Vic glared at the interruption. “Best guess, it’s the Bell Witch. Nevaeh might have been able to summon her in a death curse. Sometimes malignant spirits freak out on the ones that killed their master. Red might not have killed Nevaeh, but she was near her. Or it could have been spectral residue from taking out the shrine. Maybe it’s that dumb blond from beyond the grave. I don’t know.” Wincing as if a migraine hit him, he rubbed his temples. “That’s the best I have right now.”
“It’s something. Let’s go for the obvious.” Quinn put his hand on the hunter’s shoulder.
“She’s just lying there, Quinn. Our Batgirl in our untraditional Bat family.” Vic took Red’s physical hand, chest heaving as his mouth twisted to stop the quivering of his chin. “I know what it’s like not being able to move. She’s in a prison. I don’t know what to do, not when I’m like this.”
“We’re going to get her out,” Quinn vowed. Determination hung on his strong brow.
“What if she can hear this? All this bullshit and bumbling? They say they can still hear, even in a coma.” Vic glared at the others. “And you two shit heels, fighting like dogs over a bone. Get it together, fucksticks!”
“I’m still here! I can hear you!” Red said the words even knowing he couldn’t hear. She glanced back at Kate. “They’re setting something up.”
“I have all three eyes on them, sister witch.” She called from the hallway. “You need to practice, hone your powers in the Dreamland, before you are tested.”
“I’m already becoming the best student,” Basil bragged.
“They need me.” Feet dragging, Red turned away from her friends and went into the hallway. She didn’t like looking at her body, but it felt weird to leave it behind.
“You need you.” Basil put a hand on her shoulder and guided her away.
“Now, listen carefully. It’s a tale that deserves a proper retelling, but we shan’t linger. Time passes mighty queer in the Dreamland.” Kate’s usual Southern draw galloped into a rapid clip. “This old enemy, he thought you were lost in time. He carries pieces of you. This man has many names. Maxwell is not what he goes by at the present, but he will answer to it if you call. The last name, he clenches tight to like a family secret. He believes he is chosen.”
“Maxwell? That name…” Red glanced at Basil. An unknown dread filled her as she struggled to remember.
He shrugged.
“Fix your attention to me. The first step to mastery is acceptance. You have more than you know here. Let yourself—" Kate clutched at her heart, breath heaving, a warning sparking in her aura. Then the Bell Witch slumped over.
13
December 22nd, 11:55PM, Dreamland, St. Brigid’s Hospital, Los Angeles
“Kate! What’s happening?” Phantom gut dropping, Red pivoted to the door. “Vic, stop!”
Glowing green and purple ether silhouetted Vic. It strobed out of the doorway to reflect on the hallway walls. Hoarse, his Latin chant came out in rumble. He held the leather journal, but he knew every word handwritten by his adopted father. His gaze lasered in on the hospital bed. Candlelight reflected on the sage smoke wafting around him. Rough iron nuggets gleamed on the rolling tray, jutting from the salt circle like shark fins in choppy white waves.
Quinn stood behind him as a silent monolith in shadow. The electricity in his aura crackled. He was ready for a fight.
Kate pushed past her to glide into the hospital room. “You know not, dead men!”
“They’re exorcising her.” Panic rising, Red ran after. She tried to pick up a lamp to toss it at their heads, but her hand went through it. Helplessness tightened her chest. Kate had tried to teach her, and Red barely listened. It might already be too late. She yelled at her useless ghost hand. “Fucking hell!”
The Bell Witch rippled in green light as she passed through the foot of the hospital bed. Tight layers of reality and consciousness parted for her. Kate had crossed out of the Dreamland and into the real world.
Eyes flicking up, Vic didn’t slow his chant.
Jumping up and pulling an iron dagger from his leather jacket, Lucas stabbed Kate’s side in a swift jerk. His amber gaze glared through his tousled black hair. He blew an unruly lock out of his face, revealing sharp fangs.
Kate arched her back and veered toward the head of the bed. Her greenish glow filtered over Red’s comatose form to glitter in the glassy open eyes. She tried to explain, “I’m here for her!”
The words sounded less comforting to the men as it did to Red.
