Witch Gone Viral

by Sami Valentine

  “You helped me get my city back. I know you’re scared, but I haven’t forgotten that.”

  “You’re the only supreme that I want in this town.” Red wasn’t sucking up. It was pure fact.

  Cora had a soul. And she acted like she meant it. She ran a thriving community center on the first floor of the building. Her money had modified their van for Vic’s disability. She might have had a body count in her past, but her present had more good deeds than a truck full of nuns. Red tried not to think about the flip side of a souled vampire’s rule. It still took ruthless cunning to reign supreme. Red couldn’t see it now, but the vampiress had an aura as bright as a phoenix’s tail.

  Cora smiled. “Follow my directions and I can get you out of this. Get through this DVA interrogation alone, and I will be there during the tribunal representing you.”

  Red affirmed, the noise more a nervous grunt than words. The clock in the corner of the room had already been reminding her for the last half hour that the interrogation approached.

  Cora pulled out her buzzing phone. “Namaste, Mohammad… What? They haven’t RSVPed for the job fair yet? Sorry, Red. Just wait here for the director.” Cora walked out the door. “Mo, you are lowering my vibe. You know we have to top last year.”

  Red sat back in the chair. Breathing deep, she tried to settle her galloping heart and knotted stomach. Mediation relaxed her as she stared through lowered lids at sleeping Inglewood below the high-rise floor-to-ceiling window. Just stick to the script.

  The doorknob turned with a creak.

  Red straightened, shoulders tensing as she snapped out of her mediation. She forced herself to lift her chin and compose her sweating palms on her lap.

  The director walked in. Shorter than expected. Brazenly undead, she didn’t bother to pretend to breathe. In a red blazer and black high-waisted pants, leather folio under her arm, she closed the door. She sat down on the other side of the table. Framed by a shiny brown asymmetrical bob, curious hazel eyes peeped from an oval face. Her makeup had been done to make her look older than her seeming nineteen years.

  Studying her, Red bit the inside of her cheek. She had anticipated gray hair and glasses, not a vampire who looked like she was going to her first internship. The face didn’t matter. If she was a director, she had to have age behind her.

  “Who do you think I am?” The vampire steepled her fingers, elbows bent on the table.

  “I’ve been told that I’m supposed to meet a department director with the DVA. Seems like a lot for just me, but the Morgan case is high-profile enough.” Red calmed her fidgets and kept her chin up. She didn’t dare look into the director’s eyes. Cora had neglected to tell Red her name. Had she forgotten to include any dark gifts?

  “I can’t mesmerize you.” Amusement tugged on her lips. The DVA director leaned forward. “I lead the Pacific Northwest division. What’s my name?”

  Red shrugged, already feeling at a disadvantage in the conversation. She balled up her fists, heat rising to her cheeks. “Sorry, but you know supremes. They tell you what they think you should know.”

  “Director Nedda Czernin.” She scrutinized Red, gaze scraping over her features for clues.

  “Pleasure to meet you. You’re well aware of my case, I’m sure.” Red pulled out the 42B form and pushed it across the table. “I have this, and the rest of the evidence has already been taken by the supreme.”

  “Aren’t you prepared? I didn’t know kids your age even knew cursive.” Taking the form, Director Czernin scanned it in a snap before putting the form in her folio.

  Compliment aside, Red hid a pout. She had spent a seriously long time on that stupid form to have it barely read.

  Clasping her hands on the desk, the director’s youthful features composed into a serious expression. “You don’t have a Facebook account, Instagram profile, YouTube channel, or even a poorly-attended Twitch stream. I can’t even find an old embarrassing Myspace page. Our face recognition AI is stumped.”

  Breathing through her nose, Red stuck to the script. “I like to stay off the grid.”

  “There is off the grid and then there is scrubbed clean. Do you have your buddy Vic to thank for that?”

  This wasn’t on the script. Red dug her nails harder into her palms under the table. Vic hadn’t even been involved in the nightclub fiasco with Nevaeh. She had been trying to keep him out of it.

  The director pulled out a mug shot of Red holding a sign labeled with a fake name in a Utah jail. “Then we have the mug shots. Those aren’t as easy to rub out. Or maybe you just started getting sloppy a year and some change ago?”

