Swallowing a big bite, Vic took a loud slurp of his soda. “Does that mean we have to see this movie next Christmas?”
She grinned as the banter rolled around the table. Vic laughed, Lucas’s eyes twinkled, and even Quinn smiled for a millisecond. They had gotten the bad guy. What else could she want for Christmas? She looked around the booth in the overly lit fast-food place and wished she could capture the moment forever.
It felt like a daydream. Red should have known it would turn into a nightmare.
9
December 19th, 11:11PM, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles
Red leaned on the rooftop rail of Club Vltava. No moon battled through the smog above.
Sunset Strip twinkled from the nightclubs and the headlamps of the cars below. This empty part of the rooftop was closed to the public, but the velvet rope had been dropped and the tinted glass barrier separating the sections opened for her. Had Kristoff emailed her picture to the staff, or did they just remember her last visit? She certainly wouldn’t forget how the Halloween Ball had ended.
Pulsing dance music on the other side of the roof competed with the car horns echoing off the buildings. She tapped her toe from impatience, not the beat. The view was lovely, but she was getting a little worried. Where was Lucas?
It was weird that he wanted to meet here, but it was probably vampire business for Cora. The Supreme Master of the City dubbed the club the place to be for the undead in her quest to convince Kristoff to relocate. Red brought her big hunter’s kit just in case. Lucas wouldn’t have asked her here for drinks.
She listened to his voicemail again, smiling at his voice. His voicemail was short, he explained he was borrowing a phone since his was dead, but he clearly said the time and location. She posed with a raised eyebrow to send a selfie and caption, hoping he had plugged in his phone. Were you late to your own funeral?
??? His reply was immediate. Another text bubble popped up. Behind you.
She spun, heart racing.
In a black sequined mini dress slashed with green ruffles, Nevaeh Morgan glared out of mascara-smudged eyes, golden hair hung in frizzy curls. The inky darkness of her pupils seeped over the whites of her eyes, covering them. An orb of flames ignited in her hand, illuminating the chunky ruby ring on her finger. “I’m going to make sure this hurts, bitch!”
“You’ve already got trouble with the vampires. This is a bad move.” Red put up her hands. After all the magic use in fighting the Bell Witch, she didn’t have anything left but sarcasm. She stepped to the side, closer to her hunter’s kit where it rested on the ground, wishing she had brought her smaller one that strapped to her thigh.
“Fucking with me was a bad move.” Nevaeh hurled the orb.
Red dove to the side. The orb hit the rail, embers springing from the impact into the alley stories below.
Beautiful face marred by rage, Nevaeh hollered, “I could kill my hubby for even hiring you damn ghost busters behind my back!”
“So, what’s your play? You don’t have the big bad Bell Witch to back you up.” Rising from a crouch, Red tried to tap into the well of energy inside her, but nothing bubbled up. This was an orb fight, and she only had an out of reach hunter’s kit.
“I have my tricks. I was able to lure you here, didn’t I?” Nevaeh smirked. “Figured you’d come if the right voice called.”
“How did you get Lucas’s voice?” Red broke out in a cold sweat.
“That helpful Detective Callaway told me about your boyfriend after I pushed the right buttons. Then I just needed to call your office to get a sample for my witchy track on the voicemail.” Nevaeh fluttered her eyelashes and shrugged before flinging another orb. “Blond isn’t my natural hair color.”
Red ducked the orb, flames searing the jacket pleather with a chemical-smelling burn.
“You ruined my relationship.” The faux-sweetheart tone in Nevaeh’s voice curdled. “Yours is fair game.”
“Don’t make this worse for yourself.” Pulse throbbing in her ears, Red looked over at the tinted glass that divided this side of the rooftop from the dance floor. Did anyone else notice a Golden Globe winner throwing fireballs?
“How could it get worse?” Nevaeh snarled, stomping forward. “I’ve been fired from my movie, my husband left me, and my agent dropped me. You ruined my life!”
“You still have one.” Rolling in a somersault, Red dived for the hunter’s kit on the cement floor. She flipped open the square case, digging through the flaps of vials to the pocket of stakes, salt packs, and a spray bottle. “You’re totally breaking the Black Veil here. I can’t promise you’ll have a life after this stunt.”
