A Witch Called Red: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 1)

by Sami Valentine

  “Awesome, let’s rock and roll. Get us up there.” Vic rubbed his hands.

  Lucas looked between them. His eyes lingered on Red. “Okay, Vic. You’re my date.”

  “What?” Red said.

  “Hell yeah!” Vic said. “You can scope out this level and the alley. I’ll let you know what the stiffs are doing upstairs.”

  “You’re so lucky I brought flats with me. I knew I’d end up doing the dirty work.” Red said, shaking her head. “I can’t wait to get out of these heels and into cozy socks.” She folded her arms.

  Lucas’s face gained a brooding edge as he stared at her. His lips pulled up in a sad smile.

  “What?” Red frowned and tilted her head at Lucas.

  Lucas shook his head. “Nothing. You reminded me of someone.” He gestured Vic forward. “Away we go to be bored by speeches. Rah rah, unity between vampires.” He walked away but glanced over his shoulder at Red as if she was a mirage about to disappear.

  Red pushed her loosely curled hair out of her face to drape over the covered back of her dress as she watched them go.

  Questions about Lucas bubbled up like a witch’s brew. She couldn’t stop staring, but neither could he. Who was he? No, that was the easier question to answer. Why did she remember him from a dream that had already crumbled into scattered sounds and flickering visuals? For an amnesiac, she had a good memory. She remembered what she ate for lunch last Tuesday, but these dreams didn’t belong to that tidy, conscious side of her brain. The dreams came from the unhelpful part of her brain that brought on panic attacks and spontaneous language fluency.

  She turned away as the two men reached the top of the stairs. Red strode between the dance floor and the low padded white benches and chairs clustered to the side. Stepping to the corner of the metallic topped bar, Red pulled out her phone.

  She flipped to the picture of Julia Crispin in her Oxford University shirt with her bright blue eyes and lush blond hair. She held it out to the bartender. “Did you see this girl?”

  “Are you going to order or what? I got customers.”

  “I get it.” She looked at the cheapest drink she could get on the menu then ordered a glass of Portuguese wine. “I just need to know what happened to Julia.”

  The Hispanic bartender in a black dress shirt and white bowtie put her hand on her hip. “I already told the cops what I know. What’s it to you?”

  “I’m a friend. Her dad wanted me to ask around. He hasn’t been able to book a flight yet from London.” Red tried to look mournful.

  “Shit, sorry.” The bartender dipped her head, showing the bright green streaks in her short pixie cut, before she sighed. “She’s been here every night since we opened last week, but outside tipping like a stingy Brit, I didn’t see any more than that. She usually walked out with a daddy type. Rich white guys. But I wasn’t doing more than making drinks.” The bartender’s eyes darted around before she said with urgent emphasis. “They were really really white guys.”

  “Say no more.” Red nodded, understanding the bartender immediately. She pulled out cash, wincing at dipping into her wallet, and put the bills on the bar. “Thanks.”

  The bartender hurried to help the growing line.

  Red sipped the Portuguese Vino Verde and turned around to lean against the bar. It was more than she wanted to spend, but the light bubbles made her smile, summoning up the feeling of sunshine and beaches. The mini mental vacation was quickly over as she refocused on the job at hand.

  Red had gone over the case files. The Los Angeles Police Department had done a thorough job with questioning Julia Crispin’s grad school friends, roommate, and even Delilah. They had covered her days, but what about her nights?

  She scanned the nightclub, trying to imagine the vampire who bit Julia Crispin in that alley. She walked around the perimeter of the chamber, trying to answer the question. Who killed Julia Crispin?

  Olivia Greene, the first victim, was just a regular blond sorority girl from Orange County who became a model. Julia was raised in a Brotherhood family. She knew what bumped in the night. Fat Jake Crispin wrote in his report that his daughter went to school, modeled on weekends, and was at home by a sensible bedtime.

  Father might have known best, but he didn’t know it all. He certainly didn’t know that Julia had been signed to DB Models.

  With two floors, plenty of seating space, and a rooftop, Red couldn’t imagine what could have led Julia out to the alley besides one of those “really really white guys.” It wouldn’t have been an accidental meeting. She had seen the smokers out on the front sidewalk, so she doubted there was a smoking area out back.

  Fat Crispin had noted that his daughter didn’t do drugs, but he didn’t mention that his daughter regularly hung out in vampire clubs. Red studied the dancers in their mix of hipster and designer fashions. This looked like a place where you didn't find your fix in the bathroom; you were rich enough to have a dealer on speed dial. Why skulk in an alley to find your brand of high when you had a trust fund?

  Red found herself back at the large bar, closer to a door marked employees only. She set her wine glass on the bar.

  “A pretty lady shouldn’t have an empty glass.” An overly tanned man with a manbun leaned close and smiled.

  “I’m good.” Red nodded and stepped away from the bar. Goosebumps rose on her arms when she looked over Man Bun’s shoulder to the figure standing in a dark corner of the bar.

  A flash of green and white strobe lights briefly illuminated his high forehead, dimpled chin, and chiseled jaw. Masculine lips curved into a grin for a second. The lights reflected off his dark blonde hair.

