Small Town Witch: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 5)

by Sami Valentine

  Maybe she spoke too soon.

  ---

  Hips swaying, Red hummed along to an old pop song between applying lipstick and blotting the crimson with a tissue. Her mother’s gold ring flashed in the bright bathroom lights. Stace had let her borrow earrings to match.

  Dark curls in two high space buns, the half-fae sang into a hairbrush, shimmying her shoulders, finishing the final lyrics. “…magic in me.” She sighed happily, swapping the brush for mascara. “I have a whole playlist for you. You’ll both love and cringe at our high school faves.”

  Red grinned. “I’m so down. We can bribe the DJ to play it.”

  They were going to a party, but the spontaneous singalong felt like the real fun of the night. After a brainstorm session with Zach over speakerphone, Stace had returned to dress up for the high school reunion. She was officially off the clock as a waitress, but they were still working their real gigs—hunting.

  Red had talked to Callaway earlier. Their short list of other local witches had resulted in water-tight alibis for the nights of the murders except for Olivia Benston and her crew. They called themselves Persephone’s daughters, so rituals to Etruscan gods shouldn’t be a stretch for them, and the murders had started when they filtered into town for the reunion. It all fit, but Red still didn’t understand their motivations. Why would Olivia emulate the vampire who killed her grandmother? Stace insisted that the sorority alum had committed ritual murder before.

  The reunion was a perfect setup to get all the mage suspects together… if they showed. Claudia Benston had passed the message on to her daughter, so the venue had moved to Lili’s Diner, but what else did the older witch say about Zach’s visit? She’d recognized Red, despite the years and black hair, for sure.

  “Are you sure the sorority girls will come tonight?”

  Stace hovered in the mirror behind her, touching up her eye makeup. “There’s not much to do in this town.”

  “But won’t they totally know we will be there?”

  “Olivia will make them come. She organized the reunion.”

  “I saw the flyer. Is there a reason why you scribbled on her face?”

  “She made herself the head of the committee and probably designed that flyer. Not much has changed since she left town, I guess.” Stace snapped her mascara wand back in the tube, cracking it. She chuckled awkwardly, setting the cosmetic on the counter. “She’s a Grade-A witch and made our lives hell when we were in school. So, yeah, I’m her biggest fan obviously.”

  “You said they were all there the night that Alaric died—on our side.”

  “It wasn’t out of altruism after her grandma. The town would have been a bloodbath once the portal opened anyway. She dabbled in the dark side even in high school. I haven’t seen her since she transferred to a college back east. Told me she had gotten in too deep with dark magic and wanted out. I guess she lied.”

  “I’ll sense if they still have rift traces in their aura.”

  Intense ritual work left a residue on a mage’s aura, and a ritual this powerful and dark required a lot of cardio or another physical activity to center their energies. Meditation and sleep wouldn’t cut it. Witches with a romantic partner had a more fun outlet to take the edge off. A ritual strong enough to open a dimensional doorway would leave a mark that few mages could cloak even with the purification supplies bought at the magic shop. It would require Red squinting her third eye, so she ran the risk of looking spacey, but it was a relief to have a job besides mingling with strangers who might recognize her. She hoped the dyed black hair would be enough of a disguise.

  “No doubts here. You were always our number one witch.” Flashing a cover girl smile, Stace adjusted her sweater. It was a bagless shape that only flattered models and apparently half-faeries.

  Feeling rather basic in her little black dress, Red studied her friend’s outfit. The striped pants shouldn’t have worked with the wild patterned top. She wouldn’t have been able to carry the ensemble, but Stace worked it like she was on the cover of Vogue. Moving in freshman year, she’d maintained a international street fashion flair even after years in Charm when she wasn’t in her diner uniform.

  “Why do you work as a waitress? The Brotherhood pays Heroes.”

  “I officially retired. My savings went toward Hamsterdam,” Stace said ruefully. “Plus, I have a boss that won’t fire me if I have to run out on a shift to kill a demon. I get to keep up with normal friends, have a routine. It’s easy to go off the deep end fighting the shadows, staying in a supernatural bubble. You need to stay connected to humanity to want to sacrifice for it.”

