Witch Gone Viral

by Sami Valentine

  Basil ran, stumbling to Vic. “I have never been so happy to see a mullet in my life.”

  Handing Basil his crossbow, Vic nodded to the van. “Load that, will ya?” Tipping the brim of his trucker hat up over his shaggy hair, he glanced around. He cupped his hands and called out to Sal carrying a prone Alzbeta into the SUV. “Souled Sal, want a ride?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Got more hunting to do tonight.” Sal saluted. “Nice to see you walking, buddy!”

  Waving back, Vic shrugged. He glanced at Red, brow lifting. “We’ll talk later, let’s survive first.”

  Red nodded, rubbing her neck. Oh, boy, did they have a talk ahead of them. Wobbling on her feet, she was too drained to dread that conversation. She was just happy to see him.

  Chuck called out from inside the van, “It just came over the CB. The Prince arrived. Best get along. These vampers can take it from here.”

  “But—" Red scanned the battle. Donal and Cora led the advance, bruised but rallying, to chase the Dague into the waiting range of the hunters. More headlamps reflected on the Genesis Machine from the distant horizon.

  A metal plank fell to the nearby ground. Selene stood at the top of the twisted metal tower. She reached inside the core and pulled out a fistful of wires. The moonlight glittered on the tear tracks on her cheeks. Sobbing, she tugged at the sides as if committed to tearing down the machine with her own hands.

  Red bowed her head, thinking of Quinn. They had won this battle, but at what cost?

  Putting a hand on her shoulder, Lucas squeezed gently. Bruises darkened his chin. A tempest brewed in his stormy gaze. His voice came out choked and raw. “Get on, then.”

  Kristoff stepped over to her. Battered with two black eyes, missing a sleeve off his dark shirt, he still smiled at her. Relief loosened his wide shoulders. “You’ve done enough, Red.”

  Red bit her lip and nodded. Drawing away from them, she felt like she was getting on the last helicopter out of Saigon. The tide might have turned against the Dague, but the vampires would be fighting until the sun drove them to shelter. She felt Lucas and Kristoff’s piercing gazes on her back as she jumped into the van beside Vic.

  Vic climbed into the front seat, taking the loaded crossbow from Basil.

  Lifting her hand as she turned around, crouching in the open doorway, she felt the goodbye to the two vampires catch in her throat. They had saved the world, but she still felt it change. Nothing would be the same again. She couldn’t look away as the van started moving.

  Stance lazy, Kristoff tilted his chin up as he rested the broken bat on the back of his neck.

  Lucas stood, shoulders hunched, arm muscles roped with tension. He snapped his head to the side then blurred into a sprint to tackle a vampire chasing the van.

  She forced her stiff hand to the handle to close the door as the van turned.

  Chuck sped away, hurtling through the battle, ordering the hunters to fall back into the CB radio.

  Wobbling in the van, Red slumped against the back door. She wiped at the small dingy window with her sleeve. Exhaustion hit her like an avalanche. Her eyes fought to stay open. Legs quaking, she knelt, face pressed against the glass.

  Fresh soldiers in tactical black uniforms poured out of SUVs to face the Dague. Delilah jetted across the van’s tire tracks to leap on a masked woman’s back. Cora fought her way to her friend. The hunter’s convoy raced around the edges of the fighting to follow behind the Millennium Falcon. Wheels kicking up the sand, the van sped away from the battle.

  Red crawled over to Basil and flopped against him on the van wall. Sparks grew in her vision. She closed her third eye. The sparks remained. Swallowing back the wooziness, she leaned her head on Basil’s shoulder.

  The soulmancer snored, head dipping back.

  She patted him, as if making sure he was still there. Her eyes slipped half shut as she looked at Vic. Smile tugging at her lips, she sighed.

  Vic leaned out the window, fist pumping the air. “We’ve broke through the line, Red.”