  Red narrowed her eyes.

  “You came onto the radar when your mentor made some noise in Salt Lake City. I bet you’re happy that Miss Hilde Higbee didn’t set her boys after him. She is an old-fashioned woman who likes a clean house, and he made a mess.” The director moved on to her next point without a pause as she pulled evidence from the folio.

  A testimony letter, redacted in black, was first. Then a copied receipt. Finally, a printout of Red accidentally photobombing a stranger’s selfie at a county fair. Her face was circled in yellow highlighter.

  The director’s scrutinizing stare probed for any weakness. “We have werewolves in Colorado, a minor demon in Washington, and the Canyon Hill Fairies in Idaho. If I didn’t know what was behind the Dark Veil, I would assume you and the cute Asian guy are on a Natural Born Killers road trip across the good US of A.”

  “You have dug deep.” Eyes darting, Red chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her time on the road had been colorful. Vic liked the challenging cases. Knowing other hunters had passed up a dangerous bounty only made him want to do it more. She had been down in the trenches with him every step of the way. Her rap sheet proved it.

  “I did have to dig deep. There were a few small-town bumpkins who really didn’t want to talk. Couple cops too.”

  Red froze in her seat, icy fear prickled her skin. Hunts were unpredictable. Red and Vic had been in rough spots before and a townie who got them out. Regular people who stood up to the darkness, better than most. They didn’t deserve DVA agents at their door. “What happened to them?”

  “Don’t puff up in heroics. I didn’t shoot the sheriff or the deputy. They were mesmerized and released back into the wild.” The director arched her brow. “Still, it was a trail, then poof—no trail.”

  “You do this long enough and the jobs just get bigger. I’m punching above my weight, like you said.” Red knew the director had her own narrative forming about a hunter on the edge. She wasn’t too proud to act meek in front of a vampire. It made them underestimate you later.

  It was better than the truth: that she had no idea where or who she had been for the last eight years. That only invited questions that she couldn’t answer. Vampires didn’t like that. Red had been searching for her origins for so long that it made her feel strangely better that not even the vampire CIA had found them either. Until the mysterious package from her inheritance had arrived, all she’d had was a hunch about a diner based on a dream.

  The director leaned forward. “It happens to hunters when they’ve been on the trail too long. Things fall through the cracks. Then mug shots, viral videos, and celebrity suicides…”

  Red crossed her arms. “That’s why I’m settling down.”

  “Yes, working for Quinn Investigations.” The director tilted her head to the side, staring as if Red had a spider in her hair. Her cold professional demeanor dropped like a breaking avalanche. Chuckling, she waved her hands in front of her chest. “I can’t keep this up.”

  Red bit her lip as that particularly weird doppelgänger social anxiety welled inside her. Reverse déjà vu. She didn’t know any other doppelgängers to ask how they handled it. She mostly just barreled through awkwardness. “Let me guess, I look familiar.”

  Puffing her lips up, Nedda leaned back in her chair, pointing back and forth between them with a lazy jerk of her finger. “It’s freaky as fuck. I had a w
hole bit prepared. You know, to make this look less like I am returning a favor to Kristoff to get his claimed human off scot free.”

  Red should have known that Kristoff would have already meddled in the investigation. Nedda ran the Pacific Northwest division of the DVA with jurisdiction in Portland. It was a long way to go to cover up a case, but it was almost reassuring to know that the game was rigged. Almost. Basil had left Los Angeles with a warning about Kristoff’s gifts: always read the fine print. “Director—"

  “Just call me Nedda here.” She flapped her hand. “Looking at you, I would say I’m speechless, but I’m talking more than usual. Wow.” The vampire leaned forward, reaching out to touch Red’s hair, curiosity burning in her eyes.

  Red stared at the cold hand like it was a snake. She didn’t make any sudden movements.

  “Even the hair texture is the same.” Drawing back, Nedda rubbed her empty fingers. “Eerie. This is bringing back all the times I had to do Juniper’s hair.” She looked up, as if startled to realize that she had to explain. “First job. Maid to a lady. Everyone has to start somewhere.”

