“The Bell Witch? Like in the movies?” Red gripped the steering wheel tighter. The Bell Witch was to American mages what Dracula was to European vampires. A legend. She didn’t even know the Bell Witch was real.
“Our third celebrity!” HIs voice pitched up.
Her cellphone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the text message. “Well, isn’t this a star filled night. We’re meeting another celebrity—a rapper. Quinn and Lucas are sending out the bat signal.”
4
December 16th, 8:18PM, Long Mile Records, Inglewood, Los Angeles
Red knelt by a large muscular man in the corner of a padded recording room in the back of Long Mile Records. White acoustic panels were splashed with what looked like the blood of the innocents. A broken mic lay next to a detached windscreen at her sneakers. She murmured nonsense words of comfort to the rapper known as Mr. Hyde [Yo Wife].
Six-foot-three and over two hundred fifty pounds of muscle, he was recording a concept album based on The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde after a stint in the pokey on assault charges. Rolling Stone called him the next Tupac. Right now, Mr. Hyde cried for his mother.
Sweat beaded on his dark skin, black durag lay soaked on his head, white tank top stuck to his chest. He shook, tears streaming down the tattoos on his cheeks. “I need like an army of Popes or something. Satan is walking in Inglewood.”
“Hey, hun, tell me what happened.”
“I don’t fucking know, lady. I was recording a track, everything was normal, and then it got so cold like the devil was breathing on my neck.” He trembled before covering his face again, falling forward against her chest.
Red huffed out a breath of surprise but hugged the man, patting his back. She spoke to Quinn and Lucas on the other side of the glass-strewn room. “Usually it’s the musicians trashing the place.”
Lucas stepped forward. “The walls were still bleeding when we got here.”
His voice was serious, but his lips quirked up in a small smile for her. That smart mouth always looked ready to crack a snarky joke. Only his storm-gray eyes showed the conflict that marked him as having a soul. His black hair, usually tousled and falling into his eyes, lay flat and streaked with dried blood. He had mopped up the mess on his leather jacket but the white shirt, tight over his lean stomach, was speckled underneath.
“The spirit turned on us before it disappeared.” Quinn looked around. His spiked-up blond hair had been spared, but the paranormal activity had taken a toll on his dark trench coat, still wet on his broad shoulders. A red smear lined his strong jaw.
She nodded. Ghosts weren’t the biggest fans of vampires. Their presence probably saved Mr. Hyde‘s life by turning the poltergeist’s attention away. She tried to help him stand, but the large rapper felt like dead weight. She asked Quinn, “Help? We need to get him out of here.”
The blond vampire knelt, putting Mr. Hyde‘s arm around his shoulder and took him out of the room. In the hallway, Vic talked to the shaken producer whose formerly white suit would need to be burned, not dry cleaned.
She stood, using on her third eye but didn’t see any sigils written on anything or even any antique furniture—only framed records on the floor and knocked-over equipment. Yet a spooky-ooky vibe lingered over the recording studio, enhanced by the generous splashes of blood. The spectral aura felt the same as the one in Nevaeh’s home.
Hands in his pockets, Lucas stepped closer to her. “Sorry to drag you two in on the job. We were just amping the spirit up.”
“We’re a team. This is what we do.” Red tried not to burst out with her very unrelated question that had nothing to do with the case. She was hunting ghosts, not boys. Trying to keep a peevish tone out of her voice, she suspected she’d failed from the amused curl of his lip.
“I didn’t text you back last night,” He pulled his hand out of his pocket to run a nervous hand through his black hair, rocking back on his heels.
“It’s fine.” She ducked her head. It was easy to get worried in their line of work. Sometimes, you never got to send that last text.
Eyebrow lifting, Lucas caught her gaze. His mouth softened. He always looked at her like she was the only one in the room. “No, it’s not. Cora gave us a list of recording studios that all had the ghostly smash and dash. I didn’t get back in until dawn. I figured it was too early to send a text.”
Red shrugged, not wanting to play the role of clinging girlfriend—especially since she technically wasn’t one. “I get it.”