  “Can I pass out then?” Head drooping, Red didn’t wait for permission.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  January 31st, Early Evening, California Sunrise Apartments, Los Angeles, California

  Red woke with a headache and breath bad enough to wake the dead. Stretching in her bed, she rubbed her back, black camisole riding up her side. Nose wrinkling at her own smell, she sat up with a grunt. She strained for coherent thought, wondering if she had been run over. Her bladder cut through her dulled musings, urging her out of bed and into the bathroom in the hallway of her apartment. She sighed in relief to not see Vic in either the open concept living room or the attached kitchen. She did her business, then hopped into the shower. Flashbacks of the battle in the desert hit her waking mind like thundering hail. She let the water wash away her tears as she sobbed in the shower.

  The tears started because of Quinn, and then she couldn’t stop. The last few days had ripped her open, taking away everything she thought she knew and leaving her shaking and naked on the shower floor. She had been barred from the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes, revealed to be Juniper St. James’s reincarnation, and made more than a few deals with the devil along the way. Her breath shortened; fear rocketed up within her. She hugged her knees to her chest.

  Racing thoughts looped around her mind, banging together like bumper cars. She had survived, but she felt like she was going to die. Heart palpitations thumped in her ears. She turned off the shower, shaking. Water dripped down her sides. The steam dissipated, leaving her chilled.

  Breathing deep, Red forced herself to count. One for the machine they had destroyed. Two for the friends she had lost. Three for the hours it took to drive to the Soul House. She lost herself in focusing on the numbers instead of the memories. Using the count like a rope to guide her out of the dark cave of panic, she calmed the loop in her mind. Swallowing back the tears, she wiped her face.

  Red had survived. Not only that, she had stood her ground as a shield in the darkness. She wasn’t perfect. She had baggage. She made mistakes. But she never gave up. It might not get her back into the Brotherhood, but it counted with the people who mattered. When you don’t know who are, you fear who you could be. She knew who she was when her back was against the wall. That was enough for now. She raised her chin and stood.

  Pulling on her bathrobe, she gathered up her clothes and went back into her room to dress quickly. Ruffling a towel through her hair, a hush welled within her. She wasn’t surprised to see Vic waiting for her when she returned to the living room.

  Sitting on the couch, Vic crossed his legs and gestured for her to join him. The sunset cast a golden glow over his face through the blinds. His brows furrowed above his downturned eyes, lips pressing into a line. “You look like you’re actually going to stay awake this time instead of just eating and going back to bed. Been sleeping for the better part of four days.”

  Red walked around the couch, tossing her damp hair back. “Shit, that machine really sapped me.”

  “You’re up, so we might as well talk about what you did.” Vic folded his arms. The hard expression on his face told her there was no escape.

  Setting her jaw, Red sat next to him. She brought her knees up and crossed her legs on the cushion. She picked at the seam of her jeans. “I’m gonna guess this is about how you can walk again.”

  Rolling his eyes, Vic shook his head. “I was going to ask if you finally finished Breaking Bad, but yeah, glad as I am to piss standing up, I’m pretty curious.” Worry seeped into his waspish tone.

  “Understand that when I made the call, Quinn had just been unsouled and was threatening to make you the newest member of the family. I didn’t do this lightly.” Red bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her words even. Her chest tightened as she forced herself to meet his eyes.

  “What did you do?” Vic leaned forward. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I did every good magic procedure we could afford at that mage hospital. T
here ain’t nothing left but the dark. Did you make a wish to a fae? Get a demon mark? Sacrifice…” He sighed, gritting his teeth. A harsh exhale flared his nostrils. “You gave me a gift, but it could be a curse for you. Magic like this has consequences.”

  “It’s not what you think!” Red put her hands up. She flinched at the raw concern on his face.

  “Tell me what to think! All I know is I can walk, but I’m waiting for the bill to come due like some kind of Monkey’s Paw bullshit. Or did it already happen… Quinn, he died…” Vic lowered his head, dropping it into his hands. “I wanted you to learn magic. Had to let you find your own way, but I was pissed when you gave it up. I kept thinking you could cure me, maybe, find a way. You’re smart and stubborn as hell. Then you actually did.”

  Her voice trembled. “I had too even if you hated me.”

  Vic leaned back against the couch, eyes closing and lids twitching as his jaw clenched. “I woke up before the van reached the Pump House. I didn’t think about it. I just sat up and stood. I’ve never been happier in my whole damn life than in that moment. Did I trade my oldest friend for legs? Was this the price?”

