Long Witch Night: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 2)

by Sami Valentine

  “I was correct, even as a lad. Future Head Bards would heed my council.” Maxwell gritted his teeth and summoned a shadow tentacle to whip down on Red. “I dirtied my hands, so theirs could stay clean.”

  She caught the shadow whip instinctively. He sullied the Brotherhood with his touch. “You like being a dirtbag.”

  “You fancy yourself better than me? I saved the world.” He yanked the shadow back. “Your presence ensures chaos.”

  “Juniper might have some karmic baggage, but I’m not her. Sorry, buddy, wrong number on this call for revenge,” Red said. A hunter’s journal opened in her hands, handwritten pages flipping as sage smoke drifted out. “Chasing after ghosts, pretending to be a god, you’re the powerless wraith here.”

  “You have no idea what powers I have.” Head lowered, Maxwell glowered, and shadows surged around his purple suit, flaring like a windblown cape.

  “We’re not in Dreamland. I make the rules here.”

  A giant dust buster dropped from the ceiling. That was still on her shopping list. In her mind, it was already hers and big enough for a dust bunny the size of a warlock. It flicked on and zoomed noisily to circle, sucking up the shadows wafting off him.

  Beginning the chant, Red yearned for a camera. This would have been perfect for a Christmas card.

  Nevaeh snapped her fingers, laughing. “Oh, no she didn’t!”

  “What the devil?” Maxwell swatted at the cartoonishly large vacuum, wincing. Confusion battled with dismay on his face. His blows only made it fly faster around him.

  Smiling, Red recited the Latin exorcism. She pivoted, grin disappearing. A sickly anger pooled in her gut as she named another in the chant.

  “The hell?” Neveah doubled over. Too weak from her battle with Maxwell, pain dug deep creases around her mouth. She lobbed an orb. The weak toss crashed against the floor in a tailspin of sparks.

  “You’re being evicted.” Red resumed the chant.

  Shrieking in frustration, Nevaeh convulsed, turning transparent, revealing the endless walls behind her. She turned on her heel to Maxwell. “You said you were going to help me!”

  “You promised to not be an idiot,” he retorted. His brow furrowed. Toxic energy surrounded him as he summoned his magic, dark gaze boring into Red’s.

  “You’re so mean!” Nevaeh pouted, stomping her foot, lowering her head in a sulk. She shrieked at the discovery of her dissolving legs. “Oh, sweet Baby Jesus, I’m disappearing, y’all!”

  Red paused her chant. “He’ll let you die for real this time.”

  Nevaeh whimpered, tears in her eyes. “All I’ve done is give and give. This is what I get? Everyone is so ungrateful.”

  “Quiet, you!” Maxwell scowled, conjuring an orb. Glowing like a live ember, it cracked the air, jetting forth.

  Repeating the Latin chant, Red raised her palm. A shimmering golden shield rose like growing vines to the ceiling, sprouting springy leaves, puffed flowers, and razor-sharp thorns. “Not in my house.”

  The orb sputtered, hitting the shield.

  Hunching over, arms akimbo and legs shaking, Nevaeh jerked to the pace of the exorcism, limbs contorting into bone-shattering angles. Her pained moan skipped like a hiccup. Righting herself, she flung a sputtering fireball at him. “Deal’s off, you twisted old freak!”

  “Accursed wench!” Maxwell dodged, staggering to the side. He lashed a whip of shadow to crack across her face.

  Finishing the last lines of the exorcism as the other two battled, Red levitated a cross and the leather hunter’s journal. Sage billowed over the pages to fall to her feet. “Lussit uri. Abiit in sempiternum. Exilium!”

  Nevaeh cried out, arms locked at her sides as ruby flames consumed her. Lightning glinted like black diamonds in the fire’s depths.

  Maxwell fell back from the raging fire, hands raised.

  Black lightning shot out of the inferno. The tower of flame burst up, ebbing over the ceiling before sinking down into the floor, burning away the last traces of Nevaeh Morgan, America’s Sweetheart.

  Blinking, he stumbled, body growing transparent.

