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

by Sami Valentine

  Not everyone had survived the long witch night. Terry’s death would be covered up by Smith and Reaper, while Urleen and Frank Morgan would end up a mystery in Tennessee under the Black Veil. The Blood Alliance wouldn’t allow them to fuel a new urban legend to replace the Bell Witch. They were all casualties of a battle that had spilled out of her own nightmares.

  Shoulders slumped, she sat on the bed, picking up a travel document from the bed stand. The balloon slipped from her hand. “You need a passport to go to Tahoe, now?”

  He took it gently. “Look, Red. What happened on the solstice was intense. And there were entirely too many vampire witnesses to my power.”

  Red bobbed her head, eyeballs pricked with tears. “I get it, you need a holiday.”

  “I need more white sand than you can imagine,” he said, folding a shockingly tangerine dress shirt with a dramatic flourish.

  “You helped banish an evil dead warlock. That requires some downtime,” Red conceded, needing a weekend in Vegas herself.

  “I don’t know what Maxwell was, but he wasn’t your average spirit. If he was, I wouldn’t have been able to push him out of the Dreamland for a bit. If I was melodramatic, and I am, I’d quote a line about not being of the living or the dead.” He sighed, wrinkling his nose. “I only realized it when I was reunited with my body.”

  “I saw him get dragged below.” The shadow hounds still howled in her dreams.

  “Let’s hope it was a one-way ticket. Mustn’t carry on about it.” Hanging his head, Basil sniffed, trying to hold back the memories and put a hand on her shoulder. He closed his eyes.

  Red said goodbye a lot in her line of work, but it pained her to watch him go. She quipped to break the tension. “How much is that reading going to cost me?”

  “This is your Christmas gift. The soul reading is more common sense than anything else. You need to get psychiatric help.”

  “This has certainly been a heartwarming goodbye,” she commented dryly. It was true, but he could have gotten her a gift card instead.

  “Oh, I don’t mean it like that. Well, actually, I do a bit. I mean that you’re carrying around trauma. I can refer you to my shrink. She’s in on the supernatural shenanigans.”

  “I was trapped in a nightmare asylum. The cure is what makes you crazy.” She tapped the side of her head. The MRI showed no lasting damage after her stint in Maxwell’s funhouse, but it wasn’t just the electroshock treatments that lingered in her psyche.

  “Not just that. You’re in a full-body clench around some guilt. It’s not going to become a pearl.” Giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze, Basil met her eyes. “I don’t know why, but you must be here, now. I mean it. You can be happy too. Vic is going to shape up. You have a vampire who wants to be your white knight. You’re making a life here. Whatever Maxwell said to mess with your head, you have to let that psychic baggage go.”

  “Funny, coming from a guy packing a bag.”

  “My LA phase is coming to an end. Too much publicity even for me. I want to be rich, not famous.” He laid an air kiss to her cheek and closed his case. “Don’t come looking for me.”

  Breathing hitching, Red nodded. She knew he did it for both their safety. “Your people will call mine.”

  “Something like that.” Basil paused, eyes watering. He pulled her into a hug, falling from his English accent into his natural Midwestern one. “Take care of yourself, honey. I mean it.”

  “Your stiff upper lip is falling.” Red grinned into his shoulder.

  “Say goodbye to Basil Bansko.” He pulled back, wiping his eyes then tapped his chin. His voice came out as French as Pepe LePew. “Pierre Devereaux?”

  She shook her head, stifling a giggle.

  “Dieter von Rothstein?” A rough German accent bounced from his lips. He paused, clearly deliberating, then shrugged. He hoisted his bag off of the bed and walked toward the door. “I’ll work on it.”

  Red called after him. “Be safe. If you need me…”

  “I know. It’ll probably be when my vacation house needs another paint job.” Wariness deepening the lines in his forehead, Basil paused in the hallway. “Don’t trust Kristoff Novak. When he gives you a gift, check the fine print.”

  She fought a chill like a ghost’s touch. “He doesn’t have a soul. How’d you read that?”

