Witch Hunt

by L R Deney

  Witch Hunt

  By L.R. Deney

  ©2019 by Laura Deney

  Prologue

  A pale woman, hair short and black, styled with bit of a part that had bangs hanging over her right eye, clad in a tight dress made with a black spandex weave, black fishnets and arm warmers, and heels that would have to hurt if she walked too long in them, sat quietly at the nightclub bar sipping at a glass of red wine. Her eyes moved across the churning crowd, a small smile spreading briefly over her dark painted lips. She caught sight of a redheaded figure decked in a cute little black tank and miniskirt heading her way toward the bar. The fetching minx asked the bartender for some sort of cocktail, but with the music so loud it was difficult to make out the name.

  Eventually the younger woman noticed that the seated woman was observing her and she turned her head. “Any particular reason you’re looking at me?” Her question was half a shout.

  The woman’s lips quirked up a bit. “Just appreciating a bit of beauty….”

  The redhead blushed a bit. “Nah, I think you’ve got the wrong girl.”

  “Do I?” the brunette mused, stroking her chin in thought. There was a deep, melodious charm to her voice. “I suppose I could be near-sighted, I do seem to be getting older as each year passes. But I’m half sure that my potentially poor eyesight is not deceiving me. You’re very attractive as far as I can tell and you shouldn’t doubt that.”

  The younger woman clicked the metal stud that was in her tongue up against her front teeth, straining to take that all in through the noise of the music. The music, although a bit thunderous to make sense of, occasionally screamed platitudes about darkness and death. Most of the bodies of flesh grinding to the music near the bar were clad in black ranging from soft fabrics to latex and leather.

  “Yeah?” She looked as if she mulled that over in her mind. “You’re kind of weird. You’re like what, twenty-five? Thirty at the latest.”

  The brunette barely held back a chuckle. “Too kind, my dear. And I would dread the banality of being normal.” She lifted the back of her hand to her forehead in mock despair.

  The redhead giggled at the other woman’s antics. “The name’s Melanie.” She extended a hand.

  Seizing that hand, the older woman raised it to her lips and pressed a kiss against the back. “Staci. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Melanie.”

  Melanie whistled a bit and mock fanned herself after her hand was released. “Wow, you’re a real romantic. Are you in like theater or something?”

  Staci only smirked, revealing little with her words. “I am no stranger to the liberal arts.”

  Taking a big sip of her cocktail, Melanie shrugged. “Whatever you do, you present yourself with such…”

  “Magniloquence?” Staci suggested after she saw Melanie struggle for the right word.

  Melanie blinked. “I don’t know what that means, but sure.”

  “It means ‘grandiloquent,’” Staci replied mischievously, a Cheshire smile spreading ear to ear.

  The redhead laughed. “I don’t know what that means either. Oh man, you must be in theater. Have I seen anything you’ve done?”

  Staci sipped the last of her wine and shrugged. “Likely not. Most of my works have not made it into the public eye.”

  “So, you’re some kind of starving artist?” Melanie asked with a curious tilt of her head.

  The brunette grinned darkly. “Hardly.” She pulled out a few bills from her purse that lay nearby and summoned the bartender. “The dear girl’s tab is on me, Jim.”

  “Gotcha, Staci,” Jim replied, taking the money before answering another summons.

  The club track changed to a rather quaint tune, if tune it could be called. It appeared to consist solely of a techno beat and the word “death” repeated over and over. Sometimes the DJ wasn’t particularly inspired in his picks.

  “Working the nerve to pick me up, are you?” Melanie asked wryly.

  “I might as well try now while I still can,” Staci replied with lament that almost sounded sincere. “After all, once the orange fellow is sworn in, ladies picking up ladies might soon become illegal in this country.”

  “Yeah, fuck that guy. So, Staci, where are you taking me?”

  “I do believe the old cliché of ‘my place or yours’ could have served just as well. Because the answer is my place.” She extended her hand with a soft smile.