  “That’s for Kate!” Red steeled her shoulders. Her theory was that, as a new spirit, Nevaeh anchored his old soul closer to the mortal realm. The power of the solstice had eased his way. He had destroyed a lot of her theories tonight. She was ready to bet her life on this one. Summoning her magic, she chanted the last exorcism of the night.

  The hunter’s journal rose as a phantom wind pushed her hair back. Her fast heartbeat resounded in the white room as if they were warring inside her own chest. She’ll send him to the worst place she could think of.

  The Bell Witch would be waiting.

  “You don’t have the faith in the almighty for that.” Maxwell sneered at her, teeth bared in a mocking smirk. He stepped forward, huffing in pained effort. “You need that slovenly Bard to do the job!”

  “Hardly. You needed Nevaeh to tether you here. You needed me to agree to death. I’m beginning to think you don’t have much power at all, warlock. Not your own. I can prove it.” Red spit out the last verse of Latin exorcism. “Exilium! I banish you, Maxwell. Now, get out of my head!”

  The shadows leapt off his shoulders. Prowling and circling him, they solidified into hunched four-legged monstrous beasts. Ridged-backed and eyes glowing red, they leaped on him.

  The warlock flailed. Claws slashed his purple suit.

  Mongrels turning on their master, the phantom hounds howled before their shadowy jaws clamped down on his limbs.

  He cursed, falling to the ground and reached out to her, one last curse on his lips. A shadow hound dove for his throat, foam dripping from its jaws. The gloom pressed in like a pack before the beasts dragged him through the floor to what he richly deserved.

  Red searched for any lingering residue of Maxwell. Not even a scuff mark on the white room with its walls stretching out to infinity. Her racing heart echoed in the emptiness. She was alone in her mind.

  Finally.

  ---

  Red blinked and suddenly, she was in the VIP room.

  Kristoff hovered over her, suspicion tempered by concern.

  No mystical auras or psychedelic energies squiggled on the walls. The only light was florescent. This was reality. She had woken up. “I’m really here.”

  In the Dreamland, she had felt like an echo. A dull replica of the real thing. Now, her physical senses were overwhelming. The sound of her panting breath in her lungs. The scent of his charcoal soap. The feel of the vampire above her. She flexed her wrists under his palm. The raw physicality made her sigh. She was actually a part of the world again. Air never tasted sweeter.

  Brows furrowing, his gaze drilled into hers. “I see you. I certainly feel you. Now who are you?”

  “Kristoff...” The crush of her senses faded in the realization of exactly who was on top of her. Blushing, she shifted and glanced at the hands pinned above her head, then to his legs straddling her waist. “It’s me. Get off before I find something to stake you with.”

  “I’m not sure.” He studied her face, his hands still on her wrists and blue eyes crinkling mischievously. It made his immortal face seem boyish.

  Her breath caught. She reminded herself that mischief meant something different to unsouled vampires.

  A slow grin spread on his face. The words were a dare. “What would you stake me a with?”

  “A wooden spoon.” Setting her jaw, she matched the master vampire’s gaze despite her racing pulse. She couldn’t show fear, even if his claim was on her neck and she was finally in his arms at his mercy. “Maybe a spatula.”

  “Pleasure to see you again, Red.” Kristoff rolled away, his bulk off her in an instant, to sit beside her hips. He bit his lip and cocked his head. “Handshake?”

  “You’ve touched enough of me tonight, Mr. Novak.” She breathed out the quip absently touching her cheek. Her real flesh. The relief was tarnished by discovery. “Oh, god, my face. Are these fake eyelashes?” She tugged at o
ne and nearly cried from the sensation of feeling her eyelids move. Smiling dreamily, she ignored hiss amused glance. Having a body was amazing!

  Sitting up, she tugged her short dress down, realizing it was hiked up past mid-thigh. Dizziness spun her vision. Her body might have looked healed, but an all-over stabbing pain stiffened her muscles. She fell forward. Fatigue sapped at her from using magic. Then everything Nevaeh had done….It was truly unbelievable how much she had done in one night. She’d pay for it tomorrow and would need to do more than just eat to center herself. Sleep was first on the list before trying dance or another physical activity to anchor her energy in her body. Already feeling feverish, she slumped forward.

  Kristoff caught her, propping her up against his firm chest. Examining her face with a serious gaze, his voice turned teasing. “Leave the lashes. You don’t need to pop up on another crusade.”

