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

by Sami Valentine

Vic leaned back, lips thinning as he shook his head. “The Bell Witch feels a connection to you. Don’t shut that down just yet. In the legends, the witch didn’t harm all the members of the Bell family. She was kind to the mother and one of the sons. Are these lucid dreams?”

  “If it weren’t for all the spectral moonlight, I’d swear I was awake. It was fuzzy around the edges, but my head was clear.” She shrugged, pushing away her disquiet at being ghost bait. “Before she visits again, I have another lead on the case. Basil invited me to a dinner tonight for the people who have been haunted. I could find out if they bought antiques or just pissed off someone supernatural.”

  “I doubt they’ll have a ramp for me, so I won’t bother ironing my Sunday jean jacket.” Vic coughed out the self-deprecating comment, patting his chest. The rough night had hung dark circles under his eyes. “Are you bringing Lucas?”

  Red raised an eyebrow, her hand rising to her hip. “The invite didn’t say ‘bring your own vampire.’ I assume one’ll be provided.”

  Under the stubble and hangover sweat, his features turned thoughtful. “I’m serious. Basil has collected the Bell Witch’s victims together for tapas. There could be sparks without adding the undead into the mix.”

  Lowering her shoulders, she tried to keep herself cool and professional. She didn’t want another tiff about her love life. “No, I wasn’t going to bring him. Basil came to me, not Quinn Investigations. I doubt he’d want vampires at his table, considering what he is.”

  “Good. You need to think about these things. This is the Bell Witch. A vampire’s presence could piss her off enough to rip someone’s face off.”

  Red bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting sarcastically. This was Hunter Apprentice 101. “I realize that.”

  “Do you? Because you’re doing the footwork solo, intern. I won’t be there to regulate if you get sappy about your dream buddy,” Vic barked out.

  Red flushed, crossing her arms. In hindsight, she should have said something about Kate before, but she had plenty of weird dreams. It didn’t mean she forgot the ghost rules. Besides, he was supposed to have exorcised all the spirits at Nevaeh’s house. She was going to ask him about sponsoring her in the Hunter’s Challenge, but if he didn’t even trust her with a dinner party…

  She swallowed back the hurt. “I can do a dinner party on my own.”

  “We got a strong independent woman over here,” Vic mocked, rolling his eyes, then shook his head. “A hunter puts their emotions aside. I don’t want any fucking feels leaking into our cases now that we’re staying in LA. They’re piling up like all the new Tupperware in the cupboard.”

  “What’s wrong with the containers?” Red lifted her chin.

  He shrugged, flashing a sullen glare around the living room and attached kitchen which in her opinion was finally coming together.

  The apartment was pre-furnished, but for supernaturals. The furniture was right, but all she’d found in the kitchen drawers was a ball gag. She couldn’t even show him what she’d found under the bathroom sink. After she bleached everything, she’d had to run to the store and outfit the place for humans. All she had done for weeks outside work was get them settled in LA—finding doctors, running errands, and fishing gimp masks out of the drain. Now, she was working a case on her day off.

  “Is this still about the Bell Witch?” she asked.

  Vic grumbled, the mentorly air fully dissolved into peevishness. “If the shoe fits, you can run with it.”

  “Are you just going to drop some passive aggressiveness and get back to your breakfast beer?” Red regretted the words once she said them. They were just fuel for the fire, but she couldn’t stop herself from throwing on some more. “Or do you have anything else to add?”

  His side eye could’ve curdled milk. “Yeah. It’s a mistake to catch feels for my dipshit friend who sees you as another woman. Since you asked.”

  “Did you really say that?” Red shook her head, gritting her teeth, hurt wrestling with anger in her tight chest. He was making it sound like her and Lucas had been making out in the middle of a demon fight. They had shared kisses and some post-victory banter. The heavy petting was off the clock.

  “Well, someone needs to say it. I went to college with him—or at least college parties with him. I know the guy. Ugh, I’m not saying this right.” Vic groaned, leaning his head back before he snapped to attention, eyes narrowed. “Lucas is a liability to you. You’re a novelty to him.”

  “What an asshole spin on it.” She sputtered, heat rising in her ears. His words felt like a horse kick to the chest.

