Speaking of which… Red couldn’t stay silent anymore. “You gonna say something about all of this? You know Trudy will be on my ass once I walk into the academy. At least tell me what to say to her.”
“I was doing her job. Hannah can’t tell a werewolf from a kitsune.” Vic blew a raspberry, turning past the Palms. “Tell her that. Further questions can be addressed literally to my ass.”
“You can say that last part yourself.” Red looked down at her buzzing phone in her purse. Surprised, she saw a text message from Lucas.
Vic told me to come to some arcade to meet the crew and no one is here. He isn’t picking up.
Red felt stupid about her disappointment at the message. She had hoped… She roped off that line of thinking. Instead, she shot off a quick reply to Lucas to explain, then stilled her thumbs from writing more. Instinct drew her to him, but her head overruled her heart. How many times was she going to put herself out there with Lucas? Maybe it would have been different if he had come to Vegas without pretenses, if he had followed up “I missed you” with something more.
She’d had a taste of what dating a normal guy was like again. Normal was relative in her world, of course. Ezra was a Bard’s son and worked in a magical casino. Was she ready to fess her life story and sign a lease with him? No, but she liked flirting over pinball with the dude.
“Lucas says hello,” Red grumbled. It would have been mortifying if he had showed up with the rest. “I told him your plan to crash my date was canceled.”
“I warned you I was bringing backup,” Vic said dryly, zooming through a left turn toward the street behind the Circe Casino. He sighed, noticing her sour glance. “Sorry, Red, I didn’t know it was a date. You just said you were busy. Didn’t even think about it when I was picking places to go with Lashawn before he flew out on a red eye flight tonight. I was serious about how last minute it was to let Hannah come along.”
“You didn’t tell me for a reason, I think.” Red fortified herself with a calming breath. She had let some things stay unsaid for too long. He’d told her to trust his process. Now his process had imploded on the rest of them. “You’ve been weirder than usual since we left LA. Normally, I wouldn’t care. I’d chalk it up to working through your demons and just be there for you, but you’re messing with—”
“I get it. Your personal life.” Vic grumbled, “I ruined your date.”
Red rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t so boy crazy that she’d hold her lack of a goodnight kiss against him. “It’s not just that. I believe you about the date crashing, but you straight up didn’t tell me that Lucas was in town. Even if he weren’t my ex-whatever, it would have been nice to know days earlier that Selene had a scary vision about me.”
Vic winced. “This is a situation where I either have to tell you or you’re going to be pissed at me for a while?”
“You’re in for it, mister.”
“At least let me talk about it over drinks,” Vic said, slowing to drive through the unusually dark street leading to the far back parking lot of the Circe Casino.
The van jerked as the back wheel popped.
Red hissed, hitting her elbow on the dash. She rubbed it, cursing.
“Look,” Vic whispered, pointing over the steering wheel.
The silver eyes of a predator reflected in the edges of the headlamps.
Chapter Thirteen
Shaggy fur rippling over bulky muscles, the large wolf sped into the darkened street behind the glittering Circe Casino.
Vic zoomed the Millennium Falcon forward, lopsided with the popped back tire, and hunched over the wheel to mow the beast down. A bullet whipped through the open passenger door window. It cracked the air over Red’s head like a navy jet plane. The windshield cracked sending rough granules falling on the dash and outward onto the hood.
Hands covering her face, Red tensed. Startled fear gagged her.
“Fucking hell,” Vic yelled, van jerking under his hands.
Ducking, Red reached for a bottle of wolfsbane-infused oil in the hunter’s kit between their seats.
Claws dug into her.
Pain erupted from her neck down to her shoulder, shocking tears to her eyes. She fought the nails tugging her to flick the top off the vial. The sluggish wolfsbane oil emptied with a splash on a silver dagger instead. Flailing fingers gripped a white crystal. She slammed it against the bearded intruder hanging onto the side of the van. Even as she beat at the werewolf, she opened her magic and amplified it with the crystal. She channeled the air molecules to slam into him.
Beard flapping in the breeze, Nuno spun back, claws falling from her neck to grip the open window frame.