  Déjà vu hit her like an ice cube down the back of her dress. She shivered. Red stepped around Man Bun, ignoring him as he opened his mouth to speak to her.

  She waited for the lights in the club to shift again. Cocking her head, she studied the tall handsome man, clad in a fitted black suit without a tie over his gray no-collar shirt. He looked at least four inches over six feet.

  His stylish suit covered broad shoulders, and—well-tailored as it was—it couldn’t hide his strong arm muscles. He held a blonde glamazon loosely, one hand on her lower back and the other brushing her hair off her shoulders before running up her neck. His fingers looked too pale against her tanned cheek.

  Vampire. Red knew she should step away, but something about him… It didn’t jolt a memory, but it jolted her. She pushed her chain purse strap higher on her shoulder, telling herself to move.

  His gaze turned to her, the easy flirtatious grin softening before his mouth gaped open. His blue eyes widened like a kid seeing presents on Christmas morning.

  Red took a step back, breath catching in her throat, then tried to disappear into the crowd. The shiver going down her spine wasn’t fear, but something about him compelled her. Was he one of those vampires with the gift to mesmerize?

  “Juniper!”

  She didn’t turn at the shout as she slipped behind a grinding couple on the dance floor. The club went dark as the music dropped before the lights came on in a cascade of beats.

  The dark blonde-haired vampire appeared in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. “Miss Juniper St. James.”

  She gasped and put a hand over her heart.

  Red weighed her options. She could pretend to be a clueless human. That had cons too. If he thought she would be easy pickings, she didn’t want to have to stake a vampire under the nose of the Supreme Master of the City. She didn’t care how handsome this wannabe playboy vampire was, she wasn’t going to be intimidated.

  “Not cool. First off, I don’t know who you are, but it’s rude to pop out all vampire-like. and second, even if that was my name, I’m not a dog to be called after.”

  “What game are you playing?” He stepped closer, brow furrowed, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. His eyes darted over her face as if expecting her to disappear.

  She folded her arms. “I could ask you the same thing. Far be it from me to
give you vamp advice, but sprinting across a dance floor full of humans isn’t really keeping a low profile, Mister.”

  “Juniper…” He frowned, blue eyes concerned, and put his cold hands on her upper arms. “It’s me, Kristoff. Kristoff Novak.”

  Red looked down at his hands. Her heart began to race. She stepped back.

  Kristoff let her. He stared down at his hands as if in shock to discover she was solid before glancing up.

  Red told herself to run. Curiosity made her stay. He recognized her, but the name was all wrong. Juniper St. James… the name sounded like a Romance author’s pen name. “I don’t know who you think I am, but if you’re Kristoff Novak, then you’re one of the owners of this club, right?”

  He nodded, putting his hands behind his back, lips curling into a smirk. “This is one of mine.”

  Red pursed her lips at the brag. Kristoff was staring at her with too much interest. This was what passed for friendly banter among the undead and she wasn’t here for it.

  Bringing more chilly professionalism into her tone, she said, “I’m here on an official joint investigation with Cora Moon and the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes. I will need you to cooperate, Mr. Novak.” She held her breath, waiting for the reaction. Powerful vampires didn’t like to cooperate with hunters.

  “Mr. Novak, is it?” His smirk grew wider. “You have my full cooperation. Ms…?”

  She ignored the question and held out her phone, showing him Julia’s picture. “Did you see this girl here last night?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Sure, she was here. But she left alive, as you could see if the cops hadn’t taken our security footage. We run a tight operation. None of ours would be so stupid to break Cora’s laws, especially not here where they’d have to answer to me first.”

  “You don’t have a soul, do you?” Red put her phone in her purse as she folded her arms.

  “No, but I have a brain.” Kristoff shrugged. “Arno and I have opened a new club. We don’t need the heat.”

  Red snorted. “Oh, so you’re the brother who likes gingers?”

  “You would know, Juniper.” Kristoff’s grin turned flirtatious.

  “Why are you calling me that? My name’s Red.”

  “It’s impossible, but you look...” Kristoff leaned forward to sniff at her neck. “You even smell…” His lips hovered over her skin

  Instinctive fear bolted up. Red jumped back from Kristoff. “Hey! Personal space, dude.” She pulled a blessed silver cross out of her purse to shake it at him. Crosses might have been hit or miss for her faith level, but blessed silver made any vampire think twice. “Ugh, I’m not a cupcake.”

  “No, you’re more like a macaron.” Kristoff smirked and snapped his head to the side, looking across the dance floor. His flirty manner popped like a bubble, and his eyes flashed amber like a predator, the tips of his fangs poking out under his upper lip.

  She followed his line of sight.

  Lucas stomped through the dancers toward them. The strobe lights reflected off his patched leather jacket and ripped jeans. The dark hair dipping over his grey eyes didn’t hide the amber flicking in the irises.

  “Has he claimed you?” Kristoff asked.

  Red snorted and shook her head. “What is it with vamps?” She crossed her arms as she stared at Lucas. She didn’t need a rescue, especially not from a vamp that already thought she couldn’t handle herself. He was supposed to be minding Vic up in the private party upstairs, not agitating her witness. If expressions could talk, Kristoff’s would be cursing. “I’m under the protection of the supreme master. No one is claiming me.”

