Hollywood Witch Hunter

by Valerie Tejeda

  “I won’t let her hurt him,” Iris snarled. Arlo may have made out with a witch, but he was still a Hunter.

  “We know you. That’s why we brought you here,” Anaka said, playing with her dirty blond curls. Iris half expected Anaka to have some sort of bug, reptile, or animal at her fingertips, but then she remembered she was a water Ethas. Thank God. “You’re the only one who would do something,” Anaka whined. “We didn’t think any of the other Hunters would care.”

  Iris’s stomach flipped.

  “So, change of plans,” Levana said in an upbeat tone. “Instead of using Arlo to get to Belinda, keep him as far away from her as possible so she can’t use him as some pawn,” Levana suggested.

  “I’m all about keeping Belinda away from Arlo.” Iris paused to consider the situation. “Why exactly are you guys turning against her again?”

  “We want Levana to be our queen now,” Renpa said. A few of her small spiders danced across her chest. “And if she’s somehow using Arlo to get more power, we need to stop her.”

  “Is that amazing? Me, as the new Queen Bee!” Levana said, cheerily. She stood up, posing in front of her vanity mirror like a model at a photo shoot. She puffed her hair and applied some red lipstick, before blowing a few kisses at herself.

  “Look. We just need Belinda back here and then we can figure out what’s going on,” Levana explained. “I’m going to get my nails done, but Silos is going to borrow our Range Rover to take you to the Beverly Hills Hotel so you can get Arlo out of there.”

  “Borrowing your car, huh? Buddies, much? Didn’t you two just meet?” Iris added snidely.

  “Well, yeah. But birds of a feather, you know. And Iris, looks like we’re buddies too. How about that?” Levana puckered her lips. “You’re friends with a witch and you made out with a warlock. I guess everything isn’t as black and white as you thought?”

  Iris inhaled deeply. She wasn’t sure what to say. Her world of black and white was slowly shifting into endless hues of gray and silver. And though she still didn’t trust Levana, she couldn’t deny the witch had shown her more kindness in the last twenty-four hours than some of the Hunters had shown her in the last twenty-four days. It was unexpected, and surprising.

  “Come on. We should get going,” Silos said, motioning his head toward the door.

  She slid out of bed and yawned before stretching her hands above her head. Her body was still stiff from the night before. She moved toward the door, following closely behind Silos.

  “And Iris,” Levana called after her, “just don’t let Belinda win. I know you don’t think so, but you’re better than that.”

  *

  The witches’ Range Rover was just like their nails, perfectly manicured and shiny. The beige leather seats were soft and supple, the carpets were vacuumed and perfectly clean, and the interior still had the new-car smell. Iris wondered how the witches acquired their vehicle. Did they just spell the salesmen? Or, did they actually purchase the cars with money, which they always seemed to have plenty of.

  “So, have you thought up some master plan yet?” Silos asked from behind the wheel. Iris gave him a sidelong glance. His Scottish accent was making it difficult to tell if he was being serious or sarcastic.

  “Not really,” she answered honestly. “Just to get Arlo away from freaking Belinda.”

  “Why do you like him so much?”

  Iris jumped. That was the last thing she expected Silos to say. “Excuse me?” She fumbled her words. “Why do you—”

  “And I must say, I don’t get it. You’re brilliant. You don’t need to be chasing after a Hunter who just cheated on you.”

  “Well, he technically didn’t cheat on me ’cause we’re not together.”

  “Still. Why go after someone whose heart is with someone else?”

  Iris was at a loss for words. Arlo’s heart couldn’t be with Belinda. He was just using her, right?

  “Look,” she started. “This is bigger than me or how or even what I feel for Arlo. He is a Hunter. I will always intervene when it comes to his safety.”

  Silos shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  Iris found herself staring at Silos as he continued to drive. His scruffy face and hard jaw looked even more statuesque in the daylight. Her eyes stopped at his toned arms and she examined his tattoos. They looked tribal. Lines and circles that Iris was sure meant something important to the warlock.

