Hollywood Witch Hunter

by Valerie Tejeda

  “I didn’t expect you to fly off the handle so easily,” Belinda said, batting her eyelashes. Iris could see Belinda’s breathing was labored, and her eyes fluttered quickly. “Thank you. Sure, I could have crushed him with my spells, but still. Just the fact that you would step in like that is really nice. I have to say, I thought all you Hunters were assholes.”

  She smiled at Arlo, and they shared a laugh. “So, are you going to help me or what?”

  Arlo paused for nearly a minute. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  Belinda lit up and Iris didn’t like it one bit. “Thank you, Arlo. You’re my hero.”

  Iris’s heart raced and a tremor overtook her hands. She jumped at the sound of her phone buzzing. It was a text from Knox.

  911. Get back to the Fortress ASAP.

  “Would you stay here with me, Arlo?” Belinda said, still smiling. “I would love to buy you a cup of coffee?”

  Iris perked up, staring at the screen more intently. “Wait! Arlo, no, no. Don’t stay with her. We need to get going.”

  “Would you excuse me for a second?” Arlo said to Belinda. “I need to use the restroom real quick.”

  “Sure.”

  Arlo walked toward the back of The Coffee Bean, stepping inside the men’s restroom and locking the door. “Hey. Iris. What’s up?”

  “Oh I don’t know, lover boy, what’s up with you?” Iris snapped.

  “Lover boy?”

  “Nothing.” She growled. “Listen, Knox just wants us back ASAP. I guess something is going on.”

  “Look, why don’t you just go back and see what’s up and I will stay with Belinda a little longer. I’m sure she’ll give me a ride back. I’ll tell her I took the bus here or something.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We’re trying to see what she’s up to, right? We need to gain her trust so we can get as much as out of her as we can. Obviously, she’s not telling us everything.”

  “Are you sure you’re staying to get more info and not because she’s like, incredibly hot?”

  Arlo let out a long exhale, his breath ringing in her ears. “You’re the one who told me to do this, remember?”

  “Yes. I remember.” She paused for a moment, scratching her head. “Okay. Fine. But don’t be too long, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  Iris watched Arlo go back to the table and for some reason it was harder for her than she thought. Leaving him, here. With their enemy. It felt so … wrong. Or maybe it was just the leaving him part? Regardless, her soul ached a little.

  “Well,” Arlo said, taking a seat back in his chair. “I don’t have anything planned for the rest of the afternoon, so sure, why not? I’ll stay and have coffee with ya.”

  The soft pink in Belinda’s cheeks turned to a deep rose. She perked up in her seat, playing with the ends of her silky hair once again.

  “I would love that,” she replied, seductively biting her lip.

  Iris turned off the computer screen but the image of Arlo sitting with Belinda was seared into her brain. Whatever Knox needed, it had better be good.

  Twenty

  “Knox!” Iris yelled, skidding into their driveway like a bat out of hell. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

  Iris didn’t usually get a “911” text from her brother, so to say she was worried was a bit of an understatement. Knox was seated on the front porch, his face in his hands. He smelled of whiskey and bad deeds, and his face was splashed with drops of mud.

  “What happened?” she asked, taking a seat beside her brother.

  “Well.” He slumped his shoulders. “Dex and I may have had too much to drink and we crashed our dirt bikes.”

  Iris gasped. “Oh my gosh.” Her face widened as her eyes searched her brother for injuries. “Are you guys all right?”

  “Well, yeah. We’re fine, now,” Knox said as he rubbed his temples. “It’s just the bikes are completely trashed.”

  Iris squinted and peered at her brother. “Wait. So how is this an emergency?”

  “Dirt bikes, Iris.” He groaned. “Our custom dirt bikes are completely destroyed.”

  Iris could feel her face burning up. She couldn’t believe she left Arlo back at The Coffee Bean with a hot witch, for this.

  “Wow. Knox. I seriously don’t even know what to say,” she scolded him.

