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

by Sami Valentine

  “Love doesn’t come from the soul. It's in the blood.” Michel sighed. “I had been so cold, so empty, even after a century of ruling Paris. I longed for the open seas of my human years when I roamed between Jamaica, New Orleans, and Martinique.”

  “So, you were a pirate!” Red gestured with her finger up.

  Michel laughed. “Penelope said much the same thing. She had been a simple country girl when I found her by the cold shore in Brittany, but she had eyes like the warm Caribbean waters. An innkeeper’s daughter, she had a face worth preserving for eternity and the quick wit to make the time pass quickly. I proposed marriage in a fortnight, and—like Eros with Psyche—I kept her safe in my estate outside the city. She wanted to join me in my court, but I couldn’t bear to expose her to the politics of an urban clan.”

  “You kept her alive and away from other vampires?”

  Michel glared at Lucas’s still unconscious body in chains. “Unlike this barbarian, I didn’t force my delicate human companions to suffer vampire society, but mon dieu, my court was never the savage nest of brutality that Alaric’s Order reveled in. Eventually, the sweating sickness pushed my hand. I turned her on Christmas Day in 1899. She thought it was a gift, but she was the gift.”

  Red put her hand to her mouth as she calculated. “She was barely months in death when…”

  “Oui.” Michel curled his gloved fist closed, fangs appearing over his pale lips. “The horde of Alaric ran over my borders. I had them closed up in the catacombs. The siege was ready to crumble when Lucas and his butcher boy broke all the rules of vampire war. Yes, little Amazon, vampires have rules even if one bloodline could make Satan hang his head in shame. The fiends stormed my mansion during the initiation ceremony, and they took her.”

  “How did you find out? How did you find any of this out?”

  “Vengeance kept me going after my city was lost, then it was honed like a blade in the August Harvest after these dogs brought the curse of the soul upon us!” Michel’s English dissolved into a rapid outburst of angry French before he adjusted his suit shirt collar and composed himself.

  Red waited, noticing Lucas and Kristoff rousing from the tranquilizer darts.

  “One of Alaric’s minions, souled and wretched, confessed during torture what had happened to her. But it was only half-truth. I thought Alaric had drank her blood, so for years I tried to destroy him. I worked with the Blood Alliance to crush the bloodline system and rout out relics like Alaric, but he was too established. It was only when he perished that I discovered he hadn’t just drank her blood in one of his unholy communions, he had offered her blood to his best hounds.” Michel pointed at Kristoff.

  Red’s mouth opened before she caught the slip, eyes darting between Kristoff and Lucas. When Lucas implied that they had been friends, he didn’t mention that it was a friendship bonded in shared blood- they had killed Penelope together.

  “Didn’t know? Guess it never came up.” Kristoff brushed the dust off his suit jacket as he stood. The casual motion was betrayed by the angry shake to his fingers. He shared a glance with Lucas who had also risen.

  Michel hissed at him. “This one had been only a minion with the stink of the grave around him, and still that monster offered a jewel to him. My jewel!"

  Red tried to get Michel’s amber glare off the chained vampires. "What does it mean for a vampire to drink another? Why do it if it's forbidden?"

  "To gain power. My ancient blood flowed through her veins. And it pains me like a thousand suns to know that it flows through them." Michel shook his head and grimaced from the taste of his own words. "Having to touch Delilah was torture, but every day in her bed, I told myself I was getting closer to my goal. Alaric met his end at the hands of another, but I could still know that he would be rolling in hell at the idea of his precious Delilah killed, his bastards destroyed, and the last of his line snuffed out.” His fangs popped out in his fervor. Michel snapped them back with a twitch of lip.

  Rubbing her arms, Red couldn’t look away from his wide stare. Chills tickled at the back of her neck. “Mission accomplished then.”

  He leaned forward, cracks forming under his fingertips as he gripped the table. “No, it changed when I saw you, I knew that Penelope might yet still have the taste of immortality she deserved. I only need your word that you’ll share your secret."

  "How do I know you won’t turn on me like you did Cora? Obviously, you’re cunning enough. I still don't know how you managed to fool the Blood Alliance into believing Delilah was the mutineer."

  "Switching her bite mold with mine and having it entered into the database was child's play." Michel smiled at the chained and gagged Quinn and Delilah.

  Quinn glared over his gag, even as Delilah turned away.

  “You mangy prick.” Lucas raised his chained hand to Michel flip off.

  “Clever,” Kristoff muttered.

  Red nodded, ignoring them all as she tried to process. Fury grew inside her. She felt it boil, but underneath it something else stirred—magic. "You framed Delilah, then killed Julia Crispin. It sounds like you’ve been picking off members of the order of Alaric for years, turning minions behind Cora’s back. Tell me why I should trust you."

  "Because I can get you the memories you seek. In my quest to destroy Alaric, I know exactly where you come from and how that damnable warlock—”

  “I have no idea who that guy is. He’s probably long dead too. Why should I care?” Red crossed her arms. “How do you even know about Juniper St. James and her supposed enemy, anyway?”

