Hollywood Witch Hunter

by Valerie Tejeda

  “Oh come on,” Arlo chimed in again. “From what I can tell, you guys still don’t even really know what happened to the actress. You can’t blame Iris.”

  Iris was sweating.

  “You know what I think?” Deacon said, a smile playing on his lips. “I think someone just wants to get in her pants.”

  And now she was officially red, flushing from head to toe with embarrassment.

  “Enough!” Knox boomed. “Fine. Iris will be your trainer.”

  “You've got to be kidding me.” Deacon flung a pile of books from his desk, his pale skin burning bright red.

  “No, you’ve got to be kidding me. Lock it up, Deacon,” Knox seethed.

  “This is ridiculous!” Deacon continued, standing. “A real leader wouldn’t give a Hunter special treatment just because she’s his sister.”

  “Watch your tone,” Knox said, gritting his teeth.

  “Or what?” Deacon said. “You’ll sic your pretty little sister on me?”

  In a single movement so fast it could barely be seen, Knox leaped from the front of the room to Deacon’s throat, slamming him against the wall. Knox tightened his grip and lifted Deacon off the ground.

  “Apologize,” Knox said in a throaty growl.

  “I … I’m sorry, Iris,” Deacon wheezed, clawing at his neck.

  Knox released his grip and Deacon collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath.

  “Learn your place,” Knox said with a snarl. “I don’t care if you're the son of a founder. You’re still worthless until you prove otherwise.”

  Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the underground facility. “What was that?” Arlo jumped.

  “I’ll show you,” Iris said, turning on her heel and walking out the door.

  “Sorry for the interruption, Professor,” Iris said with a weak smile. “Carry on, class.”

  Twelve

  The bloodcurdling scream rang out again. It was coming from the interrogation wing. Knox led Iris and Arlo to the small, windowless room. Inside was a beautiful witch standing in the middle of a cage barred with strips of gold. The witch looked weary, if not powerful.

  “Let me out of here!” she demanded, reaching out and grabbing hold of the bars, violently rattling the cage.

  “Ahhh!” she shrieked, her hands sizzling. “You’re going to regret this!”

  The first time Iris saw an interrogation she felt a little sick. She ended up leaving halfway through, saying she had a headache. Now, she could somewhat stomach it, but she never liked it. Knox and Dex had admitted they weren’t huge fans of it either. But her father and the W.H.O had always been clear: if you question our interrogation methods, you can’t be a part of the team.

  “You’ll pay for this, I promise!” the witch yelled again.

  “Nah, I highly doubt that,” said Dex as he guarded the cell. He kept his black, militarized M-4 Hunter’s rifle aimed safely at the ground, but looked like he was ready to swing it into action at a moment’s notice.

  Dex looked cool as usual today. His tousled brown hair fell across a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses as he smacked his gum. The family resemblance was uncanny. And like Knox, this boyish man, who wasn’t a day over eighteen, oozed a confidence and maturity of someone much older.

  “This is our cousin Dex Bently. Lots of the Hunters call him DB,” Iris said happily. “Dex, this is our new friend Arlo.”

  “So, you got yourself a new W.H.O.R., I see,” Dex said, adjusting his rifle.

  “Hey, I’m no whore!” Arlo protested. “I mean, I like to, you know, do stuff … But I’m never pushy.” He looked in Iris’s direction.

  Her eyes quickly turned away.

  “Wow. Thanks for that extra special glimpse into your life, Arlo.” Knox laughed, shooting Dex a look. “But he means W.H.O.R. as in W-H-O-R, or, Witch Hunting Organization Rookie. It’s what we call newbies.”

  “Sorry for the confusion.” Dex grinned smugly. “Nice to meet you … Asshole is it?”

  “Arlo, actually. And what does DB stand for? Douche Bag?”

  “I like him already.” Dex chuckled earnestly as he slapped Arlo on the shoulder.

  Iris watched Arlo circle the cage with his mouth hanging open. “So, she’s really a witch?” Arlo mumbled.

  “Yep. We caught her stalking a pop star. She was moments away from adding another famous chick to her list, when we stepped in,” Dex said.