  “You saw him fight on the solstice. He wants you and is willing to kill his sire to get you. He might not be the only one. Nevaeh put a spotlight on both our heads. I’ve already had the vampires in black suits questioning me. Keep your stake sharp, darling.” Basil turned, white knuckles tightening on his suitcase handle, and power walked down the hallway.

  The balloon string dangled in her face as she gawked at the open door. Basil had fled like a tracked man. No wonder; he’d been spooked, questioned by the Dark Veil Assurance. She kept him out of her report to Detective Callaway and Officer Chang when they had arrived at Club Vltava on the solstice. Cora Moon was obviously tying up every end to squash the latest in the scandal. After this much vampire attention, Red would never see Basil again. Her heart sank.

  “Lost the balloon and Basil too?” Vic asked, rolling into the room, a present on his lap.

  “They both chose to leave.” She blew at the string before stepping away.

  “Well, we can cross this holiday obligation off the list.” He pivoted and hummed along to a drifting Christmas melody.

  Sulking after him on the way to the van, Red couldn’t help but brood on the despaired resignation on Basil’s face. Waking from the nightmare hadn’t shaken its claws off him. She didn’t blame him after waking in a damp sweat, swatting against invisible terrors herself. Basil was running from it. she would have to face the ghosts. They were hers, after all.

  “Can I talk to you about something?”

  “Already doing it, Red,” Vic said. “What’s up?”

  Taking a breath, she forced herself to say it before she chickened out. The air rattled in her lungs. “I want to go for the Hunter’s Challenge. I know you said I wasn’t ready before, but I can do it.”

  “After all you’ve been through, you still want to join the Brotherhood?” His face froze in disbelief. “You’ve barely survived being an intern.”

  “They need good people in there.” She leaned against the van, thinking about Maxwell. Like Nevaeh, he could have been a force for good if he had taken a different path. He’d corrupted the gifts he had. The Dreamland taught her the power of intention. Her fate was in her will, not the stars. She wouldn’t become the Wicked Witch of the West. “And I’m sick of using your profile on the database.”

  Vic nodded, smiling proudly. “I’ll sponsor you.”

  Over a year ago, Red woke without any memories, but she knew monsters lurked in the night and that someone needed to stand up to them. He took that raw knowledge and trained her to use it. No one knew her in a fight like him. Or about the question marks in her origins. Maxwell Baldacci claimed to be the best Bard in history. Psychopathy aside, he’d failed. She was looking at the best Bard, sappy as it sounded. If Vic said she could join the Brotherhood, that counted more than even winning the Hunter’s Challenge.

  “Do you really think I can do it?” Ducking her head, she hated the insecure note in her voice.

  “You’ve been ready.” He tipped his baseball cap up. “Is this what it feels like when you see your kid graduate?”

  “You’re a damn fine single mama, Vic.”

  “You bet your ass, especially after you see what I cooked up for Christmas!” He rolled to the wheelchair lift. “Let me tell you about my Hunter’s Challenge…”

  Behind the wheel of the Millennium Falcon, Red smiled and got them back on the road. Tunes in the speakers, her friend in the back, and a city with two fewer ghouls in it. She couldn’t complain.

  It wasn’t your typical Christmas, but that was the hunter’s life.

  ---

  “You know you don’t need to make a big deal, Vic.” Red sat cross-legged on the c
ouch with a mug of cocoa in her hands. She smiled over the floating marshmallows. Presents, roughly wrapped in newsprint, dwarfed the tiny plastic Christmas tree on the coffee table. A tin of cookies laid half-ravaged beside the remote.

  “It’s literally the smallest tree in the world.” Vic rolled forward in his wheelchair to put another present on the table. It was more wrinkled newsprint than box.

  “You’re wearing a Santa Hat.”

  Even without the hat, he looked like redneck Christmas in his vintage Richard Petty NASCAR shirt adorned with tinsel hanging from his shoulders. “My head is cold. ‘Tis the winter’s chill.”

  “It’s like 80 outside. You turned on the air conditioning.” She laughed, motioning to the full draft filtering from the noisy vent.

  “Let me do something nice.” Vic grumped and rearranged the presents, pushing a square one out. “Now open this one.”