  Yanking her head back in case Nedda got nostalgic again, Red repressed her frown. “So, that’s how you know Kristoff.”

  “You could say we got promoted together.” Nedda smiled cryptically, tipping her head forward. She clasped her hands on the table. “Now, to fill up time, let’s dish on some of the nonsense that keeps Kristoff jetting down to the land of palm trees and sunshine. It’s perfect in Portland right now. So cloudy that a vampire can walk outside. Everyone is enjoying the weather.”

  “Huh.” Mouth crumpling in confusion, Red tried to imagine a bizarro world where Oregon in January was ideal. She knew that if it was cloudy enough vampires could go out in the day, but Nedda’s enthusiasm made her realize the undead looked forward to the opportunity like a school kid with a snow day.

  “I particularly want to know about an exchange with Delilah at the club. Did you two really get into a cat fight?” Nedda leaned forward like a hound on a scent.

  Red quirked her eyebrow at the random question asked with gossipy interest. “Technically, Nevaeh was in my body, but yeah, cattiness ensued. I thought Delilah was going to kill her and well, me, after this one thing she said about crow’s feet.”

  Schadenfreude softened her features. Nedda beamed like a connoisseur sipping on a prize vintage. “The dead witch isn’t worth all this hassle, but she just got a point in my book.”

  “Delighted to oblige, I’m sure.” Red forced a blank expression, uncertainty quaking in her restless feet. She wished she had her lumpy scarf to knit. “So, you know Kristoff from work?”

  Nedda leaned forward, her demeanor hardening, the youthful face suddenly seeming old and grim. “He’s my friend. That’s what made me take on this case personally. Pain in the ass as it is.”

  Red’s instinct to run jolted up. Nedda had said the questioning was a formality. The real interrogation had begun. “He mentioned female friends.”

  Nedda tossed her brown bobbed hair back. Her lips pressed into a thin, dead line. “I had to see what has been turning his head for months.”

  “Well, now that you’ve seen, why don’t we start with that rubber-stamping you promised Kristoff and Cora?” Red attempted a smile that felt more like an awkward cringe. “I am happy to cooperate.”

  “Good, because I have to know—what are your intentions with my old friend?”

  Mouth drying, blinking, Red felt the question like a surprise slap to the face. She had been expecting a lot from her DVA summons, but a demonic teenager acting like a big sister to Kristoff Novak—the six-foot-four vampire who liked punching out demon hearts—of all people? That wasn’t one of them. “Beyond some life or death situations, we barely know each other. I don’t have intentions beyond staying away from him.”

  “Yet you text him when you need help?” Nedda crossed her arms. Her true age shone through her girlish visage. She stared at Red as if she had spent a century chewing up and spitting out women like her. “You call on him like you know him.”

  Red licked her lips. The director had her on that one. She told herself to play it cool. This interrogation would be much different if Nedda knew exactly what Red suspected about Kristoff from his real estate holdings, dark gifts, and quick climb up the vampire hierarchy. Red knew him too well at this point. “I have in the past.”

  “Hmmm. Now, that’s familiar.” Nedda bit her bottom lip and nodded. Her expression grew rueful. “And a hunter, too. Just like Juniper tried to be. Nearly got Kristoff killed. Just like you did on the last solstice.”

  “Hey, I get this is a freaky situation. I’m freaked, for sure. But I don’t have any intentions about Kristoff.” Lifting her hands to de-escalate the ‘if you hurt him’ talk, Red shook her head. None of this was on the script. Thrown, Red didn’t know what to say. Usually when vampires came up in her love life, it was people warning her about their intentions. Not looking at her like an old school dad about to chase a boy from his daughter’s room. “I’m a hunter in LA. I’m not setting foot in Portland. He’s safe from me.”

  “No, he’s not. Your hair still smells like Lucas Crawford.” Nedda glowered, nostrils flaring before she straightened her neck. Despite her short height, she still seemed to glare down at Red. “I’m telling you this once. Kristoff was broken up when Juniper died. If you’re just going to break his heart to have some happy ever after with his sire, then rip the band-aid off quick.”

  Red reeled from this overprotective sister vibe. “I’m not intending to hurt anyone.”