  Shaking her head, Red wiped at her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine him spending days with that fear over him. “No, Vic. I didn’t use a spell. Whatever consequences are ahead, it’s on me.”

  Vic tugged at his hair, running a trembling hand through his mullet. “How did you do it?”

  “You can’t tell anyone. You must promise me. This is a secret he’ll kill to keep.” Red faltered. The vision of Kristoff shirtless and spotted with Trey’s blood rose in her mind. She had seen his demon on full display. A shiver ran down her back at the idea of that brutality directed at Vic. “Kristoff has a Dark Gift. The rarest of them all. I guess it was magic, but it wasn’t mine.”

  Vic’s eyes widened as understanding sunk in. He paled under his stubble. Lips flopping open, his body jerked as if tasered. “Kristoff healed me.”

  Red cringed, hands on her temples, damp hair sliding forward to cover her face. “I know. I convinced him feed you his blood. I didn’t get your permission. I’d be mad at me too.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m freaking yippie-skippy. I can walk again without mystical blowback. But I’m scared for you.” Vic curled his fists in his lap. “That’s nothing a vamp like him does lightly. You owe him. What did he ask of you?”

  Red avoided his eyes. Her heart hitched like a hand squeezed it. She chewed on her lip, face heating. Kristoff hadn’t asked her to do anything—she’d asked him.

  Vic’s tone grew pointed, anger surging. His grinding teeth announced his attempt to bite it back. “What did that bastard force you to do?”

  Her voice came out small to her own ears. “It was more like a trade. I let him bite me.”

  “Shit…” His curse came out raw. A cascade of emotions fell down his face, scrunching his forehead and deepening the worry lines around his mouth. “Red, you know he coulda killed ya.”

  “That was the only hand I could play to keep you safe.” She closed her eyes. How did she explain that she had thought Kristoff had become a friend? It was stupid, but that’s how hunting could be. It was better than ice breakers and trust falls for bonding. A stranger could become a friend in the rush of dancing with death. She couldn’t even say that Kristoff hadn’t been on his best behavior with her. But that didn’t change what he was. Red knew what lurked behind those compelling blue eyes. Kristoff made it easy to forget.

  “I’m not proud of it, but if it got you walking… I wanted to give you a fighting chance, Vic, even if you hated me for it.” She bit her rambling tongue before she said anything more.

  Vic put his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t hate you. Damn it, I’m not sure how to feel, but I’ve lost enough friends. I can’t lose you too.”

  “You won’t.” She said it quickly, knowing it was a promise she couldn’t keep. She put her hand on his, taking it and squeezing it quickly. “I’m sorry about Quinn. He died saving Selene and me. He swooped in and…” Tears crackled in her throat.

  “That’s my Batman.” Vic hunched his shaking shoulders, teeth biting his grimacing lips. He tried to restraint his sniffles. “They had a wake—Irish style. I drank until I forgot he was gone.”

  Red rubbed her cheeks. She didn’t know what to say. Quinn had given his life for her. She felt hollow at the thought. He might have been the type who wanted to go out saving a damsel in distress, but the notion didn’t bring her peace. Not when she was the damsel.

  Vic broke the silence, his voice trembling before growing stronger. “I was angry when I met Quinn. Henry had just died. I hated myself because I was flunking out of UCLA. He adopted me so I could use his GI Bill. And I was pissing it away. If I wasn’t stoned at frat parties, I was hunting feral werewolves. I should have died a thousand times for being a reckless idiot. I was a waste of space and I knew it. Then I met Quinn. He saved my life when I took on the wrong wolf.”

  Red’s heart tightened at the sorrow in her friend’s voice. “He cared about you, Vic. I don’t need to read souls to know that you were like a son to him.”

  “I want him to be at his desk when I walk in next.” Vic blinked wet eyes, voice dropping. “I don’t know if I can go back to the office.”

  “Hey, don’t think about that now.” Red leaned forward to look into his lowered eyes. “We don’t have to go back to business as usual just yet.”

  “Yeah,” Vic said wanly, scrubbing a rough hand over his face, his words coming out a jumble. “Business… cases. Protecting the innocent. Right.”

  Red furrowed her brow as a sudden thought popped into her head. “Where’s Basil?”