  “Fine, fine, we can celebrate Festivus later.” Rubbing her hands together, Red chuckled as she scrutinized the roughly wrapped present. “You know I’m over Nevaeh tricking all my friends into thinking that she was me, right?”

  “I thought we weren’t airing grievances.” He scowled. “Let’s repress like a proper family.”

  “I’m serious. You don’t need to feel bad about it. She was a professional actress. I was a ghost. It happens.”

  “Just open the present.” He groused, waving a hand at her.

  Grinning, she dug into the gift. Tape and crinkled newsprint formed a solid defense around the square present.

  “I knew something was up when she wanted to change the radio. Then she called me handsome, which was weird. Totally not you. I was luring her into a trap. I even wrote out a text to Quinn in my room.” Vic gestured with his mug to the tree. “It’s not that. I just know it’s been hard for us since we got to LA. That called for some Christmas cheer and pirated Claymation television classics.”

  Finally breaking through the layers of printed coupons and tabloid headlines, Red pushed the paper aside to see it was one of the photo frames that came with the apartment. The fake family was gone, replaced by Red, Vic, and the Millennium Falcon on Cannon Beach in Oregon, taken months ago on a hunt for the Bandage Man. She smiled. “It’s perfect.”

  “Not yet. I know there’s something about Christmas that makes you crave Chinese food.” Vic sipped his cocoa, gazing knowingly over the rim. “We kinda do all the time, but it’s more special on a holiday.”

  She giggled. “How many of those dispensary gummies did you eat?”

  “How dare you? They’re medicinal!” Hand on his chest, he cried out in mock outrage. “Santa brought them because I’ve been a good boy.”

  A knock thumped on the door.

  “Right on schedule.” Vic yelled, “It’s open, if you can get in!”

  Popping his head in, Quinn held up a bag of takeout in his hand. He ducked his head as he stepped in. “Merry Christmas.”

  Mumbling the words back, she braced herself for the second Christmas visitor. It wasn’t Santa with more presents.

  Lucas smiled crookedly at her. “Season’s greetings and all that.”

  “You’re just in time for How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Red looked down, taking a deep breath, her stomach knotting.

  It was hard to think about Lucas without remembering Nevaeh kissing him. She didn’t know why it was easier to forgive Vic for not realizing it was her. Then again, he hadn’t shoved his tongue halfway down Nevaeh’s throat.

  Red stood to go into the kitchen. “Let’s pause it to set up.”

  “Me and Quinn can do that.” Vic held up a hand. “I can tell he hasn’t done Christmas since I was his intern. See, you put up this tree…” The two went into the kitchen, keeping their backs carefully turned away from the adjoined living room.

  “Then can I turn off the air conditioning? Maybe open the door to let some heat in?” She walked away, arms crossed, fiddled with the thermostat, and went to the balcony.

  “You’re just cooling the neighborhood!” Vic called over his shoulder before grumbling to Quinn.

  Red rolled her eyes at the Dad tone from a childless bachelor. She stiffened as Lucas approached.

  “How are you?” Lucas leaned against the sliding door, his voice pitched low.

  “I texted you how I was.” Red stared at her solo reflection in the glass, trying to keep her breathing even. She didn’t need his super senses spoiling her attempts at repression.

  “You wrote one word. Fine. One word replies from a woman make a man worry.” He shrugged and touched her upper arm.

  Drawing away, she looked back at the kitchen where the others did a valiant effort to be loud to drown out the conversation. Basil had been right. She was ruining Christmas. Or at least making it socially awkward. She slipped out on the balcony and waited for Lucas to follow her. “I’m still processing it all.”

  “I always have an ear when you need it.” Lucas rested his elbows on the rail, close enough to smell his sandalwood scent. The lights of the city accentuated his high cheek bones. “You don’t need to bottle it up or go to…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. They both knew who he wanted to name.

  She swallowed back the sharp retort that Kristoff saw through the pod person. It wasn’t fair. Nevaeh had acted like her, looked like her, sounded like her, knew enough about the players in her life from bespelling Detective Callaway. It was enough to fool almost everyone. Throwing it into his face was a low blow. He didn’t consent to make out with a psycho. She wasn’t the only one Nevaeh hurt.