  Laughing again, Melanie downed what was left of her cocktail and took Staci’s hand. The brunette was an oddball, but she felt sure that she would have a safe experience with the woman. There was something about Staci, as strange and forward as she was, she wasn’t threatening. She was actually rather… charming.

  Staci led her out of the club, the stark, relative silence of the Seattle night a huge contrast to the pounding music of the club. The older woman was taller by several inches and held herself with a confidence that spoke of hard-won independence. Still holding hands, they walked down the sidewalk, presumably off to wherever Staci had parked her car (which unfortunately could be just about anywhere the way downtown parking could be).

  The night was strewn with city lights, appearing like a scene constructed purely of polished beads on a tapestry of black. Distant honks and engines filled the air with their sounds, and the occasional high pitch of a siren rose over everything else. It was a city like any other; save that the thin spire topped with a saucer amongst the buildings was a feature unique to this one alone.

  It wasn’t until they had turned a corner that Melanie lost track of their surroundings entirely.

  “Here we are,” Staci announced as she released Melanie’s hand to fish a set of keys out of her purse (which had a little decorative skull on it) as they approached the apartment building.

  Melanie blinked, looking around, suddenly lost. She didn’t recall apartments in this area of Capitol Hill. And even as she looked, she noticed that her surroundings had shifted; there wasn’t a single bar or shop in sight and the skyline above was a little different. She stared for a few moments when Staci’s contralto called from behind.

  “Are you coming?”

  Melanie blinked and looked to the woman waiting at the open door. “The city is…”

  “Different?” Staci asked with a mischievous smile. “Yes, don’t worry about that. You’re not going crazy.”

  “Next you’ll be leading me into a blue police box.”

  “Oh, don’t I wish!” Staci exclaimed with a laugh. “Now come on, silly, the rabbit hole doesn’t end here.”

  Melanie wandered over to Staci, visibly confused, but still trusting the unusual woman. There was a sense that things were going to become both very odd and very exciting all at the same time. As she followed Staci in, and wandered down the apartment hallway, things disappointedly returned to a condition of normality. It looked like a very standard apartment building with little numbers nailed to each of the doors. Eventually they stopped at door 15, and Staci inserted her key.

  “Prepare to be amazed,” Staci said with a wink and led the way in.

  After stepping in through the door, Melanie was suddenly reminded of her Dr. Who reference. Then, it had been a joke, now it was no laughing matter. The interior of Staci’s apartment was far too large for the dimensions of the apartment building that she observed outside. The foyer alone should have encompassed several of the neighboring doors, yet miraculously did not. The décor revealed a refined and exquisite taste in art with sculptures and paintings of contemporary artists lining the walls and furniture. Ahead, a great spiral staircase topped with a balcony dominated the area and hallways branched off into various directions.

  Melanie stood stunned for several moments, flabbergasted that such a thing existed and pinched herself to check if she was not dream
ing. Still awake, she quickly hurried her steps to catch up with Staci who was quickly ascending the staircase to the next level. Once she had caught up with Staci on the balcony, she noticed the massive bookcases that held countless leather-bound books. Her mouth simply dropped.

  “No, I haven’t been able to read all of them, but I’m getting there.”

  Melanie coughed.

  Staci continued leading the way between a narrow pass between two of the bookcases into a hall. Upon entering the hallway, Melanie thought she heard something quickly pass behind her, but when she looked back, saw nothing. Eyeing the bookcases suspiciously for a few moments, she turned back to resume following Staci. After a few twists and turns in the halls, Staci opened a door into a large, lavish bedroom. More fine art decorated the room and the Gothic four-post canopy queen-sized bed filled it a fair bit, but still managed to look proportionate in scope. A plasma TV hung on the wall opposite of the bed.

  Staci sat down on the plush bedspread and patted the space next to her while she kicked off her heels. “Well, don’t just stand there, take a load off your feet.”

  Chuckling softly, Melanie moved to take the spot offered. “So… what exactly is going on here? This apartment, it’s impossible.”

