“Let me get you a drink to celebrate.” Nevaeh walked to the attached kitchen and brandished two bottles of IPA from the fridge.
“I was feeling thirsty. Be right back.” He went into his bedroom.
“What are you up too?” Red stalked to the island counter separating the living room from the psycho in the kitchen. “Wrong drink too. You should have done some research on this role.”
Nevaeh picked up a pill bottle on the counter, reading it quickly, then tapped a pill in her palm. The white capsule rolled and crumbled. Sparkles shot over the mound of powder. She dumped it into the beer bottle. “Damn, bitch, you have more juice than I expected.”
Flipping the bird, Red sighed. “Telling you to fuck off is way less satisfying if you don’t hear it.”
“What was that?” Vic asked, rolling out of his room.
“Just telling myself to get juice tomorrow. Vitamin C and all that.” Nevaeh handed him a beer and clinked the bottles together before sitting on the couch. “Tell me what I missed when I was sleeping.”
He took a long drink. “I think your night was more exciting. We were some jackasses in a hospital, running around like harpies with our heads cut off.”
“What about Kristoff? Tell me everything.” Nevaeh leaned on the couch cushions, straining for a casual pose, her crossed legs tensed. She took a drink to hide the bitter pucker to her lips. “He’s been texting me.”
Red groaned, head falling back. “Oh, come on, Nevaeh! Air out all my secrets.”
“And when I’m not in the swells of relief from you being alive, we’ll talk about that, young lady.” He waggled a finger. “It’s weird as shit to think of an unsouled vampire caring about someone, but he was ready to go nuclear on the warlock tonight.”
“I’m sure Maxwell Baldacci will care about some vampire.” Nevaeh scoffed into her bottle. “I mean, that sounds serious.”
“I think he was on his best behavior. Only ripped out one heart tonight.” He shrugged, lifting his beer, and sighed. “He was the one who realized that Basil could pull you out during the exorcism and gave him paper to write notes to us.”
“So, it sounds like this Kristoff will be trouble.”
Suspicion became certainty in his gaze before it became unfocused. Vic slumped back in his wheelchair, beer spilling over his jeans as the bottle fell to the ground.
“That took forever!” Nevaeh rolled her eyes before going to a bathroom, swilling her drink.
Kneeling by the wheelchair, Red searched his slack face and put her head against his chest. He still breathed. His lungs filled and emptied slowly as if in deep sleep. His aura sparked azure like a cloudless day. She stood, hands on her hips, pushing away the conflicted guilt as she thought of Kate Batts. Their first meeting felt so long ago. The solstice alone had felt like years and it wasn’t over. Bell Witch had visited her in dreams. How could she get into Vic’s?
The sound and steam of the shower streamed under the door as Nevaeh sang in the bathroom. She broke the melody for criticism. “Jeez, Red, you suck at singing. I’m not a triple threat anymore.”
Rolling her eyes, Red reached for his hands, concentrating on Vic. She homed in on him. The living room faded as she stared at his face.
She could still hear the shower, but the room was replaced by the familiar van walls of the Millennium Falcon before its modifications. Tibetan prayer flags hung over a sleeping form in the nest of bean bags and blankets. The back doors lay open to the high desert and purple mountains brightening with a lazy sunrise.
Vic sat, legs hanging out the back of the van, with a thermos. The sunrise painted his wistful face orange. It had been so long since she had seen him so peaceful. Her vision blurred from tears. Whatever happened, at least she got to talk to her best friend one last time.
She settled beside him. “Hey.”
“Red! How did you get here?” He asked, voice slowing toward the end as a sick realization creeped over his face. “It wasn’t you that walked out of the hospital?”
Forehead wrinkled, she sniffed and shook her head tightly. She didn’t have time to cry about it. “Nope. Nevaeh is currently using up all the hot water in the apartment.”
“I have failed the ultimate friendship quiz show—Pal or Pod Person?”
Chuckling even through the tears in her throat, Red took the thermos and sipped the coffee inside. Somehow it was as perfect as the sunrise. “Your consolation prize is being doped up and snoring in the living room. Drooling, too.”
