Hollywood Witch Hunter

by Valerie Tejeda

  “Iris, do you even want to be here?” Levana pried in a soft tone.

  “You mean, like alive, or here with a witch like you?”

  Levana chuckled. “I mean, at the Marmont?”

  She looked around at the beautiful women at the Marmont. All super skinny and stuffed with silicone. She was about to ensure their safety and protect their lives, and none of them gave her a second look.

  Maybe it was the Arlo drama, or maybe she was just tired, but either way one thing was certain: Iris didn’t want to spend the rest of her evening hunting witches at the Marmont. She just wanted to go home.

  “You know what,” Iris said, her eyes glued to the ground. “I don’t want to be here. Would you mind taking me to the Fortress, please?”

  Levana released her signature devious grin. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  Twenty-Five

  Iris wore a look of surprise as she and Levana pulled up to a busy nightclub in Los Angeles. A line full of girls in short dresses and guys in tight shirts stretched all the way down to the end of the street. It seemed this club was the place to be.

  “Whoa, what are you doing?” she asked, as Levana searched for a parking spot.

  “What does it look like? We’re going dancing, and trust me, there’s nothing a little booze can’t fix.”

  “Okay, slow your roll, witchy.” Iris paused. “Booze? I’m sixteen. How are we even going to get in there?”

  “I’m a witch, remember?” Levana winked. “Plus, don’t you have like a million fake IDs? I know how you Hunters work.”

  Iris shook her head. “I don’t know, Levana.” She hesitantly sighed. “I’m not really a ‘club’ type of girl.”

  “Oh please,” Levana said with a dismissal wave. “Yes you are. You just don’t know it yet.”

  Iris rolled her eyes and followed Levana to the club, though if she was being honest with herself, she had less than a good feeling about it. They approached a guard at the front—a large man with a round face and brown skin. Levana tried to use her spells on him, but apparently they weren’t working.

  “I guess the guard doesn’t speak English, and my spells aren’t really translating.” Levana puffed. She appeared to be frustrated.

  “So you’re telling me Idas spells aren’t bilingual?” Iris joked, chuckling lightly.

  “I guess not.” The witch pouted. “I mean I can change his mind, I just can’t tell him what I want him to do. I’m trying, but I’m not getting through.”

  Iris perked up. “Well, looks like you’re pretty lucky you have me here, then, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” Levana asked, her smile returning.

  “Just step aside.”

  Speaking to the man in Spanish, Iris used the Idas spell in her aviators to convince the guard to let them in without ID cards.

  “Wow. I didn’t know you spoke Spanish?” Levana tugged at Iris’s arm. “That’s hot. I thought you guys were like part Armenian or something.”

  “Nope. Colombian and proud of it,” Iris said, standing tall. “Believe it or not, there are people with dark hair living in Hollywood that aren’t related to the Kardashians.”

  They both chuckled and strutted inside the club, entering into a sea of bodies and booming techno music. Iris winced at the array of brightly flashing lights. A Hunter’s enhanced senses didn’t really fare well in the club atmosphere.

  I hate clubs, she thought as she stared at all the drunk girls in short dresses and crop tops.

  “Are you sure we’re not here for you to get a sacrifice in?” Iris asked Levana, yelling loudly over the blaring music.

  “Pinkie swear, no! I already got one this morning.”

  Iris furrowed her brows.

  “What?” Levana said nonchalantly. “Witches sacrifice humans. It’s not like it’s anything new. Plus, I’m not the one who cursed us or anything so I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I’m just surviving.”

  Iris stared at the ground. Her eyes turned dreary as she thought about how much simpler her life was before she knew about witches. But it was also quite dull.

  “Hey,” Levana shouted, snapping Iris back to reality. “Just turn that frown upside down, all right? I’m gonna go get us some drinks.”

  “Oh, no, no, no …”

  “Iris,” Levana said with a grin. “Just live a little.”

  As Levana walked away Iris scanned the room, instinctively searching for witches, or any humans with concealed weapons. She couldn't help but stay in Hunter mode, even though she was supposedly there to have a good time. It was ingrained in her.

