A Witch Called Red: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 1)

by Sami Valentine

  "Jake Crispin said you were a friend to the Bards," Vic said.

  "Our truce was the capstone of my work in the last century. We want peace. I’ve tried to create it here as the supreme master."

  "His daughter was killed," Red said, then wished she hadn't. Vic had told her to keep quiet, but following the rules wasn’t her strong suit.

  Cora looked at her, the groovy hippie vibe disappearing from the vampire’s eyes. "And I want her killer brought to justice. Trust me, chica, I am making this a true City of Angels."

  Vic glared at Red and coughed. "Can we trust on your protection while we investigate? I know this is a sensitive time."

  "Let's drop the tension. You missed the class, but we can still relax a bit." Cora strode over to a high shelf and climbed up. Not the shelves but the wall itself. Her hands and feet pressed flat against the wall and she climbed like a spider to grab two yoga mats.

  Red took a half step back and craned her neck up. Watching Cora was the exact opposite of relaxing. She had seen wall crawlers before. Usually, she had a gun with wooden bullets in her hand to take them down. All vampires came with super speed, senses, and strength… some came with extras. They called them the Gifted. Red called it creepy.

  Standing on two feet, Cora climbed up the wall and strode across the ceiling. Gravity pulled at her brown afro, but her poise was as graceful upside down as it was on the ground. Cora jumped down to the middle of the room and unrolled both mats out flat. "We are allies." She dropped into a lotus pose on the tie-dyed mat. "Sit. Your auras are as tense as your shoulders.”

  Vic and Red looked at each other before walking closer and sitting crossed legged on the yoga mats.

  "Um, yeah. This is cozy.” Vic drummed his fingers on his bent knee. “So, you know that Crispin doesn't just want justice, he wants..."

  "He wants to see the vampire who killed his daughter staked. Preferably by his own hand." Cora shrugged. "It's an eye for an eye, but that happens when a man loses his baby girl. Any vamp in my city who is stupid enough to break my rules and go for a Bard's kid is fair game."

  "You really mean that." Red tilted her head. She had met supreme masters before, and they were usually less like an earnest vegan social worker. Then again, she’d never met a souled vampire who managed to run a city.

  "Yeah, I just run a soup kitchen, an after school program, and job development training for single moms for the diabolical glee of it." Cora shook her head before stretching one arm across her chest and holding it. "You haven't met many like me, hunter chick, I can see. Let me educate you. Running around trying to end the world is for crusty old-world vamps. I created a sustainable community in LA. That means all of us, even the unsouled vamps, have a social contract. Everything I’m trying to do at this Summit is to school these immortal fools that it’s not optional to give peace a chance." Cora smiled. "Obviously, you will both have my protection during your investigation.”

  “Kick ass.” Vic nodded. “The Brotherhood will keep you informed.”

  “You'll be safe here, sugar,” Cora said to Red, then put her hands into a praying position and addressed them both. “Now, let's take a deep breath before I have to run to my next meeting."

  Red breathed along with Vic and Cora until a bodyguard in a black suit came to the door.

  Cora departed, giving a cheerful farewell of Namaste with four bodyguards trailing behind her.

  Another escorted them through the now crowded lobby of vampires complaining about social media.

  A vampire in a yarmulke sighed and slapped his hand on the shoulder of a black vampire in a red suit. His New York accent cut through the crowd. “And I thought the printing press was bad for business!”

  “I’m ready to sleep. I hope our rooms smell less like the homeless.” The vampire in red wrinkled his nose.

  Red kept her head down and a calm pace to her feet, feeling like a lamb among wolves. Primal instinct told her to run. Her brain agreed, but she kept close to Vic’s side, hoping that she looked as unaffected as he did.

  The smoggy LA air had never felt fresher than when they stepped outside Moon Enterprises.

  Red looked at Vic.

  Vic shook his head. “I already know what you are going to say. None of us like this. Come on, let’s get some home fries and a nap in before we hit the beach.”

  “You know how to treat a girl. Diner food and crime scenes.” Red pulled on her sunglasses, already feeling the heat of the day bouncing off the concrete buildings. The sun had risen, but she felt the shadows closing in.

  Chapter Five

  October 25th, 2018, Night, Club Vltava off Sunset Strip in Los Angeles California, USA

  The last lights of the California sun had turned the city to gold, the mythical El Dorado, making Red understand for a moment why so many young creatives were drawn here like gold miners of the past.

  Sunset had followed them when they left the beach, finding nothing and no witnesses at Olivia Greene’s murder site before returning to the motel.

  Quinn had emailed the background check and the pictures he had taken of the police report, but they hadn’t gleaned anything close to a lead beyond DB Models. Unlike Julia Crispin, Olivia Greene was exactly as she appeared at first glance: a normal girl who stumbled onto the supernatural and lost the fight. Fate would push her murder into that percentage of cold cases too weird to investigate. If it hadn’t been for Vic needing to take a piss and a nap by Coyote Creek after a long drive, Red could have been the same statistic.