  With a life on the road, the only time Red had had that kind of stability was during her short stint with Quinn Investigations. As for normal friends, she couldn’t think of one. Or a single conversation, outside an investigation, with someone who wasn’t a hunter or some kind of supernatural for months. “It keeps you grounded. I could use a bit of that.”

  “The tips aren’t great, but Aunt Gina gave me the house, and I still get paid for my field reports to the Bards.”

  “Oh.” She fidgeted, playing with her hair. Trudy’s kill order had been unofficial, decried by the Brotherhood as a renegade action. She’d still decided they were better off not knowing she had survived for now. The mysterious Mr. Gabriel had the clout and reach to manipulate top Bards. She didn’t need another assassin on her tail, especially since she still didn’t know why the first two had been sent. A mention in a solitary field report wouldn’t usually attract much notice, but she had thought the same of her aborted application to take the hunter’s challenge.

  “I haven’t said anything about you. I had a feeling your mom wouldn’t want me to either.” Stace put an arm around Red’s shoulder. “Besides, I never liked telling authority figures too much. Keeps them off my back. That much hasn’t changed since high school.”

  ---

  Walking up to Lili’s Diner, Red and Stace giggled, trying to remember the lyrics to an old Destiny’s Child song. They seemed like any other young women out on the town unless you looked in their purses. Salt, cold iron, and crosses lay under the lipstick and wallets.

  The front parking lot was transformed for the party. The entire 20-30 something demographic had showed up by the looks of it. There was almost no one older than 40 except possibly Maudette and an old timer by the bar stand. Of course, looks were deceiving in a town like this, controlled from afar by an immortal fourth grader.

  Stringed lights and citronella torches illuminated tables spaced according to a new health ordinance. Focused more on the undead than the living, she hadn’t flipped on the local news after Callaway had told her that the mechanisms of the Dark Veil were covering up the ritual murders. Red didn’t think a plague or a serial killer on the loose would have fazed this town anyway.

  Zach waved from the grill as he passed out sizzling chicken breasts into waiting Styrofoam cartons. The smoke curled over the buffet line, blowing into the trees that surrounded the diner, shielding it from view of the cemetery.

  Jackson came up to Stace, kissing her. His big arm over his petite girlfriend’s shoulder, he turned to Red. She braced herself for a stink eye, considering the last morning. His smile seemed genuine as he said, “Good to see you. You both look great!”

  “Is Lashawn here too?” Stace asked.

  “Sent him off. He’s going to sleep well tonight, I guarantee it.”

  “He’s tougher than he looks.” Red shrugged, hiding her worry. It had been agonizing to watch him try to shift. She couldn’t imagine how it felt to be clawed up by a wolf from the inside.

  Maudette flounced over to them, work shirt tight over her generous curves, hair piled up in big Aqua Net-sprayed curls. “Em—I mean Red! Glad to see you, honey!”

  After catching up with Maudette and Jackson, Stace took her on a tour of the party. She did a good job at including Red and explaining the little jokes and backstories as they mingled. Most gave thanks for something cryptically—thanks for
last Halloween or you saved my bacon in high school—town secrets on the tip of the tongue. How much they knew about the Hero’s real identity, Red couldn’t say, but a thread of gratitude ran through the conversations.

  Some people recognized Red as much as she did them—not at all. Others regarded her more thoughtfully, greetings sounding more like welcome backs even as they introduced themselves. Alone near the bar stand, she was about to ask if her friend wanted anything when she sensed the other witches’ approach.

  “Ghost of Versace give me strength.” Stace muttered to herself. “If I start sparking fae dust, pull me away. I’m allergic to plastic people.”

  “OMG, Stacey? Stacey Bonner? Hello!” With a razor smile and a beige blazer, a slim blond in designer jeans and stilettos stepped into their path as if straight from the reunion flyer—Olivia Benston. Her needle-straight blond hair brushed her chest, framing gray eyes and an elegant bone structure inherited from her mother like her magic. She was flanked by three women with noses designed by surgeons, distinguishable only by their different toned blond highlights and pastel dress colors. “You remember the Ashleys?”

