pointed to his left.

  “An underground gun range, huh? That’s pretty sweet,” Arlo mused, staring at the paper targets.

  “We wanted to put it aboveground, but that would never fly,” Iris explained. “People in Hollywood aren’t exactly fond of guns, unless it’s for movies. And since our guns don’t look any different, no one would know they were not a threat. We do have an aboveground archery range though.”

  “Have you ever shot a bow before?” Knox added.

  “No.” Arlo shrugged his shoulders. “But I’ve always wanted to.”

  “Well, good,” Knox said flatly, pausing as if in deep thought before continuing. He suddenly started off again, with Arlo and Iris in tow. Arlo stared as they strolled past the workstations and into another section. The Fortress was a city unto itself. There were sleeping quarters, a weapons room that was stocked with assorted, lethal goodies, and a large door with a red cross on it with “MEDICAL” written underneath in bold, plain lettering. They passed another room that had an expansive glass window that took up almost the entire wall. Inside were men in white lab coats, carefully measuring beakers full of smoking concoctions.

  “This place is really amazing,” Arlo said, as they reached the very normal looking kitchen.

  “And over there is the schoolroom,” Iris said, pointing behind her. “Once a Hunter discovers they have the gene, they obviously can’t go back to real school, so they get educated here in the Fortress. Plus, they’ll tutor you around your hunting schedule, which is awesome once you’re in the field.”

  “Are all of the Hunters related?” Arlo asked with a curious tone.

  “Some, but not all,” Knox said,
pouring himself a cup of black coffee from the half-full pot. “We keep pretty close track of people who carry the hunting gene but sometimes we miss it, like we did you. Did your mom ever mention anything about your father, Arlo? Maybe where they met?”

  “Um …” Arlo scratched his head. “I can’t really think of—”

  “Knox,” Iris said, trying to change the subject. “Let’s introduce Arlo to some of the guys.”

  “All right.” Knox sipped from his mug. “A couple are in the schoolroom right now. Follow me.”

  Arlo nodded at Iris and she smiled in return. Their hands lightly grazed as they made their way down the hallway.

  Inside the classroom were six teenage Hunters seated at their desks. A tall, thin man with brown skin stood at the front, leading a math lesson.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Professor Alvarez, but may I have the floor for a moment?” Knox politely asked.

  “Why certainly, Mr. Bently,” he said, stepping out of the way.

  “Listen up. We have a new recruit,” Knox announced from the head of the room. “Matt, Kendrick, Deacon, Barry, Simon, and Greg, this is Arlo Green. The Hunters found him in San Francisco. Arlo, these are some of the guys.”

  The boys waved at Arlo and exchanged hellos.

  “Also,” Knox started. “One of these guys will be your trainer.”

  “Oh, I was hoping Iris could train me,” Arlo said, pointing in her direction.

  Iris almost choked.

  The boys in the room giggled, and Iris felt like she was in a steam room.

  Deacon snickered. “You really want Iris as a trainer when you could have one of us?”

  “Well, yeah,” Arlo said, perking up. “I mean, she's pretty badass. Makes perfect sense to me.”

  “Badass?” Deacon spat. “Really?” He turned toward Iris. “Did you tell him that the actress was killed on your watch?”

  Iris’s already hot blood was on the verge of boiling over. She wanted nothing more than to charge Deacon and show him just how skilled she was as a Hunter. But she didn’t want to look irrational or hotheaded. The self-control was killing her.