  Then, she saw him.

  Silos.

  Iris’s stomach flipped as he walked toward her. His blue eyes glimmered against the blinding strobe lights. He moved with his usual suaveness, looking effortlessly cool with each sexy step. Iris’s face brightened.

  “Why do I have a feeling this is not a coincidence we’re at this same club at the same time.” Iris was trying to hide her smile, but she couldn’t. She was glad Silos was with her, though she’d never admit it to him.

  “It’s not,” he said flirtatiously. “I knew you were going to be here.” A sly smirk spread across his face, making him look even more irresistible.

  “God.” She gulped, trying to ignore his attractive accent. “You’re so creepy.” She was only half-serious. Although she was curious how he knew she’d be at this club.

  “Don’t act like you don’t like it,” he played back. She gleamed, pursing her lips tightly together.

  “What did I miss?” Levana said, interrupting their conversation. She was holding two tequila shots with wedges of lime and had the hugest of smiles plastered across her face.

  “Oh my God. Who are you?” Levana said, gazing at Silos with wide eyes. “I’m Levana, by the way.”

  “Silos,” he answered quickly.

  “Well, cheerio then,” she chuckled. Levana smiled at Iris and tugged at her arm. “I can take a hint.” She turned to walk away. “Here,” she whispered in Iris’s ear and handed her the tequila shot. “Have some fun for once in your freaking life.”

  Iris stared at the shot of liquor in her hands and without thinking, closed her eyes and threw it back. It burned like fire all the way down to her stomach.

  “Whoa,” she coughed.

  Silos smiled. “So, Iris.” He grabbed her hand. “Shall we?”

  The music, the lights, the people … all of it slowly faded as she stared into Silos’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but her gut told her to take a chance.

  “Okay,” she said. “One dance.”

  *

  She danced. She drank. She forgot about Arlo hooking up with a witch in her family’s car. Things were starting to look up. The entire night was turning into one big blur.

  Iris had no idea how long she’d been at the club or even where Levana was at the moment. And the whole Levana thing was quite confusing. Were they friends now? Enemies? Frenemies? But she had to admit partying with Levana was fun, actually more like invigorating.

  And Silos: the super-hot guy whose hands had been all over her the entire night. She didn’t even know she was capable of dancing like that—grinding her hips, rolling her stomach, waving her arms in the air. But with Silos, it just happened. For once she was simply living in the moment. And it felt good.

  “Hey,” Iris yelled over the music. “I’ll be right back. I just got to use the bathroom real quick.”

  “Don’t be too long, love,” he said, grabbing her hand. Iris shivered as she started to walk away.

  “I won’t.”

  Love. She adored that he called her that. She couldn’t help but smile as she moved toward the restroom. Since when had Iris done something so daring that didn’t involve killing witches? She was a ruthless, fearless Hunter in the field, but in her real life, not so much.

  To Iris’s surprise the bathroom was completely empty. She took the opportunity to freshen up and catch her breath. She looked in the mirro
r and the unfamiliar girl staring back nearly made her jump. She didn’t look like herself. Her hair was tousled and beads of sweat dripped from her forehead.

  She splashed some water on her face and inhaled one more deep breath, preparing to walk out the door.

  She gasped.

  “Silos? What are you doing in here?”

  Without speaking he slowly reached up and caressed her face, tracing his fingers down her jawline.

  “I … um,” she stuttered. “What are you doing?” Her legs quivered.

  “Shhh,” Silos said as he hushed her, pressing his finger against her lips.

  He grabbed the back of Iris’s neck with a firm grip and drew her close. Their noses touched ever so lightly and an explosion of delight coursed through her body.

  Silos stroked her cheeks as he gently pressed his lips to hers. His breath was warm and his mouth was smooth as honey. The air caught in her throat as chills ran down her neck and rippled down her spine. Iris pulled away, but not far.

  Iris stared into his blue eyes, as icy as the morning after a snowstorm. She knew this was probably one of the stupidest things she’d ever done, and would possibly even be a catastrophic regret, but for some reason she didn’t care. She wanted Silos. All of him.