  Vic always prayed for the victims, but Red swore justice. She figured between the two of them some power out there would take pity.

  Hours later, they dressed to hobnob with aspiring celebrities and current has-beens. Nightfall had left the city blazing with lit up billboards, neon signs, and streetlights. No star could be seen through the smog reflecting the light, leaving the night sky a dark burnt orange.

  Vic cursed as he navigated through the stop and go traffic on Sunset Strip.

  Red frowned as the last download from Fat Crispin’s email attachment stalled on the laptop. “Damn, out of data until we get that bounty.” She transferred a few crime scene photos to her phone.

  “Fantastic,” Vic grumbled.

  “The Brotherhood must have some clout to get the LAPD to pony up so much info about the case.” Red sighed as she closed the small laptop and untethered the cell phone from it before pushing it underneath the car seat and covering it with a layer of washed Mountain Dew cans. Vic called it urban camouflage.

  “The Brotherhood has people in more places than you’d think.” Vic kept his eyes on the road, avoiding her gaze. “I bet the deal with the Supreme Master of LA did more than make us sanctioned investigators. The protection is a plus. Can’t say that it’ll stop anyone from killing us if they really wanted to, though.”

  “Cheerful.” Red shook her head. “Fat Jake was detailed, as usual. I can’t imagine writing a crime report like that for my kid. He even estimated to the minute how long it would take him to analyze the surveillance camera footage.”

  “Duty is mother’s milk to the Brotherhood. We vowed to be a shield to humanity. That doesn’t stop in grief,” Vic said, jaw tightening.

  Red studied him, noting the drop-in snark, letting the silence grow as she hoped he’d continue. He’d told her everything about his time at UCLA, but he never gave details of his time training in London with the Bards.

  Vic grunted, changing subjects as quickly as he turned right. “I’m going to violate one of my sacred beliefs.”

  “Parking garage?”

  “Parking garage.” Vic began ranting about pay parking, late stage capitalism, and civil liberties as he turned into the three-story garage. Then, as always, he quoted the Constitution as if the founding fathers could have foreseen the automobile.

  Red let his grumbles roll over her. After a year riding shotgun with him, she had heard all his gripes about federal, state, and municipality overreach. She rolled down the window to let in t
he night air, hot and dry even in October.

  They were going to check out the club and the alley where the second victim, Julia Crispin, had been found. Vic made it sound like the Crispins were an oversized old Brotherhood family with more arms than an octopus and at least five named Jacob, which led to the Fat Crispin nickname for Julia’s father. Ironic, given that he was a skeletal beanpole of a man. The bounty on staking the vampire who killed Julia would keep them afloat for months. Vic said he kept his distance from the Brotherhood, but he still seemed to know everyone.

  Red envied that.

  Vic had strong history on both sides of his family, from Henry Constantine who adopted him, to the Parks—his biological family he had lost to a werewolf attack. He even had an adopted brother named Lashawn out there. He had collected people in his life.

  Red had a big blank when it came to friends and family. She had Vic and the scattered people she had met on the road, but everything before August 2017 might as well have been a question mark. She might never find the answers she wanted, but they could find some for Julia Crispin.

  Getting out of the car, Red adjusted the drape of her slinky green dress. The asymmetrical skirt covered her to the knee in the front while exposing the thigh at the side. The back was high, but the neckline plunged low. The knockoff wide choker spelled out Versace in metal letters over black velvet.

  Vic had tried to convince her that everyone in LA wore heels, but Red wasn’t sure. She put foldable black leather flats in her black purse as backup. 5’7 might have been short in the land of models, but heels were a recipe for a sprained ankle if they got in a fight. He could fight in the heels for all she cared.

  Walking together to the line at the half-open, rounded, red-varnished double doors of the club, Red looked up at the black letters above. Club Vltava. She had already looked up the club, owned by Novak and Novak Company, distinguished by a rare liquor selection comprised of obscure European vintages like Vino Verde from Portugal and Slivovice from the Czech Republic.

  Just another hot spot hyped up on social media with even two of the Kardashians sisters coming to the opening last week.

  “Ugh, a line.” Vic scowled. He brushed his hair back. He had forgone his vest and donned a blazer over his jeans and Star Wars T-shirt. His mullet lay slicked back. He looked like a tech startup founder ready to burn investor cash. “I don’t understand waiting to buy a twenty-dollar cocktail.”

  Red smirked. “Blend in. Pretend you have money.”

  “I wouldn’t spend it on this.” Vic listed a few better things, in his opinion, to spend twenty dollars on, from a plate of chicken and waffles to new windshield wipers.

  A beefy bouncer in a black suit glared down at them from nearly seven feet. A jagged scar cut down his dark-skinned cheek. “Not feeling you two tonight. What is that, bro, a mullet?”

  “Hey, this hairstyle is big in Korea, pal,” Vic said.

  Red fluffed out her loose red hair, forcing a smile as Vic argued with the bouncer. She looked over his bulky shoulder.