“What is it then, love?”
She rubbed her face, feeling like a stupid little girl, and laughed at herself. She had spent the last year avoiding pickup lines from hunters in highway honkytonks. It was weird to want one to text her. Especially a vampire. “I don’t mind if you bother me.”
“Growing sweet on me, are you?” He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her.
“You’re growing on me alright.” She rolled her eyes even cuddling in. “Like algae growing on a sloth.”
Lucas leaned close, brushing his thumb across her cheek, but his expression grew curious. “Why do you smell like smoke and lighter fluid?”
Vic opened the door and popped his head in. “Hey, let’s roll.”
She stepped away before impulsively taking Lucas’s hand. His touch radiated up her arm. She blushed, looking behind her, leading them out.
He grinned in that way that made her lungs flutter.
“So, Vic, did these guys get something at Coldwater Auctions?” She asked. “I got a gander with my spirit gaze, and the spectral traces seemed pretty similar to the movie lot.”
“Spirit gaze?” Lucas’s expression grew remote, earlier warmth fading into mild concern.
“It’s another word for third eye.” She tapped her forehead, feeling a bit pretentious to use the old-fashioned term.
He let go of her hand as they reached the front door of the recording studio. “I’ve heard it before.”
She frowned, ready to ask where.
“No, I don’t think these guys are the antiquing type.” Vic interrupted, leading them through the white and black modern décor of the front lobby of the studio, untouched by the supernatural ransacking. “I asked the producer anyway. They did get some swag bags at an awards show. Coldwater Auctions was one of the sponsors. I don’t know if they had any of the goods here. I already told Quinn about the Bell Witch angle.”
Red walked to the sidewalk. “We need to go into research mode. See what could be setting the activity off.”
“I thought you were focusing on the hunter bit, not as interested in magic, anymore?” Lucas asked from behind them, too casual to be completely casual.
Vic puffed out a weary groan, mumbling to himself as he sped away at top speed.
“I’m not, but I can’t turn it off. It’s like turning off my sense of smell.” She hung back, trying to still the defensive raise to her shoulders. He was always so weird about this topic. Hitching her thumb in her belt, she toed at the ground. “Why?”
“Just wondering.” Hands in his pockets, Lucas held out the sides of his jacket with a shrug. “Haven’t seen you much outside of crime scenes this week. Last we talked, it wasn’t about magic. You were agonizing over asking Vic to sponsor you in the Hunter’s Challenge.”
“Keep your voice down.” Red flushed, nerves causing a half shriek-half giggle in her throat. She had been dreaming about joining the Brotherhood since she woke up in that Oregon hospital. Her name was a blank, but she wanted to be one of them. Amnesia hadn’t snuffed out that knowledge. “I haven’t asked him yet. The Hunter’s Challenge is a big thing. Technically, I’ve only been his intern, which isn’t even a thing. I have to be sanctioned as his licensed apprentice first.”
She bit her lip, restraining a ramble about the bureaucracy involved in joining the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes. It was why many hunters didn’t bother being licensed, they just joined up with a Bard-led team to get bounties or shared passwords to get access to the
databases. “I have to be prepared so he doesn’t shoot me down again.”
“You’re ready.” Lucas tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You could be a proper Bard, if you wanted. If Vic could do it...”
The best of the Bards mentored Heroes, supernatural champions from half-fairy warriors to psychics. It required extensive study in one of the scattered libraries around the globe. Red loved reading and learning, but she didn’t even know if she’d gone to college. Her cheeks burned in embarrassed excitement from the idea of being a Bard. “I don’t know what Cora has you doing tonight, but why don’t you come over after? If you want to.”
“Lucas.” Quinn called out from the convertible pulling up to the curb. He shot a long-suffering glance at the younger vampire.
“It’s a date.” Lucas kissed her on the cheek, then hopped over the car door to slide into the passenger seat.