  Iris peered out the window. “So, you warlocks,” she started, “in Wales, do you sacrifice humans?”

  “No,” he quickly replied. “We’re not under the same curse. We can use different spells to keep us young; we don’t need to kill people to do that.”

  “But why have we always thought you were extinct?”

  Silos let out a loud breath. “Before The Curse, a group of Hunters came to the UK—that’s where most of our kind reside—and started a warlock genocide. They slaughtered all but a few of my brethren; my family, my closest friends. Those of us who were left were forced into hiding.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. She always knew the Hunters killed witches because they sacrificed humans. It was protection. A necessary evil. Something that had to be done. But she never knew her kind brutally murdered warlocks who weren’t killing people.

  Iris placed her hand on his. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  He smiled. “It was a long time ago. So what about you?” Silos changed the subject. “You’re the only girl to carry the Hunter gene, or so I hear. Does it suit you?”

  “I mean, I like it,” she said, picking at her fingers. “I love it actually. It’s just … It’s hard for me. People don’t always take me seriously.”

  “I’ll tell you this, Iris Maria Bently: You are an extraordinary woman. I feel it.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled weakly. Even though it was coming from a warlock, she enjoyed the compliment.

  They pulled to the side of the street near the Beverly Hills Hotel and Iris unbuckled her seat belt. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He cracked a playful smile.

  “And it was nice … um … ‘seeing’ you again.” Iris flushed as images of them making out flooded her brain. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed herself.

  “It was lovely to see you again as well,” he said, his eyebrow shooting up.

  She opened the door and Silos quickly reached over and closed it. “Iris, wait,” he said with haste. His breathing was labored. “Come with me. To Wales. I can show you around our coven, we can travel the countryside. We don’t kill humans so there’s no need for your kind to hunt us. We can be allies, friends, maybe even … more than friends.” His foxy smirk returned.

  Iris’s body stiffened. “Come with you? To Wales?”

  “You’re not truly living your life here. You’re underappreciated. And because of your sex, the Hunters will never treat you equally. Is that any way to live?” He paused and sucked in a breath. “Is there even one Hunter who treats you with any sort of respect?”

  She rested her face in her hand as she contemplatively peered at the sky. “Well, my brother and cousin seem to believe in me, even though they tease me a lot.” She looked at the ground. “But, honestly, the only one who treats me like an equal is Arlo.”

  “I see.” Silos pursed his lips into a thin line. “Well, if you change your mind the door is always open. I’ll be in Los Angeles for a bit trying to find Helmer. If you need me at all, just give me a ring.”

  He leaned in to give her a hug. She wrapped her hands around his toned body, taking in his smell of spicy musk and oak moss. He didn’t just look like a model in a cologne ad, he smelled like one too.

  She relinquished her grip, giving him one last smile before leaving. She didn’t want to say good-bye, but she had to.

  Twenty-Seven

  Iris stood tense as she pounded on the hotel door. “Arlo!” she bellowed. “I’ve been out here forever. Open. The. Freaking. Door.”

  Her demands were met w
ith silence. She wondered if she made the right call coming here with out telling her brother or the Hunters.

  “I know you’re in there, Arlo. You parked The Armada right out front. I’m not freaking stupid,” Iris shouted again.

  A part of Iris hoped the door would never open. The image of him kissing Belinda in her family’s car was seared into her brain like a mental tattoo she couldn’t remove. The scar seemed indelible, and no matter how hard she tried to think about something else, her mind kept replaying the same dreadful scene.

  “Seriously, I’m freaking pissed!” Iris finally chimed in again. “Let me in.”

  Iris paused at a melodic sound coming from inside the hotel room. She pressed her ear to the door. It sounded like someone was playing the piano.

  Was he serenading a witch?

  She needed to get in there and fast. Out of the corner of her eye, Iris spotted one of the hotel’s maid pushing a cleaning cart at the other end of the hall.

  Perfect.

  Using the Idas in her glasses she kindly asked the woman to open up Arlo’s hotel room door. It totally worked and the groundskeeper handed over the key, no questions asked. Iris slipped the key card into the slot and cracked open the door.