  “Red, you need to step away from this soulless tosser.” Lucas glared at Kristoff, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning on his heels, his gritted jaw highlighting his high cheekbones.

  “How long were you going to keep her a secret, Lucas?” Kristoff’s tone turned to a growl.

  “So, not friends?” Red sighed and glanced around at the human crowd, wondering how big a scene the two vampires were going to make. She rubbed her left temple. “I’m in the middle of questioning him.”

  “He thinks you’re someone you’re not,” Lucas said, glancing at her. Worry battled with anger in his gray eyes. “You’re in danger, even if he seems… domesticated. Novak will play the friend before he stabs you in the back. It's what he does.”

  Kristoff stepped up to Lucas. “Your soul doesn’t change what you’ve done. Don’t act like you’re better than me.”

  “I don’t need to act.” Lucas held his hand out to Red.

  Kristoff smacked it away.

  The club went dark again.

  Red found herself pulled against a hard chest. Her head tilted to the side as fangs dug into her neck. She gasped, but she couldn’t scream. She tried to raise her cross, but her arms felt limp.

  She had fought vampires before, even had one or two dig their fangs into her, sending enough venom into her system to bring her into a numbed thrall. Nothing felt like the wave of pleasure that radiated from that bite. Red panted, trying to tell herself that her trembles were struggles against the firm arms. It happened in seconds, even if time felt slower in his arms.

  The lights came on.

  Fangs retracting, the vampire licked at the bite, his arm around her waist. His biceps tensed as if ready to pull her away from the crowd for round two.

  She snapped her gaze to the vampire’s head buried in her neck. Her eyes widened as her skipping heartbeat dropped. The ecstasy in the thrall ebbed away like low tide. Kristoff.

  Cringing, Red pulled away from the tongue on her neck as reality set in.

  Kristoff turned her chin to meet her gaze, smirking. He knew exactly how his bite felt. “Mmmmm, Red, you’re delicious… and mine.”

  She glared at Kristoff. “Wait a second!”

  His chilled fingers brushed her cheek as he grinned, a mix of relief and elation in his blue eyes contrasting with the blood on his lips. “I claim you with this bite.”

  “Bastard!” Red jerked her head away. After Oklahoma, she’d thought she’d learned to never trust a vampire without a soul. It only ended with fangs in your neck.

  Red stomped on Kristoff’s foot before she angled an elbow to slam into his nose, wincing at the pain in her neck. Wiggling away from him, she pressed her hand against the bleeding bite and stared at Kristoff as she stumbled away on those stupid heels.

  Kristoff, blood on his chin and amber in his eyes. He wiped the blood off with his thumb, bringing the digit to his mouth, staring at her like an animal in a tailored suit. “Tastes like strawberries. You can thank me later.”

  “Bugger the Black Veil.” Glancing around at the crowd, Lucas gritted his teeth. He rushed forward at vampire speed. He grabbed Kristoff by the collar and clocked him across the face. “You won’t get close enough, Novak.”

  Kristoff headbutted Lucas before raising his fist. “Give me time. She’ll want me close. Juniper did.”

  Lucas growled before tackling the taller blond vampire around the middle and bringing him down to the floor.

  Red’s head spun as the eerie pleasure fully evaporated, leaving only pain. Warm blood dripped under her hand from her neck. She stepped away from the fighting vampires, trying to blend into the few startled, tipsy club-goers gawking at the fight nearby. The loud, dark club was too big and loud for even a vampire fight to draw much attention from the humans. She had no doubt that the other vampires had noticed.

  The club went dark again, and the frantic techno beat grew louder.

  Red could still hear the growls, hisses, and thump of fist on flesh. She raised the cross and her phone screen up.

  The dim light of the screen caught Kristoff and Lucas rolling on the ground in the curling smoke of the club fog machines.

  Red thumbed out a quick text to Vic. Get out. Lucas in fight. I got bit! The screen blinded her in the darkness. The pain made tears come to her eyes. She gritted her teeth. Fucking vampires… Fat Crispin was going to get an earful ab
out this deal with Cora.

  Raising her lit phone, she roamed her eyes over the club to see the vampire she had seen at the door. She wanted to investigate a crime scene, not start a fight at an undead UN party.

  She looked up to see someone whisper to the DJ in his raised booth.

  Arno ran in from the front of the club, yelling into his Bluetooth earpiece before pulling it out to throw at his large bouncer.

  The vampire in the white eyepatch and black ponytail came from the stairs. He got there first.

  The strobe lights came back on as the beat switched to a remixed pop banger.

  “Boys, boys…” Michel de Grammont, the supreme master’s right hand, stood with his arms spread between Lucas on one side and Kristoff and Arno on the other. His white eyepatch seemed to glow purple in the blacklights. “Such behavior at this historic event. Miss Cora has brought together the cream of the Alliance to our fair city to marvel on how we’ve managed to integrate between souled and not— dove and bloodliner, all while maintaining the Dark Veil. We are on the world stage, and you fucking monkeys are taking a shit on it.”