  “He ran off. I told him I could find him sanctuary, but he ghosted once we got into town. I figure he’s sleeping it off in a hotel somewhere.” Vic heaved himself off the couch with a sigh and went to the fridge. He opened it, releasing a beam of bright light as he grabbed a beer.

  Red glanced around, realizing that the sun had fully set, casting the room into twilight. She got up to flick on the light switch, noticing her purse on the wooden stand by the door. Her cracked phone blinked with notifications from its depths. A missed call from Lucas showed on the screen. She grabbed her purse and keys hanging on the wall. She shifted on her feet. “Hey, Vic, I need to go. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “I know. You have more men crying over Quinn to visit.” Vic waved her away with a dismissive hand, grumbling. “Get out of here. You’re bothering me.” He gulped down his beer, leaning back against the counter. “Text me when you get there safe.”

  Shooting him a small smile, Red nodded and left the apartment. The drive over to Quinn Investigations was a slog through rush hour as twilight darkened the City of Angels. She merged without a blinker, sped through yellows, and generally drove like an asshole. It had taken three months, but she finally drove like a true Angeleno. The honks from the other drivers couldn’t drown out the heavy thoughts in her head. She parked the Millennium Falcon by Lucas’s motorcycle in the parking lot of the small strip mall.

  The smell of curry from the nearby Delhi Kitchen wafted over her as she entered the shared business hallway and into Quinn Investigations. Her guts twisted as she scanned the spartan room. A couch and coffee table were pressed near the wall, waiting for clients who came in nightly for help from an immortal gumshoe, but the front desk by the far window stood empty. She rubbed her arms. It was as hard as she thought it would be to not see Quinn there. He had lived and worked here for decades. Every inch had his signature on it, down to the literal one on his framed investigator’s license.

  On the opposite side of the room, the door to the private office opened. Lucas stuck his head out. He smiled wanly at her as he stepped inside. Clad in a long sleeve navy blue shirt and jeans, his black hair fell wild over his eyes. His errant locks couldn’t hide the sorrow etched over his sharp features. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Is t
his a bad time?” Red twisted on the balls of her feet, trying to figure out what to do with her hands. Her heart jumped at the sight of him, but her head held her back. She didn’t know what they were to each other, but he’d made it clear that he wasn’t her boyfriend. It didn’t stop her from hurting to see him look so mournful.

  “No, we’re open. Business hours as usual.” He strode over to her, shrugging. “It’s safe for you. Selene went back to Soul House with Father Matthew. It’s just Delilah here, sleeping downstairs.” He wet his lips, stopping as if uncertain how close he should get. “Did Vic tell you that they woke all the stiffs from their coma? You were lucky to sleep through it. It’s been long… all of it. The only thing you really missed was the wake.” His voice cracked.

  “Oh, Lucas…” She rushed to him and pulled him into her arms. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you must be feeling. I am just so sorry. He died for me.”

  Cradling her in his arms, Lucas leaned his head against her. “Hush. He died how he wanted to, like a big galloping hero, hair gelled and cape fluttering.”

  “I know. I just… still.” She tightened her arms around him, then let him go, feeling shy. “How are you holding up?”

  He brushed a curling damp hair off her forehead. “I’m not, but he left big shoes to fill. Gotta sack up.”

  “You don’t have to open up for clients yet.”

  “I told Vic that you two didn’t have to come in for a few weeks, but I think a monster mash would suit me fine. Better that way. I don’t want to be like Delilah, down in his room, staring at the walls.” Lucas sucked in his cheeks, exhaling needlessly through his nose. “After 166 years, I might finally have to grow up, Red.”

  “You don’t have to start tonight. You can grieve.”

  “I have eternity for that.” Lucas bowed his head. He released a harsh bemused chuckle. “I almost envy the bastard. In one poetic coup de grâce, he sacrificed himself for the two women that he might have tormented the most. You might not be Juniper, but the man loved a good symbol.” Lifting his face, his eyes crinkled at the corners in a pained grimace. “And fussing at me about the damn dishes. Fuck, Red. He’s gone, and I even miss the nagging. I’m sitting at his desk, trying to do he would do, but what if I cock it up?”