  A guy with a head full of messy hair was seated at a grand piano playing a melody that was all his own. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. Perfect. His hands effortlessly glided across the keys, looking as if it was as natural to him as breathing.

  The hotel suite was lovely, with a kitchen and living area attached to a private bedroom. The room smelled sweet and fruity with hints of Lucky Charms and bad hotel coffee.

  Arlo craned his neck back, spotting Iris, and flashed his typical boyish smile.

  “Iris!” he shouted, jumping to his feet. “Hey! I’m so happy you’re finally here. I—”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Iris snapped, intentionally avoiding his infinitely deep, green eyes.

  Arlo stepped back and held out his hands. “Wait. What? What are you talking about?”

  “What am I talking about?” Iris stuck an accusatory finger in his face. “Why are you here at a hotel?”

  “You didn’t get my texts?”

  “What texts?” Iris asked.

  “The texts telling you to come here.”

  “Oh right. Those texts. No, Arlo, I never got them!”

  “Then how did you know I was here?”

  Iris was silent. She couldn’t tell him Levana and Silos told her. That would only make things worse.

  “Look,” Arlo said in a hushed voice, inching closer to Iris. “I’m also really sorry about leaving you at the Fortress last night after you got injured. I knew we had a window here and to be honest—”

  A scuffling of feet interrupted them. Belinda walked groggily from the bedroom, her perfect figure accentuated by a loosely fitting Beatles T-shirt that draped from her narrow shoulders. It was at least two sizes too big. Iris recognized the shirt immediately as Arlo’s.

  “You have to be freaking kidding me,” she fumed, pushing past Arlo. “What is she doing here?” Iris stood nose to nose with the witch, a guttural growl escaping through gritted teeth.

  “Let me explain,” Arlo said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

  Iris grabbed Arlo’s arm and dragged him into the kitchen. “Ow, ow, ow,” he whined.

  “Did you stay here with Belinda last night?” Iris glared at him.

  “Yes,” he answered defeatedly, eyes trained on the floor. He swallowed hard, his fingers searching his clothes for loose strands of fabric. “And that’s why I kept texting you. I said we were here and for you to come after the Marmont.”

  “Just tell me this, you little sleaze, did you have sex with that witch?” Her voice was level, but laced with anger. Veins bulged from her neck and forehead. She looked ready to blow.

  “No,” Arlo said ardently, if not with a twinge of fear. “I’ll have you know that I’m a perfect gentleman. All we did was sleep, I promise. We didn’t sleep together, like at all.”

  “If you’re lying to me …” Iris took a fistful of his collar.

  The mere thought of Arlo befriending Belinda made her nauseous, but knowing they had kissed sent her spiraling into an endless pit of despair. If she found out they had sex, she’d probably kill them both.

  “I’m not lying, Iris. And we’ve been here literally since I left the Fortress. I texted you over and over. I thought that you would be here.”

  “What about your stop at Griffith Park?”

  Arlo tilted his head. “We never went to Griffith Park.”

  “Yes you did,” she seethed, setting her jaw tight.

  “Iris, I swear. I’ve been here all night.”

  She couldn’t believe Arlo would lie to her face.

  “Why is she even here anyway?” asked Iris, snapping her eyes toward Belinda who was still sitting in the other room.

  “Well, I was about to tell you—”

  “How do we know we can even trust her, Arlo? Did you even think of that?” Iris pressed him for answers.

  “Just let me explain,” Belinda chimed in from the other room.

  Arlo and Iris rejoined Belinda in the hotel’s living area. There were plush leather couches, soft pillows, and classical art on the walls. Iris hated that the room was so nice.

  Iris and Arlo took a seat on the leather couch. Belinda was standing in front of them with her head held high.

  “So here we are,” Belinda said, biting her lip.

  “Unfortunately.” Iris glared. She wanted to puke.

  “Well. Here’s what’s important: there’s a powerful warlock in town and I think he’s messing with my spells, and—”

  “What?!” Arlo shrieked, furrowing his brows. “I thought warlocks were extinct?”

