Long Witch Night: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 2)

by Sami Valentine

  “No!” Gaze fervent, Lucas brought her hand back to his cheek. He nuzzled against her touch.

  Her stomach tightened. Lips flickering in a half smile, she broke her own rule. “What if we get it right this time?”

  “What if we do?” Eyes wide, he kissed her palm. The dreaminess in his gaze darkened. He sighed, putting down her hand, and slumped back. “You don’t get it. 'Mad, bad, and dangerous to know’ could have been written about me once upon a time.”

  “No worries. Once I get sick of you, I’ll kick you to the curb,” she said teasingly.

  “That you would.” Lucas glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, unclenching his jaw. A wry amusement dissolved the melancholy expression. He chuckled then paused. “What if it gets messy?”

  “Welcome to the modern world of relationships. I’m down for some mess.” Red grinned, feeling the blush rise as she thought about what she was going to do. They’d had enough angst for one evening. Heart fluttering, she lifted herself up and straddled his lap, biting her lip. Her knees sunk into the cushion of the balcony bench. “This feels right, doesn’t it?”

  He put his hands on her hips. Wonder twinkled in his gray eyes, even as anticipation lifted the corner of his mouth. “Always does, love.”

  She brushed her lips against his, kissing him slow, before he responded by deepening the embrace. Sucking at his bottom lip, she knew he could hear her heart racing as well as she could. Breaking away with a grin, she set her forehead against his. “How about that?”

  “Mmmm.” He nodded as he ran his hands up her back, leaving sparks of electricity behind. Gazing into her eyes, his singular focus left them alone in the world.

  “Then let yourself choose me.” The words came out on a sigh as Red pressed against him, kissing him deeper. She shivered as his cold fingers caressed the skin exposed by her bunched-up tank top. Tingles gathered in a knot of heat inside her.

  She never felt like Juniper St. James, yet when she kissed Lucas, it always felt like she had done it before. Even the first time. Their bodies moved together like old twin flames. More than the eerie coincidence of her looks, it was being with him that made her worry about the possibilities. She was done with worry for the night.

  “Red…” Lucas murmured against her lips, arms wrapped around her waist.

  “Close the curtains if you’re going to do that!” Vic said from the doorway to the balcony, cringing like a brother accidentally walking in on his sister’s date.

  Startled, she pulled back, flames of mortification igniting on her cheeks. “Sorry!”

  “You two are making me wish my eyes didn’t work, too.” Vic wheeled himself away to his room, muttering about a man not being able to drink in peace.

  Red giggled and leaned her head into the crook of Lucas’s neck, assuming her face was red as a tomato. She didn’t know if it was him or the embarrassment that kept her heart speeding. “The timing.”

  “Finding us snogging like teenagers.” His touch on her back became more thoughtful than lusty as his fingers traced smooth, unknowable patterns.

  She smiled, biting back a yawn, and nuzzled against him, enjoying the little tingles he conjured on her skin. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. His breath didn’t rise in his chest, but she barely noticed the stillness in his body anymore. “Keeps me young.”

  “That should be my line.” Lucas stroked her hair. “I can tell you’re knackered.”

  Biting back a sigh, she cuddled closer. She hadn’t exactly invited him over for some Netflix and chill, which took on a new meaning with a vampire in the mix, but she had hoped for a bit. In baseball terms, they had been stalled at third base for weeks. “Yeah, but you could still stay.”

  “I want to.” His voice rumbled in his chest.

  “I hear the ‘but’ in there.” She lifted her head and pouted.

  “I get the feeling that we’ll have some sleepless nights ahead of us. That is fine with me, creature of the night and all. But you’re a California girl now, you belong in the sunshine.” He played with her hair, gaze warm even if his touch was cold.

  “You know I’m practically nocturnal.” She kissed him again before she got off his lap, her muscles stiffening in resistance. If her body could talk, it would have been yelling at her to get back over there. The monsters might have been plentiful on the road, but not the suitable men. She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll let you escape my diabolical clutches for now.”