  “Because I was working with the head Bard, Jack Constantine, when she was his bodyguard,” Michel said.

  Red furrowed her brow. Vic had mentioned that his adopted father, Henry had come from a long line of Bards. Iron Jack Constantine had been the one that Henry had idolized the most. Juniper had betrayed him. “She was a double agent. Probably lied all the time.”

  “She was a survivor.” Michel gestured absently, as if it was no matter. “She was also curious like you. You can feel that coiling up like a viper within, even if you don’t like the truths I tell.” He leaned forward. "I’ll help you get all you desire, because then I will get my most fervent dream. The true question is, how do I trust you? You have but a simple task before I can trust you. This is one you may even enjoy. You must show me you have no allegiance to the Byrneses."

  "How?" Red stared at the chained vampires, already chilled by the implications in his voice.

  "Delilah and Quinn have been claimed by the Bards for execution, but the others…." Michel held out a stake. "Choose which one will know the mercy of the stake—Lucas or Kristoff. Understand that it is a mercy, for the one who survives will suffer torment that even Alaric will feel in hell.”

  Red looked between Lucas and Kristoff. “Is this a trick?”

  “No, it’s a choice. Something I doubt either of them will give you.” Michel stood, twirling a roughly-hewn stake in his hand. He strode to Lucas.

  Lucas growled at him. “You bleeding bastard.”

  “You could choose the one with a soul who did more to torment your past self than nearly any other. The one who is still selfish enough to want to claim you again and incompetent enough to fail.”

  “Oi!”

  Michel gave Lucas a dismissive glance before striding over to Kristoff. “Or you could choose Novak, the one who wants to do everything Lucas Crawford did—and then some—with all the imagination and frustrated purpose of an unchained demon with a century to dream up nightmares.”

  Red stood.

  He smiled. “Which monster will you show compassion?”

  Red held her hand out for the stake. He handed it over, and she gripped it before rushing forward to strike at Michel.

  Michel caught her with the ease of a giant swatting a knight. He turned her around, pulling her close to his chest, a sigh of disappointment rattling in his dead lungs. “Oh, my little Amazon, that was the wrong choice.” His hand tightened on her wrist, and the stake
dropped. “I had so hoped you would be an ally, but I can make do. You showed me the possibility, but you aren’t the only way. Perhaps this is best. Draining you will show them what it felt like when I lost Penelope.”

  “Whatever secrets that Juniper St. James had, you won’t ever find them,” Red said.

  “Neither will you.” Michel brushed her hair off her neck before dragging her forward to stand between Kristoff and Lucas.

  “The difference is that I could care less. You’ll never get Penelope back.” Red closed her eyes.

  The spark of magic within her, tiny as it may have been, still burned bright. The ward against magic ended at the rooftop. She surrendered to the magic. Not pushing it or commanding it, she released her desire for her origins or even the hope that Chang or Detective Callaway had had enough time to rally the troops. She reached for that magic inside with a single fevered hope for the soul of the City of Angels.

  A rustle of wind blew her hair back. The whizz of the stake tore through the air.

  Michel released her wrist to pluck the stake from the air. “Is that all the mighty Juniper St. James has? Barely controlling the air? I thought you had more fire in you!”

  Red looked up, the spark tingling her fingers. Finally.

  Kristoff grinned.

  Lucas’s mouth dropped open.

  Red spun, hand raised, ghostly blue flame growing in her palm as she slapped Michel. “Maybe I do.”

  He bellowed, jumping back. His eye patch smoldered, and flames caught his black suit jacket. He tossed it down.

  Red kicked the jacket, keys rattling in the pocket, toward Lucas before she turned around. She shook her hand, but no more magic fire appeared. “Shit.” She looked over at the raised garden bed by Kristoff and ran behind him.

  “I’m glad the warlock stole your magic!” Michel snarled, running after her.

  Kristoff swung the silver chain connected to his arm out as he tripped Michel with his leg.

  Red picked up a garden hoe by the raised garden bed and swung it as Michel fell, hitting him in the head. “I’m not Juniper St. James.”

  Michel fell to the side, blood gushing from the side of his head, his ear a mangled mess.

  Red lifted the hoe up again and swung it in a brutal arc to catch Michel on the back of the head. The metal blade dug into his skull. “My name is Red.”

  Lucas freed himself from his chains using the keys and sprinted forward. He tossed the keys to Kristoff before picking up the stake on the ground. Raising it, he jumped on Michel’s twitching back.

  The thump of boots sounded from the stairwell as black-clad vampires, fangs out and guns raised, stormed out. They filled the garden with their numbers, weapons pointed over the tomato vines toward the fight by the gazebo.

  The leader called out, “Halt!”

  Kristoff, unchained and fangs out, stood in front of Red. “Fuck no.”

  “We have you surrounded.”