  Iris agreed, but then again she’d already hashed out all of these details with Silos.

  “Hey.” Arlo nudged at Iris’s side. “Why are you not freaking out over this?”

  That’s right. Arlo didn’t know about Silos. Actually, none of the Hunters did. She paused for a moment, preparing to get her game face on.

  “Warlocks!” she suddenly shouted in her best acting voice. “Are you kidding me? Warlocks are actually real?”

  Arlo stared at her flatly.

  “What?” Iris shrugged her shoulders.

  “Can I continue?” Belinda asked. Iris nodded her head. “Look, I think this warlock killed the actress, and to be honest, I don’t think we’re safe right now in Hollywood. I think our best bet is to visit this witch doctor in Burbank. She poses as a psychic and owns a fortune telling shop. Her name is Wava.”

  A witch doctor? Iris remembered what the Nomad said—it was a witch doctor who prophesied there would be a plague, but she didn’t know they were in Burbank.

  “How come we’ve never heard of any witch doctor in L.A. before?” Iris asked, standing.

  “Wava likes to stay hidden,” Belinda explained. “I made a few calls, and Wava won’t be home until tonight, so I think we should all go together.”

  “Absolutely not!” Iris instantly shot down the idea. “We know nothing about this witch doctor. It’s too dangerous.” She curled her lip at Belinda. Pretty, perfect Belinda. Thoughts of insecurity crept into her mind like one of those catchy pop songs. The self-doubt was playing loudly, overpowering all her personal pros and shouting the cons on repeat.

  “Iris.” Belinda moved closer. “You know what it’s like, right? To feel out of control? To feel powerless?”

  Iris stared at the witch, not saying a word.

  “Do you remember when you killed that Ethas witch at Melrose Academy? Do you remember how I told you to take the witch’s body and show your father how he’d been lying to you all this time?!”

  “Yes,” Iris whispered.

  “Well, I need to know why this warlock, whoever he is, is messing with my spells. I think something is going on behind my back. I think I’m being lied to. And I need to figure this out and prove myself in th
e same way.”

  Iris locked eyes with Belinda. For the first time, the witch seemed vulnerable.

  “How do we know we can even trust you?” Iris’s voice wavered.

  “I give you my word,” Belinda said sternly.

  “Your word, huh?” Iris looked around the hotel suite, flinching as she caught a glimpse of the bedroom out of the corner of her eye. “Well, since you’re all about honesty now, tell me, were you here the whole night or did you and Arlo stop at Griffith Park?”

  “Um, we weren’t at Griffith,” Belinda huffed. “Why would we be there?”

  “So you guys didn’t go to Griffith Park, at all?” Iris pressed harder.

  “No. We didn’t.”

  Iris watched Belinda closely: No sweating. Firm eye contact. Steady hands. No signs of lying.

  But she was.

  Iris clenched her fists as the vein in her forehead made another appearance. She watched Arlo, who picked nervously at his nails, attempting to make eye contact with no one. It was awkward, to say the least.

  “Well,” Arlo said, breaking the tension. “I think we need to go to Burbank to check this witch doctor out. But under the radar.”

  Iris looked like she’d been shot in the gut. “You’re not serious?”

  “Iris, we may be in danger.” Arlo glared at her with sternness. The look was unfamiliar.

  She rolled her eyes. “I doubt you would be so willing to help this witch if she wasn’t so damn hot.”

  Belinda flashed a brief smile, but seemed to catch herself and it quickly slipped away.

  “Okay, let me ask you this, witch,” Iris said, turning her attention to Belinda. “You’re super powerful, right? Why do you want us to come with you?”

  Belinda lifted her head up slowly, her eyes drowning in insecurity. “Well. Wava and I don’t really have the best history,” she said sheepishly. “It’s totally drama, but let’s just say we kind of both liked the same guy and it didn’t turn out so well. I have this feeling she’s not going to help me if I show up alone.”

  The other woman? Iris remembered the tale from The Witch Hunting Book of Stories. She wondered if Wava was Helmer’s affair.