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

by Sami Valentine

  Delilah rolled her eyes at Red when she noticed her, crossing her arms over her red dress.

  Lucas turned around from his place beside Quinn and Vic. He put his hands in his leather jacket pockets and rocked back on his heels as he grinned at her.

  Vic looked pale but determined in his wheelchair. His black mullet blew back in the breeze above his denim vest.

  Red walked to stand beside Vic and put a hand on his shoulder.

  Cora nodded to Red. “You’ve heard from the Bard, you’ve listened to the audio recording, and you’ve seen with your own eyes how Michel not only betrayed his supreme master but also put the Dark Veil in jeopardy. His treachery over the course of a century led to countless murders of our fellow vampires. Due to his arrogance and incompetence, over ten unregistered fledglings rose this week in the city’s morgues, and even more rogues were staked. His rebellion failed. The final death is his sentence.”

  Michel stared ahead, black hair loose on his shoulders, his hands and feet bound by blessed silver. He had the dignity of a nobleman before the guillotine. His wounds had healed, but his left ear was gone. Without his eyepatch, his face looked no less haughty, even despite the cross-shaped scar on his sewn-shut eye socket. His one brown eye found Red.

  Chang came forward with a curved sword.

  Cora took it and smiled before raising the sword above her head.

  Michel opened his mouth. “I would have shown you who you really are.”

  Red knew his words were for her alone

  Cora swung the sword across her chest. The lights of Inglewood reflected off the blade as it swept up in a steel arc.

  Michel’s head tumbled off in a clean blow, and his body decayed to dust.

  Even the vampires seemed to exhale as the Santa Ana winds blew Michel De Grammont away. Then the chant began.

  “Cora. Cora. CORA!”

  Vic looked up at Red before turning his motorized wheelchair around. “Let them have their rah-rahs.” He smiled wanly as they left the vampires to return to the elevator. Vic waited until the doors closed behind them to ask, “What did he mean by that?”

  Red shrugged, even though she knew she would never forget the look in Michel’s eye. “It doesn’t matter.”

  November 9th, Sunset, Culver City in Los Angeles, California, USA

  The next few days were spent on the couch of their new apartment, watching reruns of sitcoms with only food deliveries and the arrival of Vic’s quiet nurse to break the television marathon. Takeout boxes and cans of IPA collected on the coffee table, then a pile gathered on the floor by the large sectional couch. The pop-up question on the Netflix interface seemed more and more desperate as it asked them if they were still watching.

  Red didn’t say much, and Vic didn’t ask. They might have stayed in sight of each other, but they licked their wounds separately. At first, the strain of doing magic had made her want to stay inside, then the looping panic and self-analysis kept her there.

  The apartment had three bedrooms, but she hadn’t slept in her own bed yet. One look at the large mirror in the room was enough. Curling up on the couch and passing out to old episodes of Parks and Recreation felt safer than facing her own reflection. All the laugh tracks in the world couldn’t cover up the one thought that circled in her mind.

  Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age…

  Red had read over Vic’s emailed report to Fat Crispin. She had nothing to add. The Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes might have hoarded knowledge, but she didn’t need to tell them everything. Who knew what the mic on Delilah had picked up anyway?

  She was happy to leave her conversation with Michel behind in the rooftop gazebo of Moon Enterprises. Doppelgänger, secret heiress, and possible reincarnation of an evil witch… she had wanted to know who she was. Now, the possibilities crushed her. What if the vampire who had bitten her and left her to die along Coyote Creek had been trying to do the world a favor?

  The knock on the door startled Red, but she only pulled the blanket higher on her shoulders.

  A key scraped in the lock, and a pensive Filipino man in nursing scrubs walked in. His nose wrinkled as he looked around the darkened living room.

  Vic sighed in his wheelchair, head hanging low, and rubbed his face. He looked over at Red.

  Red turned over on the couch. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe everyone would ignore her. It had worked so far.

  “Hey Hiram, I think I’ll take you up on that shower,” Vic murmured.

  “Can I open the window or the balcony door too?” Hiram’s voice was as quiet as his steps on the wooden floor.

  “Whatever blows your skirt up.” Vic’s electric wheelchair whizzed behind the couch toward the bedrooms.

  The balcony door whooshed open to let in light and the sounds of Culver City.

  Red rolled onto her back, releasing a breath when the door closed. She looked over at the messy coffee table, seeing it in natural light. She wished she hadn’t. Her inner neat freak rebelled, but the self-loathing didn’t care.

  Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age…

  Only her bladder made her get up. She passed by her phone, charging for way too long on the kitchen counter. She ignored the red blinking light in the corner that told her she had notifications.