Kristoff slashed his hand forward instinctively, fingers curled to rip into a heart and pull it out. He cursed, grabbing air.
Lucas tossed the dagger up before catching the downward handle to plunge down in the Bell Witch’s back. Blade point inches from the heart of the comatose patient, he jerked his hand back.
Kate cried out. “Away with ye!”
Darting around the fight to get to the bed, Red cried out to her helpless body. “Get up!”
Flinging herself up to cling to the ceiling, Kate hissed down at the vampires. “I name thee devils making a muck of being angels. The shadow reaches for her, I warn you!”
A determined jut to his chin, Vic shook an open silver flask to splash holy water. “Apage! Et abierunt!”
Quinn took the leather journal from Vic and intoned the exorcism. Grabbing a blessed silver cross from the table with his sleeve, he raised it. Smoke sizzled from his palm.
Hands up, Red stood between the hunters and the Bell Witch. “Stop, please!”
“Fools! This will be hell upon her.” Kate bellowed. She swung herself horizontal to soar toward the body on the bed, skirt fluttering behind her, arms cast out, and back hunched to shield. Her wide eyes darted to Red. “The old enemy comes! Run, children!”
“You heard her!” Basil yelled, accent dissolving into a Midwestern panic.
“No, Kate, we can’t leave you!” Tears in her eyes, Red shook her head standing her ground in the chaos of the room.
Lucas lunged to slice Kate’s arm.
Vic held the flask straight down to pour holy water over the body on the bed. He tossed it over his shoulder and took the silver cross from Quinn to brandish it. “Apage! And stay the hell out!”
Basil shouted from the doorway. “Get away from whatever he is conjuring!”
“We need to help her!” Red ran to pull the other witch away from the hospital bed. What if the third exorcism was the charm?
Kristoff pivoted toward Red, his fangs drawing back.
Lucas slashed the Bell Witch over the kidneys with his dagger.
Kate howled, zooming to the floor like a downed plane, leaving red sparks in her wake. She pushed herself up to her knees. A swirling green vortex expanded behind her. Loose locks from her low bun swept back toward the shimmering light. Shadows grew over her thin plain features. Regret dulled her eyes. “I tried to save you, sister witch.”
“What did she say?” Kristoff asked. His voice was lost in the chanting. “Hold on!”
Heart tightening with a pang, Red shaded her eyes from the conjured brilliance. She had cleansed spirits before with this ritual, pushing them from limbo and into the afterlife. She had never seen it like this. In the psychedelic lens of the Dreamland, the vortex to the beyond churned like a sea of fireworks. She couldn’t imagine how Kate could come back this time.
“Lussit uri.” Vic whipped around the hospital bed in his chair, cross held forward like a lance. He bellowed the ominous Latin like a war cry. “Abiit in sempiternum.”
“Not that!” Red leapt forward to push Kate toward the vortex. It was better than the new one being summoned by Vic.
Crying out, Kate pointed east. “The dark one!”
“Exilium!” Vic panted as he slumped back in his chair.
Flames surged over to the Bell Witch’s waist. Her hazel eyes reddened to embers. Fire burst from her eye sockets. The conflagration coursed to flood over the ceiling before slamming to the floor like a rough tide coming in. Suc
ked back below, the flames disappeared, leaving the room dim even in the unnatural moonlit grow of the Dreamland. Scorches marked the spot where Kate Batts burned.
Red knelt by the marks, expecting to see ash instead of moonlight on her fingertips. She glowered at Vic, blinking back tears, before slapping the scorch marks. Her ghostly hand didn’t make a sound as it passed through the floor. “You got the wrong witch!”
Basil knelt, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, hey.”
“They sent Kate to a very bad place.” Sob escaping her, she laid her head on his chest. Her face burned as if she had sat too close to a campfire in hell.
“I know. And I was just getting over her putting me in the hospital.” Basil pulled her up to take her into the hallway. “Okay, let’s regroup. We’re down an ally, but we still have three hunters and a supernatural hospital on our case.”
“They’re on the other side. Kate was our protection here.” Red wiped her eyes. The tears felt wet on her cheeks, but they were a mirage, drying instantly on her fingers. She gnashed her teeth as self-recriminations looped through her head. “We don’t know anything about the Dreamland. I don’t even know how I can still cry here.”