Vic swerved to sideswipe a tree, knocking the lanky werewolf off the van.
“That was Nuno. Where’s the rest?” Red said, not recognizing the shifted wolf who had disappeared from the street.
Metal squealing, the driver’s door peeled away like the lid of a dog food tin, friction sparking on the pavement. The bald werewolf braced himself in the empty hole. He snarled. The sight was more ghoulish with the white scar splitting his patchy mustache. Very human shaped and very naked, his eyes rolled like a berserker.
“That’s Paul!” Red dove for the silver dagger in the hunter’s kit.
Vic punched the werewolf in the face. “Hi Paul.”
The Millennium Falcon veered sharply to the right. Red dropped the dagger in Vic’s lap to grab the wheel, struggling to correct the wavering van with one hand.
Paul seized Vic by the mullet, his face elongating into a snout of jagged teeth. He didn’t spout fur, making the sight even more unsettling.
Red nearly dropped the wheel. He could do a smooth partial shift like an alpha. She zagged the van to shake him off.
Vic grasped the silver dagger and drove it toward the werewolf’s shoulder.
Hanging on by one hand, foam on his Anubis grin, the werewolf grabbed the hunter’s wrist.
Vic dropped the dagger into his waiting left hand. He knifed the wolf in the kidneys.
The pained howl shook the van’s back windows.
Stabbing Paul again, Vic kicked him out. Clutching his side, the werewolf fell underneath the tires. The van lurched over the hump.
Retaking control, Vic sped the van over the curb and sidewalk into the parking lot of the Circe Casino. He raced over the empty space on protesting wheel rims, zooming around parked cars, and looping around to the front. The Millennium Falcon wheezed, engine whirr raspy as if it were catching its breath as much as its passengers.
The energy of the wards draped over Red like a comforting weighted blanket. Pain drenched her neck and shoulder as much as blood. She dressed her bleeding cuts quickly with a bandage anointed with antibiotic found in the hunter’s kit. It was messy but would hold for now. But the pain didn’t cloud her from one important observation: the cuts winding down her neck to her shoulder weren’t caused by human nails.
Vic parked the van at valet parking and handed over the keys out the missing door. “Try not to get a scratch on her.”
The valet stuttered, gawking at the damaged van.
A wave of bowler hats bobbed passed them. “I’ll be looking for you,” Ian shot the gravelly promise to Vic as he hopped into a waiting golf cart that rocketed off too fast not to be magic.
“Throw in a colonoscopy and tax audit to make it my best day ever. God,” Vic snarked to the sky as they walked into the dazzling din of the Circe Casino.
Red strode in the most direct and reliable route to the academy medical center. She bypassed a door to the Pyramid hidden in a gift shop dressing room (it popped her out by the faculty staffroom half the time) to go toward the Nostradamus Lounge.
“I’m not going to tell you to drop your… books, but you’re not going to like what I have to say.” Applying pressure to her bandage, she caught the defensive fatigue on his face. “Ungird your loins. It’s not about Hannah. Paul wasn’t the only one to do a partial shift. Nuno had too. Judging by the claws.”
&
nbsp; “What the hell has Frank been feeding his kids?” Vic cursed. “Two potential alphas in the family.”
“He has to be a heavy hitter to keep them boys in line.”
Another heavy hitter waited for them. Trudy stood, death ray vision locked on Vic, by the disguised double doors leading to the Pyramid. Fists clenched at her sides, she glared at Vic. Her curly ponytail bristled like an angry cat. “If I was going to get you fired, it would be over this stunt with Hannah.” Her lip curled when she saw Red’s neck. “It’s not enough to risk my charge?”
“I left a wolf bleeding out on the sidewalk. You have one less to worry about,” Vic said brusquely as he marched Red passed Trudy. “I’m getting her to a medic.”
“It’s not that bad.” Red tried to be reassuring, smoothing the square neck of her blue top over scratches that the bandage couldn’t cover. She winced, brushing a cut. “The wolf barely got his claws into me.”