Nevaeh wiggled her fingers over the ruby ring. Noxious flames bubbled from the gem. “This isn’t my life. You took it!”
“That wasn’t a life. Those were lies.” Red squinted at the ring, mentally cursing. They hadn’t taken out all of Nevaeh’s tricks when they’d crushed her crystal collection. She pulled out a small spray bottle, mixing up the iron sediment at the bottom. Standing, she brandished it, finger on the trigger. She felt silly, as if she was taking down a rowdy cat. “You were controlling them.”
“I took care of them! I always have.” Nevaeh gritted her teeth, glaring down at her ring and shaking it like a remote on the fritz. “Ari made money hand over fist because of me. Do you think Steve would’ve gotten off YouTube and onto the charts without me? Now, he won’t even look at me!”
“These are real people you’re playing with. Why don’t you understand what you’ve done?” Red asked. Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the pink heart drawn around the picture of Steve—DJ Shake—on the psycho love spell altar.
Nevaeh had used compulsion to get movie roles, convince Ari to buy property, and more, but no one had been subjected to more mind control than her husband. How long had she been holding him in a love spell?
Red moved closer, aiming her spray bottle at the magic ring. “Your husband was right to leave you. You’ve been raping him—mind, body, and spirit—for years!”
“It’s not like that! I loved him!” The other witch lobbed a smaller flaming ball, arms shaking. Pale under the fake tan and makeup contouring, sweat glistened on her forehead. The black of her eyes flickered to blue. “I took care of him.”
“You forced him to love you!” Red ducked under the rocketing orb. She glared, disgust lowering her voice. “You invoked the Bell Witch to murder people. You used mind control to get what you wanted. You destroyed everything you touched. Why? You could have been a Hero.”
“I was a star!” Nevaeh stamped forward, heels clicking on the concrete. The ruby ring glinted on her clenched fist. “You’re just a hater. You have magic and you’re too chickenshit to use it.”
Red pressed the spray bottle trigger, shooting the watery ground iron onto the ring. Dropping the bottle, she twisted at the hip and popped her elbow up into the other woman’s face. The impact ricocheted down her arm.
Nevaeh grabbed her nose, the darkness in her irises fully faded. Metallic flakes dripped down her hand as the ruby ring lost its luster. The actress turned to run, slipping on high heels, her ankle jerking down. She hobbled. “This is Oscar night with Amy Adams all over again!”
Red tackled the celebrity, pushing her down face first. The ring had been weakened, and Nevaeh was running low on juice, but either could rally.
The other witch pushed herself up, probably thanking her personal trainer for ‘arm day’ now. Mascara ran down to her swelling nose, blood dribbled from her nostril.
Red flopped, knees tightening on the struggling torso below, trying to wrestle the ring off. The concrete floor scraped her ankles. She clung to the starlet. Taking the ring, she tossed it over the rooftop rail.
Twisting, Nevaeh slapped Red across the face, knocking her aside, to crawl away. Her red-bottomed heels lay abandoned on the concrete.
Red scrambled over to her hunter’s kit and snatched the cold iron cuffs spilling out. Clicking one side open, she lea
pt onto the other woman.
Falling forward with a groan, Nevaeh tried to buck Red off, tossing her elbow back.
Red snapped the handcuff around the flailing wrist.
“The fuck?” Neveah struggled, jaw hanging, lips twitching under smeared lipstick.
Catching her breath, Red jerked Nevaeh’s other arm back and finished handcuffing her. She planted her feet, hoisting them up with a huff. “Cold iron. You can’t bespell anyone, so just look pretty. Maybe I can convince the vampires to keep you alive.”
“It doesn’t matter. Everything is gone.” Nevaeh hung her head, shoulders slumping.
“How did it come to this?” Red swallowed thickly and tightened her hold on the iron loops connecting the handcuffs. Nausea churned her stomach even as her face heated from anger.
