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

by Sami Valentine

  “It’s not your mind. These are imprinted on your soul, Nevaeh.” He tapped his chest. “You will be marked by these crimes for as long as you remain here.”

  This was her cue. Red stepped forward. “There is another way. You don’t have to keep carrying this. You can move on to the other side.”

  “Maxwell said there was nothing there for me. Just blackness.”

  “There’s a whole other world there. You don’t want to be trapped here. Not with this haunting you.” The lie was easier to tell than Red expected. She had pitied Nevaeh once, tried to make sure the actress faced human justice instead of the vampire kind. She’d been burned at the stake for her trouble. If the universe was fair, nothing good was waiting for the Nevaeh on the other side. “Cross over to find peace.”

  Nevaeh fell to her knees and nodded. “I just want to be free.”

  Behind the witch trap, a spectral green sphere drifted from the ceiling, glittering on the memorabilia. It filled the room with blinding radiance.

  20

  December 23rd, 12:41AM, Dreamland, Smithson’s Corner, Tennessee

  Kneeling in the iron circle, Nevaeh looked small silhouetted in the glow of the vortex. A hush fell over the bedroom. Swirling neon wisps illuminated the still faces on the Spice Girls poster with a jade radiance that made all five singers look seasick. She looked at the entry to the beyond. “It doesn’t seem too bad.”

  “Let yourself go into it.” Red urged, resisting the urge to shoo the other witch away like a stray pigeon.

  The clock was ticking, and it could tick fast in the Dreamland. If they were going to split Maxwell from his henchwoman, then it had to happen quick. The grotesque illusions from Nevaeh’s memory had taken too long to break her.

  “Exit stage left.” Shoulders drooping, Neveah turned on her knees.

  A familiar presence wafted in like a bad smell.

  “Go now, while you can!” Red glanced around, stomach dropping.

  Spikes of darkness slashed across the swirls of the green vortex like a gate blocking off the gateway to the beyond. The bookshelves began to shake. In a tornado of shadows, purple suit darkened to black in the gloom, Maxwell marched into the center of the room. The splendor of the bright vortex shied from him. His usual smirk was replaced by a grimace of fury.

  Lump in her throat, Red jumped back, pushing Basil behind her.

  This was her brilliant idea to go on the offensive. She knew it could come to a magic duel with Maxwell. He mastered the Dreamland, but he was still just a warlock. Warlocks were a class of mage that didn’t have internal magic but studied the arcane to manipulate relics and charms. She didn’t have the training, but she did have the natural magic advantage. Time to starting using hammers instead of rocks.

  Hidden behind her back, her fingers curled to summon a fire orb. It sputtered in her palm. She shook her hand, willing the magic to flare up to get some punch to her intention.

  “Now, Nevaeh, there is no welching on this deal.” Maxwell gnashed his teeth. “Get off that atrocious carpet and stop listening to that strumpet!”

  “Hard to ignore her when I’m stuck here. Cold iron.” Still kneeling, Nevaeh pointed at the circle of metals, cat bones, and herbs enclosing her.

  “Don’t be an idiot. It’s not there in reality. She tricked you into seeing a cage. Then you held the bars closed yourself.” He kicked at the iron ore, and it disappeared. “Don’t believe your eyes.”

  The flames finally ignited in her palm to form a baseball sized orb, Red tossed it at him. “Believe in this.”

  Maxwell caught the fire ball in front of his chest and blew it out. Smoke curling around his face. He slammed his palm out. “I believe in higher angels.”

  Unseen energy forced Red and Basil to staggered backwards. The soulmancer tugged on her arm, hissing a warning so smushed together from panic that she couldn’t understand. She glanced back at his terrified face, trying to visualize a safe place to make a location jump too. By this point in the Dreamland, she could just think and boom, there she was. The trouble was that she couldn’t get them to move. It was like they were anchored to this depressing corner of Tennessee.

  “The Angels aren’t waiting for you, Nevaeh. You know what is.” Crouching to her eye level, Maxwell brushed her blond hair back from quivering lips. He spoke softly, petting her like a child. “That lift will send you straight down. I am trying to take care of you, but you have to follow my plan to the letter.”

