Witch Gone Viral Page 6

Red gritted her teeth through the goodbyes and tried to steady her breathing. The sweat dried cold under her collar, leaving her to shiver. She had survived, but the axe still hung over her head. The power the Blood Alliance had over her was simple—their might made their right. The vampires could do it because no one would stop them. If she had been a part of the Brotherhood or a member of a coven, politics might gum up so-called vampire due process. Red wasn’t trying to be underestimated in the tribunal in her closing remarks. It was the truth. She was up to her neck in the undead and had the marks to prove it.

  This was the new line that she walked. She already knew the sentence if she fucked up again—becoming a vampire.

  Red lived and hunted on the edge of the Dark Veil. How long before another hunt splashed onto the papers? And even if she covered her tracks in the human world, she could still kill the wrong dead man. Being a vampire wasn’t like having diabetes. She couldn’t just switch her diet. Without a soul anchoring her empathy, she’d succumb to the demon instincts. She wouldn’t keep trying to knit a non-crappy scarf or finally make a freaking origami crane that didn’t look like a paper crumple. She would be eating people.

  What would the gang do if that happened? Call in Basil to give her a soul? If the soulmancer could even be found or get close enough perform the spell… They would have to stake her if they couldn’t stop the killing.

  Kristoff might not want to turn Red now, but he would to save her from dying a mortal death on the orders of the Blood Alliance. Then he would defend her from her friends. She had seen him fight. With everything she symbolized, Red knew that Kristoff would hit first and below the belt. Even without his supernatural strength, he had assets. His real estate portfolio made her inheritance look like she got some old china from grandma. The vampire had a pilot on retainer. It would only take a private jet flight to the other side of the world to get her out of reach. Far from anything that could stop Red from feeding and killing. Dipping her head, Red tried to force the terrible what-ifs and disaster planning from her head.

  When the screen finally went dark, Cora leaned back in her chair. Stress flattened her gaze. Bracelets jingling, she rubbed her face. “Positive feedback: you stayed on the script even with Hilde grilling you.”

  “I was glad to have it. I didn’t realize who would…” Red trailed off. She had been hit with blasts from the past for months, but Hilde Higbee and Sancha Constanza were the only ones she could remember. Her breath skipped as her lungs fluttered and heart clenched. Maybe Vic was right when he said she was better off forgetting the rest.

  “Negative feedback.” Cora clenched her jaw, the positive vibe bleeding out like old tie dye. “You freestyled at the end. It sold the desperation, but listen to me next time, chica.”

  “Hopefully, there isn’t a next time.” Red fought a shiver as the performance adrenaline faded. “Are tribunals usually that long?”

  “No. Higbee just wanted all my dirt. I was able to get my boy Marek on the panel, but the universe did the rest. I don’t understand why I am manifesting this negativity.” Cora shook her head, lips puffing up in a disgruntled pout. “My horoscope told me to expect unwelcome guests.”

  “Unwelcome, yeah, the stars were downplaying it. And Sancha… How did she know about the Brotherhood?”

  “Her sire was the king of spiders. His webs stretched to the Brotherhood.” Cora shook her head. “Someone at the Blood Alliance either owed her a favor or just wanted to fuck with me. I almost swallowed my tongue to see her show up on that screen. I was told the Supreme Master of Tucson was going to be there. Now, that magnificent bastard owes me one.”

  “She barely spoke.” Red rubbed her hand through her hair. She had been jumped by a group before, but fighting was easier when you could see the jabs. Vampires delighted in subtle daggers, hidden by darkness and ruses, jammed into the back. Movies had them drowning in blood, but unseen powerplays were how they had operated under the radar after the dark ages. Live long enough as a vampire, you didn’t need to get your hands dirty. You got someone else to do it.

  Red knew from experience. It was her hands that Sancha dirtied.

  Cora rubbed her hands over her turtleneck sleeves. For a moment, she seemed as unsure as a human. The immortal confidence breaking to show the real person underneath. “I killed her maker. You’d think she’d throw me under the bus. A couple of them.”

  “Michel. Fuck, I helped you kill him.” Red slapped her forehead, groaning. She thought about the massacre in Oklahoma City. The cover up had been superbly engineered by Michel. Now, she knew why. She had never known that Michel had sired Sancha.

  “Sancha… she was entirely too chill. She knew what I wanted, and she could have teamed up with Higbee out of spite. Get a bit of cold comfort over Michel.” Cora paced, speaking aloud as if to herself. “I know the Blood Alliance heat has been on her since his failed coup, but she could have poured more salt over that tribunal. It’s a tossup over who she might hate more, me or you. I heard about Oklahoma. She should have wanted to nail you to the wall out of principle. You didn’t just kill a supreme, baby girl, you axed her hubby.”