  “I know, right?” He obviously didn’t pick up on her sarcasm. “I’ll tell you one thing, I’m never drinking again. Well … maybe not ever again. But definitely not for a very long time.”

  “You’re unbelievable.” It was not like her brother to be this irresponsible. Sure, he could be a bit careless and overconfident at times, but never this stupid. Iris wasn’t sure if she should blame it on the liquor or maybe stress. He did have a huge responsibility on his shoulders since their dad left. He’d been acting like he was fine, but his actions today proved otherwise.

  “Also,” Knox continued, cocking his eye from the sunlight. “We just got word of an event tonight that we need to cover at the Chateau Marmont. Looks like I need to sober up because I can’t take tonight off after all.”

  “Great,” Iris mumbled, mostly to herself. This day just went from bad to totally worse.

  “By the way, where’s Arlo?” Knox looked behind Iris. “I assumed he’d be with you.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” she lied. “And you know what they say about people who assume, right?” she said with a bit of snark.

  “They make an ass out of ‘u’ and ‘me,’” Knox bellowed.

  “There it is.” Iris chuckled, slapping her brother on the back.

  “Ow. That really hurt.”

  “Good.” She smiled and bobbed her head. “And my god, you seriously reek.” Iris waved her hand in front of her nose. “What, did you drink your body weight in booze?”

  Knox shrugged his shoulders.

  “Well, you just stay out here and sober up. I, on the other hand, have work to do.”

  Iris left Knox on the porch, entering the Fortress in search for Professor Alvarez, and hoped that this time she wouldn’t run into Deacon. The professor had a collection of books, but it was The Witch Hunting Book of Stories that Iris was after.

  She’d spent her entire childhood poring over the pages of that book, uncovering something new each time she read it. She needed answers, and hoped the generations-old manuscript might have a few more secrets left to tell.

  Iris knocked on his door and after waiting nearly a minute without hearing a response, decided to enter anyway. Professor Alvarez was nowhere to be found, but The Witch Hunting Book of Stories sat open atop his cluttered desk.

  Iris settled into a chair and opened the pages to a familiar story, one set in the 1930s starring Belinda as the main character.

  Once upon a time, in a land not too far away, a beautiful witch named Belinda arrived in Hollywood in search of fame and fortune.

  Iris could practically recite that passage from memory. Next. She flipped several pages.

  And Belinda killed Miss Monroe, staging her death as a suicide and not giving a second’s thought to the consequences.

  Again, all too familiar. Iris slammed the book shut in frustration and leaned back in her chair. She picked up the text to place it back on the bookshelf where it belonged when she noticed several pages jutting out just slightly farther than the rest. She ran her fingers along the closed book, considering this new feature.

  Iris opened the book once again, turning to the pages that seemed somehow out of place. Upon closer inspection she discovered a section had been ripped out and recently mended. This was a story she did not know.

  A Love for Shattered Souls

  She knocked precisely three times. Belinda played with her hands as she waited in the twilight. She hadn’t seen him in years. More like centuries, really. But her entire being still ached at the mere thought of him. And now, she was at his doorstep.

  A thick fog rolled over the grassy hills, enveloping the ancient cobblestone house
hidden in the Welsh countryside. She shivered, but not from the piercing cold.

  Belinda struggled for air, preparing to knock once again.

  She jumped at the sound of footsteps from inside the house. She knew it was him. The one she had loved. The one she still loved.

  Helmer.

  She held her breath as the door slowly creaked open.

  “Belinda,” he gasped.

  Her heart slammed against her rib cage. Hearing her name on his lips set a blazing fire to her insides. She looked at him as if he had never broken her soul in the first place. Wide-eyed. Longingly.

  “Would you like to come inside?”

  She was petrified. She stared up at his towering frame. His lithe and corded muscles were clearly visible, even under his loosely fitting traditional Celtic garb. He was intoxicating. The most alluring poison.

  Belinda desperately wanted to go inside. But she couldn’t. She knew what Helmer would do to her. She was here for business. Not pleasure.

  “I won’t be staying.”