  “I’m a very impossible person,” Staci answered cheekily, placing a hand to squeeze Melanie’s thigh.

  Melanie’s own hand returned the favor. “That didn’t answer my question. I keep thinking I’m dreaming, but yet….”

  “This is all very real?” Staci finished for her before slowly leaning in to plant a kiss on her lips.

  In moments, they were entwined with each other, lips locked, bodies shifting together. Articles of clothing gradually became removed and discarded. Soft giggles and moans filled the room while hands wandered along from thighs to shoulders, cheeks to hips. Somewhere in the tangle of bodies, Staci wound up underneath Melanie. A soft gasp passed through the older woman as Melanie’s tongue explored the swell of her breasts. Her fingers caught the waistband of her black panties and fishnets, gradually tugging them down.

  “Well, dream or reality, I’m going to give you the experience of a lifetime, Staci,” Melanie said. “If I wake up, I’ll wake up happy.” Then she looked down. Her eyes widened and she smiled. “Oh, you’re pre-op.”

  Staci shrugged. “Non-op, actually. Although I did have an orchie.”

  “Smart choice. Spiro’s fucking poison.”

  “No shit. I take it you…?”

  “GRS, when I was nineteen.”

  “Lucky.” Staci stuck her tongue out.

  “But tonight, you strange woman who may or may not be a Time Lady, you’ll be lucky.” With that, Melanie lowered her lips between Staci’s legs and made her howl.

  Chapter 1

  “Well that’s it,” Staci Drenvauder grumbled, watching the clock change the minute. “He’s fucking president.”

  “Please calm down,” Darcy, the dark Latin beauty curled up with her on the bed, pleaded.

  “I am calm,” the pale woman protested, now staring decisively at the Weather Channel. Very decisively. Refusing to give the dark future of the country ratings.

  Darcy kissed her on the cheek. “If you insist, but I can see through you.”

  “I just can’t stand the fact that all of the progress, all of the protections that have been made in this country are about to be torn away!” Staci declared in whispered annoyance. “I came a long way to find myself, and I finally felt comfortable in my skin, and a bunch of idiots decide to sow chaos. Potty policing, and all the rest of it.” She randomly flashed a middle finger to the otherwise empty room.

  “Well, you know magic, right? Maybe you could swoop in, turn him into an actual Cheeto.”

  That actually provoked a laugh from her. “No, you know I can’t. There are rules governing this shit. The Council would send everyone they had to stop me from exposing their precious world.”

  Darcy frowned at Staci. The woman behaved so differently when she was angered. Usually carefree, mischievous, and some might even say hedonistic, Staci turned into a cynical, pessimistic bitch when angered. Sometimes she was worried for the woman, that her usual optimism allowed her to put things too high on a pedestal and when that column was shattered, she fell hard.

  “Do you want me to take your mind off of it?” she asked her with a wide smile.

  Looking to her, Staci couldn’t resist a smile of her own. “Oh, very, very tempting.”

  “So, be tempted.”

  Accepting the invitation, Staci closed the distance and locked her lips with the other woman. Laying there, tongues as entangled as their bodies, they caressed each other with gentle fingertips. They were both clad in nothing but their own skin, having had several of these enjoyable rounds earlier this morning. Some of the sheets were still damp underneath them from those previous moments.

  Staci was shifting to be on top, her hands gently stroking along Darcy’s shoulder and hip. A soft moan escaped her lover as their bodies pressed and slid against each other amidst their sweat and juices. Grinding and panting, Staci quickly did forget what had upset her and broke the kiss to whisper some lewd thoughts into her lover’s ear, causing her to squirm underneath in delight.

  A sudden chime interrupted them and Staci raised her head. Curious, she motioned at the television as though she was pressing a button on a remote. The station changed and the scene switched to a hallway containing a familiar woman and a man arguing outside a door. Darcy looked over her shoulder as Staci shifted to sit, wrapping her arms around her from behind.