  Lucas didn’t know it wasn’t Red. That was the problem.

  Guilt and anger circling each other as Red tried to be rational. “It’s not that complicated. I was pulled into a dream world and tortured with terrible visions by a warlock, then a popular actress stole my body.”

  “That sounds pretty complicated,” he commented drolly, staring out over the courtyard. The angle of the balcony light cast his face in half shadow.

  Snorting, she leaned forward on the rail to rest her chin in her palm. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You’re mad at me.” Lucas tapped his shoulder lightly against hers to coax a reply.

  Red huddled closer to him. “Yeah.”

  He confessed, “It’s not going to be the last time. I’m told I can be dense.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Quinn, Delilah, my father, pretty much everyone who knows me half well.”

  “You’re smart enough to know I’m mad. It’s stupid, but I’m a little thrown because you didn’t know it wasn’t me. You talked to her, played some tonsil hockey, and not once suspected.” She straightened and put a hand up. “I know it’s not fair. She was in my body.”

  “I get it. You’re like no one else, Red.”

  “I don’t flutter my eyelashes like this.” Crossing her arms, she mimicked Nevaeh’s dazed ‘I’m so helpless’ look.

  “In my defense, I thought it was head trauma.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she unfolded her arms. It was hard to resist that quick wit.

  “I’m sorry.” His impish smile transformed into earnest apology.

  Relaxing and turning to him, she sighed. He had never stopped fighting for her even when it seemed like she was lost. “I know.”

  “I was blinded by...I spent the longest night watching you die, and when you woke up, I just couldn’t think straight.” Lucas took her hand. The same timeless energy crackled between them. His storm gray eyes gazed at her like there was no one else in Los Angeles. “I never think straight around you. It’s like ever since you came into my life, I keep expecting you to disappear. I thought you did that night.”

  “I saw you when I was in the other place.” Biting her lip, Red entwined their fingers and leaned against him. There was so much she could say. She could ask him about the asylum or confess what she’d learned about Juniper, but this moment was for them. She didn’t need any more ghosts for Christmas. “I still checked in. I fought to get
back to you. And Vic and Quinn. I don’t ever want you guys to have to hurt like that because of me.”

  “It wasn’t because of you. It was because we care about you.” Lucas hugged Red, stroking her back. “Even when I thought you hated me; I woke up like an excited kid this morning because I knew you were still in the world. That is the best Christmas gift.”

  “Good, because all the gifts I ordered are arriving late.” She mumbled into his chest, wrapping her arms under his leather jacket.

  He chuckled. “I got you a crossbow, but I forgot it at the office.”

  “Then we’re even.” Pulling back, she leaned up on her tip toes. She tugged on his jacket lapels and pulled him closer. “Now, for the record, this is how I kiss.”

  “I’m a bit slow. You might have to kiss me loads before I get it.”

  “Your PDA is delaying Christmas,” Vic called from the living room, voice wry with amusement. He pointed to the wide flat screen. “This is family time with the TV.”

  Blushing, Red took Lucas’s hand and led him inside. She mock gasped at the screen. “Hey, rewind the Grinch. I can’t believe you started it!”

  “Sit down and eat your beef and broccoli.” Vic grouched, hitting the rewind button.

  Sitting on the couch, Red grinned and marveled at the holiday magic of it all even down to their humble little plastic tree. “We survived our first Christmas in LA.”

  “There’s plenty of time for something spooky to jump out. Maybe Krampus?” Vic laughed. “I would be down for that rumble.”

  “I’m serious. I wouldn’t be here without you guys.”

  “You still had to take out the warlock,” Quinn pointed out.

  She chuckled. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it. I’m just grateful to be here and spend Christmas with you guys. Especially since you can actually hear me!”

  “You know we wouldn’t leave you with Freddy Krueger,” Vic said.

  “You are precious cargo.” Lucas brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten it.”

  Smiling at the callback to the first time she experienced his wild driving, Red wiped her eyes. “Okay, I’m done being sappy. We can get back to the show.”