  Silos wrapped a hand around her hips and pressed their bodies together. He moved in for another kiss; this time Iris didn’t pull back.

  He stroked his tongue along her lips before opening his mouth and inviting hers in. He tasted like cinnamon with a hint of sugar and a pinch of salt. His hands moved from her waist to her thighs. Iris moaned softly. He pressed her hard against the wall, pinning her hands above her head, and slid his lips down her neck. She arched back in ecstasy as he knotted his fingers in her hair.

  She freed herself from his grasp, reaching for his toned arms and digging her nails into his skin. The ground beneath her feet spun like a top as Silos effortlessly lifted her onto the countertop.

  Iris wrapped her legs around Silos’s waist. He grinned as he slipped his hands down her hips and clung to her tighter, finding her mouth once again.

  There was nothing in the world except for this moment, nothing in the world except for this feeling. Everything else, every other worry, faded to black.

  Iris was consumed by Silos, and the thought of Arlo was nowhere to be found.

  Twenty-Six

  Iris woke up blurry-eyed and aching from her scalp to her toes. The madness that was yesterday had caught up to her full force and she grabbed her head in agony. She struggled to remember what happened, but last night was one big blur. She knew she kissed Silos and remembered that Levana took her to a club, but after that … nothing.

  She squinted at four fuzzy figures sitting at the end of the bed. She rubbed her eyes again to find Levana, Renpa, Anaka, and Silos. Iris bolted upright.

  “Oh yay! You’re up!” Levana said gleefully.

  Iris frantically looked around. She was in someone’s bedroom but didn’t know who it belonged to. The walls were pale pink with a lacey trim, and the queen-size bed was white and fluffy with a pearl embossed headboard.

  “Oh my God. Where am I?” Iris shrieked, grabbing at the bedcovers.

  “You’re at the lair. In my bed. Cool, right?” Levana said, all too casually.

  “How did I get here?” Her eyes darted around the room. “Levana, did you freaking drug me?”

  “Ew. No!” she shot back, curling her lip. “I’m not some pervy eighteen-year-old loser. But I may have made you black out with one of my venom spells. You didn’t have your glasses on all night, you know.” Levana winked and gave Silos a nod. Iris acted like she didn’t notice.

  “Okay, Levana, that’s pretty much the same thing as drugging me.” Iris sighed with frustration.

  “No it’s not,” Levana fired back..

  Iris rolled her eyes. “Okay. Well, how did you get me past Belinda?”

  Levana turned her head downward. “Well, that’s the thing, Iris. Belinda isn’t here. She never came home after Griffith Park.”

  Iris’s stomach lurched. Her vision was spotty and she blinked hard to find her sight. “Wait. So you’re telling me she’s still with Arlo somewhere?”

  “Yup. And that somewhere is the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

  Iris’s pulse was racing so fast she thought she was going to explode. Arlo was with Belinda at a hotel? This had to be a joke. She knew he was trying to get information from her, but now he had taken it too far. She pulled Arlo’s necklace from her chest and threw it to the ground.

  “Well … There’s something else.” Levana looked at Silos with a wide gaze. “You want to tell her or should I?”

  “What? What is it?” Iris wasn’t sure she could take any more bad news. But then, what could be worse than Arlo being at a hotel with a witch?

  “Well, I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Silos started. “There are some things that are just hard to explain and—”

  “Just get to the point, okay?” Iris balked.

  “All right. Well. Here goes.” He briefly paused. “I’m actually here because … I am a warlock.”

  Iris burst into laugher. “No you’re freaking not.”

  “Aye. Indeed, I am. I’m part of the last existing warlock coven in Wales.”

  “Wales? I thought you were Scottish.”

  “That I am. But I’ve been living in Wales with this coven for quite some time.”

  Iris’s mind was moving fast. Did her dad know of the coven in Wales? Was this the “business” he was taking care of? Iris thought there had to be a connection, but at the same time, she didn’t really buy what Silos was selling. She wasn’t some stupid, gullible little girl. She was a Hunter.