  “Wow.” Arlo gazed, moving closer to the gold prison.

  “Don’t look in her eyes!” Iris shouted, slapping Arlo across the face.

  “Owww,” Arlo groaned, caressing his stinging cheek. “What the hell?”

  “If you look in her eyes she’ll have you letting her out of here before you know it,” Iris spewed. “Once she’s spelled you it’s nearly impossible to break the connection. Even highly trained Hunters are susceptible to her hypnotic powers.”

  “Oh.” Arlo stared around the room, his eyes landing everywhere but on the witch.

  Iris could sense Arlo’s confusion. “Some witches, like this one, are a Protas. So she has the ability to control your mind,” Iris explained. “That’s why Dex is wearing those glasses. They don’t just have Idas spells in them, which make people forget us, they also block the Protas mind-controlling spells, and have thermal imaging capabilities so we can spot a witch by their heat signature.”

  “Smart,” Arlo replied. “I’m guessing your clothes are special too? I mean this is freaking L.A. and you guys are wearing leather moto jackets with combat boots.”

  “Good observation.” Iris was impressed. “Yes, our leather jackets have Oras, age-old protection spells that provide us with some extra safety from the witches. The jackets also adapt to our body’s temperature. So it can be super hot or super cold and we will feel just fine.”

  “How did you figure all this out?” Arlo asked.

  “Well,” Iris started, “my dad along with some other Hunters caught a witch years ago and tortured her into giving us access to some spells like the Idas, Oras, and a couple of others.”

  “Torture?” Arlo’s eyes were wide. “Oh God.”

  “Interrogated,” Dex chimed in.

  “It’s really not one of our most shining moments, but we needed the help and it was a big breakthrough for the Hunters,” Iris said. “All witches have different magic and have access to different spells. We’ve learned they fall into three categories: Ethas, Matas, and Protas. Ethas have access to spells that impact different elements. Some can manipulate water, wind, or fire, or even cause earthquakes, anything related to elements. Then, there’s the Matas. Their spells allow them to control animals or insects, like summoning tigers or releasing poisonous bugs, rats, or even snakes on people.” She shuddered. “Matas are always the worst to come across because the way they kill is pretty gross.”

  “That sounds awful.”

  “It is. Trust me.” She paused. “Lastly, there’re also Protas. They’re harder to come by in Hollywood but we do see some Nomads, like this one.” She pointed to the witch in the cage. “Some can read minds, freeze time, control your thoughts, basically a sliding range of telepathic and telekinetic powers. But all witches have mild access to a few basic spells like the Idas spells, Curas, and Oras, but some are more skilled in those areas than others. And how the witches sacrifice is based on their spells, which is good for us because it helps us keep track of them.”

  “What do you mean?” Arlo asked.

  “Well, like that witch you came across in San Francisco. She drowned that woman from the inside out because she was an Ethas that could manipulate water. That’s also why there was rain following the kill that only you could see.”

  “Well, what about a Matas or a Protas?” Arlo was visibly puzzled.

  “Matas use their animals or insects to sacrifice their victims. So depending on the witch, they could possibly put their flesh-eating spiders on their skin, or use their poisonous snakes to bite them, or their wild jaguars to crush thei
r body. While a Protas could use their spells to manipulate a human to jump in front of a car, or OD on drugs. Make sense?” Iris asked, hoping she was being clear.

  Arlo nodded, even though he looked slightly dead behind the eyes. She didn’t blame him. It was a lot of information really fast.

  “But all witches, no matter what their abilities, always leave a Cicatrix after they sacrifice.” Iris paused. “It’s a star on their right shoulder.”

  As soon as the words left Iris’s lips she was flooded with the memory of yesterday’s murder. She remembered the Cicatrix, the raised skin that looked almost like a brand. The room started to spin, but she fought against it and puffed up her chest.

  “Let’s get back to interrogating, shall we? Dex is trying to figure out if she knows anything about the actress’s murder,” Knox explained, arms crossed.

  Iris’s eyes widened and her body surged with adrenaline. “Wait … that’s what you’re doing?”