  Standing, Lucas smirked. “Sleep well.”

  “I’ll dream of you.” Red knew the line was cheesy when she said it, but it still felt true. She had dreamed of him before she met him.

  His brow furrowed, gaze growing hollow and distant before his focus snapped back to her and a roguish smile locked on his face. The change was so sudden that she thought she’d imagined it. “I hope they are sweet ones.”

  “Of course, they will be.” She tilted her head, a playful smile tugging on her lips. “You know, you can use the front door.”

  “What fun would that be?” Lucas swung himself over the balcony rail.

  Red looked over the edge onto the darkened courtyard of the pink-painted apartment complex. She knew he would have already disappeared into the night. Dreamily humming to herself, she turned around and gathered up her wine bottle and nearly empty glass before walking into the living room. A goofy smile yanked at her lips.

  Vic waited with the scandalized air of a disapproving matronly chaperone. “Think that’s still a good idea?”

  She took the last gulp of wine before putting the glass into the dish washer. “Why wouldn’t it be? I thought you two were friends.”

  “I have a lot of friends I wouldn’t recommend dating.” He frowned. “Only one that I do: Stan! You should have done the second date! He owns a farm in Colorado. It’s ideal for a zombie apocalypse!”

  Ignoring yet another mention of Stan and his zombie-proof marijuana grow house, she reined in her sigh. “Because Lucas is a vampire or because we work together? He has a soul, and there are couples who hunt together.” She looked away, wincing. “If we were a couple, which we’re not officially!”

  He jerked his hands up. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Look at him. I invited him to stay, and he wouldn’t. He’s being a gentleman.” Red gestured to herself, rolling her eyes. “More than I am.”

  “Was he to Juniper St. James?” Vic wheeled past her to pull a six-pack of IPA out of the fridge.

  She glowered. “Hey! I’m not her!”

  “Does he know that?” He asked over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

  Red glared at the closed door. She already asked that question enough in her own head. She didn’t need Vic picking up the tune. Sighing, she locked the balcony door and got ready for bed. She had told Lucas she would dream of him, but she didn’t know she had lied until she pulled the blankets over her. She reopened her eyes in a dream.

  Kate Batts sat on the end of her bed.

  5

  December 17th, 12:01AM, California Sunrise Apartments, Culver City, Los Angeles

  Bright moonlight shone over the bed, casting shadows over Kate’s thin, smiling face and gingham dress. It was how Red knew it was a dream. No moon hung over Los Angeles that night.

  Raising her knees up to her chest, she stared at the spirit who had very likely inspired vivid folklore and cheap horror movies. She pinched herself. It all felt real, even the pinch, but she still didn’t wake up. ““What do you know of the Bell Witch?”

  “That is a false name.” Kate shook her head. A weariness came over her features, like an actor being called their character’s name instead of their own. In her frontier dress, she looked humbler than a legendary witch should be. Only the burn scars on her forearms hinted at a darker truth. “It’s not what I call myself.”

  All signs pointed to the fact that Kate had power and was willing to use it terribly. Red didn’t know why the ghost was being nice. The folksy demeanor could fall at
any minute. Even so, she wasn’t as afraid as she should be. There was something in the other woman’s world-weary gaze, mix of light and dark in the aura.

  She chose her words carefully. “We think it was the Bell farmhouse. It’s connected to all the hauntings.”

  “The fools should never have gone into that cursed place.”

  Red couldn’t argue with that logic. Raiding a haunted house was never a smart idea, even if it had authentic antiques and the original fixtures. “That spirit that we sent away, you know, when you saw me. Who was he?”

  “Dean was a good man. His bondage should have ended long ago.” Kate crossed the trinity over her chest and kissed her hand, raising the palm to the sky. “He was a poor soul even before he died.”

  “Why was he trapped?” Red leaned her chin on her palm, elbows on her folded knees.

  “Because he had a use. We all had a use,” the ghost whispered, her gaze dipping. A worry wrinkle deepened into a trench between her brows. “Spirits can be valuable in the right hands.”