  “I’m just gonna be honest. This sounds like a load of crap,” Iris said setting her jaw. “I thought the warlocks were extinct?”

  “Most are. But not my coven. We’re the last ones.”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Iris focused her gaze, looking Silos dead in the eyes. The tension in the room grew thick. “How do I know you’re really a warlock?”

  Silos put his hand on his chin and stared at the ground for a brief moment. He searched the room, pointing to a crystal-encrusted mouse sitting on Levana’s nightstand.

  “May I?” he asked Levana. She nodded.

  Silos plucked the trinket from the table and cradled it in his palm, placing his other hand on top to create a small enclosure. He closed his eyes and muttered something barely audible in a language Iris didn’t recognize. A dim, blue light glowed between his palms, pulsing with increasing frequency.

  The light faded and a small tail jutted out from between his fingers. He opened his hands and there stood a curious mouse, sniffing at the air and squeaking happily.

  Iris stared in awe, grabbing her chest in the process. He was telling the truth.

  “See? Warlocks have different spell categories than witches,” he explained, as he gently petted the small mouse. “I’m a Curas with access to healing spells. I can bring life into almost anything, but of course it has its limits.”

  “You’re a warlock,” Iris said, still in shock. Her mouth couldn’t seem to close. “Oh. My. God.” She gazed at the ceiling. “I made out with a freaking warlock.”

  “And it was brilliant, wasn’t it?” He sensually bit her lip.

  Iris turned pink. “Wait. This whole time, with the visions, and everything else. Did you know I was a Hunter?”

  “Not at first,” he said. His voice sounded sincere. “The visions I was having were real. But after we met at the Coffee Bean, I put the pieces together. You couldn’t hide what you were. The Hunter oozes from your presence.”

  For a moment, Iris went mute. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she was flattered that he recognized her to be a Hunter.

  She came back to reality, peering at Silos from across the bed. “This just … can’t be happening right now.” Iris shoved her face in her hands.

  “Well, it is,” he whispered, gr
abbing for her hand. “And you can’t deny last night. How you danced, how we kissed. I don’t think you’ve ever been so alive before, have you?”

  Iris pulled away. “So you spelled me?” She threw her hands in the air.

  “No!” he spat. “I’m speaking figuratively, not literally.”

  “Yeah right,” she shot back. “Between Levana knocking me out and you, who apparently ‘didn’t spell me,’ I’m surprised I didn’t end up on freaking Dateline.” She stopped to catch her breath. “Did you know who he was?” Iris yelled at Levana, causing the witch to slightly jump.

  “No. I really didn’t!” she said as if she got caught. “He told me after you guys hooked up, but he hasn’t even told you the worst part.”

  “For the love of—” Iris let out an exasperated sigh. “How can this get any worse?”

  “Well, one of our warlocks is here, in Los Angeles,” Silos explained. “He’s the head of our coven actually. I’ve come to try to bring him back.”

  “So, who is he?”

  “His name is Helmer. He’s a Plagas, one of the most powerful warlocks in the world who can summon deadly diseases. He’s not to be trifled with.”

  Iris couldn’t believe her ears. Helmer. Belinda’s ex-lover. Forget about Dateline NBC, this just turned into a daytime soap opera, or better yet, a staged reality show.

  Iris tugged at her hair. “Why is he here?”

  “I don’t know,” Silos said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I think he’s being forced to be here, or blackmailed. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I have a feeling it isn’t good. He is very powerful and has access to some of the most ancient spells.”

  Iris suddenly remembered what the Nomad said. According to a prophecy by a Protas, a plague by a powerful witch is going to be released in L.A.

  “So now what?” Iris asked, slumping her shoulders.

  “Well, we think Belinda might be trying to use Arlo,” Renpa explained, finally chiming in. She was petting a large tarantula that was nestled in her hand. Unlike Levana, Renpa wasn’t aware of Iris’s disdain of Matas’ creatures. “Belinda is up to something,” she continued, “and we can’t figure it out.”