  She went into the bathroom. Flushing, she washed her hands quickly and turned to lean against the counter. How long could she wait in here? There were enough crumbs in her sports bra to live on, she mused bitterly. She tried to meditate, but only managed to zone out until she heard the front door close.

  “Red, get your ass here.”

  “Yeah, boss.” Red ran a hand through her greasy hair and sighed. She opened the door to see Vic sitting in his wheelchair in clean jeans and a Metallica shirt.

  The takeout boxes were gone, and the apartment lights were on. The TV was off.

  She frowned at Vic’s determined expression.

  “No sass. Get out of your pajamas and into your street clothes.” He lifted his finger. “Actually, shower first and then dress. We need to get out of here.”

  “But I like here. We’re comfortable here, and if we don’t order something from Old Shanghai soon, they might worry.”

  “I think they’re already worried about the creepy stinky hermits who keep ordering Lo Mein.”

  “Touché.” Red crossed her arms.

  “Now, hop to, intern.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Vic just grunted and waved his hand before turning his wheelchair around.

  Red rubbed her eyes before turning back to the bathroom, shedding her clothes, and walking into the shower with all the enthusiasm of a cat. The water felt nice, but she still shampooed and conditioned like a robot. The couch beckoned her. Brushing her teeth before wrapping herself in a towel, she stepped out into the living room.

  The sun was setting.

  “Your purse is packed with your phone already, so get dressed. I even tossed a stake and a tampon in there. You got everything you need.” Vic called out, his phone wedged between ear and shoulder as he resumed his phone conversation. “Oh, get over it. Its natural….” He paused, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. I doubt you'll remember my order. It's fine.”

  Red sighed and stared longingly at the couch. She didn’t know what non-TV watching bee had gotten into his bonnet, but she didn’t like it. Dressing in her room, she avoided the mirror and put her wet red hair up into a ponytail before coming out again, hoping Vic had returned to his senses. They still had five more episodes left of Parks and Recreation.

  “Now that we’re so fresh and clean.” Vic waited for her to finish the line from the OutKast song and say, “so fresh and so clean clean,” but she didn’t. He shook his head. “Okay, now I get that it's serious. I know why I’m depressed. I’m Lieutenant Fucking Dan. You should be fine, Forrest.”

  Red rubbed her arm and looked away. “Eh. I can’t complain.”

  “But y
ou want to. You remembered how to dress. Let’s see if you remember how to drive.” He held up the Millennium Falcon’s keys with the familiar alien keychain they’d picked up in Roswell. He tossed them to her.

  Red caught them before staring at the new remote dangling off it. She followed him out into the hallway and locked the door behind her.

  Vic zoomed down the hall to the elevator.

  She rushed after him, feeling more and more annoyed to be leaving the cozy den of their apartment. Arranged by Reaper and Smith, and paid for by her mysterious trust fund, it might have been funded by human trafficking for all she knew. She only had so much guilt left in the tank.

  “I want a burger. I hope it's there when we arrive.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You used to ask less questions.” Vic glared at her without malice as the elevator door opened on the parking garage.

  Red chuckled for the first time in days. “No, I didn’t.”

  Vic wheeled ahead before stopping by the Millennium Falcon. “Oh, I missed her.”

  “Did she get a facelift?” Red studied the washed black van and the modified side door.

  Vic shrugged. “A gift from Cora. You’re not the only rich chick I know. Use the clicker, will you?”

  Red pressed the unlock button before noticing another one. She pressed it. The side door opened, and a wheelchair lift creaked out. The interior of the van still had Tibetan prayer flags, but the bean bags were missing.

  Vic sighed and rolled up onto the platform, strapping the wheels in place. “Let’s get this show on the road. We have gridlock traffic to suffer through.”

  Getting into the driver’s side, Red clicked her seat belt before clicking the remote to close the side door and waiting for the ramp to fold into place.

  “So much for quick getaways.”

  Red didn’t reply to Vic as she pulled out of the small underground parking lot. Classic rock piped through the speakers when she turned on the radio.

  “At least they didn’t fiddle with my tunes,” Vic said before giving terse directions.

  Snails moved quicker than the rush hour traffic in Los Angeles as they made their way past billboards advertising new movies and strip malls. The sky darkened on the autumn evening, casting shadows on the handicap parking placard on the rearview mirror. Something about being on the road in the Falcon calmed the rotation of shit in her head. She bobbed her head to the first strands of Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down as she noticed the small smile on Vic’s face in the rearview mirror.

  A question appeared in his eyes, but he let her get through half the song before he spoke. “What happened on that rooftop, Red? You went all Firestarter, which you should be happy about. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Red turned down the song, not wanting to taint Tom Petty, before she answered. “I found out some shit that I didn’t want to.”

  Vic rolled his hand. “And?”

  “Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age.” Red repeated Michel’s words. Goosebumps rose on her arms to say it out loud.