  “Oh, is that the new girl you were telling me about?” Darcy asked.

  “Shh! And yes.”

  ◆◆◆

  “I’m telling you, lady, there’s no one in this apartment,” Archibald Walker, manager of the apartment complex they currently stood in, argued with sheer annoyance at her persistence. “It’s been vacant for nearly a year now.”

  “But I was just in there two nights ago!” Melanie whined.

  About to blow a gasket, the manage took his ring of keys and looked for the one labelled “15” and stuck it in the keyhole. He turned the lock and promptly pushed it open. Inside, he revealed, was a typical one-bedroom apartment, completely empty and devoid of any furniture. Melanie’s jaw dropped for the umpteenth time that week.

  “See? Nothing in there. Now kindly remove yourself from the premises before I call the cops and have you arrested!”

  “But, I clearly remember. I mean… huh?” Melanie stammered in disbelief, uncertain of what was going on. Did she really dream it all? The wonderful, sexy woman who she enjoyed a night of passionate sex with? She had been sure it was real; she’d pinched herself several times to make sure.

  Archibald, the manager, simply growled at her and pulled the door shut and then locked it before stalking away muttering sexist comments about “stupid women.” She simply stared at him for several moments until he disappeared. If she hadn’t dreamed it, something magical had clearly happened that night, and Staci Drenvauder had certainly seemed superbly magical. There had definitely had been nothing normal about an apartment that seemed like it was inspired by a British sci-fi television show.

  Sighing softly, Melanie clutched at the strap of her purse and began walking away from the empty room. She didn’t get far down the hallway when she suddenly heard a familiar voice come from behind her.

  “Hey, Melanie, you wanted to say hello?”

  Melanie turned around. Staci was standing by the open door of apartment 15 with a sly smile across her lips and wrapped in a black bathrobe.

  “Your manager is a dick.”

  Staci shrugged. “Well, technically speaking, he’s not my manager. Now come along before he sees us.”

  Melanie nodded and accepted Staci’s greeting hand before allowing herself to be led into her truly bizarre and unusual home. It was much the same as she first saw it, a spacious mansion-like monstrosity that couldn’t possibly exist in the same area that she had just le
ft. Yet it was here, mocking the very laws of physics themselves. However, there was a third person here.

  “Hello, you must be Melanie,” she said with a charming smile.

  “I am, and you are?”

  “Darcy Garcia,” she replied, extending a hand in shake. Melanie eagerly took it.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said with a bright tone in her voice. Then she looked over to Staci. “So, what’s the deal with this place? It’s obviously not an actual part of the building outside as the manager showed me the real apartment. Is this another dimension or something?”

  Staci’s amused expression was simply too hard to not adore. “Something a bit like that,” she admitted. “One could say it exists in its own pocket of reality. I keep it anchored here for the time being.”

  “You’ll get used to plenty of weirdness if you continue spending your time around Staci. She is a very… unique soul.”

  Staci stuck her tongue out at Darcy. “Everything that happens around me is perfectly normal. It’s the rest of the world that’s odd.”

  “Don’t you usually say weirdness is relative?”

  “I didn’t contradict myself.”

  Darcy rolled her eyes.

  Chuckling for a few moments, Melanie suddenly recalled the exact reason why she had come to visit today and quickly grew sober. Taking a soft, deep breath, she quickly broached the matter at hand.

  “Staci, I need your help,” she said, clutching at her purse strap again.

  Caught off guard by the woman’s tone of voice, Staci frowned. “What’s the matter, dear?”

  Melanie looked around. “Is there someplace we can sit?”

  “Of course, right this way….”

  Staci led the way up to the library upstairs and directed them to a set of chairs and a table in a corner. On the edge of her vision, Melanie thought she caught sight of a book moving from one shelf to another. The sight was almost a bit unnerving, but awesome as well. Weirdness was to be expected, was it? She certainly was starting to grow used to it. Gathered around the table, the three women each took a seat.