  “I think we have you surrounded.” Red looked up at the sound of helicopter blades as a spotlight shone down. Her borrowed pink jersey flapped in the wind created by the helicopter.

  Illuminated in the bright light, sound cancelling headphones on her ears, Detective Callaway stuck her head out of the open door of the helicopter. A speaker crackled to life. “LAPD.”

  Face bruised up and police hat missing, Chang appeared out of a nearby stairwell with a silver-burned Cora beside him. They led a dozen vampires in civilian clothes ranging from surfer board shorts to mini dresses.

  Chang raised his gun, “I think we have you surrounded, traitors.”

  The vampires in tactical gear looked at each other.

  Cora stepped forward and raised her fist, the net pattern on her face and arms red and grisly in the spotlight. “This is still my motherfucking city. Stand down before I tell my people in the ‘copter to mow you the fuck down.”

  Lucas pulled Michel up, using a stake jammed into the bleeding vampire’s side as leverage, and smiled, revealing his fangs. “I’ll kill him before a single bullet is fired.”

  Kristoff grabbed Michel’s arm. “I’ll take an arm as a souvenir.”

  The leader of the tactical squad lowered his weapon.

  Red released the breath that she was holding.

  “Fuck it,” one of the rebelling vampires said and took aim at Red. He pulled the trigger of the semi-automatic weapon.

  Red lifted her hands, hearing the pop of the gun, even if she couldn’t see the bullets, and felt the fire sizzling the air as it left her fingertips. The flames blinded her as she fell back.

  The bullets melted in the air, the metal dropping down like rain on the concrete.

  Falling to the ground, she watched as Michel’s rogue vampires were hit with the magical fire.

  Screaming, they went up like torches before their charred bones fell into a heap, leaving only their Kevlar vests behind.

  Red laid her head down on her arms, panting and fighting the urge to barf. Blinking, all she saw was Lucas and Kristoff rush toward her.

  They knelt on the ground beside her. Their words were lost in the chopping of the helicopter blades.

  Eyes, grey and blue, blurred in her vision. Through their legs, she saw Cora run to Delilah. Blinking again, she felt herself being lifted. Through the spots in her vision, she saw the helicopter land.

  “We saved the city,” she murmured, shaking from exhaustion, before she closed her eyes, and her head dipped back onto the cold firm arms that held her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  November 5th, Sunset, Somewhere in Los Angeles, California

  Red coughed as she woke, trying to sit up but only managing to lift her head. Blinking, the fuzzy image of a white room sharpened into focus.

  A hospital. Great. The thoughts felt as heavy as her head.

  “Red!”

  She looked over to see Vic propped up in the bed beside her own. “I slayed the dragon, Vic.”

  “You sure did, kid.” Vic chuckled, but his image swam in her vision.

  Consciousness left her as soon as it had come.

  She didn’t wake again until three days later.

  The sun was already setting when she finally bullied the nurses in the private hospital room to let her dress. They couldn’t tell her where Vic had gone.

  He had checked himself out the day before but said he would be back when she woke up.

  Red wasn’t going to wait for him. Someone had brought her duffle bag and her collection of black shirts and jeans. The clothes were the same, but she felt different. Her conversation with Michel in the gazebo under the smoggy LA sky had rattled around in her head as soon as consciousness gripped her.

  Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age…

  She avoided her reflection in the mirror, not wanting to see Juniper’s face staring back at her.

  She was sitting up on the bed tying her shoes when Chang walked in.

  Chang took off his police hat as he entered the room. “Cora wants to give you her thanks personally. Your friends will be there.”

  “Then take me away, officer.” Red followed him out confidently but was dozing in the car before they reached the highway. She woke when they arrived in front of Moon Enterprises.

  Red followed him through the empty lobby to the elevator. The lobby had been cleaned up, but signs of a struggle still showed in the rips in the carpet and the bullet holes in the murals. She guessed it would be a while until the yoga classes and soup kitchen opened again. “You guys did some damage.”

  “The battle for LA showed those unsouled bastards that we came to win.” Chang grunted as he put his thumb on the scanner in the elevator.

  The ride felt short, as the strains of an instrumental version of California Love pumped through the speakers. Red watched the lights of the elevator buttons turn red one after another, until they were on the rooftop.

  Red walked through the garden, her eyes finding the burns and the tiny spots of melted bullets on the cemen
t. She still didn’t know how she had conjured up that flame. She had tried again when she woke, but that woozy flu feeling of using too much magic had been her only answer. Vic would be impressed to know she had finally tapped into two of the elements. Hopefully someone had bragged to him about it.

  Two dozen vampires stood at attention in a semi-circle around the helipad half of the rooftop. Cora stood with her hands on her hips, dressed in a black bodysuit, facing them. The lights of the city glinted on her afro and onyx covered headband.

  Kristoff stood in the back, wearing an immaculate suit with his blond hair slicked back. He turned his head and spotted Red first. He winked at her.