Witch Gone Viral

by Sami Valentine

  “Hey.” Red planted a hand on her hip and shot him her best ‘I will make you have self-esteem’ expression. “Just be you.”

  “Even if it’s ugly?” He looked down, voice coming out small.

  “Be honest and open. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” Red kissed Lucas on the cheek before stepping back. A mental boulder lifted off her chest, loosening the stress tension in her ribs. Fighting with him felt wrong. The stakes were high, but having him guarding her back again gave her some hope.

  “Still think I am boyfriend material?” His head popped up. He rocked back on his heels, lifting an eyebrow, grinning.

  “Not so fast. You’re on probation.” Blushing, Red wagged a finger at him. They still had a truckload of issues to process and even more demons to hunt before they were ready for that talk. She nodded toward the cells. “I left Selene some blood, but I think you’ll be the best person to hand it over. Go have a moment with her.”

  “That was thoughtful. You didn’t have to.” Touched by the sentiment, Lucas opened his mouth to say more.

  A motorcycle entered the garage.

  Red’s eyes followed the midnight blue Harley Davidson rolling down the lane.

  Lucas snapped his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

  Door shutting behind him, Kristoff trotted down the steps to the parking garage floor. The black-framed glasses and suit jacket had been left behind, but his white sleeves were still rolled up over his forearms. He smiled at Red before turning to the newcomer.

  The biker parked, pulling his helmet off. Donal shook his red hair out. The burly vampire swung a leather-clad leg over the dusty bike before straightening the matching jacket. He hooted and pointed at Kristoff. “Check for dings. I didn’t get a scratch on her.”

  “It sounded touch and go.” Grinning, Kristoff shook Donal’s hand. “Good to have another fighter.”

  Donal chuckled. “And your bike back.”

  Putting up a finger and turning from his friend, Kristoff pulled out a phone. His expression turned serious as he listened.

  “Figures he’d have a Harley,” Lucas muttered. “All about the brand name with that one.”

  Red rolled her eyes, then shushed him. She was just happy to see they had another fighter on deck.

  Shoulders tensing, his expression hardened as Kristoff gestured to Donal. He stalked toward Lucas, voice a deep rumble. “Moon Enterprises was just breeched.”

  “The cock maggots…” Lucas began an inventive streak of British cursing that ended with a traditional ‘Bloody Hell.’ “I need to tell Delilah.” He ran to the parking garage stairwell with dizzying speed.

  Red released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, hand falling to the hunter’s kit strapped to her thigh. She rubbed it like a lucky rabbit’s foot. She had been waiting for this since Sal told them last night. It was game over if the Dague grabbed Father Matthew. She told herself Cora had tricked out her lair like a fortress. The supreme would fight for every inch.

  Back straight and hands behind his back, Kristoff gave Donal the order like a general. “Get the crew ready. Send half as reinforcements.”

  Donal clenched his jaw, squinting. He shook his head, hand on his waist. “I need them boys.”

  Crossing his arms, Kristoff nodded. “We need more than them, but Cora will count who came to her aid after the dust clears.”

  Glancing between the two males, Red wondered why Donal took the younger vampire’s orders. Age ruled the vampire hierarchy whether it was a large clan of a hundred or a nest of three. Even the old traditions of the eight bloodlines revered elders. Kristoff had said he wasn’t like most vampires.

  “A third and just the new ones.” Donal counter offered. “They won’t get there until the damage is done in Inglewood anyway.”

  “I know, but our support needs to be seen,” Kristoff said firmly. “A third will do. Mix the ages. Have the others on guard, and get the staff evacuating the club in case a raiding party hits us next. I’ll secure the informants.”

  “Have fun with it, son.” Patting Kristoff on the back, Donal winked at Red before disappearing into the building.

  Kristoff turned to her, reaching out. His lips pressed into a thin line as he drew his hand back as if rethinking the touch. “I know you have a bag of tricks, but I’d feel better if you had a flame thrower.”

  “Vic broke mine. Have one to spare?” Shifting on her feet, Red shook her head. “Speaking of, he’s back. I need to get him out of here.”