She watched him go before Vic’s yell drew her attention. The trip to the Millennium Falcon and then to home seemed to happen in the blink of an eye as she mulled over the problems with men and vampires. She had been so focused on settling in, building a routine, getting Vic up and running, and making life work in LA. Maybe she needed a vacation? She couldn’t remember ever having one. Unless hiding out in the Constantine family cabin in Flagstaff counted. She finally had the money, but the time between cases always felt too short.
Sitting out on her balcony after Vic had retreated into his room, Red sipped a glass of wine. Feet curled up on the padded bench, she looked over the courtyard of the apartment complex. She and Vic had been in research mode, which had included a horror movie. They figured it had as much truth in it as the folklore that they had read.
The Bell Witch had become famous after the War of 1812 for tormenting the Bell family in Tennessee. Allegedly Andrew Jackson had gone with troops to try to investigate the haunting. The facts were short and the fiction long. All agreed that she had more powers than your average ghost or even supercharged poltergeist.
What the Bell Witch could do didn’t match up with any other haunting they had seen before. Not even Bard Net had much beyond a note that she existed and the usual rumors. There was no clue on how she could have gotten to Los Angeles beyond being attached to the old Bell family home. Had the antique salvage awoken her from her ghostly slumber?
After hours of staring at screens, Red needed a break. She already had enough rumbling through her mind. Hence, balcony and wine time, which nine-out-of-ten hunters agreed was the best part of the night. Most didn’t add a vampire love interest to the mix.
Almost as if he’d been summoned by her thoughts, she sensed Lucas with that curious sixth sense of hers, as if she was always waiting for him to pop up. Warm relief spread through her like she had released a deep breath.
His pale hand gripped the balcony rail, then he pulled himself up and over, smiling. “Did I scare you?”
“No, I knew you were coming before I saw you.” She gestured to the wine bottle. “I can get you a glass…? I forgot to grab another one.”
Eyes twinkling, Lucas sat down next to her. “I don’t mind sharing with you.” He reached out and twirled a lock of hair hanging down from her ponytail.
His fingers brushing against her neck might have been cold, but suddenly Red felt hot. Smiling shyly, she gestured to her tank top and sweatpants. “I figured that after all the excitement, we could chill. You’re in time for the wine and pajama portion of my exciting evening.”
“You look beautiful.” His eyes crinkled, pained for a moment as if staring into a mesmerizing sun. He glanced down, his voice confessional. “It’s hard to stay away.”
“Then don’t. You can climb up my balcony like Romeo anytime you want.” Flushing at the compliment, she grinned. “Until the neighbors start complaining about footprints in their window planters, then you’ll have to use the front door like a normal person.”
The hazy lights of the city caught his high cheekbones in a way that made her breath catch. Six feet tall with a swimmer’s build, Lucas wore black leather and denim well. It was hard to imagine him as the Victorian gentleman that he had been in life. He had been turned in his twenties before he could lose that boyish handsomeness. His eyes, gray like a turbulent sea, became serious.
Red always felt like she could sense his emotions as much as she could sense his presence. It made them a dangerous pair on a demon hunt. It also drew her to him after the monster had been defeated. “Hey, what is it?”
“I keep thinking, which I have been told isn’t my strong suit, but I still do.” He rubbed his thumb under her jaw. His gaze grew distant as the silence deepened.
Rolling up on his motorcycle, he had been so cocky and brash when she’d first met him. The closer they became, the more she saw the vulnerability under the leather jacket. She put her hand on his cooler one, the temperature difference stark. Curiosity fluttered in her stomach. “I have a few pennies, if you want them for your thoughts.”
“Keep ‘em. I was a writer once. I should be able to say it plain. Communicate, as you modern birds like.” Lucas put his hands in his pockets and slouched with his legs out, touching the rail with his black Doc Martens. Conflict in his expression as he composed his words. “You’re brilliant and young with so much potential for happiness. I’m nothing but chaos in your path.”
Jaw dropping, eyes stinging, Red looked down to collect herself. “Unpacking that statement, there are a lot of compliments in the doom and gloom.”
“You’re a marvel. I’m the trouble,” he insisted. Even in profile, the dread was clear on his face.