  “Of course, how could I forget.”

  “It’s great to see you. Especially having fun, not waiting tables. You still dress so uniquely too. I would never had thought to put those thrift shop pieces together.” The backhanded compliment oozed with condescension.

  Stace’s smile froze.

  Controlling an instant reaction to say that her friend looked awesome, Red waved. Her greeting forced through her teeth. “Hi. I’m Red.”

  “Oh hello, I didn’t see you there. You just blend right in, don’t you? I’m Olivia, the head of the reunion committee.”

  “Yeah, you’re on the flyer.” Ignoring the obvious slight, Red checked out the small gold Greek letters pinned to the other witch’s tailored blazer. “Is that a sorority pin?”

  “Guilty! I’m a Theta Nu Tau, class of 2015, and all my girls are here to bring a little TNT to the proceedings.” Olivia paused for her joke to sink in. Her minions tittered.

  Red gave it a short courtesy laugh as she scanned the other witches. Only Olivia had an active magic vibe wafting off her, slight like a glamour. Was it to hide a blemish? She had bought rose oil, a common beauty spell ingredient, at the magic shop. Vanity couldn’t be the only motivation. She had hidden her aura and chakras too. All that Dead Sea salt and selenite must not have cleansed her after all. She was concealing more than acne.

  Stace laughed uproariously and put her arm around Olivia. “I need to introduce you to the DJ. He’s the new mayor’s son. He’s plays in Portland all the time.”

  Eyebrow arched, Red didn’t know the fae well enough yet to know if she was really good at undercover or the sorority witch was subtly manipulating her. The faint tendrils of a spell curled around them, easing suspicions. As an anxious overthinker at parties, the sudden contentment felt foreign. She raised psychic barriers. “Maybe we should find Zach, instead.”

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. The Ashleys mimicked her stiffened pose. “Who are you again? You’re named after a primary color, right?”

  Red cocked her head, fist propped on her hip. “Red. It’s not in big letters on a flyer with my picture, but try to remember.”

  Lips pressed, the witch spun on her heel to Stace. “I need to ask the DJ about the mic that I’m using later.”

  “Hey ladies!” Aisha Callaway stepped into their circle, holding a diet soda can. She looked softer out of uniform in a yellow sundress even with biceps that Jillian Michaels would covet. “That’s a cute hairstyle, Stacey.”

  “Thanks!” Flashing a bright smile, she let Olivia and the Ashleys pull her away to the DJ booth, leaving Red with the sheriff. “Be right back, promise!”

  Callaway sipped her soda, fingers denting the can.

  “Don’t take the quick exit personally,” Red said, texting a quick warning to Zach to separate their friend from the coven discretely until they figured out what was wrong with her. The Ashleys were clean of dark magic, but Olivia was definitely shifty. The spell felt low level, barely above hedge witchery and folk magic, but dark mages weren’t above simple tricks. “I think she’s mildly bewitched right now.”

  “Nah, she’s always like that with me. Makes the other waitress take my orders. I’m used to it. It’s cool.”

  “Oh…” Red hemmed and hawed for a second because it didn’t sound like it was cool between the two Black women. She filled Aisha in on their newest break, equally relieved by the sheriff taking the subject change as when Zach lured Stace away from Olivia.

  “You could have said something earlier, saved us from having to shave our legs and dress up. The techs found a fingerprint. It took me forever to comb through the paper filing system, but it doesn’t match any living locals associated with weird cases.”

  “Did you find the sorority murder case? Stace has a theory.”

  “I saw it, but we got prints on nearly all those girls. None matched. I wanted to tell Bonner about it, but she scurried away with the woman who didn’t give a print. Family lawyered up and the old sheriff closed the investigation.” Callaway’s lips puckered with disdain at her predecessor.

  “Shit.” Red shot another warning text to Zach, asking him what the next step of the plan was now. There were too many people around for them to provoke Olivia with suspicions yet. She was giving a speech on behalf of the reunion committee tonight. Her coven sisters would notice if they hauled her away. “She’s cloaking herself, so I can’t tell what kind of magic she’s done recently. Still can’t tell if she’s the one.”