  “It’s reality, sister. You have a crush. He has nostalgia. Lucas is a damn fine hunter, but I don’t get why that paranormal baggage isn’t a deal breaker for you.” Vic’s eyes flashed, hands clenched his wheelchair’s armrest. “It’s embarrassing.”

  Eyes stinging and heart in her throat, Red grabbed her purse. “I just can’t with you right now.”

  Picking up his cereal bowl, he huffed. “Fine. Go angst over Greg.”

  She paused, fingers tightening on her purse strap. The hot spike of anger battled with her need to get Vic to talk about what was really bothering him. “I get that, physically, you’re still in a lot of pain—hangover aside. You’ve got the right to be cranky, but you don’t need to be a dick to me. I’m trying to make a life for us here.”

  “And it’s smothering!” He barked into his cereal, glaring at the floating marshmallows. “We don’t need more than what we came with. We must be ready. No pictures in the frames. How many trips to Target are you going to take to get bullshit and extra towels?”

  “Someone has to do that stuff!” She swallowed, choked up at the strangled emotion in his tone. “We’re going to be here for a while, Vic. That means extra towels, routines—"

  “A spare key for the vampire boyfriend?”

  “He uses the balcony.” She tried to joke, glancing away from his sneer.

  He bowed his head. “I can’t do anything if some dead fuck on a quest for revenge on Lucas breaks in. Or hell, some shifter coming against me. You piss off enough people, too. Why don’t you see that? There’s so much that can go wrong now…” He snapped his head up, brows furrowing. “What other dead thing is going to give you a sad story and get some kisses? The Bell Witch?”

  Red jerked back. “No!”

  “You’re dreaming about her. Are you having sympathy for the devil all over the place now?” Vic groaned, grabbing his forehead. His cereal slopped over the bowl’s rim onto the floor.

  “Lemme clean that up.” Sighing, she half turned towards the attached kitchen.

  “Stop trying to organize everything!” Glaring at the spill, he slapped the bowl back on the coffee table. “Just listen to me—you’re being fucking stupid!”

  Red flushed, anger curling in her stomach at his accusations. She bit her lip on the mean words she could fling back and took a deep breath. “You’ve got a lot on your chest, Vic. I want to be here for it, but if you’re going to yell at me...” She couldn’t decide if he was criticizing her love life or her judgment more. Both stung like lemon squeezed into a fang bite. “You know how I fight and why. But this isn’t about that.” She swept her arm out as if gesturing to their entire messed-up situation. “Whatever is going on, sleep it off. When you wake up, we can talk about what’s really bothering you.”

  Grabbing the van keys, she walked out, closing the door.

  “Get more cereal!” His muffled voice sounded through the wood.

  Red spun around and flipped off the door before stomping to the van. She battled traffic, running through the argument in her head before she even decided where to go. She called Basil, though she knew he probably charged by the minute. “Hey.”

  “Oh, Prancing Persephone. I can feel whatever is going on through the phone.” Basil clicked his tongue. “Where are you? I can meet you.”

  She perked up. After that fight with Vic, she needed a session with a soulmancer. “How much is it go
ing to cost me?”

  “On the house. We’re going to make a mint after cleansing all the rich and famous.”

  She laughed, but it felt robotic. Vic’s words still drummed in her ears. “What a racket. Can you meet me at the Pump House?”

  “Fun, a hunter’s bar. We can slum it.”

  “Oh, you’ll be able to get back to your roots.”

  “I dye those.” Basil laughed. “I will see you there.”

  Red slowed and took a right, already mentally mapping out her route east. She finally found a direction. The Millennium Falcon trudged through the lunch traffic before parking at a corner bar in an unassuming strip mall in Downey.

  The oldest hunter bar in LA, the Pump House was decked out in 1950s NASA memorabilia. America’s race for the moon was preserved on dusty mounted coins and collectable posters. It served up home fries and tater tots to the lunch crowd. Red had given old Chuck, the retired hunter sitting on his usual bar stool, a warning about their suspicions about the Bell Witch in the city. The gray-mustached hunter didn’t have much to add. She bought him a coffee anyway and sat at a corner table to wait for Basil.

