Witch Gone Viral

by Sami Valentine

  Lucas brushed his hair back and gripped it, black hair sticking up from between his fingers. He shook his head, lowering his lost and conflicted gaze. His voice sounded like pure gravel. “You were going to shoot her.”

  “I was going to hit her shoulder! I didn’t aim to kill. It’s better than she deserves right now.” Red shook her head. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling. Her nerves boiled in a poisonous brew of fear, horror, and anxiety. “She just butchered eight people and was going for me.”

  “What? Eight?”

  “She killed the Dague’s captive soulmancer and then went on a spree in the diner in Baker.” Red clenched her fists. “I should have recognized it. The victims were posed like dolls. Complete with creepy imagery. Just like the hijinks that she and Quinn used to do back in the bad old days.”

  Lips twisting, Lucas glanced over his shoulder as if he could sense his sire.

  Stepping back, Red put a hand on her chest. Her mouth dried. He could probably sense his sire through their sire bond. The madness, the bloodlust, the maniacal whimsy—Lucas had faced Selene and merely took her hand. Red’s heart ached. Is this what Kristoff had meant when he warned her?

  “I need to go after her,” he said.

  Slowing from a dead sprint out of the desert, Kristoff sneered. “So, you can let her go again?”

  “You didn’t find her.” Lucas crossed his arms.

  “I shouldn’t have to. She was in your fucking hands.” Kristoff shook his head, clenching his fists. “I thought she was doubling back, but it was a feint.”

  “I can find her again.” Lucas sniffed and nodded, shoulders tensing.

  “You need backup. At least get Quinn.” Red sighed. They could fight later. There were enough hours left in the night for Selene to destroy more lives. She gestured to Kristoff. “He could go after her in the meantime.”

  “No! Novak would kill her.” Lucas waved his hands, lip curling. “She needs her soul. It has to be me.”

  “You’re not thinking straight.” Red put her hands up, her breathless tone begging under her blunt words. “You’re too close to this, Lucas.”

  His gray eyes pleaded even as his words came out raw and jagged. Shoulders hunching, Lucas glanced away to scan the darkened horizon. “I can’t let her trail grow cold.”

  “Yes, don’t go. Be sensible.” Kristoff said dryly, looking at his watch.

  “It doesn’t need to be you.” Red gritted her teeth, molars mashing together, as she tried another stab at reason. “You know what the Dague are capable of!”

  Lucas didn’t look back at her. His focus was completely on an unseen trail. “She’s my sire.”

  Red bit her lip. She thought that she was his… something.

  Stepping close to her, Lucas kissed her on the cheek, his gaze distant. “Don’t worry about me, pet. I’ll be back in LA by sunrise.”

  Closing her eyes at his touch, Red sighed. She knew that he wouldn’t be as sure as she knew the sun set in the west. “Catch her before she kills again.”

  Nodding, Lucas ducked his head and turned away. He exchanged a look with Kristoff as he got on his bike. “Novak, get Red home safe. Red, kill him if he doesn’t."

  Kristoff repressed a smirk and saluted.

  Watching Lucas drive off in a plume of dust without a look back, Red shivered, left behind in the desert shadows. He always stared at her like she was the only one in the room. Until she stood next to Selene.

  Chapter Twelve

  January 25th, Evening, Soul House, The Mojave Desert, California

  Rubbing her arms, Red tore her gaze away from the settling dust to the silent compound. This was a job, she told herself. She had dealt with a crew member going maverick on plan. Usually she just felt annoyed, not like uncaring fingers squeezed her heart. This wasn’t any old hunter, it was Lucas. He could get himself killed out there. A Dague raiding party was still at large. With the desert wind blowing through her hair and the Mojave spread before her, Red felt utterly alone with her demons.

  Kristoff snapped his fingers, eyebrows perking up as he grinned. “You know who we almost left behind…”

  How could she forget the literal demon next to her? Red rolled her eyes even if he was right. Matt was still in the safe room. “This night is never-ending.”

  “Look on the bright side, those two loose cannons are occupied so we can finish our job.”