  “Take him to the Pandora Hotel. Order some sashimi on my tab. Stay there a while and catch up.” Kristoff smiled. When his phone vibrated in crisis, he turned from her with a searching look before putting it up to his ear. “Prince Marek.”

  Staring at his back, Red took a deep breath and left the words she wanted to say behind. It felt weird to want Kristoff’s backup in a fight, but she felt better knowing he was around. She jogged to the storage room hiding the entrance to the hidden cells. At her angle of approach, the open threshold to the secret door only revealed some of the room.

  In the back-corner cell, Sal half-stood, eyes wide as he stared into the middle one. “Constantine…”

  Quinn’s voice echoed, cajolingly, from the clandestine jail. “Let me out. If there’s trouble, I’m better used outside bars.”

  Goosebumps rose on Red’s arms as disquiet slowed her feet. That didn’t sound right. Her boss had demanded to be locked up. She slipped open her spirit gaze.

  “Getting itchy in quarantine?” Vic asked, chuckling.

  Back straight, a glint to his eye, and a smirk twitching at his lips, Quinn leaned against his cage. A darkness tarnished his aura. “Yeah, itchy. Let me out.”

  Sitting flush up against the bars, Vic placed his hand on the joystick controller of his electric wheelchair. “Lemme get a key.”

  “Get away from him, Vic!” Red yelled, running toward the cells.

  Quinn laughed and put a hand on Vic’s shoulder through the bars. He tightened his grip. “Hey, I’m chatting with my fanboy.”

  “Fuck! Evil Quinn! Code Fang!” Cursing, Vic yanked the controller back. Wheels squeaked as the electric chair raced into reverse. He broke away, but he was already too close to the bars.

  Lunging, Quinn punched Vic through the bars, square on the nose.

  “Help!” Racing for Vic, she grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and tugged him back. Her pounding heartbeat throbbed in her ears. The goosebumps on her arms had grown goosebumps.

  Slumped in his chair, blood ran over Vic’s top lip. He groaned before his head dropped.

  Quinn rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Never meet your heroes, kid.” He sucked on his knuckles, malicious delight in his eyes.

  Breath shortening, Red glared at the caged vampire as she backed away with Vic. “This isn’t you.”

  “I tried to tell you before, Red. This is always me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  January 27th, Evening, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California

  “We’ve got a soul problem in here!” Red pushed Vic to the other side of the jail room to get him as far away from the cells as she could. She held his slumping body against the wheelchair back with one hand. His bleeding nose hadn’t started swelling yet, but she had heard the crunch. She tilted his head back to slow the blood dripping onto his brown jacket. Using the floppy collar of his old plaid shirt, Red mopped up his chin. She glanced around the room.

  Laying on the floor in her enclosure, arms over her head in the swells of her far sight, Selene grinned. It looked ghoulish on her hollow-eyed and silent expression.

  From his bench in the far corner cell, Souled Sal watched the scene with crossed arms over his expansive jersey-covered belly.

  Standing at the bars in the middle cell, Quinn wore the same dark gray turtleneck and black slacks as before, yet there was no mistaking it. His soul was gone. His aura, usually tawny, was thickly striped with a malignant black like a junk yard dog from hell. His g
elled blond hair and strong brow framed a calculating gaze. The light cast by the bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling was bisected by the bars, leaving his face in partial shadow.

  Red gritted her teeth. They thought the Dague would have to take Quinn and hold him hostage until he could be souled. They had been wrong. Did they have a new soulmancer or just a new magical weapon? A chill came over her. What other souls could they take in the area?

  Lucas and Kristoff appeared beside Red.

  Kristoff asked, “What happened?”

  “I’d say the Butler did it, but you only just arrived.” Smirking from behind bars, Quinn pointed to Vic’s blood on the ground. Splatters stained his knuckles. “While you’re here, could you clean that up? Someone might slip.”

  Kristoff shared a glance with his sire over her head. He crossed his arms, stepping in front of Red. “The Black Libertine is back, I see.”

  “Bingo.” Walking to them, stomping down her fear, Red focused on Lucas’s horror-struck face. She tried to catch his gaze, but his wide eyes were fixed on Quinn.

  Lips tugging down in exaggerated confusion, Quinn shrugged. “I guess the Dague did have another soulmancer.”