  The sallow-faced, stoned waiter placed coffee and a plate of tater tots in front of her.

  Glancing from her phone, she smiled. “I think you have the wrong table.”

  “Nah, those guys over there bought it. Said something about killing a pirate.” The waiter’s brows pressed together. “Whoa. Hardcore, lady.”

  Red picked up a tater tot and raised in it salute to the group of hunters at the other table in the corner. Thanking the waiter, she gave him Basil’s coffee order before digging into her potatoes of victory. She might have invited the Bell Witch home, but she did save LA. That would have to matter to the Brotherhood when she applied for the Hunter’s Challenge. She frowned, thinking about Vic. After that blowup, she couldn’t ask him to sponsor her now.

  While she was deep in thought, Basil sat across from her, wearing a yellow blazer with matching shorts. He stood out like a cockatoo among sparrows amid the hunters in plaid and denim. Nose raised like a beagle, he closed his eyes. “So, its Vic who’s pissed you off, Lucas who is a dashing vampire love interest, I get that. Who is Kristoff? Why is that woodland cabin not a love shack?”

  Red flushed, eyes darting around. She doubted she would get free tater tots if the other hunters knew about Novak. “That’s something to keep to yourself.”

  “A bad boy. I see. Your life has gotten more exciting than when we met at the ranch.” Basil chuckled and grabbed a tater tot. He chewed it with his eyebrows raised in salacious anticipation. “I know something is troubling you. I can feel it. However, so I don’t just jump into telling you what to do, what did you want to talk about?”

  “Well, when I walked into LA, it felt like Cheers. All the vampires seemed to know me.”

  “Where does the woman come in?” Basil sipped his coffee. “I’m sensing a J name, but you’re bunched up so tight. You need to ease up a bit if I’m going to be useful.”

  “You’re not going to make me take psychedelics again?”

  “I thought it would lube up the works for a breakthrough.” He shrugged, sniffing, clearly unrepentant. “You can be sober, eating tater tots, and feeling sorry for yourself too. I’ve worked with sadder sacks.”

  “You’re right, I am a sad sack. Vic and I fought because… I really shouldn’t complain about him. He’s been through so much.”

  “He’s struggling. He went from a hunter tracking down feral werewolves to being stuck in a chair doing research. I have no doubt it’s making him a bitch to be around. He had a hair trigger on that tongue before.” Basil lifted his coffee mug. “And the rub of it is that you know there’s some truth to whatever it is he said. Or, at least you feel there could be. You don’t know whose judgment to trust. It’s certainly not your own.”

  “The trouble is that I look exactly like a woman from the past.”

  “Doppelgänger?” He put his hand to his mouth. “Oh, honey, this wasn’t like a Joan of Arc or even a Joan Crawford, was it?”

  “More like the type of witch that I would put down.” Red leaned back in her chair, huffing. She tried to tell the supernatural soap opera in a way that made sense. “I got these tater tots on the house because I helped defeat a big bad vampire. He twisted my head up before he went, though.”

  Basil gazed into the distance, quipping lightly even as his expression darkened. “Vampires are like drag queens. They come out at night, and they like to get the last word.”

  Red snorted. Worry chased the amusement away as she told him about her death-defying first weeks in Los Angeles.

  “That’s the scary thing about the memory loss,” she said. “I don’t know what’s normal. When I tried to scam Smith and Reaper and found I had an account there instead, I thought that was the break in the case. They even promised a mystery box in the mail from some shadowy vault. It’s stuck in customs. The scan shows a necklace. No one knows what else. That’s what I know about the real me: a necklace, some scars, and untraceable family money. What if I had a memory, a family, but Juniper is coming through ripping it apart?”

  “First off, I’m not sensing a possession. You have a soul as seasoned as those tater tots, but I don’t feel an ancient witch taking you over. Admittedly, if it was reincarnation, it wouldn’t exactly be a possession.” His eyes grew distant, then he refocused on her and as if realizing he should be more comforting. He flapped his hand. “But I’d sense if something were sinister, anyway. So, what, you and Vic fought over this doppelgänger situation?” He didn’t let her answer before he gasped. “No, it was a boy! He thinks of you as a little sister, so I doubt there’s romantic jealousy over the vampire.”