  “Yeah,” Dex replied. “Did Belinda kill the actress last night?” Dex asked the witch, aiming a spray bottle filled with a purplish liquid at her.

  “I’m not telling you a thing, you stupid dick,” she snarled.

  Dex sprayed her.

  The witch let out a high-pitched screech and clawed at her blistering face. “I’ll freaking kill you, Hunter. I’ll kill all of you when I get out of here,” she hissed venomously. “I’ll literally die before I talk to you.” The witch managed to cackle between labored breaths.

  “Well, you’re half-right.” Dex sprayed her again with the purplish mist. The witch stopped laughing but instead, let out another bone-chilling wail.

  “Man. This is awful,” Arlo whispered to Iris.

  “Yeah. Well, you’re doing pretty good. Most W.H.O.R.s end up puking the first time they see an interrogation.” Iris’s eyes found the floor.

  “Thanks. I guess.” Arlo wiped away the droplets of sweat gathering on his forehead. “What is that stuff Dex was spraying on her?”

  “Colloidal gold. It’s a solution of gold nanoparticles suspended in water,” Iris explained effortlessly.

  “Wow. You’re really smart.” Arlo smirked.

  Iris grinned but she didn’t have time to revel in his compliment. Howls rang in her eardrums, sending chills down her spine.

  “Let me talk to her,” she said to Dex.

  “Iris,” Knox interjected. “I just don’t think that’s the best—”

  “I need to, Knox. I need to find out how Belinda got past me. Please.” She looked at her brother with pleading eyes.

  “Fine. But for God’s sake, put your glasses on first.”

  Iris obliged and moved toward the cage. “Hey, witch. I—”

  “My name is Marina, not ‘witch,’” the witch hissed. “And I know exactly who you are.”

  “Look, we’re trying to get some answers, and if we do, then chances are, we might let you go.”

  “Iris!” Dex spat. “That is so not true.”

  “Seriously, Dex?” Iris glared. “Okay Marina, I get that you don’t want to tell us anything. I really do.”

  “Do you? I’m sitting here with boils on my skin. You think I’m going to jump to tell you stuff?”

  Iris felt a twinge of guilt as she peered at the witch’s fresh boils. “You’re right,” she said solemnly. “Why would you help us? I get it. But wouldn’t life be so much better for you if Belinda was gone? If we can prove that she killed the actress, we’re going to find a way to take her out.”

  “Ha!” the witch scoffed. “You could never touch Belinda. She’s too powerful.”

  “Maybe. But if she’s gone, her curse would maybe be gone too, meaning you wouldn’t rapidly age, and you wouldn’t have to worry so much about us Hunters.”

  The witch’s demeanor softened a bit and Iris stifled a smile. It was working.

  “Give me your hand,” the witch demanded.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Give me your hand so I can get in your head and see the scene of the murder.”

  “I thought you only had mind-control abilities?”

  “I’m a Nomad and a skilled Protas,” Marina said in a confident tone. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He flashed a cocky grin.

  “All right.” Iris shrugged her shoulders.

  “Absolutely not,” Knox chimed in. “There’s no way I’m letting her touch you, Iris.”

  Knox moved forward but Iris’s glare held him in place. She took a deep breath. She was willing to take the risk. Iris slipped her hand through the bars. The witch snatched Iris’s arm and she immediately started shaking. She saw the scene again. The entryway. The stairs. The awards case. The dead body. Her memories flitted across her mind like flashes from a camera. Suddenly, the witch released her grip on Iris and gasped, backing as far away from Iris as possible.

  “What?” Iris asked, trying desperately to keep her composure. “What did you see? Was it Belinda?”

  The witch was deathly quiet, her skin drained of color.

  “No. It was not Belinda.”

  “Then who was it?” Iris asked.

  “Your worst nightmare.”

  Thirteen

  Your worst nightmare.

  The words pierced Iris’s soul like a razor blade scratching away at her skin. She wondered what they truly meant. Did the witch see her visions in the Hollywood Cemetery when she searched her brain? Was she just speaking figuratively? Was she just trying to get to her?

  The problem was, the witch said nothing more. After she saw whatever clue was hiding in Iris’s mind, the witch turned mute. No more words. No more screaming. No more … anything.