  “How can a witch use a spirit like that?” Red asked. She knew of spirit craft, but pulling someone from the other side required strength. Finding one wasn’t as easy as hitting up the local Walmart.

  “You are unschooled in the ways of witchcraft. ’Tis queer, given the energy bubbling within you.” Kate pursed her narrow lips, examining the area around Red’s face, reading her aura. “You ask about the Bell Witch, but how can you release her if you know not her ways?”

  “I never had a teacher.” She said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

  “You learned many lessons, some harsher than others, if you could remember.” Kate tapped the side of her head before shrugging. “How much you want to remember is up to you, but know this: magic comes from within. A teacher only guides you to awaken it. To see what is possible, that is the hardest part. You can’t be it until you see it.”

  “I’ve controlled the air. I’ve done that once with fire.” Red smiled, thinking about how she had summoned a wall of fire against Michel’s forces, stopping a hail of bullets aimed right for her head. That was the highlight of her magic and she didn’t know how she had done it. Mortal fear had dragged the spectacle out of her. Her smile soured. “I haven’t been able to do it again.”

  “What you’ve done is brute force, wrenched out by self-preservation. You tire easily, don’t you, child?”

  Red nodded, rubbing an arm, looking down. When she did too much magic, she felt sick. Then she would have to wolf down food or take a run to settle her shaky energies.

  “Calling raw fire instead of summoning an orb, it’s using a rock on a nail instead of a hammer.”

  “I’m lucky if I can float a feather, let alone conjure an orb.” Red huffed out a laugh.

  “Magic is more than elements. So much more. Every culture on God’s green earth has their own way,” Kate said. “There is a craft to fuel intention. You master your magic, then the relics, herbs, and tools—they become your beasts of burden.”

  “I’ve read books.” Red glanced down, embarrassed. She had been thrown into the deep end as Vic’s intern. He had a learn-on-the-go style of teaching. She had mostly thumbed through grimoires when in dire straits. The gaps in her knowledge were vast. When she had practiced the craft part of ritual magic, it felt like arranging a campfire without a flint to ignite it.

  “You fear what you want, sister witch. It is why the energy refuses you.” Kate’s words took on a folksy earnestness. Pity mixed into the witch’s brew that was her voice. “You have this well of magic within, the deepest well that I have seen in a witch of your age. The capacity is there but the magic is gone. Where did it go?”

  “That’s what Basil said.” Red curled her knees up tighter under the blanket. “I don’t know what I don’t know.”

  “But you do. You are more and less than you were. The memory is just locked up. That was done as a kindness, by the by. It’s hard for me to sense the oddments surrounding you, but the veil covering your mind...Maybe later you will see it as a mercy.” Kate’s forehead, tanned from labor in the sun, crinkled. “It hurts this old soul to see a sister witch in such a condition.”

  “I don’t know if I want to be a witch anymore.”

  “Few of us do at first.” Kate smiled and gave Red’s hand a small comforting squeeze. Her rough palm felt warm like she was alive. “I remember crying the same to my Ma.”

  Red lifted her head, curiosity jolting through her. “Do witches usually come from a family line?”

  “We do; it’s in our blood. Pumping through our core and in every fiber of our bodies.” Kate put a hand on her own heart. “Not all are like us. Mages can pop up in any family or skip through a line. You say you don’t want the magic, but the true enemy you seek, she wanted it. That is what makes her dangerous. If she knew your potential, she would covet it something fierce. Yearning is her north star. I feel that desire even here.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “She has sworn all of her slaves to secrecy.” For the first time, her face took a dark cast, giving a hint to the witch who tormented the Bell Family. “Dean wore steel chains. Mine are iron.”

  “How do we find her?”

  “She will find you. She seeks you even now, even if she doesn’t know who you are.” Kate intoned a dire warning. “She will know you soon. Then she will come like a coonhound on the scent.”