  “Lucas knew Juniper. They were…” Red cringed at her word choice, but she didn’t know what else to call a sordid human-vampire affair in the Victorian era. “…lovers.”

  “Oh, honey, I can see why Vic is getting the big brother grumpies over this. He wants you to date a nice hunter in plaid.”

  “I get it. He thinks I’m going to get hurt, but he has the emotional intelligence of an ill-tempered chihuahua right now.” Her mouth screwed up at the memory of his implication that she was some kinky nostalgia to Lucas. She didn’t need her own fears thrown back at her. “Vic doesn’t need to be such a dick about it.”

  “This pissed you off, but it’s not what really scares you, pumpkin. He called all your decisions out, didn’t he?”

  She glared.

  “I don’t need to pry. I’m not your therapist, but I can recommend one.” Basil held his hands up. “Now, I told you that you aren’t being possessed by an evil witch. I also don’t detect any corruption in your soul. That’s what really worried you.”

  The relief felt like cold water on a hot day. Red could listen to him tell her she wasn’t evil all day. She was about to make him tell her again when he rose from his chair. “You’re leaving?”

  “I have another appointment nearby.” He looked down at her with the patience of a pet parent confronted by a puppy when leaving home. His forehead crinkled and he sighed. “Darling, you’re killing me. Okay, I will leave you with this: you can be a good witch just by being you. How’s the line go? You’re not good or nice, just right?”

  “I have no idea what you’re referencing, but it’s good to hear. I think?”

  “Watch Into the Woods before you come to dinner. There will be a quiz before dessert.” Basil smiled, wagging a stern finger. “You’re working tonight. Live a little, do something normal. Remember, it’s cocktail dress code.”

  “I will.” She knew he would sense the lie, but she said it anyway. Even before the doppelgänger shenanigans, she hadn’t known how to be normal. A normal girl would have gone shopping and enjoyed her half-day off. She would have just overanalyzed, zoning out in a mall, getting frustrated by the mysteries of dress shopping.

  Instead, Red went to see someone scarier than the Bell Witch: Delilah Byrnes.

  6


  December 17th, 5:03PM, DB Models, Fashion District, Los Angeles

  To the human world, DB Models was the oldest modeling agency in Los Angeles, handed down from mother to daughter. Delilah Byrnes hadn’t so much as inherited the agency as founded it. A dragon in designer couture, she perched in a high rise office in the Fashion District for decades. She had been in Hollywood when the film industry relocated from New Jersey before the roaring twenties. Rumor had it, she suggested the move.

  Delilah had also clawed Red the last time she’d been blindsided. Sneaking into a nearly 400-year-old vampire’s office wasn’t how Red had planned on spending her day off. But finding a hobby was still on the “build a life in LA” to-do list. She crept past the front desk.

  The secretary stared at her phone, posing for a selfie at the computer.

  Red quickened her steps toward the back office where a Chanel No. 5-scented immortal toiled above the city.

  “Oh, my god, Stephanie!”

  Closing her eyes and mouthing a curse, she spun on her heel. She tried to act like a breezy temp instead of a hunter half-regretting walking in. “Linda!”

  Linda Li popped up from a bamboo cubicle in a rush of enthusiasm. The office manager of the agency knew her as Stephanie Connor, a mistakenly hired temp. She still sent emails asking if Red ever wanted to come back to work on their records. “Are you here to see Delilah?”

  “Yes. It’s early, but I hear she’s working earlier these days.”

  “Awards season is around the corner, and they always need models.” Linda sighed with wistful longing. “Please tell me you’re asking for a job.”

  “Let’s not jinx me.” Red pointed to the tinted glass door leading to the hallway where Delilah did business out of the glimpse of the sun.

  Linda held crossed fingers up, earnest yearning in her guileless eyes.

  Red forced a grin, walking away. She had a mixed history with the old vampiress that had nothing to do with temp work. Delilah had a soul, but the woman hadn’t lost her bite. Was being held captive together by Michel enough of a bonding experience to ask for a favor? She made sure to close the hallway door tightly behind her.