  “Bright side.” Red huffed, rolling her eyes as she walked into the house. “Sure.”

  Pulling out his phone, Kristoff took pictures of the ransacked living room. He crouched, angling the shot to show the scuff marks of dragged shoes on the floor. He flipped to the last shot in the gallery, rocking back on his heels. “It’s not the same without a proper camera.”

  Peeking over his shoulder at the phone screen, she admired how clean and straight his shots were. He made even crime scene photos look like art. She had flirted with photography as a hobby, almost set up an Instagram, but she was lucky to not get her thumb in the shot. “You’re getting into the CSI act.”

  “I can do more than invest in nightclubs and real estate.” Kristoff smirked as he stood suddenly too close.

  Stepping away toward the door to the courtyard, Red asked, “Can you get into the panic room?”

  Forging ahead, Kristoff continued taking pictures. “Nedda gave me the code, so if we can find the keypad…”

  “Check the security room. It looked like Alzbeta just opened the panic room, but they might have left it unlocked in case. I did just deliver a cache of AK-47s.” Red pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Cora.”

  She left a voicemail, glossing over why she missed her shot while she walked over to the tall saguaro named Phil. The moonlight reflected off the waxy green trunk and tall arms. She closed her eyes, wrapping an arm around herself. “…Lucas says he can haul her in by sunrise. I don’t think she’s working with the Dague, but I’m pretty sure they’ll want her back. Kristoff will report in when we’re on the road with Matt.”

  Sighing, Red hung up. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Fatigue sapped her. The draining adrenaline made her knees shaky. Swallowing back the acid reflux, she went into the kitchen.

  “I couldn’t find a keypad,” Kristoff called out as he passed through the cracked doorjambs. He cocked his head and pulled a thread off a jutting splinter. “I did find this.”

  Squinting at the single red synthetic thread on his white palm, she cursed. “That’s the same color Sancha wore tonight. I was focusing on the freaking gas mask, but the vampire who silvered Alzbeta wore a dress cut exactly like Sancha’s.”

  “Sancha might want Cora’s head, but joining The Dague would be political suicide.” Kristoff shook his head. “Once Cora builds up enough evidence to not look like she was caught her with her thumb up her ass, she’ll bring in the Blood Alliance.”

  “She already has.” Red informed him. “Higbee is doing nothing. She doesn’t trust her own organization.”

  “Then we just need to find enough evidence to make sure Hilde Higbee looks good.”

  “Oh joy, more politics. It’s just a big game of covering your ass.”

  “You know my kind.” Kristoff lifted his brows and grinned.

  Ignoring him, she squinted at the crimson fiber. “Coincidence or not, find a sandwich bag and keep that as evidence.” Red tapped her lips, considering the keypad’s location. “If it’s not in the security room, then it has to be near the trap door.”

  Kristoff walked around the tossed chairs and knocked-over table, capturing the scene with his phone’s camera.

  Searching the area around the trap door and opening all the cabinets and drawers of the island counter, Red put her hand on her hips. “Where is it?”

  Kristoff opened the fuse box before feeling the white tiles of the sink’s backsplash for secret latches or buttons.

  Red tried to think like an old, canny, and rightfully paranoid vampire. Matt wouldn’t want outsiders finding the keypad and possibly hacking
it, but it needed to be close by for easy retreats. Where would a clever vampire hide something from other vampires? Where wouldn’t they think to look? What wouldn’t arouse their suspicions or be noticed?

  Running her fingers over the teal curve of the retro refrigerator, she opened the freezer and then the fridge. Nothing but blood bags. She scanned the counters, nearly empty beyond a top-of-the-line microwave. She leaned on the stove, pulling her hand away and wrinkling her nose at the dust on top.

  Why would vampires need an oven? She twisted a knob for the gas range and sniffed. No gas came out. She turned it off.

  Red pulled open the oven door. “Eek!”

  Green button eyes glinted from a pale rag doll with red yarn hair. A tiny pink mouth had been stitched with care, down to the triangle fangs.