  Red opened her eyes, expecting moonlight, but only a high sun shone through the windows. Her phone buzzed next to her. She answered the phone with a sleepy croak. “Hey.”

  Windchimes sounded in the background before Basil’s voice boomed. “Red, my huntress, I have a lead that I want you to follow on these hauntings. I tracked down some of the others who were at the auction. It’s a real who’s who, at least three with hauntings in the last month. I have a hunch. I detected some wicked external force influencing some of them just like Ari. Anywho! Wear a cocktail dress, I’ll bring some sage, and we’ll light it up.”

  “What’s the address?”

  “Text you!” Basil hung up.

  “Goodbye to you too.” Yawning, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and scrolled through her phone notifications. She had another message— a single image of a cabin in a snowy forest. She still hadn’t put Kristoff’s phone number in her contacts, but she knew it was from him anyway.

  Her stomach churned as the dream came back to her.

  Red needed to tell Vic about the messages she was getting. Not from Kristoff—those text messages could fly under the radar—but the dreams weren’t a secret she should keep.

  One spooky ghost dream could be thought of as a coincidence, but two? The Bell Witch wasn’t alone. She said that there was a greater enemy. Were there two witches acting in sync on either side of the veil between worlds? The energy of the upcoming solstice, the longest night of the year, would boost that power. She admitted being an accomplice. Only it seemed like she was trying to help Red.

  Groaning, Red rolled out of bed, already imagining how Vic might grouse at her. She got dressed, dreading her trek to the living room.

  The TV held her roommate’s attention. Vic sat in his chair in pajamas, eating a bowl of cereal, his black mullet sticking up at all angles. His eyes were rimmed red. Old cigar smoke clung to him. He looked her up and down, surprised. “You’re dressed before noon on our day off?”

  “Did you go to sleep yet?” She waved her hand, telling herself not to get distracted. “Not important. You know how we cleansed that spirit from Nevaeh Morgan’s home?”

  “My legs don’t work. My short-term memory is fine.” Vic mumbled around a mouthful of cereal.

  “I thought I saw another one there but wasn’t sure. Then I had a dream that night. Didn’t think much of it. Until my dream visitor made another cameo last night.”

  He tilted his head back, groaning. “Oh, don’t tell me you had a hitchhiker.”

  Red shrugged, face heating as she beat herself up over the rookie m
istake. Spirits could cling to objects, people, and places to anchor them in this realm. Some wandered more than others, attaching themselves to people. She should have taken precautions after leaving Nevaeh Morgan’s house even after they had saged it. It was something that a real hunter would have done. “It was the same woman—a witch who called herself Kate.”

  He put the bowl on the coffee table and turned down the TV. “Did she tell you what her last name was?”

  “Batts. I asked her about the Bell Witch, but she kind of sidestepped the question.” She cringed, her gut twisted, knowing that everything was a red flag.

  “You know what some of the legends say about who the Bell Witch is? An old hag of a neighbor who fought with John Bell. Her name was Kate Batts.” Vic ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his neck tightening. “I did the research on Coldwater Auctions and narrowed down the house they got the antiques from. It fits all the folklore about the Bell hauntings.”

  “She doesn’t feel evil.” Red insisted, even if her common sense agreed with him. She just had grown fond of the spirit. Even in a dream, it had felt so good to get questions about her power answered. She felt like less of a dunce about magic with Kate teaching her. “Are you sure? Wasn’t Kate like every other woman’s name back in the day?”

  “There aren’t any in the stories beyond the old lady Batts. You’re dreaming of the Bell Witch.”

  “Kate implied the Bell Witch is a red herring.” Red pointed out, playing devil’s advocate. The phrase could feel literal in their profession. “She warned that there is someone else pulling the strings. It’s like she’s warning me. She says she’s a slave.”

  Slapping his spoon back in his bowl, milk splashing, Vic blew a raspberry. “Not everyone is a little victim. She’s fucking with you. Trying to put on a poor me act.”

  “I’ll hang a charm over my bed, try to block her.”