  She sank against him, breath caught in her lungs. Just feeling something solid made her grip his shirt in gratitude. Tears came to her eyes. She pulled away. “How did you know that Nevaeh wasn’t me?”

  “I just did.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

  Red raised an eyebrow, straightening and fluffing her hair back into place. “Really?”

  “We were in a room together and Nevaeh didn’t threaten to stake me once. That’s not that dynamic that I’ve come to expect from my favorite hunter.”

  “The rest would have figured it out when she bleached my hair.”

  Facing her, Kristoff lightly ran his finger down the back of her shoulder, soft touch woke goosebumps under the thin dress straps. “Body modifications starting early? Did she get ink, too?”

  “That came with the body.” Peeping over her shoulder, Red raised her eyebrow at the old black lyre tattoo on her back. She could barely see it and forgot about it most days. The movement made her head swim.

  “I didn’t see this when you were wearing that delicious dress at the ball.”

  “Oh, makeup. We were going for ‘uptown claimed human’ as the look.” She slumped from the effort of quipping. As expected, he caught her.

  “Lie back.” Voice gentle, Kristoff put an arm around her shoulders and eased her onto the floor. He folded his suit jacket to rest under her head. “Is the warlock gone? What about Nevaeh? What happened? How did she get into your body?”

  “What is this, an interrogation?” She settled back on his jacket.

  “I thought interrogations were our thing. You certainly enjoyed the last one.”

  “Get me some water, and I’ll tell you all about my time falling into the looking glass.” She tried to get up but could only weakly push up onto her elbows. Sighing, she rested her head on the jacket, breathing in the scent of charcoal soap with a hint of woodsy musk. She laid on her side, glaring at him, still trying to cultivate an aura of badassery despite the repressed yawn. “I’ll do it from the floor though.”

  Chuckling, he stepped away before his form blurred to vampire speed. He came back with a pillow under one arm, a water bottle under the other, and a glass of red wine.

  “I’ll start with the wine. It’s that kind of story.” Red laid the suit jacket on the offered pillow before leaning on her elbow on it. She groaned as she straightened up. She was determined not to have to lean on him again, swaying around like a damsel in distress. “Nevaeh is not getting her deposit back on this rental.”

  Kristoff handed her the wine, his eyes focused on her arm trembling from the force of will keeping her up. He arched his eyebrow, restrained amusement on his lips. “You know, you could ask for my help.”

  “I’m fine. Just send out the signal to my friends. I have no idea where Nevaeh put my—” She sipped at the red wine. Her eyes rolled up. “Wow, that is good. What is that? I could get a case of it.”

  Head tilting, his white teeth caught his lip. Kristoff grinned, eyes twinkling. “I’ll send you some.”

  The throb in her head dimmed as the airy-fairy fog of the Dreamland cleared. Setting the glass down, Red spread the jacket over her lap before she crossed her legs. The wine grounded her energy like she had gone for a nature hike, muscles were already relaxing. She sipped at it again before reaching for the water and put the cool bottle on her forehead. “Someone needs to check on Vic. Nevaeh drugged him.”

  “Delilah already warned Quinn.” Kristoff texted, thumbs moving at supernatural speed. “And now she knows you’re awake. So, we have some time before the white knights storm the castle. Start from the beginning. We’re going to the hospital, and you’re paralyzed.”

  “I was tagging along in the Dreamland. And the name is very misleading, by the way. It’s not the fun kind of wacky.” Red launched into the tale. Leaning forward, she told him about how the Bell Witch tried to help her and Basil. The spectral saga was punctuated by sips of water and wine, unraveling like a spiral. A weirdly cathartic one, in hindsight. She faltered when it came to the visions of Juniper’s alternative future or their bizarre conversation over chicken and waffles and kept those secrets to herself.

  Head pillowed under her arm, she pulled herself out of an accidental silence. “You guys had it rough.”

  “You saw me fighting Lucas.” Eyelids lowering, Kristoff leaned on his elbow, resting on his side beside her on the ground.

  She rolled onto her back, trying to ignore his scent on his suit jacket. “Not a great moment for either of you. Maxwell conjured imps to make you guys be assholes to each other.”