Nevaeh had the ability to be a shield in the darkness. The Brotherhood existed to mentor those with great power to protect the world. She could have been one of those heroes. Instead, she’d tormented actors to get petty revenge. In iron cuffs, the witch no longer radiated furious energy, only shell-shocked defeat. Was this how Juniper St. James had looked when the hunters came for her at the Stonetree Monastery so many decades ago?
Through lank hair and a bloody nose, Nevaeh said, “If you could make all your dreams come true, wouldn’t you?”
“Your dreams were other people’s nightmares.” Red spat the words out like bullets. She reached for her cell phone. Damn, it was by the rail. A smartwatch was now on her overdue shopping list.
The tinted glass door burst open. Both witches looked up.
Lucas bolted forward, eyes flashing amber and fangs jutting out of his mouth. He stopped in mid-run.
Officer Chang stalked inside, pressing the button on the walkie talkie pinned to his uniformed chest. He kicked the glass door closed behind him. “Target has been cornered. Bringing her in. Nevaeh Morgan, you are under arrest on the orders of the Supreme Master.”
“I want to talk to my lawyer!” Nevaeh complained.
He raised his gun, his fangs elongating over his smiling lips. “You should have stayed with the LAPD then.”
“You know those rappers were under the protection of Cora Moon, right?” Red clicked her tongue. She hadn’t wanted it to get this far, but the other witch slapped that second chance down. This was the end of the line for the dark witch. “The Supreme Master is a mega fan of Mr. Hyde. Been waiting forever for his new album.”
Lucas grinned, the amber fading from his eyes. His teeth returned to normal, and he shook his head. “For future reference, know that I bloody well would never come here voluntarily, Red.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She pulled one hand off the iron cuffs to push Nevaeh’s shoulder to urge her forward.
Nevaeh flung her head back, catching Red on the chin before twisting away and rushing to the rooftop rail. Dodging the hunter, she threw herself over the edge, legs kicking as she fell out of sight.
Lucas sprinted forward. His hands scrambled, catching nothing. A high-pitched shriek bounced off the building, amplified by the alley walls, before ending with a sickening crunch.
Red bent over the rail, heart pounding in her ears.
Limbs sprawling, Nevaeh landed on her back five stories below. Time skipped as the witch’s aura flickered and disappeared. She stared from the alley floor, tanned arms and crooked legs posed as if for one last photoshoot. The pooling blood and sequins shined in the camera flashes. Yells rose over the techno music on the dance floor. Clubbers pointed down on the other side of the rooftop, some already with cellphones out. Flashes from their cameras strobed in the darkness.
America’s Sweetheart had made her dramatic exit.
10
December 22nd, 6:06PM, Moon Enterprises, Inglewood, Los Angeles
Hunched over her notes, Red tried to keep up with the meeting at Moon Enterprises. It wasn’t a lighthearted case debrief with the murder-suicide coverup on their agenda. She knew that Vic wasn’t paying attention closely enough and would borrow her notes later. Her hand cramped as she rushed to scribble down the warnings about the human media.
They had technically defeated the bad guy, but it didn’t feel like a win.
The wooden shades on the windows rolled up with a clatter, casting the artificial glow of nighttime Inglewood into the high-rise boardroom. She jumped in her chair at the automation. Her pen dropped to the floor. Glancing around the conference table, she leaned over to pick it up. Her chair scraped loudly on the ground as she righted herself. Blushing, she hoped no one noticed that some fancy shutters scared her.
All eyes snapped to her. Of course, they had heard. She was surrounded by vampires.
Red winced, shrugging at her own weak explanation. “Um, loud noise?”
“So, you replied with one. Fabulous.” Delilah glanced skyward as if seeking the strength to keep tolerating the hunters.
Shifting in his wheelchair, Vic opened one eye. “Still talking about Twitter or have we moved onto Instagram?”
The vampire swiveled in her desk chair toward the head of the table. “If they weren’t going to pay attention, this could have been an email.”
Cora Moon perched on the tabletop, her legs crossed over a tie-dyed yoga mat. The Supreme Master of Los Angeles raised her prayer-posed hands. A rainbow headband of crystals rested above her forehead. Halo-like, her brown afro framed her concerned face. “I am sensing the vibe, squad.”