“Well, we’re alone, so face it—we have to protect ourselves.” He puffed his chest up and put his hands on his hospital-gown-covered hips. “Our shells are just lying there. Anyone could send us into the spirit plane. Or worse.”
“I put a protection on myself.” She jerked her thumb back at the translucent net hovering over her body rippling golden sparkles. “But I don’t know if it’s an umbrella in a hurricane. Fingers crossed that a normal spell works right here.”
Basil hustled down the hall, tied hospital gown flapping around revealing a bare butt and tan lines. He darted through a closed door next to her room. His face popped back out of the wood to glare at her. “Help me, then. Hop to it.”
Jogging forward, Red closed her eyes as she thought transparent thoughts. She walked through the door, half expecting herself to hit it. Instead, her spirit passed into the room without even a squish or a jostle to the nearby picture on the wall. She opened her darting eyes. She did it. Ghost level up!
He leaned over his body. A perfect duplicate, except in spirit form he looked healed and whole. Outside the Dreamland, he looked rough. His physical face was swollen with purple bruises. Chapped lips stretched over the wires on his teeth keeping the jaw shut. A heart monitor beeped in the background.
In the physical realm, she would have had to summon up her magical energy, cast a blessed circle, and boost herself up with various crystals, herbs, and relics. Even with all the mystical accessories, it had a good shot of failing. She didn’t feel more powerful in the Dreamland even if her magic felt closer; intention just had power here. Her own magic simply gave it a jolt.
Red visualized a golden web of protection over Basil. She pushed her gratitude for his presence into her intention as she wished for his body to be free from harm. He needed to only to be safe but also to feel safe. That required something more splendid than the minimalist net of light around her own body. She tried to make the visuals of the web more ornate with spectral curls of gold surrounding the soulmancer’s body. The web glittered as intention pulsed through it.
“I see it!” Basil sighed wistfully. “Makes me wish I was a witch.”
“You’re a soulmancer. Can you just send us back into our bodies?”
“Who am I? Father Matthew, ready to soul the Fanged Four and start the August Harvest?”
Red shrugged at the snarky mention of the most famous soulmancer in history. “You charge enough.”
“That’s because I have the best marketing.” He crossed his arms. “I can read souls, I can cleanse them, and I can kick off compulsion like the one Nevaeh put on Ari Goldstein, but I’m a tad limited right now without my body.”
“Have you tried?”
“No, I’ve just been painting my nails here waiting for the Supernatural Avengers to show up. Of course, I have! I can read a soul here and I can even conjure a pretty picture in the air with my mind which is new. I learned that from Kate when you were eavesdropping on the boys. Sewing myself or you together, not so much.” He gestured to the room next door. “Until they figure something out, we’re on our own, Red.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” An amused voice chimed out from the doorway in a British accent. Unlike Basil’s, it sounded authentic.
A tall man leaned on the doorframe, form flickering in and out of focus. Framed by shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, his face would have been handsome without the amused sneer that said the joke was on them. Dreamland moonlight shimmered on the folds of his purple velvet suit. A matching top hat perched on his head. His teeth bared in the semblance of a smile between his mustache and goatee like a fox spotting a rabbit.
“Stand back.” Basil retreated, pulling on her arm.
She didn’t need the warning. Malignant intent drifted off the man.
Nevaeh Morgan elbowed past the stranger. The green ruffles on her black-sequined dress quaked in agitation as she stomped barefooted into the room. “We have the bitch!”
Breath catching, Red shook her head, hoping the vision of the dead actress would fade. The soulmancer clung to her.
“You know how to ruin a man’s entrance, Nevaeh. ” The specter tipped his hat, form solidifying as if finally anchored in the Dreamland. “My crude companion is correct, however her verbiage. It’s been lifetimes and yet too soon, witch. You’re finally in my grasp.”
Glaring at him, Nevaeh pouted. “Our grasp!”
Calculation twinkled in the strange man’s dark eyes, anticipation grew in his smirk. “One would have thought I’d feel a sense of completion, as if I’d sent the last alimony check. Queer, I feel more righteous seeing you again. That’s not quite it.” He stepped forward, snapping his fingers in realization. “Vindicated. That is the word. I knew you’d be back.”