  “This is where forensics comes in handy. Leave it to me.”

  “Get a hair sample too. Just tug it out.”

  The sheriff grinned, raising her pop can in cheers, and walked over to the DJ booth where the blond witches gathered.

  Suddenly shy and aware of being alone, Red fiddled with her phone to seem occupied, almost wishing she had a Facebook account to have a feed to mindlessly scroll through. Identifying the suspicious witch was her big role in the night’s plan. She was on standby until they rallied to take her down.

  “I hate these kinds of things.”

  She glanced up at the blond man addressing her. A quick scan of his unmoving chest and unnaturally white teeth showed that he was no man. Heartbeat jolting, she forced herself to be calm. She brushed her hair back to reveal Kristoff’s claiming mark. “You’d think someone with your kind’s appetites would appreciate a party.”

  “Am I that easy to spot?” The vampire chuckled. Long hair in a ponytail, he had a narrow high-boned face, regal eagle nose competing with a soft indulgent mouth. In a buttoned vintage overcoat that any Portland hipster would admire, he appeared in his late twenties, yet he seemed like an old soul. “I’m not here to feed, least of all on a human with a claim mark. This is merely self-flagellation.”

  “I know the feeling.” Red relaxed a jot. Stace had mentioned that old classmates had been turned into vampires, some with souls. Even if this was a baddie, there were too many witnesses for him to get a nibble.

  “I sensed that you might understand.”

  She tensed. “Why?”

  “You’re surrounded by people, yet you seemed utterly alone. As am I.” He smiled wanly, dark eyes meeting hers before scanning the crowd. “Hard to believe it’s been years since I left.”

  “You were a student here? Or just dragged here?”

  “Both, really. It’s debatable what I learned.”

  She had a feeling that he, like the rest of the alumni, had learned more than they cared too. The phrase in a town like this rose to mind. “What brings you home then?”

  “My father. He’s gone now, but one must come back sometime.”

  “I’m kinda the same.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair. “Half of me wonders if I should have returned at all. The other half knows this is where I should be.”

  “I believed I had a grand destiny then. Somewhere along the line, I
failed.” He sighed, melancholy gaze falling on her. “Maybe I returned worse than before. Lesser.”

  Red looked from his probing gaze to the ground. She had feared small talk, but this was turning heavy quickly. “Sorry if I forgot, but what’s your name?”

  Looking up, he was gone, leaving her talking to herself. She turned in a circle, trying to spot the vampire. The encounter left her more off kilter than meeting Olivia. Somehow this stranger had touched on her deepest worry since she’d found out about Emma.

  Vic stepped up beside her, hands in his pockets, wearing what Red thought of as his nice denim jacket. Mostly because it wasn’t stained with either coffee or blood. The long drive in the Millennium Falcon must have been like a nap because he looked better rested than in days. “Hey.”

  “Didn’t think you would show,” she said, mysterious vampire vanishing from her mind at the sight of Vic. She was relieved his kicked puppy look had faded since this morning. “Glad you did.”

  “I thought I’d get home fries, talk to Jackson. I wasn’t expecting a party.”

  “Well, you got one, handsome,” Maudette said walking over with the saunter of an eager divorcee, checking out his tight wranglers as she twirled a stiff curl around her finger. “What are you drinking?”

  “Local IPA on draft. Surprise me.” Vic winked at the waitress as she giggled and left.

  Red smirked. “You attract the most interesting women, don’t you?”

  “Never doubt my animal magnetism.”

  “Angling for a cougar attack?”

  “I wouldn’t say no.” He laughed, but it died as he scanned the filled tables and chatting clusters of townspeople, spotting Jackson and Stace a few feet away from Zach manning the grill. “How’s the wolf’s mood?”

  “His girlfriend is laying on the kisses, so it should be pretty good soon.” Red wiggled her eyebrows. The wolfmage’s hands glowed as he held the half-fae. Was he clearing the enchantment?

  Vic didn’t seem to hear her, eyes drawn to the outdoor bar stand. “Looks like new trouble.”