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

by Sami Valentine

  “You’re willing to go to the vampire prom with Kristoff now?” Vic leaned forward. “You hung out with him, and now he’s cool?”

  “It’s not about him. We need real intelligence. We can’t count on Quinn or Lucas for that.”

  Vic looked down at his broken arm. “You’ll be on your own in a fight. I don’t like it.”

  “I know the risks.” Red played with her food. The syrup smile had dripped into a grimace. She tried to perk it up with her fork. “We have evidence that he didn’t kill any of our victims. The other alibis checked out. I’m also pretty sure that part of my appeal is that it pisses off Lucas.”

  Vic leaned back in the booth. “It might be a no-no for vampires to kill each other now, but they still obey some of the old rules. Lucas is still Kristoff’s vamp daddy. Sires can reclaim the blood.”

  “Lucas is protective. He’s easing up, but Kristoff has to know that Lucas will kill him if given a decent reason.”

  “Ugh.” Vic lifted his hand. “I don’t want the details, but I can see that you have a weird thing a-brewing with Greg.”

  “Lucas.” Red sipped her coffee, primly.

  “Whatever. Okay, so, you get to the prom with Eurofangs, then what? You can only snoop so much by yourself, even if you get Delilah to admit anything to you. You can bet they’ll sweep the place for bugs and confiscate phones from human guests at the door, so putting a camera on you is a stretch.”

  “I don’t need to be by myself. You said you have hacker realities. What about their security system? You can peek on all the cameras, be the guy in the cloud. I noticed Club Vltava has beefed up their surveillance and security systems. They won’t confiscate their own equipment, even if they turn the cameras off.”

  “I could turn them back on again.”

  “The Novak Boys are hip with tech. Everything is digital, but I can’t imagine their Wi-Fi system is that secure.”

  “I don’t even have to hack in if you can get me into their system.” Vic pursed his lips before he took a bite of pancake.

  “What about sound? It’s a Ball.” Red twirled her finger in the air. “It will be loud.”

  “They’ll sweep for bugs, but they aren’t going to do that all day. They have furniture to move, blood to pour, and do whatever vampire caterers do. You have an in with the host. Ask for a tour.”

  “I can’t sprinkle mics around like confetti.”

  “I’m betting if anyone can get us a bunch of spy equipment on short notice, it’s Smith and Reaper. Maybe they have more in their bank vaults than your inheritance.” Vic leaned over. “We still have to deal with Delilah.”

  “I don’t need more than one.” Red smiled. “Let me handle Delilah. We’ll have a chat, just us girls.”

  “Like she’ll tell you anything.”

  “No, but she might tell someone else right afterward.” Red paused when the waitress came back to freshen up their coffees. She used the time to try and make her vague ideas into a plan.

  Vic grinned. “Okay, I’m following you. I like where this is going.”

  “This way, we can be sure to hear it from the horse’s mouth.” Red cocked her head. “Or at least have more of an idea of who’s involved.”

  “What do you think happens after we find out?” Vic sounded lost. He gazed out the window at the In-N-Out Burger across the street like a man after a breakup hearing their couple song. “You know we’ll have to question her ourselves. 400 years old… that’s a lot of blessed silver.”

  “Let’s just find something out first.” Red said delicately before she pulled out her phone and called Kristoff’s number. She still hadn’t put in it her contacts.

  The phone went straight to voicemail without a message.

  “Hey, it’s Red. I’m in for vampire prom.” She hung up.

  “Alright. We’re rolling the dice then.” Vic chewing on a bite of pancakes, glancing down at the nearly empty plate, then giving her a searching look. “You’ve been doing a lot of solo fieldwork this time around. Pun fully intended, these are high stakes. You’ve done good. You put the case before your own feelings. I know you could’ve found a way to stake Novak last night, get rid of the claim, but you did your fucking job. Objectively.”

  Red’s smile froze as his words sunk in.

  Vic continued, “Maybe I had this all wrong. This is some pop psychology for you. Maybe Quinn wasn’t Batman. Maybe I was my own Batman all along. And you’re my Robin.” He leaned back, putting his hands up and . “That’s kind of deep. Maybe I should put that on a shirt. Like, a men’s empowerment thing. ‘Be Your Own Batman.’”

  Vic kept rambling on about his T-shirt idea. Red stopped listening. She hadn’t understood at first what he’d meant when he said she could have killed Kristoff last night. In an open fight, Kristoff would win. Then she thought about it. She had a stake, a cross, a pistol full of wooden bullets, and a vampire distracted all evening.

  Red bit her lip and nodded at whatever Vic had said.

  The thought of killing Kristoff hadn’t crossed her mind at all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  October 31th, 10 pm, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California

  There was no line stretching from Club Vltava tonight. Red strode up to the two tuxedoed undead bouncers, both bald muscle heads in sunglasses and earpieces, standing at attention at the open doorway.

  They turned away a gaggle of Halloween clubbers dressed like the Avengers. Thor flipped them off before the humans strode away.