“We don’t know each other.” Her doppelgänger senses tingling, Red sensed the incoming mistaken identity shenanigans. She didn’t have any tricks in there. Nothing beyond the gift to turn a scorpion half into a cat. And she was fresh out of scorpions.
He shook his head. “You’re like a cockroach that is determined to not remain squashed.”
“That’s me.” Red didn’t intend to stay for repartee with either of them and grabbed Basil’s hand. “Let’s motor!”
She appeared behind the wheel of the Millennium Falcon, blinking in shock. Where had the hospital gone? She didn’t waste a second wondering. The street beckoned her to jet out of the quiet parking lot. She reached for the van keys only to fumble with air. “Fu—"
Basil landed in the passenger seat. He glanced around; eyebrows raised. “What is this, the Mystery Machine? It smells like pot and Mountain Dew.”
“Hey, I used to call this home.”
“I feel it coming closer. We need something safer than the parking lot!”
“I know. I’m thinking!”
Her chin trembled from the unnerving power of an unseen force rising like trouble on the horizon. She didn’t even picture a location, just willed herself away. The van disappeared, replaced by table booth at a restaurant. She bounced in the red vinyl seat from the force of her landing. Wide-eyed, they sat across from each other in the booth next to oblivious diners. Even without a real body, she panted, trying to catch her breath without lungs. The shock of being somewhere else in an instant made her skin crawl. She thought teleportation would be cool, not terrifying in practice.
He leaned over the table, torso half passing through it. “Where in the world are we?”
“I don’t know, I just wished to be safe. I didn’t put a whole lot of thought into it,” Red snapped, looking around the diner at the completely normal people scattered around them with chili fries and iced teas. “I’m still stuck on the part with the English guy in the purple suit. Maxwell.”
“But seriously, where are we? Who are they?” Basil pointed to the
Black woman with a halo of curls next to him. Pink energy shimmered around her hands as she ate French fries.
Red glanced at the Hispanic man on her side of the booth. Her spectral hand popped out of his black T-shirt where she rested her arm. She winced and moved away. “Pardon me.”
The man shivered, eyes darting around, green heart chakra radiating in the Dreamland moonlight.
Basil glanced at the woman. “She isn’t fully human. Maybe you found us some heroes. Are they from your Brotherhood?”
Red shrugged. She’d met a lot of hunters, but she didn’t remember these two. “Wonder what her power is? He is kind of glowing in the chest too.”
“Zach, if you could go back to high school, would you?” The woman asked her friend. “I miss it. It was simpler. The three of us.”
“Don’t start down that road, Stace.” Zach dipped his head.
Red waved her hand over the fries. “Hello? Do you have the power to see me?”
“Of course not,” Basil groused. “Brilliant. We can die in the Dreamland while unidentified supernaturals go on a carb binge.” He leaned in, ketchup bottle passing through him. “Where are we? Do you feel safest in places with greasy seats?”
“I have no idea. Maybe, actually.” She looked around at the diner. “This feels familiar, but I can’t place it.”
Signs for the Oregon Ducks hung on the white walls amid license plates, folksy crafts like dream catchers, and carved signs with drinking mottos like never fear when there is beer. A pop song bubbled through a boombox on the counter. People chattered and dined on burgers. It looked like one of those local institutions that bragged about having the best of some wacky regional specialty called a Garbage Plate or the Mountain Moose.
“Maybe I passed through here with Vic?” Red frowned, looking at the tree-lined gravel parking lot out the window. Dark branches shined with ghostly leaves that had long since fallen. She kept expecting to see her reflection, but her aura was blurred in the glass, even in the Dreamland.
Her eyes darted from the pictures of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe on the bathroom doors to the pretty middle-aged brunette waitress at the counter filling a pint beside a duct-taped boombox covered in stickers. Even in the Dreamland moonlight, the place looked like the picture of small-town normalcy with Red and Basil’s weirdness scribbled on top. “I think we’re in Oregon. I haven’t been there in a year.”
Long Witch Night: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 2) Page 13