Trudy stomped after them. “Was he an alpha? Had he shifted his hands? Supernatural creatures can have a unique effect on witches compared to regular humans. Add in the complication that you haven’t even gone through your bloom. Depending on the moon phase—"
“It’s either be born a wolf or be bitten.” Vic snorted. “Everything else is theory. That wolf would need to chomp on her for a while to turn her even if she did have the wolf gene. At worst, she’ll get an infection because he had some Cheeto dust under his nails.”
“And on that nasty note… I need to see Doctor Finch.” Red opened the double doors marked Employees Only to enter the bustling Pyramid atrium.
Alchemists commuted out the platform archways to filter in all directions through the kiosks, café tables, and draping aerial roots of the giant magical tree. The bazaar merchants called out their last specials of the day. People lounged under the banyan, chilling after a long day in the laboratory. Red powerwalked toward the swan pond, the tension in her shoulders slipping a notch at the sight of the expansive sunrise clouds over the green canopy.
The tension beetled back up when Red looked back.
Trudy blocked Vic from following. “One day, you’ll make a mistake you can’t laugh off.”
Vic sidestepped her. “Trudy, I’d love to stay and be nagged, but my intern is bleeding over there.”
“You’re staying away from Hannah, Vic, from now on,” Trudy said. Disgust twisted her mouth. “She’s an impressionable girl. Your devil-may-care style only seems romantic until the corpses fall. I won’t have her learn the truth the hard way.” She turned on her heel.
Red withheld her comments to Vic, hot footing it to the medical office before someone else like Ian could pop up. She followed her nose down the concourse to a door carved with a portrait of the god Asclepius holding a snake-entwined staff. A white-coated mage came out, releasing a complex astringent smell.
She walked inside. When she had accidentally eavesdropped on Doctor Finch’s after-hours consult with Trudy, the place had been full of lumpy shadows. Now she saw the curved front desk and rows of chairs. The attached apothecary could be seen through a window, the people within playing the same function for bored eyes in the waiting room as fish in a tank.
They weren’t the only ones in line for the Doctor. An old mage sat next to a propped-up landscape painting on a bench. A small figure shook a fist and paced on the painted hill. Nearby, a teenager younger than Hannah studied enormous whiskers protruding from her cheeks in a mirror. Manic hiccups escaped a man in turban by the window.
Red and Vic approached the bored woman doing patient registration. “Hey, hi, I’m enrolled under the name Red. Just Red. What’s the wait to see Doctor Finch to get a proper bandage on this?” She pointed to her neck.
Tapping his fingers on the desk, Vic added, “Werewolf clawed her.”
The clerk twirled nervously in her chair. “Um, I need a supervisor. Doctor Finch is, like, ranked 21st, so he’ll know what to do. You can wait over there.” Her wide eyes darted to Red’s neck. “Away from the others.”
“It’s not contagious,” Vic muttered and drew away from the swinging doors by the desk. He stared at the window to the attached apothecary where patrons including Perenelle shopped. Tendons twitching in his jaw betrayed the turmoil behind his blank look.
He might have escaped Trudy, but he wasn’t escaping her nagging. Red pulled his attention back to her. “I think I’m missing the bigger picture. You always told me hunters need to think ahead, be logical in the face of chaos, and not let feelings get in the way. Where’s your head at, Vic?”
“Tonight…” His sigh bellowed out like a steam engine. “…was a clusterfuck. I’ll give you that. I don’t know. It felt like old times for a bit with Lashawn, and I thought I could…”
“Remind him what he was missing?” Red guessed, leaning on the wall. “Add a wide-eyed innocent, a tame supernatural sanctuary, and his big brother for some nostalgia?”
“I wanted old times. To feel like myself instead of a useless guy moping in a chair for months. And before you smother me with self-esteem, I know I wasn’t useless. I just wasn’t the real me,” Vic said. “You should understand. You want to be yourself again.”
“I am myself.” Red propped her hand on her hip. “That’s not why I want to know who I was. It’s not like I could be that again. I don’t even think I’d want to.”
“That’s because you could have sucked. We don’t know. I’ve been a certified badass for years.”
Red snorted, then tilted her head at him, brow puckering. “Is this because of the Brotherhood? Be honest. I won’t judge you for it.”