  “Don’t listen to him. He’ll only damn then discard you. You saw what happened to his wife.” Red clenched her jaw, imagining the vortex behind Nevaeh growing to swallow the actress up and force her into the great beyond. Her intention felt as effective as a dental floss lasso on a rhino.

  Rising to his feet, Maxwell lifted his hand to the whirling maw of light and curled his fingers into a fist. “None of that.”

  The vortex disappeared, leaving the room dim.

  Nevaeh wiped her tears and stood. “You almost tricked me, hater.”

  “You’ve already been tricked,” Red retorted, as her plan imploded faster than she could think.

  “I am giving her vapid life meaning. Far more than these pink trappings of celebrity.” Maxwell arched an eyebrow at a miniature Nevaeh smiling at him from a mug on the shelf.

  “I can’t teleport out,” Basil whispered, huddling behind Red.

  “Care to retire? Smashing, I want you gone.” Maxwell smirked, pointing at him.

  Basil clutched his heart, crying out. “It’s my body.”

  The strange anchor on their spirits eased. Stomach sinking, Red grabbed his hand and willed him away to the hospital. If he were under direct attack, she couldn’t protect both their bodies this far away. Sending energy to maintain the protection spell didn’t need to be at the forefront of her mind, but it had already been strained by building the witch trap around Nevaeh. The hospital had enough mystical protections to at least warn the doctors to pull out the mojo and fix Basil.

  The warlock hadn’t beaten them to the room. Was he toying with them or dealing with Nevaeh?

  The bright moonlight of the Dreamland cast reality into sharp edges of horror. Basil’s body convulsed on the bed, chapped lips curled over his wired-shut jaws. The IV ducts strained from his flailing, knocking down the stand, pulling the tubes out in a spurt of blood.

  Basil hunched over his body, fake British accent disappeared into real Midwestern fear. “My heart. Good fucking god, the pain! How is he doing this?”

  “Stay with me now. Fight him.” Red urged more magic forward to maintain the golden net of protection that she had cast over his body. “Fight!”

  The heart monitor blared a siren. Alarm lights flashed above the bed. The rolling tray beside the bed shook and scooted back. Maxwell materialized in a cloud of smoke at the foot of the medical bed. He glared at Nevaeh, holding onto her upper arm. “I am beginning to believe you don’t have enough of an incentive in this game, my girl. Revenge doesn’t seem to be the biscuit it once was. Let’s sweeten this deal. You’ll get more than revenge on this hunter’s spirit; you can get her body.”

  Throat tightening, Red backed up. Instinct hollered at her to run down the hospital hallway to guard her own flesh and blood. The spirit form felt like an echo of her real body, but the connection was still there. What happened when she lost her body? Would she float away into the ether or be stuck in the Dreamland forever?

  Straightening in his grip, Nevaeh goggled. “You don’t mean… Is that possible?”

  Tone low and vulture-gaze serious, he glowered at Red. “Everything is possible.”

  Red knew he was right. She stepped forward to block the soulmancer from view and nudged him. Mouthing the words silently, she told him to come with her.

  “Run, Red…” Basil moaned, spirit form prone over his body.

  “Haven’t you two learned a jot after teleporting all over God’s green earth? There is no running. Understand that this was business in the beginning before Juniper m
ade it personal.” Maxwell jerked his hand as if swatting a fly, shadow energy springing forward.

  Red flew backward. The impact made her eyes cross, as she landed against the wall. She slipped half through the hallway but caught her balance and pulled herself back into the room.

  Basil landed like dead weight on her.

  Catching him with a groan, she hauled the shaking soulmancer up. He flew out of her hands, arms tossed back, pulled toward the warlock.

  Maxwell reached both hands into Basil’s chest, smirking. “In the Dreamland, I am a god.”

  Basil screamed as his spirit form faded until only his outline remained. It dissolved like bubbles popping around the spectral hands in his chest. His body on the bed shook. Blood dribbled out of his nose.

  Red charged and jumped for Maxwell. Her spirit collided with his, and she landed on his chest. She punched his face, tossing her will behind giving him the pummeling of his life. Enough mystic duels. He had more orbs up his sleeve than she did. Mages expected magic in a fight. A solid pop to the nose usually didn’t occur to them. Plus, she really wanted to hit him.