  Stepping forward, Lucas squared his stance just out of arm’s reach of Quinn in the cage. “There’s the old bastard I reviled.”

  Tossing his head back, Quinn laughed. “You’d follow me into hell, boy.”

  “Get her out of here, Novak,” Lucas gritted out.

  “A soulmancer has to be nearby, hiding in the garage or the building above.” Red shifted to block unconscious Vic from Quinn’s view. She studied him, trying to find some remnant of her boss in the caged vampire’s brown eyes.

  “Come closer, Red.” Quinn leered at her. His gaze had none of the empathy or guilt of a soul. “I need a refill.”

  Grimacing, she turned away, rubbing her arms. She told herself that it was just Moon Enterprises that had been breached. They couldn’t fall into hysterics yet. Red lifted her chin to meet Kristoff’s gaze. “They could have a way to extend the soulmancer’s reach. Check parked cars, RVs, and nearby buildings if you can, too.”

  Kristoff pulled out his phone to make a quick text.

  “Look at the CEO hop to like a secretary.” Quinn laughed, head bobbing, snapping his fingers. He shot a sly look at her. “He always did like being under a redhead.”

  Smirking, Kristoff shrugged to Red, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m flexible on my position.”

  Lucas spat out, “Shove it, Quinn. Stop nattering on.”

  “Always so sensitive, Lucas. Must have been the poet in you. Would have thought Selene had sucked that all out,” Quinn said idly as he beamed at the prone seer in the other cage.

  “We get it. You’re back to bad.” Clenching his jaw, Lucas shoved his fists in his pockets.

  “Once she wakes up, I wonder what song she’s going to sing about your desert chase?” Tapping a curious finger at his lips, Quinn remarked with a gossiper’s grin.

  “You’ll be souled again before that happens!” Red squared her shoulders, facing him.

  “That’s sweet.” Chin crumbling in a mock aww, Quinn bobbed his head condescendingly at Red. “She’s defending you, Lucas. I bet your soul just twisted a bit at that innocent faith.”

  “Stuck in a cage and all you can do is try and play mind games. Sad.” Red crossed her arms. She hated the mocking tone in his voice. He was probing for weaknesses, and she wasn’t going to give him one.

  “Honey, I’m free! I can finally stretch.” Lifting his arms out, Quinn sighed with the contentment of a man in a hammock. He pointed to Sal, wagging his finger with a grin. “This guy knows what’s up.”

  Sal put up his hands, shaking his head and leaning farther back on his bench in the next cell. “I ain’t even part of this nonsense, Bloody Byrnes.”

  Jaw taut and cheek twitching, Lucas walked to the manacles hanging on the wall and clicked one shut on his wrist. “I need to be chained up. Delilah too.”

  “She’d like that.” Wetting his lips, Quinn laughed. “Chain yourself up, Lucas. See what it does. When they pull that soul out of you, save a bite of the redhead for me.”

  Hackles raising, Kristoff growled. His forearm muscles tightened as he clenched his fists. “You know the law. That’s a claim mark on her neck.”

  “Laws are for the strait-laced. My boy Luke here has always been a rebel. Once that demon comes ripping through... bam—he’s on Red.” Quinn clapped his hands to emphasize the point and chuckled. “I’ll watch.”

  “Gross. You’re foul.” Skin crawling, Red glanced at Lucas.

  Hand pinned by a manacle to the wall, Lucas met her gaze. His gray eyes told her that he feared it was the truth.

  “He’ll lose a soul, not his mind.” Kristoff stepped closer to Red, shielding her from Quinn’s view.

  “He’s never misplaced his Jiminy Cricket before. It’s a shock to the system. I remember my first time.” Quinn sighed as if remembering a fond vacation memory instead of Apocalyptic mayhem in the Pacific Northwest.

  “This is the last time you lose your soul,” Red promised him before she turned to take Vic’s wheelchair handles. “Kristoff, we need more vampires on guard.”

  “Already ahead of you.” He rested his hand on her back, rubbing a brief comforting circle with his palm. “I have three outside.”

  Nodding, Red pushed Vic, still slumped back in his chair, past Lucas. She wanted to say something to him, but the caged peanut gallery would only ruin the moment. She tried to give him a resilient smile before walking to the parking garage. It felt like a grimace.