  But as much as she wanted to, Iris couldn’t focus on that today. It was training day, and Arlo was her first apprentice. She was up and ready to go at 9 a.m., gathering the gear they would need to get started. The only thing missing was Arlo.

  He was still sleeping and Iris felt weird about waking him up. He was also still bunking in Iris’s room, and she was taking her parents’ bed for the time being. She didn’t have the heart to let Arlo stay in the underground dorms after the Hunters had given him such a hard time yesterday.

  She knocked on the door of her room half expecting to find a grumpy Arlo waiting on the other side. She could tell he wasn’t a morning person.

  “Arlo. Hey. Open up, it’s me,” she said softly. “Can I come in?”

  Silence.

  “Arlo,” she tried again. “Open up. We need to get to our train—”

  The door finally opened and her skin burned when she saw Arlo wearing nothing but boxers. They were hanging low on his waist revealing his very prominent hipbones.

  “Oh. Uh. I’m so sorry for getting you up, but we need to start training.”

  “At nine freaking o’clock?” he whined, rubbing his eyes.

  “I know this sounds crazy, but people do get up before noon.”

  “Ugh,” he spewed. “I hate those people.”

  Iris stood in the doorway fidgeting while Arlo threw on a T-shirt and some sweatpants. She tried to look away but her eyes continued to find his stomach. More accurately, his abs. His lean but defined abs, peaking effortlessly through his olive skin.

  “So … you a coffee drinker?” she asked, looking the other way.

  “Am I ever.”

  “Well, there’s coffee in the kitchen and then we need to get started A.S.A.P.”

  He quietly huffed. “Jeez, Yoda. Relax. I have the Hunter gene right? So ‘The Force’ is strong with me.” He paused. “Train to be a Hunter I will,” he said in a shoddy rendition of a Yoda voice.

  Iris remained stone-faced, though she desperately wanted to laugh. There was a playfulness about him. And in a world that was so dark and often filled with tragedy, his positive presence was refreshing. Like the cold ocean water on a scorching hot day.

  “Oh come on, turn that frown upside down.” His eyes brightened. “I promise I will be the best Padawan learner ever. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers.

/>   Iris couldn’t fight it anymore and she finally cracked a smile.

  “There it is.” He moved closer and pointed to her face. “Your ‘I’m trying not to smile, but I can’t help but smile,’ smile. It’s cute.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was hearing Arlo call her “cute” or the fact that he was now standing right in front of her, but either way she felt abnormally warm. Iris worried that she was beet red and hoped Arlo didn’t notice. She thought it was best to get to work before she spontaneously combusted. Figuratively, of course.

  “Let’s just … ,” she stammered, “get to training.”

  *

  They had a busy day ahead of them, full of hand-to-hand combat, gymnastics, physical conditioning, basic first aid, and witch lore. Iris loved training with Arlo and she was especially fond of how severely she kicked his ass in the boxing ring. And rolling around with his sweaty body wasn’t so bad either.

  They trained hard, because the threat they faced was deadly serious, and giving anything less than a hundred percent could result in death.

  The W.H.O. training room looked like a gym on steroids. In addition to the boxing ring, there were treadmills, weights, mats, mirrored walls, all the traditional gym stuff. But there were also things a bit more nontraditional as well. Like simulators to learn how to spot specific spells, and a knife-throwing station. They could also change the weather in the gym so they could learn to fight properly, no matter what kind of Ethas they were dealing with.

  After finishing a round of boxing, she stood at the front of the gym preparing to prep Arlo for his next session. “When you carry the Hunter gene, you almost have a photographic muscle memory,” she explained, standing tall.

  “You’re saying a bunch of things I don’t know again,” Arlo said, wiping his forehead.

  She shot him a snappy look. “It means that once you walk through something a few times, you just know it.” She cleared her throat. “So now, I’m going to run at you, and you’re going to block and take me to the ground like I taught you.”

  “I just … feel bad trying to hurt you.”

  Iris shook her head. “No, don’t start thinking of me as a girl, or your friend, or anything; think of me as a Hunter.”