  He set his chin, squinting as he examined her.

  “Then, why are you here, love?”

  Love.

  Her knees buckled. A thumping heartbeat pounded in her ears. She wanted to melt into his arms. Run away with him. Just be with him. But it was impossible. He was a part of a war now. A war he had brought upon himself.

  “I’m here to let you know that I will not speak with you anymore until you end things with her.” It was painful just to say it. Agony fell across her face. Belinda cringed at the mere thought of the other woman.

  Helmer stood like a statue, but Belinda stepped forward, placing her hand on his familiar face. She stroked his skin, feeling the warmth of his body. She traced her fingers over his cheekbones, taking in the timeless beauty of this ageless man. His skin was just as smooth as she remembered it to be. Worn, but soft. If only she could undo the past. If only he could still be hers. If only there wasn’t another woman.

  Belinda’s longing quickly turned to anger and her body trembled. There was fury buried deep in her bones—a well of anger that was spilling over, contaminating her like a fatal disease.

  She pushed hard against Helmer’s chest.

  The pain of despair sat just behind her eyes.

  Helmer softened his gaze, slowly inching toward her as he extended his hand.

  “Don't go, my Belinda. Please.”

  It was too late. The floodgates had opened. Memories of Helmer ripping her heart to shreds filled her mind. She was drowning in a sea of torment and she couldn’t come up for air. She had to leave.

  Now.

  “Belinda, wait!” Helmer yelled as he raced to catch up.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sped across the damp grass. She shouldn’t have come here. She had made a grave mistake.

  Belinda slipped in the darkness.

  A powerful hand wrapped firmly around her arm. Helmer effortlessly spun her back into his embrace.

  “Belinda,” he dragged out her name with a silky drawl.

  Helmer pulled her close. He placed one callous hand on the small of her back, and the other behind her neck. Still holding his breath, he gently pressed his lips to hers.

  The pain of their past disintegrated. For the moment, he owned her. Every part of her.

  But all good things must come to an end. She came up slowly, opening her eyes as they met his with smoldering intensity.

  Helmer.

  Her love.

  Her soulmate.

  Her everything.

  But before she walked away, she had to know why. She owed herself that much at least.

  She opened her mouth, preparing to speak. Her lips burned with regret from their passionate kiss and her chest tightened as an all-too-familiar pain scratched up her throat.

  “Why, Helmer? Why do you have to be with her?”

  The gray sky thundered and a gentle drizzle showered them as they stood in the lush, green pasture.

  “I’m sorry, Belinda.”

  She staggered back, looking pensively toward the heavens with what felt like her last breath.

  “She’s pregnant. And she’s carrying my son.”

  Iris stared blankly at the pages. She was deeply puzzled. Belinda? In love? Why were these pages removed and then glued back in? And perhaps most importantly, who was this Helmer and the “other woman?”

  A hint of worry tugged at Iris’s stomach as she remembered Arlo was still having coffee with Belinda. Could Belinda end up having those feelings for Arlo?

  Iris checked her watch, wondering what was taking him so long. He should have been back by now. She drummed her fingers on the desk and propped her chin on her hand.

  She jumped at the sound of her phone ringing. To her surprise, it was Silos. Iris rolled her eyes, wondering if the hot Scot would ever take a hint.

  “Hello,” she moaned as she answered, wondering if she would regret this later.

  “Such a warm welcome,” he said in a playful tone. “You make it sound like talking to me is torture.”

  Iris chuckled. “Oh it is. Believe me.”

  “It can’t be that bad if you picked up.” Silos’s tone was smooth and suave, as usual. His voice always sent a ripple of chill down her arms.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, buddy,” Iris jokingly snapped. “I just picked up the phone to see if your visions have stopped. Mine have.” She stopped briefly and peered at the ground. “And, it’s kind of weird, but … since they’ve stopped, I kind of feel like …” She paused.

  “A part of you is missing.”

