Vic snarked, “I’m not going to post about my magical night with Nevaeh Morgan on Reddit.”
“We aren’t talking about a post buried in some forum. The news is reporting that Nevaeh’s corpse showed signs of a struggle.” Cora’s fingers clenched over her folded knees. The hippie visage melted away as a predatory yellow glow shone in her eyes and her fangs grew. “You were dropping clues like acid at Woodstock—fingerprints, tire tracks, and eyewitnesses. You were in her house days before she died, Vic. My little hunter chick here was at the rail when the witch jumped. You two fucked up.”
The room became quiet enough to hear the soft rattle of the air conditioning. Red tightened her grip on a pen, holding her breath.
Cora blinked, her eyes returning to brown. “Let’s re-center and refocus.”
The humans nodded.
“Groovy.” She smiled, fangs still out. “Dee, start again with the paparazzi protocol.”
---
A sliver of the moon barely broke through the smog above Inglewood as Red and Vic left the debrief on the Nevaeh Morgan case. The crash course in avoiding the press had overwhelmed her in the moment, but Cora wasn’t wrong to force them to learn. They’d had brushes with the law before. An investigation would find enough fake names and mug shots to fuel a conspiracy. The information still smothered her as she got into the Millennium Falcon. She knew Vic was in the same state when he didn’t even turn on the stereo after starting the van.
Vic drove out of a parking lot to a side street behind Moon Enterprises. The headlights illuminated the graffiti on the alley walls. He petted the steering wheel as if soothing the van. “Can you believe they wanted to paint the Falcon beige? We put a sticker on the old boy.”
“It’s a high-profile case. They want to make sure we don’t end up in the news.” She rubbed her arms, goosebumps rising even though the air conditioning wasn’t on in the van. Lingering dread tightened her stomach. She hadn’t dreamed of the Bell Witch again, but she sweated through nightmares of watching Nevaeh falling over the rail.
“But beige?” He blew a raspberry then continued his venting.
A scream drifted into the open window.
Back straightening, Red put her hand up, alarmed. “Did you hear that?”
Vic put the van in park and turned off the engine to listen closer.
“What the fuck are you? Help!” The panicked words carried on the winds, but the rest was lost in the noise of the city except for the word ‘fangs.’
“Goddammit. Inglewood is supposed to be off limits.” He slapped the steering wheel and shook his head. “We gotta call this in.”
Technically, there was a truce between the vampires of LA and the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes. All vampire kills were sanctioned through Cora Moon. The paperwork was double if it was a souled vampire. More complications to her life after coming to Hell-A.
“It’ll take too long.” Red strapped her hunter’s kit to her waist and fished a silver cross out of the dashboard compartment. Recently blessed, it should make even a master cringe. A snub-nosed revolver with wooden bullets would have been more effective, but people noticed gunshots even in an alley like this. It was still in her kit if she needed it. “This is strictly a rescue mission.”
“They are supposed to Catch and Release.”
A bloodcurdling scream rose, closer.
“I think they’re just catching tonight.” She jumped out of the passenger side of the van and ran toward the scream. At the end of the alley, she stopped to peer around a corner into an empty lot.
Two vampires held a struggling black woman in overalls and a beanie. Their pale skin glowed in the lights of a nearby building.
Taking the small revolver out of her kit, Red held it behind her back. The blocky six-inch gun had a bulldog look to its barrel. Vic had given it to her because even if the recoil was mild, it packed a punch. The vampires didn’t need to know about it until she used it. Being underestimated was the most powerful tool in her kit.
She raised her cross with her other hand, walking forward. Outnumbered, but even a distraction could give that woman time to run while backup arrived. “Inglewood is off the menu, boys. The Supreme Master’s orders.”
The two vampires shared conspirator’s grins.
Pressed against the wall, the woman lifted her head. Her eyes glowed amber. White fangs glinted over her lips.
“Fuck.” Red stopped short, breath catching, and backed away as her victim turned into a vampire. She practically heard her odds dropping. Putting a thumb on the hammer of the revolver, she had one shot to surprise them with. The click of the mechanism would give her away, if she readied herself to shoot too soon.