  Nevaeh kicked her leg out, her bare foot transforming into a steel toed boot as it rushed toward her enemy’s face.

  Red grabbed the ankle. Two could play at the freaky body modification game. A roar straight out of National Geographic shot like a cannon from her throat.

  Nevaeh fell back.

  Maxwell jackknifed his hips to dislodge Red, taking advantage of the distraction, and backhanded her.

  Red grabbed his collar as she fell to the side. They rolled through the knocked-over IV stand. Fury coursed through her veins. The raw emotion would have scared her if she had any conscious thought left for it. All she knew was that her friend was dying.

  Maxwell grabbed her hands and headbutted her. “You are letting poor Basil die. You think I can’t sap his lifeforce even while brawling like a common thug with you?”

  Chilled, she raised a hand back to strike him.

  He grabbed her throat, long fingers tightening. “I am a god here. You keep forgetting that.” He stood, shaking her by the neck, and forced her to look at her friend. “Choose. Keep up the roughhousing or save him?”

  Shaking, Basil choked on the blood coming out of his mouth and nose. His senseless body still forced involuntary motions to save him.

  “He is fading, Red. Or are you like Juniper, willing to see others suffer to achieve your aims? What kind of witch are you?”

  She couldn’t look away from the bruised face.

  “He is choking on his own blood. Terrible way to go.” Maxwell clicked his tongue.

  Ashen under his California tan, Basil looked ghastly. Blood seeped from the gaps in the wire on his teeth and broken jaw.

  The seconds dragged on. Red cried out. “Save him!”

  Maxwell tossed her into Nevaeh’s waiting arms before opening his clenched fist. A dark mist streamed out of Basil, absorbing back into the warlock. He adjusted his jaw before sniffing. “Right, then. We have a deal, wife.”

  Basil opened his eyes. He turned his head, blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth, and twisted onto his side. The choking convulsions subsided. He looked around, darting eyes flipped open wide, before falling back on the stained pillow.

  A nurse rushed into the room, yelling into her walkie talkie. “We have a patient experiencing psychic distress.”

  Another one ran in. “We’re not paid enough for this!”

  Red sighed heavily, dropping her head, growing limp in Nevaeh’s grasp. A knot unclenched in her belly.

  “Well, maybe you are different from Juniper.” Maxwell cocked his head. “Now, dear Basil has a chance. Of course, that leaves you awfully alone.”

  “She’s not alone.” Nevaeh pushed Red’s hair back before tugging on it. Her delicate features twisted into a sneer. “She has us to torment her.”

  Maxwell was right. Red was all alone. Basil might have been an awake soulmancer, but with his jaw shut and weakened body how could he do anything?

  “You’ve pulled yourself together, Nevaeh. Brilliant. I need you sharp.” Maxwell smirked and tweaked her chin.

  Iron cuffs appeared around Red’s wrists and ankles. Cold metal chilled her skin. Her sense of failure felt just as constricting.

  “You’re right,” Nevaeh said. “It was all in my head. I’m more powerful than you, Red. You almost made me forget that.”

  “And before you get smart, wife, understand that my iron is a lot tougher than yours,” Maxwell gloated, eyes twinkling. “The rules of the Dreamland are quite simple. Will is power, power is power, and I have had far longer to hone mine.”

  Stiffly sneering at him, Red shook her head. “Stewing in your own bitter juices for over a century and I still kicked your ass in a fair fight.”

  He smirked. “I don’t do fisticuffs. Or fair fights.”

  “You’re going to wish you never took me to my dear old ma.” Nevaeh scowled as she tugged the iron chain connecting the cuffs. “No talk shows or book deals for her now. You can ask her about it after we kick you to the great beyond.”

  “You killed her? Damn.” Red shook her head, her throat tightening. “Your own mom?”

  “And fucking Frank. No one left for you to use against me,” Nevaeh said, blue eyes grim and flat.

  “Now that is skin in the game. There is no going back now.” Maxwell clapped his hands before rubbing them with a conspirator’s glee. “You don’t need a mother anymore. You’re going to have hers. Wherever she is.” The warlock shrugged, flapping his fingers as if it were a minor detail. “More importantly, you will have a shiny new body.”