  “What did you find?” Kristoff asked, immediately alert.

  “Something weird but not what we are looking for.” She pulled it out, chilled by the sight of the tailored leather jacket and black pants on the doll and placed it inside her jacket. It was a spell poppet or a disturbing arts and crafts day at Soul House. Either way, she would be ritually destroying it. Focusing on the oven, she leaned her head in far enough to feel a little too much like Sylvia Plath.

  A matte black keypad nearly blended into the dark walls of the oven.

  “Time to shine, Kristoff.” Red backed away.

  Typing into the keypad, Kristoff said, “Get something to wrap him in. We don’t want to be seen carrying such a notorious body into Moon Enterprises.”

  Hauling Matt out and wrapping him in sheepskin rugs took less time than breaking in. Red trotted through Soul House to the front door.

  “Remember—we’re doing a convoy,” Red said as Kristoff carried Matt out, stowed him in the back, and slid behind the wheel.

  Finally, the plan was actually going to plan. Then Kristoff’s Mercedes-Benz sputtered and heaved metallic groans before dying.

  She glared at Kristoff’s unfazed demeanor that his luxury car might as well have become a giant paperweight. Popping the hood, Red cursed and shook her head at the cracked cylinder cover and crushed spark plugs. “For such a skinny girl, Selene can do some damage.”

  “I know I said I had a lot of skills, but modern car repairs aren’t among them,” Kristoff commented as he stuck his head out the driver’s side window.

  They wouldn’t be able to get new parts at this time of night even if they could wake up the mechanic. Red surrendered to fate and pulled out her keys. She tossed them to Kristoff before getting into the passenger side of her rental. “You’re driving, then.”

  ---

  In the rearview mirror, the highway lights reflected only her pale face, lips pressed into a thin line and brows pinched together. The mirror failed to capture Kristoff or comatose Matt in the bundle of sheepskin. Numb, she felt hollow like a chocolate shell of an Easter candy rabbit. Regrets, doubts, and the memory of blood-splattered innocents buzzed around her like a gnat. The ring from the gun blast still hadn’t evaporated from her ears. Exhaustion deadened her limbs even if it was early compared to her usual workday. She had seen enough to know that she had seen too much tonight.

  “Are you going to call Quinn?” Kristoff broke the silence.

  “I figured I’d let the Byrnes telephone tree take care of that one. I reported to Cora. That is enough.” Red leaned on the car window to stare out at the passing desert. “I don’t need to rehash it.”

  “You’re already doing that enough in your head,” Kristoff commented wryly. “Let it out. I saw it. Might as well talk about it on the long drive. Your boyfriend went rogue to chase after his sire.”

  “He’s n—" Red had slept with Lucas. They certainly had history… Literally. But she didn’t know what to call them other than ‘complicated.’ She thought she’d known what they were, but now… Red told herself the time to cry over boy problems was after dropping off the sleeping immortal. “It doesn’t matter what he is. Lucas went to haul Selene in as a job. He’s not running off to Vegas with her.”

  “You know it’s not just business.” The highway lights dappled his face with shifting shadows. “Not with them.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Red leaned her head back on the head rest. Her whole body ached as if sympathizing with her mind.

  “Well, you need to plan for Selene. He’ll block your next shot too.”

  “I don’t need you to stir the pot, Kristoff. I’m already annoyed with him. He could get himself killed out of some duty to his sire.”

  “Duty?” Kristoff snorted. “Love. Why do you think a roamer like Lucas has a base in LA? To see her.”

  Red crossed her arms. She was too tired to even make a veiled threat about staking him. Or maybe she had just seen too much killing tonight. “I don’t want to have this conversation. Not with you. Not now or really ever.”

  “Who do you think will?” Kristoff pleaded. “I’m not trying to be a horse’s ass and turn you against Lucas. He’s doing fine on that account on his own. I just know them. What do you think Vic would say about this? He’d know you’d be a target.”

  Swallowing back the uncomfortable certainly of what Vic would say, Red wasn’t going to give Kristoff the satisfaction of being on the nose that Vic would worry about Selene. “I can defend myself. Besides, Lucas cares about me.”