“It’s their loss.” Vic made a rude gesture complete with a sound effect loud enough to draw the attention of the others in the waiting room. “They can’t fire me from the mission. I’ll do what it takes to be a shield to humanity. That’s who I am. Still. I’m just getting my groove back.”
Doctor Finch walked up to them. He checked his clipboard again, pressing his lips in distaste. “Red, we need to take you back—alone—to see if you need to be in isolation.”
“It’s a scratch,” Red insisted. “Isolation is a bit much.”
Vic rolled his eyes. “Is this everyone’s first day at magic school? Its weeks until the next full moon.”
Coolly professional, Doctor Finch stared down his nose at Vic. “We’re taking every precaution.”
“You should be happy. You’re off the hook on telling me your feelings. For now,” Red said dryly, pushing away from the wall to follow Doctor Finch.
The doctor led her through the swinging doors and past the exam rooms. At the end of the taupe medical hallway, he rapped sigils etched into the threshold of a stone archway, flamboyantly anachronistic. They stepped through into an unfinished room with a musky smell and missing ceiling tiles. A large cage lurked in the corner.
Red backed up, rubbing her arms. “I’d like a different exam room. This one has a dungeon feel.”
“We’re just being cautious. I’m going to have to leave you here to make a quick call.” He turned toward the door, then jumped back. “Madam!”
With a whisper of satin, Perenelle leaned her head into the room. The portal cut off view of her torso, leaving her looking unsettlingly like a mounted hunting prize. “Oh, no, this will not do, Doctor Finch.”
Finch bristled. “I have nearly reached the Synod in my rank. I am qualified to treat such an ailment.”
Perenelle beckoned Red forward with two fingers. “If we have werewolf contamination, this is pertinent to my research. I will tend to her.”
Relief perking up her pace, Red hustled by the doctor. “I’m going with the Immortal on this.”
Long purple bell sleeves swinging like elegant eggplants, Perenelle took Red back to her quarters after hot-wiring a portal door. She placed her striped cotton shopping bag filled with leafy herbs put it on the sitting room table, gesturing for Red to sit. She opened her bottomless trunk and pulled out a first aid kit to place in front of the witch.
Red sat on
a squishy chair at the tea table in the cheerful white sitting room. The bespelled window revealed a sunny morning day in Prague, not nighttime Las Vegas. “It’s not much of a wound. I was just hoping to get some silver ointment. I didn’t think I was going to end up with a cage.”
“Yes, the good doctor overreacted. Werewolf attacks, missing alchemists, exploding laboratories—the Synod is not pleased. Usually, my school tours aren’t as interesting.” Perenelle plucked a bristled dark hair off Red’s shoulder and put it in a small glass bottle. “That could be useful.”
Red peeled off the old bandage, rolling it up and stuffing it into a side pocket on her purse to burn later. It was an old habit Vic had instilled in her to ensure that nothing, magical or demonic, could track her. The foreign hair that Perenelle collected could be used in an infinite number of spells. “Have they gotten any leads on Diego?”
“That is what the First Alchemist assures me.” Perenelle retrieved a silver tin from the first aid kit. She opened it to reveal a moist clump of pulverized herbs. “Clean your wound with that. It works better than silver ointment. My own recipe. It will hurt.”
Red dabbed the acidic-feeling herbs on the four scratches running from her neck to her shoulder to meet the deep thumb scratch. The herby wad erased the blood from her skin. It looked like magic but felt like medicine. She winced as she scrubbed over the shoulder cuts, lifting her ruined neckline to get to them.
After Red hiked her shirt up, Perenelle sprayed a green mist over the wounds that dried clear and shiny like a liquid bandage. Returning the first aid kit to its place, she pulled out a lilac silk kimono top out of her trunk. She turned away as Red changed tops. “You can have that. Your blouse is ruined.”
“That’s been a theme with my wardrobe lately,” Red said, tying the wrapped shirt shut with the silk belt. “I saw you in the apothecary. You do your own shopping? I figured you’d have an apprentice for that.”
Witch On The Run: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 4) Page 21