“Hey, I have the tolerance of ten hunters.” Vic yanked his thermos back.
“I’m hoping so, because you need to wake up! Tell them about Nevaeh. Maxwell will be back, and she’s still his lackey. Oh, god, she wants to get a boob job too. Bleach my hair. The works.”
“You would not be good as a blond.” Recoiling in feigned horror, he gestured to his face. “It’s the complexion.”
“It would wash me out, I know. That isn’t the point. Nevaeh is on the loose and going to do terrible things with my body. She already neutralized Basil and Kristoff seems next on her list. That’s my big dream warning for you, so remember it when you wake up, will ya?” Red cocked her head to listen for Nevaeh. A blow dryer turned on outside his dream. They didn’t have much time. “I’ll have to go.”
“Hey, not so fast, I…” Vic put a hand on her shoulder. “I was dick before about Lucas and everything.”
She dipped her head, hiding the tears in her eyes. This was something that she needed to hear. The last fight with him had been ugly. After all they had been through together, she was glad it wasn’t their last real conversation outside of a case. “Hey, I haven’t been easy to deal with either. I fell apart after I learned about my dopplegänger’s dark side, then I overcompensated.”
“I’m just worried about you, kid.” Brow knotting, he sighed. “That’s not even it. It’s not even you, it’s me. I’m in pain all the time. Physical therapy sucks balls. I feel cornered in my own skin. Every moment, I want to jump out of my chair, and I can’t. I’m not adjusting.”
Red touched his upper arm. “Hey, you’re doing the best you can.”
“No, you’ve been doing the best you can. I haven’t. Even before Oklahoma, I took us on suicide bounties for bragging rights. I was Vic Park Constantine, the hunter that werewolves warned their pups about.” He looked down at his legs, lifting a foot. They only moved in his dreams.
“You’re still him.”
“That cocky shit got his ass handed to him at the Halloween Ball. You wanted me elsewhere, but I hunkered down in Club Vltava so I could get first crack at Delilah. Would have killed my friend’s wife by mistake if Michel hadn’t gotten to me first. Not the first bad call, but now I can’t run from my mistakes and failures.” He pulled away, shaking his head. “Like fucking up with you. You’re like two years old.”
“I’m probably like twenty-five.”
“In memory years, I mean. Then the eight-year gap in all cultural knowledge. So many episodes of Doctor Who that I had to show you. Only a few of Sherlock, though.” Vic shook the sad wistfulness away. “I hadn’t even finished training you, and I half-assed it a lot of the time. Figuring if you survived, you learned something. Now, you’re in the supernatural trenches solo.”
“Vic, I don’t get how you can’t see all that you did and still do for us. You’re the best hunter and Bard that I know.” Red poked his arm. If he had opened up a little sooner, she could have prepared a better pep talk about how awesome he was. Regrets were easy for a ghost. She steeled her wobbling chin. “Even if you are stubborn as hell when you get paranoid about your own worth. I need you. I also need you to get a life. Get a hobby. Put some pictures in the frames at home. Whatever happens to me, don’t brood in front of the TV.”
“What if something good is on?” He smiled, eyes crinkling before a frown darkened his features. “This might be the last time that…You know I won’t let her keep that body. Whatever happens. I’d never let you stay that monster.”
“You don’t need to get sappy.” Vic wiped his face with a sleeve.
Bathed in brilliant purple and red light, the Millennium Falcon was a comfortable cocoon. Red missed mornings like this on the road. “Where are we?”
“Arizona. After we escaped Oklahoma, I couldn’t drive anymore. You were sleeping in the back, and I had coffee with the best sunrise of my life.” He raised his thermos to the heavens.
Tearing up, she memorized the curls of fuchsia clouds mixing with orange sunbeams over the purple mountains. The high desert smelled like it rained in the night, releasing the scent of creosote, and rewarding persistent seeds. Fresh green life dotted the ground.
“It’s a good one,” she said finally.
“We’ll both wake up to see another.”
“Let’s enjoy this for a bit.” Trying not to think, Red tried to savor it, but the sun rose too fast. In the real world, dawn was still hours away on the longest night of the year.