“I’m paying attention.” Piping up her own defense, Red held up her notepad. “I took notes. I’m getting the impression I should stay off Twitter and wear more wigs.”
“I’m not sold on the wig part.” Vic brushed a hand through his mullet. “This mane can’t be contained.”
Delilah lifted her eyebrows. “You really want to put these two on retainer?”
“I don’t like colonizer phases, but we need to circle the wagons, Dee.” Cora put her hands on her knees and studied the three from her tabletop perch like a waiting eagle. “We need unity.”
“Nevaeh Morgan juggled orbs on Sunset Strip after killing the guy Steven Spielberg wants to be when he grows up.” The icy blond crossed her arms. “We need to control this narrative.”
“That’s your job.” Cora’s voice didn’t lose its airiness, but her mouth tightened. At the edges of the conference room, her black-suited guards stood like silent sentinels. They were new. Her last group of guards had either been staked the night of the coup or chained to wait the sunlight for betrayal.
“I already have the DVA scanning the photo feeds to make sure no one saw the fireworks.” Delilah leaned on her elbow. “The tabloids only want the money shot of Nevaeh’s swan dive.”
“DVA?” Red asked, jotting the initials down. She knew a lot about how vampires organized themselves, yet the acronyms were still a jumble in her head. Supreme masters ruled their cities like fiefdoms, but they answered to a higher authority—the Blood Alliance. It had risen from the ashes of the August Harvest to unite bloodlines and clans around the globe. The shadowy government seemed to have as many departments as their human counterparts. This one sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
“Dark Veil Assurance, on loan from the Blood Alliance.” Cora answered, her mouth twisted as her yoga vibe slipped. “I asked for help before it was forced on me.”
Red made a note of it in her journal. Supreme masters were the ones responsible for leashing the local media; the Blood Alliance stepped in when they failed. The DVA was their version of the Men in Black, hiding the evidence of vampires from the human world.
Gaze distant, Cora rubbed the crystal dangling from her neck. “The paparazzi are sniffing around like werewolves on the hunt. It’s lowering my frequencies, Dee.”
“This story is too juicy. I am stamping it down, but some of Mic—" Delilah stopped, her mouth puckering, as she began to say Michel. The former media manipulator of LA hadn’t just betrayed her. He had broken her heart. She clasped her hands on the desk. “Not all of the previous connections are answerin
g summons.”
“I don’t expect you to manifest the same miracle cover up he did in Bricktown.” Inscrutable, Cora lifted her chin, jaw tensing. She couldn’t seem to say her former right hand’s name either. How much did she know about Oklahoma? “I expect you to maintain the Black Veil. The Blood Alliance is watching closer than ever.”
Silence grew between the two vampires locked in a tense stare. The shadowy authority had wrenched vampire society out of decades of the chaos in the wake of the first souling spell. They were more than willing to knock a supreme master off her throne to maintain order.
Red exchanged a glance with Vic. Should she be writing this down? His answering gaze said he wanted to bounce and find a beer.
“A rising actress committing suicide at the hottest club in LA would be news by itself.” Delilah started slowly, her cajoling smile forced. “Then add that it happened after her director was murdered and throw in more mayhem featuring some of the most notable names in Hollywood? Yeah, every reporter is going through the trash at Club Vltava. I say we let them pick up the crumbs we choose to leave behind.”
Cora cocked her head.
“We are curating the evidence for a scandal-hungry public. The power is in the footage. They don’t have anything on Nevaeh’s magical spaz fit. The DVA will make sure of it. We’ve already collected phones from the humans, and everyone else knows how you feel about snitches.”
“We’ve already had leaks.”
Red looked at her notes. “That was the coroner’s office.”
Delilah’s expression froze with polite calm as she maintained eye contact with Cora. “Those leaks were plugged.”
“It’s not a pop quiz,” Vic hissed, leaning toward Red.
Spinning in her chair, Delilah faced them, arms crossing. “Our weakest links are these hunters. Their van was spotted in the Hollywood Hills.”
Pulse spiking up, Red held up her hands. Bonding over dresses hadn’t made Delilah her friend, obviously. “We don’t want trouble any more than you do. We know to be stealthy.”
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