  “So?”

  Clenching her teeth, Red breathed through her nose. Fury rose up in her. He didn’t get it. “So? Is that all you have to say about the Victorian hooker who copyrighted my face? So?” She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. "Damn it, my biggest clue to my mystical amnesia is that I am a carbon copy of an evil chick and all your sorry ass has to say is ‘so?’"

  “Turn right.”

  Flicking on the blinker, Red turned without even noticing the street name. “I can’t believe you just said that! My life, what I have of one, has been turned upside down ever since I found out who she was. She had my face, and I have her fucking baggage. She was a dark witch who was killed by hunters. Ripped through London like a hurricane. Even turned on your great-great-great-grandpa Iron Jack Constantine. And all you have to say is ‘so?’”

  “You ain’t her, Red. I don’t care what bullshit Frenchie told you.”

  Red deflated in her seat and peeked at Vic. “Quinn told you?”

  “No, you just did.” Vic crossed his arms.

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s been the cloud over your head? You’re worried you’ll be like her?” The rough tone disappeared from Vic’s voice. “Evil or something?”

  “Well, yeah.” Her voice sounded too small even in her own ears. She avoided the rearview mirror and brushed the tears from her eyes.

  “You’re not.” Vic sighed. “We don’t know the pub trivia info of your life, but I know you, Red. You’ve been the best intern a Bard could ask for, and you’ve done more good in a year than most people do in their lives. How many people have you saved? How many times could you have bailed out and said fuck this hunter shit, I’m going to live like a normie and poop out some babies?”

  “Ew, Vic, that’s not where they come out.” Red giggled and hiccupped through the tears.

  “Eh, whatever. You get my point. You’re good! Sure, you’re a doppelgänger with terrible taste in Gregs, but you’re a good person.” Vic leaned forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “Believe me. I’m full of bullshit, but I know people. What I know is that I’m the Batman and you’re my Robin, kid.”

  “Damn it, Vic, you’re making me cry.”

  “Mop yourself up before I do.” Vic sniffed. “Okay, let's stop this emotion train because we’re almost there. Another right.”

  Looking around, Red noticed the block of offices, nail spas, and an Indian restaurant. She turned onto a side street and took a quick left into the parking lot behind it. “Are you ready for this?”

  “Eh, at least we can get the best parking spot.” Vic shrugged. “I got a new job for us.”

  Red parked and hit the clicker to open the side door and let out the wheelchair lift. She got out of the van on shaking legs to stare at the window to Quinn Investigations.

  Vic rolled ahead of her and pressed the button on the stand of the building's automatic door opener.

  Quinn was already in the doorway of his office before they reached his end of the hallway.

  “Out of my way before I run you over, Q.” Vic grumped as his chair went to the door.

  Forcing herself to look Quinn in the eyes, Red couldn’t help but think about how he had heard everything Michel had said to her. “Hey,” she said shortly.

  “Red. Vic.” Quinn nodded and stepped aside.

  Red felt Lucas there before she met his eyes. The tension in her shoulders drained a bit. She waved at him with one hand and rubbed her upper arm with the other, dipping her head.

  In an instant, Lucas pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “There she is.”

  Vic coughed. “I’m reporting this as a hostile work environment.”

  Laughing, Red pulled away and looked down at Vic. "Leave Greg alone."

  “Oi, it's your first day.”

  “Is this the job, Vic?” Red put her hand on her hip and gestured around the office.

  “You know these losers need our help.”

  Lucas squeezed Red’s shoulder before turning to Vic. “Again, I say ‘Oi!”

  Quinn leaned against his desk, a small smile on his face. He gestured to the unopened In-N-Out Burger on the coffee table. “You’re just in time.”

  “We got a tip from an Ice Dwarf that some primordial boogie-boo is rising off of Santa Monica pier soon,” Lucas said.

  Quinn added, “We need some research done before we hit the streets.”

  “How much saving does one city need?” Red wondered aloud.

  “It never ends in LA.” Vic rolled his wheelchair to the fast food bag and pulled out a burger. He started chewing before he looked up at Quinn. "Animal Style. You remembered my order."

  Quinn nodded. "Always."

  Red grinned at the male bonding.

  Vic coughed before pointing his burger at Lucas. “There's always another baddie looking for their five minutes of fame. It's why I hate this town.”

  “Everyone hate
s this town,” Lucas said as he flopped down on the couch. His storm-gray eyes shone as he looked at Red.

  “That’s why they need us.” Quinn walked around his desk to sit down.

  Red shook her head as she looked over the small cluttered office. “Then let’s get to work. Tell me we have something more than Lucas’s filing to go on.”

  She sat down next to Lucas and reached into the bag for some fries. She chewed and let the banter roll over her.