  Three vampires in black stood silently on either side of the storage room door hiding the jail. The shortest one was the female with green hair that Red had seen before. All three guards pointedly did not look at their master’s claimed human.

  Sounds of distant traffic from the Strip echoed on the concrete walls. The parking garage was bare except for a few cars and motorcycles. Vic’s trusty black van, the Millennium Falcon, still covered in Arizona sand, sat by the mouth of the underground garage. The party raged on the rooftop for appearances, but the patrons must have been warned to park elsewhere.

  Donal paced under a buzzing light beside one of the few cars in the lot. He brushed his hand through his red hair. His chin trembled as he stared down at concrete floor. Brows knitting together, Donal murmured into the phone. “Yeah, Trey, I know... I’m sending some friends to come get you. I want you safe, baby.” Glancing at Kristoff, he hung up the phone. He gritted his jaw, head lifting, and his demeanor moved from worried boyfriend to warrior. “The building has is being searched, but we haven’t found a soulmancer. Cora knows the situation.”

  “Good.” Kristoff pointed to Vic. “Have him made comfortable in the room off my office. Lock the door. No one goes in.”

  “Please take care of him.” Red didn’t care that a plea entered her voice.

  “I’ll do it myself.” Donal nodded. “Anything for a pretty girl. Right-o, boys, you know your orders.” He pushed the unconscious Vic toward a nearby elevator.

  Stepping away from the guards for the illusion of privacy, Red rubbed her forehead. She pulled out her ponytail before nervously putting her hair back up again. “That was intense in there.”

  Leaning in, Kristoff put a hand on her upper arm. “You don’t have to be here. I’ve already started evacuating the building. Take Vic and go.”

  “The Dague could be dropping in on us at any moment.” Looking over her shoulder as if she could see through concrete to the cells, Red undid the top flap on her hunter’s kit. She felt the outline of the revolver loaded with wooden tipped bullets. Dread froze her fingertips. “Quinn told me to kill him if he lost his soul. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  Kristoff snorted. “Guard him for a bit longer, and then think about it.”

  “Chaining the four up doesn’t stop them from being a risk. We can guard them from kidnapping but not soulmancy.” Red hugged herself.

 
“Do you think you could set up a shield around Lucas? You made a witch trap. Do you have one for souls?”

  Trying to inject some confidence into her stance, Red nodded. Rusty was what she felt like. She had read about soul protection spells, but she hadn’t cracked open a magic book in months. Nevaeh’s ring had helped her hone her magic to make an orb, but without it, she was lucky to juice up some mystic relics with her weak powers. “Can’t guarantee anything.”

  “Tell me what you need, and I will get it.”

  “I’ll need white paint, salt, moonwort, and selenite. More than that, I need focus. I have to remember that’s not Quinn.”

  “If it’s comforting to think that.” Adjusting his jaw, Kristoff looked down and clasped his hands behind his back. “The Black Libertine can use words like another demon uses blades. Some cuts you won’t notice until they’re gangrenous.”

  Red started walking back to the vampire guards at the storage room. “I’ve met silver-tongued demons.”

  Kristoff put a hand on her lower back to guide her to the hidden cells. “He sows discord when he can’t take a hot poker to someone. He’ll take a half truth and twist it into the worst light. That is a true monster wearing your boss’s face.” He paused at the threshold of the door disguised behind a swinging shelf. Conflict stole over his face, a crease appearing between his shadowed blue eyes. Kristoff jabbed a finger toward Quinn in the cage. “I know you think we’re all the same without a soul, but I’m nothing like him. I kill to survive but… there are lines he danced on that I wouldn’t touch.”

  Red did a double take, thrown by the fervent disdain from Kristoff.

  “I’m not like either of them. Remember that if the worst happens.” He stalked away to grab a can of paint from the corner.

  Taking a deep breath, Red stepped back inside to the concrete-walled chamber. She glanced back at Kristoff, giving herself a shake before refocusing. She was dealing with a vampire that other undead feared. Quinn as a souled vampire had channeled his artistic tendencies into sketching. Without a soul, that creativity went into murder and depravity. He was literally classified as a ‘scourge’ by the Brotherhood.