She made herself look at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Chewing on her lip, she didn’t know how to express that he was right and still an idiot. Sure, he was sexy, dangerous, and had a past. Most of the hunters she met were two of the three. Sexy usually wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t asking to marry him, just date a bit. The life she chose was chaotic. It would be with or without him.
Silence huddled over them.
“I’ve made trouble for myself. You’re not adding that much.” Red put her hand on his cheek to urge him to look at her. “In fact, having a supernatural hottie to back me up in a fight is a plus.”
“Supernatural hottie?” Lucas smirked.
“You know how you look.” Wagging her eyebrows, she checked him out. He had nailed the ‘bad boy gone good’ look with his sensitive eyes and mischievous mouth. She cocked her head. “That’s not quite it, though. Tell me. Is it something I did?”
“Oh no, Red, you’re better than I could have ever hoped for.” He turned his head to kiss her hand.
She smiled at the tingles radiating from her palm. “Okay, then I’m awesome. What’s the problem?”
“That’s the rutting problem.” The smile they shared faded on his lips. His eyes darkened as his brows knitted together. He shook his head. “After what I’ve done, you’re too good. The soul part of me says to let you go but the demon says to hold on until you realize your bleeding mistake.”
“Hey, you’re a bona fide hero. I’ve read the records.” She spoke slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. The soul curse brought both empathy and guilt to the surface, but it didn’t do more than chain the demon essence that animated vampiric bodies. They had all the same strength and hunger as before. They were simply more conflicted about their condition. She knew Lucas felt it keenly, even if he played it off. “Sure, you were a real bastard for the first twenty years, but then you spent more than a lifetime helping people. You saved the world.”
“That last time, I was just cleaning up a mess that my bloodline caused in Oregon. Alaric was like my great granddad. Had to help put him down.” He held her hand in his and rubbed his thumb on her wrist, his stormy gaze drawing her in. “Doesn’t really count.”
Red swallowed, trying not to be distracted by his touch. “What are you worried about?”
“It’s not worries. It’s fear. Stinky, soul-fueled fear.” Curling his lip, Lucas shook his head and pulled back to
cross his arms. “I’m scared that I am choosing my happiness over yours. You deserve more.”
“How about I decide what I deserve? It’s a crazy notion that women can choose; I know.” She held her eyeroll in, but the snark came out. They hadn’t even gone on a proper date. Unless all the hunts including dodging some oversized pixies and making out by the Hollywood Sign counted as a date. If it did, they were some of her best.
Red bumped his shoulder with hers as they sat on the bench. Her tense brow softened as she leaned against him. He might have been a century older than her, but this was just as confusing for him too. Silent, she cuddled against him, tucked in a balcony oasis as Los Angeles settled in for the evening. The words slipped out lulled by the quiet of the night. “I choose you. I get the feeling that I’ll always want too.”
“What if that’s a mistake that you keep making over and over?” His eyes widened as if Lucas hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Neck heating and throat tightening, she glanced down. Juniper had been his courtesan for nearly eight long years in the 1890s. Red had known him for weeks. It was hard to not feel like she was in a love triangle competing with a ghost.
He had broken their unspoken rule about not discussing the possibility that she was more than a doppelgänger. They both had reasons to fear that possibility. Why did he? Was it because of the heartbreak of how he lost Juniper or the guilt over how he almost turned her himself?
Those were dark questions from a darker past. After battling shadows all day, Red was sick of it. They deserved their happiness. Hunters only knew it briefly, after all. They both needed to know that this was different. They were different.
“If it’s a mistake, I’ll own up to it.” She squeezed his hand. “I haven’t ever liked someone and been in one place long enough to see where it could go—that I know of, anyway. I’m willing to take the risk if you are.” Cocking her head, Red tried to keep her face neutral, even as her chest panged. If he wanted out of whatever relationship they had, then she’d give him an out. “I understand if this is too much and you want me to back off. We can cut our losses and ride out a few weeks of awkwardness in the office.”
Long Witch Night: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 2) Page 4