  Red noticed the pooch of the bouncers’ jackets over their hip holsters before she made eye contact. “Hi, I should be listed as Kristoff Novak’s plus one.”

  The guards shared a look like twins exchanging a mental message.

  “Your purse.”

  Handing over her gold clutch purse for inspection, Red watched the other guard wave a metal-detecting wand over the A-line skirt of her green gown. She kept her focus on his face and not on the mics hidden in plain sight.

  The wand beeped over the gold charm bracelet on her wrist and the golden brooch attached to the center of her sweetheart cut neckline.

  The guard wielding the wand didn’t pause as his eyes flicked over her jewelry, assessing them for danger. “Clear.”

  “No phone?” The other guard handed the bag back.

  “I was told they’d be confiscated, so I left it in my car.” Red said, trying to strike a balance between cowed by vampires but experienced in their presence, as expected from a claimed human.

  The guard jerked his head to the entrance in dismissal. “Go.”

  With even, casual steps, Red entered the atrium to the open elevator. She glanced at the glass door to the gallery where her doppelgänger’s portrait was on display… much like Red herself would be at the Halloween Ball. She gripped her stiff-backed purse, fingers curled protectively around it, sensing but not feeling the thin phone lovingly cut and placed into the inner lining of the purse.

  The elevator door closed, leaving her alone in the muted light reflecting off the stainless steel walls. Red squared her shoulders, heart beating like a war drum, before pulling the compact mirror out of her clutch.

  The gold leaf comb in her hair glimmered in the low light, tucked over her right temple. Her loosely curled locks cascaded over her left shoulder. The hairstyle was engineered to show off Kristoff’s mark by the stylist he had sent.

  She reapplied her crimson lipstick with military precision. Catching a glance of her own green eyes accented with winged liner, Red closed the mirror and shoved it back into the purse with the lady’s silk handkerchief. Kristoff had spared no expense or detail from the stylist to the shoes. The purse had probably cost more than a week at the Pandora Hotel.

  She breathed deep. Her hands smoothed her chiffon A-line skirt compulsively, feeling the thin stake tied against her thigh, before pulling up the front of the fitted bodice of the hunter green gown. Fluttering fingers patted the four thin chains of her choker necklace and wide gown straps. The dres
s wasn’t a Halloween costume, but it felt like one.

  She jumped as the soft elevator bell rang to announce her floor.

  The reflection of her form in the steel doors, split to reveal the spider’s web. Red let her arms fall to her sides and lifted her chin. There was no backing out now. It was time to go to work.

  Striding out of the elevator into Club Vltava, Red cursed the LA traffic for being late. The Ball wouldn’t begin for another twenty minutes. She had to hope it was enough time for her to find a computer on their secure Wi-Fi.

  Red stepped around the edges of the nightclub. The white lounges and chairs were gone, leaving the floor empty beyond the long bars along two walls. She squinted at the black screens on the counter of the nearest one. Club Vltava had state-of-the-art point of sale systems. The Brothers Novak might have been born in the 1800s, but they did their business in the new millennium.

  A shiver ran down her bare arms.

  Kristoff appeared at the foot of the stairs. He stopped to stare at her, shy yet delighted like a poor kid handed a present until his expression closed and he walked over to her. “You wore my gifts.” His pleased tone belied his stoicism.

  “The stylist you sent saved me the trouble of shopping.” She said, then shrugged and let down her tough girl facade long enough to concede, “It’s a lovely dress.”

  “You look like a dream.” Kristoff held out his arm. “I assume you’ll want to get the lay of the land.”

  Red studied his offered arm before taking it and pushing her hair over shoulder. “I didn’t get a chance to snoop upstairs.”

  His eyes focused on her neck before meeting her gaze. “I remember.”

  Red gulped. “Remember, I’m undercover. It doesn’t matter if you’re cooperating. You’re still a person of interest.”

  “Or am I just someone you find interesting?” Kristoff smirked.

  Red glanced away. “You’re different than I would’ve expected. I’ll give you that. I haven’t met an unsouled vampire quite like you.”

  “That’s because there aren’t any.”

  “Okay, I have met vampires as arrogant as you.” Red walked with him up the stairs. “Now, aren’t you going to offer a girl a drink?”

  Kristoff grinned. “I thought this was another interrogation.”

  “Even if I wasn’t about to face a room of vampires, I’d want a drink before a ball. Be honest. How much small talk am I in for?” Red shook her head. “Please tell me I can just hold on to your arm and look pretty.”

  Her swell of bravado ebbed as she noticed the vampires setting tablecloths on the dozens of round tables in blurred flutters of cloth.

  “You will certainly look beautiful, but you might be surprised. The vampires in this town are real bleeding hearts. Some might want to make a political point to address a human politely.” Kristoff frowned as he led her to the bar along the wall.

  “Oh, joy. I get to be the token human.” Her eyes focused on the flat-screen monitors on the cash registers.