The three sprinted to form a semi-circle in front of her.
“This can’t be the bitch that took out Michel.” A male vampire gestured to her before making a jerk off motion with his hand.
She waited for the creepy villain banter to continue before pulling back the hammer to cock the revolver.
“Our sire ate hunters like this for a snack.” The male to her left spit before turning to the female in the beanie. “She had help from the souled vampires. Her boyfriend was the one who killed TJ.”
At name, the woman’s yellow eyes glowed brighter.
TJ had looked like a banker in his pinstriped suit, not a lover. After Lucas slammed a stake into the vamp’s heart to defend her, Red had almost forgotten him. Clearly, these vampires hadn’t.
“Less talking, more ripping out her entrails and leaving them for Lucas Crawford to find.” The female vampire charged.
Red swung the hidden revolver out.
Their limbs blurring from supernatural speed, the three rushed her together.
Firing, she didn’t need to aim for a headshot. Outstretched claws were inches from her. Blood splashed on her face. The sound of the gun blast ripped into her eardrums.
The vampiress fell back, her beanie slipping off as she twitched on the ground. Decapitation, fire, sunlight, and wood to the heart were the ways to give the last death to a vampire. Blowing a hole in their forehead might not kill, but it put them down.
Ears ringing too loudly to hear the woman’s moans, Red whirled around to fire at the male vampire to her left. She missed. Heart leaping in her chest, she kept her cross raised to hold off the one on the right. She had too many blind spots, they were too fast, and now they had seen all the tricks up her sleeve. She fired again.
He dodged.
His partner knelt at the head of his fallen friend. “Her brains are everywhere, Fred!”
Red didn’t hesitate. She fired at the kneeling vampire, aiming for his chest. The wood-tipped bullet went through his heart, spraying blood behind him. Immediate decay turned his pale skin gray, and he fell over. A relatively new vampire, he didn’t crumble to bones or dust. Either the cops would find a body, or the sun would ignite his corpse.
The last vampire stopped, wavering on his heels, as he stared at his prone partners, fangs receding in his gaping mouth. Poor guy had probably never seen a vampire die. Michel de Grammont had turned a crop of cocky minions, promised eternal life, and set them loose on Los Angeles. He sired them to be cannon fodder. Fred must not have gotten the memo.
“I’d suggest running.” She had two more rounds left in the cylinder. If the vampire was smart, he’d flee before she had to use them. Then again, if he had been, he would have left LA as soon as Cora regained control.
Fred wasn’t smart. He charged her, demon yellow flashing in his eyes.
11
December 22nd, 9:19PM, Empty Lot near Moon Enterprises, Inglewood, Los Angeles
Dizziness slammed into Red before Fred did.
Charging through the patchy grasses of the empty lot, the vampire duplicated in her vision. Two sets of fangs dripped venom. She tensed, a dry heave caught in her throat. Blinking, she planted her feet and fired.
Fred cursed, clutching his stomach.
She kept steady, chiding herself. That wasn’t a kill s
hot. If he had been older, he would have leapt on her. She had seconds before he realized a vampire could walk off a gut wound. She fired again.
The last bullet hit a brick wall.
She blinked again, and her vision shifted between her normal sight and her spirit gaze. The lot transformed into a moonlit scene with neon sigils etched over the real graffiti like a surreal photography filter had been slapped over the real world. She turned to run from the rescue-turned-ambush. Her trembling knees gave out, fingers loosened on the revolver and cross even as she tried to tighten the grip.
Fred turned her to face him and reared back to bite.
Red tried to scream but her mouth wouldn’t move. Vision strobed between the gritty mundane world and third eye technicolor, she couldn’t control it.
Head snapping up, fear flashed on his face before he was pulled away.
She fell backwards, stomach dropping, muscles freezing in a rolling wave from her toes to her legs, then past her hips. Panic overshadowed the relief that Cora’s minions had arrived. Locking up, her arms didn’t listen to her demands to catch herself. Paralysis had overcome her, and she couldn’t even close her eyes. The seconds in freefall felt like minutes.