  Silos was right. As much as Iris hated seeing the frightening visions of the Hollywood Cemetery, she kept hoping it meant something. Maybe it was a warning or some sort of clue as to why the actress was murdered or this new witch was in town? But to her disappointment, it seemed the visions meant nothing.

  “Is it weird that I feel that way?” Iris asked, confused by her own emotions.

  “Not really,” he quickly replied. “My vision at the cemetery stopped as well. But now, I’m seeing something different.”

  “What?” She perked up.

  “You really want to know?” he said in a whisper.

  “Yes!” Iris demanded with a chuckle.

  “All right. Well. It starts with you and me. We are somewhere I can’t quite make out. I’m holding you, caressing your arms and running my fingers all the way down to your legs. Then I stroke the base of your chin, pulling your face closer to my lips, and then”—he let out a long breath—“it stops. It’s the strangest of things. Care to take a stab at what it means?”

  Iris gulped hard. She could feel the warmth from her body. Her skin was suddenly itchy and she was reminded of the vision she had of her and Arlo fondling on the sand in the desert. She cleared her throat and quickly found her focus.

  “Look.” Her voice was stern. “Your wet dream doesn’t count as a vision, all right? It means nothing. Obviously whatever, or whoever, was messing with our minds is done now. So let’s just call it—”

  Her eyes gleamed when she spotted Arlo on the security camera waltzing through the front gate.

  “Silos,” she said quickly, staring at the security screen. “I gotta go.”

  She hung up her phone, jammed it back into her pocket, and glared at the screen.

  Finally.

  Twenty-One

  “Where have you been, you jerk-off?!” Iris snapped, pacing down the driveway toward Arlo with tight fists. “You said you weren’t going to be there that long!”

  She crossed her arms, vigorously tapping her foot as she stared at him the way a scolding mother looks at her child. “So did you take a cab or something? Why are you on foot?”

  “Oh, I had her drop me off down the street,” Arlo said, sheepishly. “I thought it would be awkward if she pulled up in front of the Fortress.”

  “You think?” she shot back.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Arlo apologized. “I lost track of time. I’m really sorry, Iri
s. Just … please don’t kill me.”

  Without so much as a moment’s hesitation, Iris slugged him in the arm.

  “Jeez!” he groaned. “God, you hit like a surly man named Boris.”

  “Shut up,” Iris said, trying to hide a smile. “By the way, Knox has lost his freaking mind. He’s pissed at how everything went last night and he got drunk with Dex and they crashed their dirt bikes. Knox doesn’t exactly take well to failure.”

  Arlo took a step back. “Who said it was a failure?” he said with a puzzled look. “We all made it out alive, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, but a witch saved us. Do you know how humiliating that is?” Iris sighed dejectedly.

  She jumped as the front door to the Fortress slammed shut. A disheveled Knox dragged his feet down the steps, gnawing on a half-eaten candy bar. With a fluid motion he swept off his aviators, still maintaining that Bently suaveness through his obvious sadness. Black circles hung beneath his eyes like sullen moons. He looked like death warmed over.

  “Hey, buddy,” Arlo drawled as Knox leaned his shoulder against The Armada, staring emptily into some unseen void. “How’s it going?”

  Knox looked at Arlo, then slid his gaze to Iris. With a depressing sigh he turned and sulked back to the house. The front door slammed shut for a second time.

  “Well, that was quick, and not the least bit awkward at all,” Arlo mused, scratching his head.

  “He’s been like that since I got here.” Iris cast her eyes downward. “Just totally not himself. So,” she said as she kicked at the ground, “how was your coffee date?”

  “First of all, it wasn’t a date,” Arlo said with a firm tone. “Truth is, I’m just worried about Knox is all.”

  Iris let out a breath. “Okay. Well, what you do think we should do?” she said less harshly.

  Arlo paused for a brief moment. “I know! What is your brother’s favorite dessert?”

  “Cheesecake. Hands down.” Growing up, their mom had made a cheesecake once a week for Knox. He always scarfed it up before Iris ever got a piece, but she didn’t mind. She was more of a vanilla cake kind of girl anyway.