  The open door showed a black painted hallway. A pale, brown-haired man in a pinstriped suit with a white Bluetooth device in his ear walked down the hall, chatting as he swiped through his phone. His thumb was a supernatural blur. He looked up when he reached the bouncer. His eyes flicked over Red, head to toe, but without any heat in his gaze.

  “Let them in.” He chuckled. “My brother likes gingers.”

  Red resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “Even with this dork, Arno?” The bouncer asked.

  “Hey!” Vic said.

  “She’s hot enough.” Arno shrugged and pointed out three other groups in the crowd. “And them. Wait until ten come out before you let more in.”

  Vic glared at the bouncer as he took Red’s arm. “Dork? I don’t know what he’s seeing. I look badass.”

  “That’s right, honey.” Red patted Vic’s arm before they disengaged to walk down the short hallway into the elevator. She and Vic had pretended to be a couple on jobs before, but it always felt like taking her cousin to the prom. They ended up having to stop themselves from making each other laugh and breaking cover. Tonight, they had to play it cool. This wasn’t just any night club. This was a club run by vampires.

  The elevator filled up with the other clubbers, then rose to the second to the top floor. The doors opened to a dark, fog filled, strobe-lit dance floor playing electronica.

  “Great, Eurotrash music,” Vic said as he stepped out.

  “Come on, let’s do a lap, then see if they have an IPA for you.” Red motioned with her head, and they walked around the chamber. Along the wall, alcoves and niches were filled with white pillows that glowed in the strobing black lights.

  Two even bigger bouncers stood in front of a staircase with a velvet rope. A sign on a pedestal read: PRIVATE PARTY.

  Red stopped Vic and nodded to it. She watched two tanned blondes in tiny black dresses get turned away.

  A pale man in a wrinkled brown suit, bald and blinking behind round glasses, stepped in front of the bouncers.

  The velvet rope lifted.

  The bald man looked over his shoulders, fangs just barely visible on his lip, before he disappeared up the stairs.

  Red said, “It looks like that is where the real action is.”

  “No, it just walked through the door.”

  Red turned to see who Vic was waving at. Lucas.

  He tightened his jaw and glared at Vic before his eyes widened on Red. He glanced her up and down, a dumbstruck expression flashed across his face before he collected himself and stomped forward. His voice was deep and harsh. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Oh, you know. When in LA, go where the beautiful people are.” Red smiled to spite Lucas’s grumpiness.

  “Get us into the vamp party upstairs, Greg.” Vic jerked his thumb at the staircase.

  “Oi, enough with the Greg business,” Lucas scoffed with a small resigned smile.

  Red looked away to hide her smirk. After Lucas had left them at the strip mall, Vic had declared him Greg forever more.

  “Whatever, Greg. We’re working for your boss and with the local vampire fuzz. What’s the deal with upstairs?” Vic asked.

  “It’s a big to-do for the Blood Alliance, speeches and kumbayas between vampires—souled and unsouled. Quinn sent me to be bored to tears up there and report back.”

  “The supreme master has a tight enough leash that even the vampires in San Bernardino are playing along with her catch and release policy,” Red said. “It can’t be a coincidence that a girl was found drained and dumped here right before the pep rally. That’s a message. We just need to know who it’s for.” Red put her hands on her hips when Lucas opened his mouth to argue. “Come on, this is a PR event with enough souled vampires that we know it’ll be tame. We’re not going to start a fight. We just want to have a look around while we have most of the town up there.”

  Lucas crossed his arms. “Then half the town can get a look at you.” His eyes flicked to Vic. “Both of you. You shouldn’t be in this club. This is dangerous.”

  “It’s hard to investigate a murder if you don’t see the full crime scene. I doubt she spent the whole night in the alley.” Red folded her arms and composed her most determined face. Vampires, souled or not, only respected confidence. No one wanted strangers taking over a case, but Quinn had given this to them. Lucas would have to respect that.

  “Come on,” Vic said. “We’ll hang out in the background.”

  Red looked over Lucas’s shoulder as she noticed the dancing crowd part around them as if unsettled by an unseen wind.

  The Supreme Master Vampire of the City had arrived.

  The tall dark-skinned woman stepped onto the dance floor. The strobe lights caught the yellow of her patterned caftan as Cora Moon raised her arms and moved her hips, dancing through the crowd. Her large brown afro framed her thick brows and soft hazel eyes.

  She wasn’t alone.

  A pale man
stepped behind her in dark slacks and a light jacket, a white patch over his eye and his black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Cellphone pressed to his ear, he strode through the parted crowd with the impatience of a rush hour commuter in Manhattan.

  “Is that…?” Vic said.

  Red caught a glimpse of a curly blonde-haired woman beside the vampire with the eyepatch.

  Lucas stepped closer and gestured for them to turn around for privacy. He huddled closer. “Brilliant detection, Vic. Yes, the hippie is Cora Moon and that’s her second-in-command and public relations prick, Michel de Grammont, behind her. You’ve both stepped into the viper’s den, and found the head vipers.”