Vic raised his thermos, forehead wrinkling and chin only betraying one shake. He nodded. “Safe trails, hunter.”
Red closed her eyes and released the hold on his dream. Reappearing in her bedroom, she flinched at the explosion of clothes tossed around the bed and floor. Who did the actress think was going to clean this up?
“None of these will do. You have a lesbian’s taste in clothes, Red.” Nevaeh poked through the closet. Her hair was curled and she had smoky eyeshadow dialed up to ten. She pulled out a little strappy black dress to hold up to her chest. “This is acceptable. Barely.”
How long had Nevaeh been ranting to herself? Red didn’t mind missing the rest of the feedback about her clothes. Her hackles raised from just seeing the other witch admire her new body naked in the mirror.
Nevaeh pulled on the dress and kissed the mirror, marking her territory with ruby lip prints. “Time to paint the town red, Red.”
27
December 23rd, 4:22AM, Dreamland, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles
Red trotted to keep up with her body.
Unrelenting preternatural moonlight outshone the sparkle of Sunset Strip. Dazzling wisps of energy gleamed in the wind, a winter solstice moon peeked out from the smog. On the longest night of the year, the line between worlds grew thin.
Balanced precisely on Red’s only pair of high heels, Nevaeh stepped past the clubbers waiting for the best after-party in town. She worked the sidewalk like a runway in a thin-strapped black dress and crimson kimono jacket. The grisly stitches attaching the black aura to her stolen body were visible in the Dreamland. In the real world, she merely looked like a party girl radiating alpha vibes. She sashayed to the front of the line stretching around the block in front of Club Vltava. “You know who I am. Kristoff will want to see me.”
The vampire bouncer elbowed his human partner before raising the velvet rope. “It’s the redhead.”
“I’ll find him myself.” Nevaeh slinked past them to the elevator leading up to the club on the top two floors of the building.
Red blinked herself up ahead of the body snatcher.
Nevaeh had broken the Black Veil in this club before. Now she was double-dipping into trouble with a new face on the cameras. Whatever she planned, it was happening in vampire territory. Red would have some explaining to do to Cora and the Dark Veil Assurance whenever she got back into her body. If they even let her explain.
Packed with the beautiful people of LA, Club Vltava was in its prime time. Glowing sigils on the walls burned brighter than the club lights. If only Kate Batts was here. Bell Witch or not, she would know what to do. She could materialize into reality at least. Vic had exorcised the wrong witch twice.
Nevaeh strutted out of the open elevator.
Speaking of witches…Red glided forward, pausing as a blond head popped into her side vision.
In a golden shift dress, Delilah crossed her arms in a jingle of chunky bangles. The vampiress tossed her beachy curls back. The marbled pink of her aura illuminated the annoyed jut to her chin. “Tell me you’re not dropping another body from the rooftop. You were supposed to be down for the count tonight. What, didn’t get enough attention?”
False eyelashes fluttering, Nevaeh quirked her blood-red lips into a terse smirk. “Let me guess, I’m sliding into your vamp boyfriend’s DMs and you’re jelly that he was with me all night.”
“How many hits to the head did you take tonight?”
“Don’t hate me because your man wants something…fresher.” Nevaeh wrinkled her nose.
“Ouch, Delilah, I am so sorry.” Red cringed. She felt the heat off this cat fight even in Dreamland. The other witch was going to get them both killed.
“You get pretty bold after slapping on a little black dress and a pound of eyeshadow.” Delilah arched her eyebrow, lifting a hand to examine it. “Remember the last time you sassed me? Took forever for my manicurist to scrub the blood out of my nailbeds.”
“It’s a shame you were turned after you developed those crow’s feet.” Nevaeh raised her palm, and sparks shot off her fingertips. “Now, buzz off or you’ll be the body lying in the alley.”
Stepping back, the vampiress tightened her fists. Blue eyes flashing amber, the predatory gaze followed Nevaeh with a promise. She disappeared behind a wall of dancers.