Blood, brighter in the spectral moonlight, arched up as if trying to caress the stars. It splashed at her feet.
She mentally steadied herself for impact on the dirty gravel and broken glass strewn lot. Strong arms caught her. She couldn’t move her neck to see who held her, even swept up into her rescuer’s arms.
Fred moldered from decay on the ground. Rot had darkened his pale skin. A hole gaped in his chest. A dark aura rose from his body before disappearing.
She couldn’t turn off her third eye. Stars twinkled, superimposed on the smog. Electric blue and green ether streams wafted over the overgrown lot. They looked like manic doodles drawn over reality. Gaping at the lightshow, she tried to refocus her regular vision. The light shows only grew brighter as her muscles stiffened.
Cold hands angled her uncooperative body, limbs falling awkwardly, to tilt her face. A corona of midnight purple threaded with snowy silver around her rescuer’s head. His face came into focus—Kristoff Novak. She tried to say his name, but her tongue lay heavy. Her pulse quickened in her neck near his mark. The buzz grew in her ears.
Kristoff held her closer, cradled like a bride, as he peered down at her face. His blue eyes seemed brighter. As he studied her, his chiseled jaw tensed, deepening the cleft in his chin. The dots of splattered blood seemed to glow on his suit collar and dark blond hair. He put a bloodied hand on her cheek. “Red?”
She tried to scream. She tried to shake. She tried to glare. It was like her body was on strike. Only the involuntary mechanisms like swallowing and breathing functioned.
“Fuck.” He sprinted and the urban landscape blurred around them. They passed a cop car, silent sirens painted the alley in red and blue. He didn’t pause.
“Novak!” Waving his arms, Officer Chang called out. His voice faded, but the incredulousness followed them. “I smell vamp blood.”
Suddenly slowing, she couldn’t see where they were. Headlamps shined too bright, making her wish she could close her eyes.
Kristoff came to a dead stop, then walked the rest of the way to the side of a black van—the Millennium Falcon. He adjusted his hold on her, opening the door.
If she could have, she would have sagged in relief at the sight of the scruffy old van.
“What the… you have blood up to your elbow!” Vic yelled from the driver’s seat. “Red, what happened?”
She wanted to yell back at him, but she could only stare mutely up at Kristoff and the single dark blond hair out of place in his neatly side-parted hair.
“She can’t talk.” He set her in the wheelchair strapped in the back of the van.
Now, Red could look out through the windshield. It felt like an improvement, even if she was leaning like a wooden board in the chair. There was fear on Vic’s face in the rearview mirror, but the vampire was too powerful to cast a reflection. She strained every ounce of willpower to move. Not even a toe twitch. Her internal dialogue devolved into panic. What if they couldn’t remove this curse? She battled to stay calm even if it didn’t show on her frozen face.
“Why are her eyes all creepy and open like that?” Vic asked. “I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” Kristoff hopped into the back of the van to wrap a chair belt around her waist.
Vic put the Millennium Falcon into gear, the stick shift squeaking into position. “I know a place. I’ll take it from here.”
Kristoff slammed the side door shut, remaining inside.
“Please, come with me, welcome to my van.” The hunter muttered, turning right to get onto the street. “The more vampires the merrier.”
Red wanted to scowl at the traffic. She managed to drool. Facing ahead, she could only see nighttime Los Angeles spread out beyond the windshield. She couldn’t see the vampire as he settled himself, but she sensed his interest. She imagined him studying the van like a dinner guest checking out the host’s bookshelf.
“This isn’t natural!” Vic grunted, hunched over the steering wheel.
“Obviously.” Kristoff commented dryly, kneeling next to the wheelchair.
She yearned to turn her head, hair up in a high ponytail, his claim on her neck was right at eye level. Her heartbeat trotted up when he reached for her. What was he doing?
He gently wiped the mess off her face with a silk handkerchief.