  Jaw clenching and an amber sheen in his blue eyes, Kristoff looked away. His tone was low and begrudging. “The idiot is in love with you. That doesn’t change how it will always be with them.”

  “The sire connection.”

  “It means he will always hesitate. You can’t.”

  Red put her hand on her forehead, brushing her hair back. It had fallen loose from her ponytail holder. Pulling it off, she snapped the elastic against her wrist. Frayed nerves made her fingers restless. “The last time you drove me, you were less chatty.”

  “You said you didn’t want to see me hurt. The feeling is mutual.” Smiling, Kristoff put his hand on her shoulder. “You know that if you call me, I will be there. Maybe you don’t know how to be my friend, but I think I can figure out how to be yours.”

  “Does that mean I get to crash your jet too?” Red joked, forcing out an awkward giggle. Humor was a coping mechanism, according to her therapist. She didn’t know any other way to beat the tension and keep the conversation away from Lucas.

  “You don’t need to crash it. Saint-Tropez. Say the word.” Kristoff chuckled.

  “You’re like a genie now?”

  He lifted his eyebrow. “Tell me some wishes, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Get me to Moon Enterprises. Don’t eat anyone along the way.” Red’s eyes slipped half-closed.

  “But what if they are tasty?” Kristoff smirked, blue gaze scanning her lazily. He reached into the back seat and handed her his wool jacket. “How about you try and nap? There is no rest for the wicked, and now you’re working our hours.”

  Red hid a yawn and accepted the coat. Closing your eyes around a vampire could be death, but he was right. Red adjusted the car seat, unbelting her hunter’s kit to put it on the floor in arms reach. She leaned back, fluffing the midnight blue fabric under her head, and rolled on her side to look up at him. The familiar smell of charcoal soap and wintery forests hit her nose. “Keep your hands on the wheel and your eyes on the road, Mr. Novak.”

  She didn’t know when she closed her eyes.

  Blood soaked into her white veil as Red stepped through the diner. Rabbit escaped out the door, dashing through her legs. The freckled waitress lay at her feet in green. Lights flashed. The dead teenager disappeared, leaving a young black woman, pink energy fading on her hands, as fang bites materialized on her neck. A dark-haired man lay next to her, dead eyes staring. Red ran past a crimson diner booth with a monster’s breath on her neck.

  Whimpering, Red shuddered, sweat beading on her brow.

  Cold fingers stroked her hair and murmured gentle words in a language she didn’t understand and wouldn’
t remember.

  Chapter Thirteen

  January 26th, After Midnight, Moon Enterprises, Inglewood, Los Angeles, California

  Red woke suddenly as a passing semi-truck hissed outside the car window. The fog of the road clung to her. They were already in Los Angeles. Wondering when she had dozed off, she blinked to clear her bleary vision to figure out which part they were in.

  Kristoff’s hushed phone conversation penetrated her haze. “…isn’t the point.”

  Stilling her instinctive stretch, Red kept her eyes closed. The agonizing reality of the evening hadn’t lost it rawness, but sleep had given her perspective. She had made the misstep in letting her sympathy for Lucas blind her to the fact that he was too close. If she had let Kristoff rush Selene in the beginning… It might have led to a fight, but there ended up being one anyway. Now, they all had to deal with the consequences. It sounded like Kristoff had already begun triaging the situation.

  “Nedda, I can hear under the calm. You want to bring the DVA in to swarm Soul House. Alzbeta won’t thank you for it.” Kristoff paused, listening before he explained patiently, as if repeating himself, “She has kept this secret for centuries.”

  Red wished she could hear the DVA director on the other end.

  “My sleeping beauty is awake.” Kristoff chuckled. “We’ll be there in minutes.” He hung up the phone. “Eavesdropping?”

  Red rolled over and stretched, looking out the window. The nap had helped her fried brain, and despite the yawn, she felt a second wind coming on. “I’m not dropping no eaves, sir, honest.”

  “Lord of the Rings.”