  “Yeah, using our dark truths against us. We also pieced it together ourselves, but you were too busy escaping the asylum to overhear.” He rose on his hip to meet her eyes. A frown pursed at his lips. “Still, I’d rather you not have to see me kick my sire’s ass under those circumstances.”

  “I don’t know. Where I was standing, it was coming down to a draw.” Red shook her head, resisting an eyeroll. He had traded barbs with his sire even before the warlock had bespelled them. “You two really have problems. Juniper is just one on the list, huh?”

  “You’ll find plenty of reasons to despise Lucas. It won’t take a hundred years,” he said dryly.

  “I’ll remember that when I start to get up there in age.” Pulling the jacket over her legs and picking up her glass, she raised her eyebrow at him. “I heard what you said to Lucas about Juniper. What did she hire you to find out?”

  “I should get you another glass before I start that story. Keep in mind that Juniper was as mysterious as you. I never learned all her secrets.”

  Red bit her lip and glanced down, trying to mediate the fight between curiosity and common sense. His alluring scent curling around her. He had been a knight in soulless armor tonight, but she had seen him fight. Unleashed, he was match for even his own sire. It should have scared her more than it did. She wanted his answers as much as his wine.

  Kristoff lazed like a lion at midday, waiting gaze on the antelope approaching a stream.

  Suddenly realizing how close he was, she scooted back. “I think I’ll switch to water. But if you wrote down the name of that bottle…that would be great.”

  “I knew you’d develop a taste for it.” He watched her go with amused patience. The lion knew the antelope would get thirsty enough to return. “We didn’t get to have dinner, but we had drinks after all.”

  “So, does that mean we’re even on favors?” Lowering her gaze, she tried to be casual, hiding her cringe at the idea of owing him something else. Especially after Nevaeh threw herself at him. This kind of a night would spook a normal dude, but a vampire might only find it interesting. Then add a bit of grinding and grabbing…His dinner invitation might list ramen, but she knew he’d want her on the menu as dessert.

  Kristoff grinned. “I’m still helping with your initial favor.”

  “Just call me if there’s a gnome in your gallery, Mr. Novak.” Red said primly, trying to put some distance into the conversion. She didn’t need that probing stare studying her over fine Japanese cuisine. He already looked at her as if he had already seen her
naked. She realized he had seen the next best thing—Juniper. Her face grew hot, eyes darting away from his knowing gaze. “Those are the kind of favors I’m good for.”

  The doors to the VIP room flew open.

  Red turned, shock mingling with gratitude that something had interrupted what was clearly a third date to him.

  Lucas charged in and stopped short, gaze narrowed on her on the floor. Relief softened his tense features until he focused on his progeny next to her, jaw clenching.

  Delilah strode in with a fixed scowl and crossed arms. “It took forever to get back into this building, Kristoff.”

  “Evacuation procedures require locking the building. What can I say?” He sipped his wine, staring at his sire over the rim. “You missed the dramatic climax.”

  Red shot at glare at him. Did he have to say climax? She curled her legs under herself, letting the suit jacket roll off, and waved awkwardly. “Hiya.”

  Delilah flashed a fang, putting her hand on her hip. “How do we know it’s her?”

  “I will sing along to any Tom Petty song, my favorite color is purple, and I’ve been to nearly every state in the West.” Red smiled at Lucas, repeating the words she had introduced herself with at the Pandora Hotel before Halloween. She might not know everything about herself, but those were true.

  Lucas relaxed his shoulders, relief wringing a grin from his worried face. “It’s her.”

  29

  December 25th, 4:44PM, Hollywood Hospital, Los Angeles

  Holding a Christmas tree-shaped balloon, Red walked into the hospital room. “Knock knock. Visiting hours just started…”

  Basil bent over an open suitcase on the medical bed. Bundled up in a drab beige trench coat, facial bruises peeped over his collar. “I have a late lunch appointment.”

  “Holy cats, you can talk and move your hand.” She jerked her thumb behind her. “These mage doctors are the best.”

  “Yeah, mage doctors…That’s it.” Eyes darting down, he sighed. “I can talk, walk, and juggle. Better than poor Terry.”