  Nevaeh examined her prize like a customer on a car lot looking at a Honda. “It could be curvier.”

  Red scowled.

  “You can make improvements later,” Maxwell said distractedly, eyes unfocused as if he were sending out other senses.

  “Now, you’re trading me like a sandwich in a schoolyard?” Red fought against the cuffs. Even if it was physically in the next room, her heart thumped in her ears. “What happened to scaring me to death?”

  “Oh, we are still scaring you to death, but no reason to waste that body,” he said with the earnestness of a diehard recycler.

  “So, you’re going to give my body and the power that comes with it to this psychopath? She just killed her family. What makes you think you can control her?” Red cocked her head. “I thought you wanted to stop the apocalypse. She’ll jump on a chance to join what’s-his-horns.”

  “Hey, watch it!” Nevaeh jerked Red’s arm, causing the iron chains to clink.

  “You have such a very narrow vision.” Maxwell shook his head. “Nevaeh can still do much damage to the opposition with the right coaching. It might even buy her a ticket into the heavenly choir. Think about that, my starlet, singing with the angels.”

  Cheeks reddening and eyes sparkling, Nevaeh glanced skyward as if already seeing her angelic reward. “Imagine me right next to Baby Jesus, a diva in heaven with fluffy white wings.”

  Red rolled her eyes. It was delusional. “Ugh, he was right. You’re an idiot.”

  Nevaeh huffed and took her hands off the cuffs to pull her palm back to slap. “Enough talk.”

  Red dodged the blow and ran out of the room. Unable to teleport, she waddled in the iron cuffs. She heard the medium chanting from her room. If she could just get to him…maybe he could hear her this time.

  21

  December 23rd, 12:42AM, Dreamland, St. Brigid’s Hospital, Los Angeles

  Red stumbled into her hospital room through Quinn and Lucas to stand behind the medium at the bed.

  Terry held her body’s hand while holding a handkerchief to his nose with the other. Sweat dripped down his forehead, eyes screwed up as if waiting for a punch.

  She raised her chained hands to put them at the sides of his head. Betting on a hunch and her ability to balance, she lifted her foot to a healing burn wound on her physical leg. Enough blood was exposed for her to
make contact like she had before when spelling out her situation for Vic. She pushed everything into being heard, whether it was in his ears or the psychic connection that he had with her body. The magic bubbled inside her as if churned by her twisting stomach. She didn’t know if touch would amplify her voice, but she was desperate.

  “Listen up, Basil’s awake and Maxwell’s coming,” she said. “He’ll give my body to Nevaeh. We could use this in a Plan B to defeat them, but you have to make sure she doesn’t keep it even if it means killing me.”

  The medium trembled. “Red’s here. She has a grave warning about Basil but is talking too fast.”

  “You heard me this time!” She stiffened, stomach dropping.

  “The warlock…!” He collapsed, face planting into the foot of the bed.

  Wheeling over, Vic leaned over to try and pick up the medium. He blanched as the other man slipped onto the floor out of reach of his wheelchair. “Oh shit. Terry!”

  Kristoff shielded the bed as he tensed. He looked directly at her spirit, blue eyes searching.

  Quinn glanced around the room; shoulders squared. “Look alive.”

  “We’re in this together,” Lucas said to his progeny, his usual disdain replaced by urgency, and held out his hand. “Let’s finally get this bastard.”

  Forehead crinkled in suspicion; Kristoff studied the offered hand before shaking it. He nodded. “This time we’ll win.”

  Orderlies carried Terry out into the hallway adding chaos to the physical plane, but in the Dreamland, there was the stillness of a Mexican standoff.

  Red tightened her fists, trying to summon intention, magic, or even the power of Beyoncé to break the iron cuffs. No joy. Cold iron bound her energy. She couldn’t teleport or toss an orb. All she could do was glare at the two malignant spirits gloating as they appeared in villainous mists.

  “They can’t help you.” Maxwell stroked his goatee. “Stop fighting the inevitable, you stubborn witch.”

  Nevaeh raised a fist, flames growing between her knuckles. “Don’t make me mess up my new body.”