Oh… Red appreciated not having drying blood on her cheeks, but she didn’t know how to feel about having him so close. Probing gaze searching her face, he pulled away to move her legs into a more natural sitting position. She wanted to sigh as her muscles relaxed in relief. He could stay.
“Hey, stop pawing at her back there.” Vic glowered, peeking in the rearview mirror. “I already have enough trouble chasing one vampire away from my intern.”
“I’m saving her knees from locking up.” Kristoff said calmly, setting her hands on the arm rests. “I am assuming this is due to that witch.”
“How did you know?”
“Nevaeh Morgan threw herself off one of my clubs. I had to fly down from Portland to be questioned by the police about why another body was found in that alley.” He climbed through the open space between the front seats to settle on the passenger’s side. His brow furrowed and his jaw tensed as he looked back at her. A steel edge ringed his calm tone. “Why was she alone?”
“I can’t exactly run after her when she gets a wild hair to save someone.” Vic glared at him, then sighed and reached for his phone on the dash. “I need to report to Q.”
“Oh, let me. Focus on the road.” Tone mischievous, he picked up the phone, thumb moved quicker than a human could see over the touch screen to search through the contacts. His voice turned delighted. “Why do you call him Greg?”
“That’s not Quinn.” Vic groaned, slapping the steering wheel before waving for the phone. “Come on.”
If she had been able to move, Red would have dived for the phone. She could barely see the screen in her limited vision, but there was no mistaking the vampire’s unfurling grin.
Lucas’s English accent boomed over the speaker. “Oi, what’s up?”
Repressed amusement curled under Kristoff’s tone. “How’s my sire this evening? You’re on speaker phone with the gang.”
“Novak, if you’ve done something to Constantine, I’ll do it double to you.” The promise dripped with malice.
Vic sighed. “I’m fine. Just regretting picking up a hitchhiker. He stowed away in the van after he brought Red in.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You’ve fucked up on this witch case.” Kristoff looked back at Red, grin retreating leaving only a piqued clench of his jaw. “She took down two minions, but the third almost had her until I ripped his heart out.”
“Bragger.” The rearview mirror caught Vic’s scowl. “She appears to be in some kind of mysti
cal paralysis.”
Kristoff’s voice lost its earlier amusement. Only a deathly chill remained. “Why are minions going after her, Lucas?”
If she could have gulped, she would have.
“Hey, no vampire pissing contests. We’re going to take her to the same private hospital where Basil is.” Vic grabbed the phone and hung up. He held the device against the steering wheel, keeping it out of the vampire’s reach. “You’re a real pot-stirrer, Novak. Noted. I’ll make the next call to Sheila then. Or is it Shelly? Whichever lady at Smith and Reaper. I’ll know her when I see the contact.”
“Smith and Reaper? The banking or legal division?” Kristoff asked, sitting up. “How do you have an agent there?”
“Long story. Not mine to tell.” Vic looked in the rearview window. “We’re almost there, Red. Hang on.”
She wanted to roll her eyes, but could only hang on in the wheelchair as the van maneuvered through the traffic. Every moment felt like years as her eyeballs grew drier and her desperation doubled.
---
Lying on the raised medical bed, Red would have been screaming if she had control over her body.
The decorator had tried to hide the hospital environment with lush curtains and fine furniture, but an antiseptic smell remained. She could have gagged. The drops that they had put on her dry eyes were the only relief. Involuntary chills dipped down her spine. She could only stare up at the hospital room ceiling. Sight, sound, smell, she was present for it all, but her body didn’t react to her commands.
The whirl of Vic’s electric wheelchair announced his entrance. “I heard you were being difficult.”
Kristoff stood at the head of the bed. He hadn’t left her side. Walking with the orderlies who had met them at the entrance, he had growled at them when they tried to get him to leave. Supervising as they adjusted her position, he listened intently to the stern nurse who gave him instructions on how to administer the eyedrops. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “They will treat her better if they know I am around.”
Long Witch Night: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 2) Page 11