Nevaeh smirked, spinning around to sashay onto the dance floor. She snaked through the crowd, stolen feet dancing. Twirling, she slipped the crimson kimono jacket off her shoulders, tossing it aside. “Now, this is what I missed.”
“I liked that jacket!” Glaring at the shoes stomping on her one dressy jacket, Red winced as a guy in skinny jeans spilled beer on it. “That’s just salt in the wounds.”
Kristoff stepped out of the strobe lit crowd to the pod person. A smirk tugged on his lips. The lights glimmered on his suit and the slight flush to his healed cheeks. He had fed recently for sure. “You look…lively.”
“Just happy to be in a body again.” Nevaeh ran a finger down his chest before she turned around, exposing his bite on her neck. “Almost losing it made me think…”
“Go on,” Kristoff whispered in her ear, lips hovered over his claiming mark. A slow hand wandered on her hip. “Your body is telling you…?”
Leaning back, Nevaeh rubbed against him. “All the things that I’m not doing with it.”
“What are you planning to do to him?” Red put her head in her hands. Heat crept up her neck at watching her own body grind against the tall vampire. How was she going to explain this to Lucas? “Don’t do something I’ll regret!”
“You’ve been missing out.” He put his hand on Nevaeh’s, lifting it to kiss the knuckle. Leaning back, his mile-long stare over the dance floor grew grim. “But we both know that you will go running to Lucas afterward.”
“Don’t act like that. I know the truth.” Nevaeh gripped his collar and pulled herself closer, face to face. “Watching me wake up was the happiest you’ve been in lifetimes.” She pressed flush against him, her thigh rubbing between his. “Now you’re getting even happier.”
“I’m always happy to see you.” Eyes narrowed, he caressed her back as if his hands couldn’t help it. The midnight purple in his aura turned black. “I just know where you’ll go at dawn.”
“Guess you’ll have to convince me to stay, handsome.” She fluttered her eyelashes, her grin was a challenge.
“Let’s me start by getting you a drink.” He stroked her hair. His amber-tinged gaze faded into a contemplative blue. “I’ll join you in the VIP room.”
“Get me a Cosmo then, pink sugar on the rim.” Nevaeh sauntered off the dance floor to the velvet ropes blocking off the VIP room.
Head dipping, he raised his eyeb
rows at the stolen body walking away. A sad earnestness flickered on his face before the reserved mask slipped on. He straightened his shoulders and strode to the bar.
Red stomped after Kristoff. “I am a wine girl for the most part. IPAs taste like soap, sugary cocktails give me hangovers. You’ve made me a drink before.”
Cutting the line, he gave the drink order to a female bartender with green hair. “Thanks, Ana.”
Delilah glided up to him while he waited. Her bangles clinked like a restless rattlesnake as she gestured to the VIP Room. “That’s not the Red I know and tolerate, Kristoff.”
“I know. Rally the white hats.” He swigged a shot of whiskey, then picked up the Cosmo.
Deliah dialed quickly. “Quinn, darling, you fucked up. Something bitchy possessed your little secretary. Get to Club Vltava.” Her frozen annoyance melted as she bit her lip. “The irritating hunter with the mullet isn’t here. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Finally!” Red teleported back to Nevaeh to see what the witch was brewing.
The starlet twirled in the smaller VIP room by the speakers. Her arms in the air, she tossed her head. Brushing her curls back and catching her breath, Nevaeh stopped dancing, smile souring. Her hesitant steps turned into furious strides.
Red pursued Nevaeh weaving between the clubbers. “What is it?”
“I can’t believe it!”
It was DJ Shake. The widower sat tucked away in a hidden alcove, arms around two blonds in pink minidresses with a bottle of champagne in ice. Reclined on pillows like a tracksuit sultan in his harem, he whispered into one of the women’s ears.
“Motherfucker. You’re wearing yellow.” Nevaeh strode toward him, agitated sparks bouncing off her hands.
“You’re going to want to ease up, Red.” Appearing with a warning scowl, Delilah raised her cellphone, thumb already poised on the button to call the Supreme Master of the City. “Breaking the Black Veil—"
Long Witch Night: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 2) Page 24