  “You’ll see a few others.” Kristoff brought her behind the counter and waved away the bartender who tried to assist him. “Stay with me. This is going to be a snooze of a party, but cunning vampires can make weapons out of words.”

  “Any enemies I should know about?” Red scoped out the cash register, spotting a small USB port on the bottom. She waited until Kristoff turned away to pull the thin, compact thumb drive from the center of her cleavage. She palmed it and stepped closer to him, leaning back against the register.

  Kristoff pulled out a top shelf bottle of white wine. “You made some mischief in the valley with him.” His voice was low, growing serious as he poured a taste of the wine. “As far as I know, I’m the only other vampire who knows that.”

  Hand hidden behind her skirts, Red felt for the USB port and plugged in the thumb drive loaded with Vic’s spyware. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”

  Kristoff cocked his head and handed her the glass.

  “Just some weird saying I picked up somewhere.” Red shook her head, blushing at the weird folksy religious outburst that must have come from Vic. She sipped the wine and handed the glass back. When she had been hyping this plan at the diner, she’d imagined herself suaver. Hopefully Vic wasn’t listening. “More of that, bartender.”

  She looked down at the display on the register and saw a dialogue box pop up. She mentally cursed Vic. The program was supposed to just run.

  Kristoff opened his mouth to speak, but his suit pocket vibrated. He looked at his phone and handed her a glass.

  Red discreetly tapped the screen to load the spyware. If the rest of the program did what it should, Vic would get a bird’s eye view of the action from every camera in the nightclub. She posed with her glass, hoping it was a long text. Waiting for Kristoff to put his phone in his pocket, she remembered to pull out the thumb drive.

  “Usually vampires are fashionably late, but not tonight.” Kristoff shrugged, then guided her from behind the bar. “We should head down to the reception.”

  Red followed him down the stairs. “I understand now. That’s why you really invited me, so you didn’t have to stand alone shaking hands.”

  “What can I say, I’m evil.” Kristoff said as he stepped off the stairs, landing in the transformed lower level of the club. A set of crimson fangs was projected onto the middle of the dance floor. Tall round tables covered in champagne glasses dotted the area. The white lights under the bar had been replaced with red.

  Red inched closer to him at the ding of the elevator.

  Kristoff put his hand on the small of her back, fingers light on her bodice.

  Five black-suited guards strode into the room in triangle formation before breaking off to scout the chamber, revealing the Supreme Master of Los Angeles.

  Cora pulled white, heart-shaped sunglasses off and tossed them over her shoulder. “Far out.”

  A bodyguard nimbly caught the sunglasses before they fell.

  She twirled to take in the nightclub, causing her white kaftan to flare around her legs. Her afro framed the smoky quartz crystals shining on her leather headband. Cora walked over to Kristoff and kissed him on both cheeks. “My fucking lord, you have outdone yourself, Kristoff. I keep asking, but really, when can you move to LA? I need a vamp like you on my team.”

  “Cora, you make the sunny days bearable.”

  “Flattery… But listen to that intuition, handsome. You know which way is up.” Cora looked over his shoulder at Red lurking behind him. “Kristoff…” She glanced at him, a spark of suspicion blazing in her airy expression before she stepped closer to Red. “You are most welcome, hunter chick. Tell the Bards how groovy this party is, okay?”

  Red nodded, wondering if she should curtsy or offer the supreme master a fist bump.

  “You’re lovely tonight. And happy to come to my little ball, correct?” The spacey glaze to Cora’s soulful eyes grew focused. “I believe in consent culture, little sister.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it. The Brotherhood values our agreement.” Red smiled and put her arm through Kristoff’s. “Plus, he owed me a new dress.”

  Cora smiled and turned back to Kristoff. “Now that I see her in designer wear, I see you were restrained in defending your claim.” The serious cast to her face dropped as she turned to study the room. “This room has a good aura, but we need music!” She walked away in a samba shuffle, her bodyguards trailing her like ducklings.

  Red gulped the last of her wine and looked at Kristoff. “Political statement.”

  “We’re vampires. Everything is.” Kristoff glanced toward the elevator. “Go grab yourself a glass of champagne.”

  Red nodded, already guessing who would arrive next.

  Kristoff might have owned the club, but the real hosts were Cora and her team. The Blood Summit brought LA under the magnifying glass of vampire society from more than just North America as the signature event of the Blood Alliance.

  Red turned and ducked behind one of the towers
of champagne glasses. She set her wine glass down and picked up a champagne flute, pouring half of it into another glass.

  Spying through the flute stems, she waited for the elevator to open on the vampire pulling the strings with the media—the stick to Cora’s carrot in the land of the fluffy bunny vampires. Souled vampires might have ruled here, but they still had unsouled vampires around to do the dirty work.

  The opening notes to California Love by Tupac and Dr. Dre filled the air.

  Striding forward in a black tailored suit, Michel studied the room. Even with a white patch over one eye, his withering disdain for the decor was clear. He wrapped an arm around Delilah, hand resting on her hip.