  “I care about your impact, not your intentions.” Nedda sneered. “Kristoff stuck his neck out to get Prince Marek at this tribunal. He’s acting like an idiot, but he’s my idiot, so be gentle with him.”

  Red didn’t know how to process the idea. Gentle with a unsouled demon?

  “I think this appointment is over.” Firm as granite, a new feminine voice invited no challenge.

  Startled, Red looked at the souled vampire in Chanel in the doorway. Delilah might have clawed her neck once, but Red was still happy to see her take an interest in the tribunal.

  “Delilah Byrnes.” Paling, Nedda turned in her chair, closing her folio of evidence. She composed the dark worry tightening her features before she lifted her face to the other vampire. “You might be Cora’s master of spin, but you can’t intrude into a closed DVA interrogation.”

  “It’s a goddamn reunion,” Delilah retorted, hand on her hip.

  “So, you two…” Red nodded. Her mouth formed an O when she realized that if Nedda had done Juniper’s hair, then she must have met Delilah back in the day. Delilah had traveled in style with Quinn, Lucas, and Selene as the fanged four left bodies across Europe. Someone had to scrub the blood off her gowns. “Obviously.”

  “We were just talking about you.” Nedda tapped her fingers on her folio. Her clever gaze sharpened.

  “No, you were scaring the girl about Kristoff.” Delilah leaned against the table, crossing her arms.

  “Still have ears like an old bat.” Shoulders tensing, Nedda pulled on a mysteriously pleased smile. “Or should I say crow?”

  “Live a few centuries, and you’ll learn how annoying it is to hear everyone’s inane chatter.” Delilah’s red lips pursed, edges curving up. “Speaking of which, you’re my 9:30 meeting.”

  “Oh, I am just quivering to share some reports with you.” Nedda leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled, amusement crinkling her eyes. “Interesting social media spikes in your sector. You’ll never believe what they are saying about your ex on the dark web.”

  “Delightful,” Delilah said dryly before crooking her finger at Red.

  Red stood before looking at Nedda. “So, are we done, Director?”

  Turning away, Delilah scoffed at the title.

  The director scowled. “Officially, the DVA is satisfied with your testimony. Unofficially, I have more questions, but we’ll save them for another day.” Nedda promised. Her vo
ice was as chilly as her taut expression. “You’re free to go.”

  Red scrabbled toward Delilah before forcing herself to slow down. She felt Nedda study them leave like an archer waiting for their quarry to come back into range. Sweat dripped down her neck over Kristoff’s mark. She had prepared for an interrogation, just not that kind.

  Waiting until they were further down the hallway, Delilah pulled Red aside. “Listen up, hunter. You’re on the ropes here.”

  “Clearly. I haven’t even been to the tribunal yet and already want to run. Kristoff said he had female friends; I didn’t realize that they’d want to beat me up.”

  “That was softball in there. If she really wanted answers out of you, she’d pull out thumbscrews.” Delilah tossed her hair back. “Cora and Kristoff have tried to rig the tribunal, but don’t expect the three supreme masters to give a crap about your love life.”

  “I certainly hope they don’t.” Red frowned. The thing that they don’t tell you about deals with the devil is that sometimes he gives a gift first. “Nedda said something about Kristoff sticking his neck out.”

  “He wants to stick something else in.” Sneering, Delilah shook her head, then gestured for Red to follow her down the hallway. “Cora is the one who is going to come to collect first. You’re underestimating her because she has a soul.”

  “You’re still not over her having you tortured, huh?”

  “I’m not a human. I get over shit.” Delilah folded her arms, hip cocked to the side. “Take it from a bitch who knows, a soul makes you as soft as you let it. She owed you before. Depending on the tribunal… That could change.”

  “These favors pile up.” Red glanced away. She had been lucky so far. Kristoff seemed to just want to wine and dine her while Cora might as well be an undead vegan braking for whales. Other claimed humans ended up walking blood bags, pawns, or sycophants serving to get a chance at immortality. Unless you killed the vampire or brought in hunters who could, where would a normal person go? The human authorities? Even if they didn’t laugh at you, the harassing vampire could crush their cop badges with a good squeeze.