  “I don’t know what you might have heard.” Red put up her hands as she rose, legs shaking. The night had drained the energy from her limbs. She didn’t know how many more questions and accusations that she could take. The worst were the ones that were true. “I might have staked Cowboy Kurt, but Sancha manipulated the situation from the start. She gave me the spoon I did him in with. Maybe she wanted to make sure that I—”

  “Don’t say that to anyone else, especially the DVA,” Cora warned, shaking her head. “Even among the dead, killing your husband is frowned upon. And queens want only smiles.”

  Red nodded, making eye contact with Cora. The supreme had many gifts but mesmerizing wasn’t one. This was one more secret they shared. It was one that Cora could use against her. Red shook herself. She had been around vampires too long. She was beginning to see every ally as a future enemy and every token of goodwill as a potential slap. Cora had fought for her tonight. She was the only one who didn’t want Red dead one way or another. “You’re the only one I have told.”

  “Good. Pour a sister a cup when you get hot tea like that.” Cora tapped her lips, brown eyes clouded in thought.

  Overextended nerves made Red ramble. “That’s about it. Then there is Hilde Higbee. Pissing off the head of the undead Mormon mafia wasn’t my best move. Admittedly, Vic did kill two of hers to save a pastor’s daughter, and I was bait. I spent most of that hunt injured in a van though. Might be why she thought I died. Nearly did. Funny story. Vic’s brother Lashawn had to make a tourniquet out of a—”

  Cora sighed before rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I appreciate that you feel so comfortable with me to share all of this, but that’s another thing not to tell anyone. Maybe not even me.”

  “What’s the deal with you and Higbee anyway? Why does she hate you?”

  “She’s a Bloodliner regressive who just loved hemming and hawing over my policies at the Summit. I had to just bite my tongue because she’s the chairperson of the Blood Alliance’s DVA Oversight committee.” Cora dipped her head before breathing hard out of her nose. “And a member of half a dozen others.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, can we get a break?” Red knew exactly who would be delighted to lay the full force of the blood law down on her next Dark Veil violation. It would probably just take Hilde an email to see it done.

  Cora shook her head. She touched Red’s shoulder. “Hey, I know you are freaked, but I got this. You’re part of the crew. I take care of my people.”

  “Thank you, Cora. I wouldn’t have gotten out of that if you hadn’t dug in your heels about Kristoff turning me.” Red weighed the outcome, logic tapping down on the primal monkey fear vibrating her temporal lobe. She couldn’t leave Southern California for a while, but she wasn’t going to hit Sunset Strip as a vampire this weekend. Cora had done that for her. “I mean it, thank you.”

  Cora
winked and squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll let you know when you can do me a solid favor back.”

  Like a cell door closing, Delilah’s warning echoed in Red’s head. She barely remembered leaving Moon Enterprises to find the parked Millennium Falcon in the darkened lot. The chill of January sunk into her jacket and the patch of worry sweat on the back of her dress. A passing car boomed the bass too loud to understand the lyrics. She hugged herself as she walked quicker to the van. Inglewood might have been off limits for vampires to feed, but the night had brought out unexpected villains already.

  Red hung her head. She rubbed her eyes as if she could wipe away the vision of the tribunal. All she did was grind mascara into her irises. She knew Lucas had waited for her, but she couldn’t face him yet.

  “They let you walk out, so that is a good sign.” Appearing from behind the van, Lucas stepped over to her. Hands in his pockets, the hint of sandalwood and tobacco clung to him from a sneaky cigarette puffed long ago to cut the stress. He spoke cautiously, like he was poking at dynamite. He cupped Red’s cheek. Relief lightened his gray eyes before a storm rolled in. “What happened? I followed you out of the building, but you didn’t even notice me.”

  “They let me go. Cora is like my court-appointed legal guardian or something. I work for her now. Quinn will have to take it up with her about payroll.” She tried to be glib, but this wasn’t just a new job. Heat pricked at her eyeballs. “I need to get out of here.”

  “We have the best van in the galaxy to get you home.” Lucas opened the passenger door for her, then hopped into the driver’s seat. Keys jammed into the ignition, and the Falcon roared to life. It jolted out of the lot and darted into traffic. Lucas muttered a soft curse at another driver as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel. He glanced between her and the road as he drove with a dead man’s abandon.

  Ignoring that usual lurch in her stomach from Lucas’s driving, Red stared into the side mirror. She memorized the sensation of seeing herself in the glass. If Hilde Higbee had had her way, Red would have kissed her reflection goodbye.

  Lucas touched her shoulder as they waited at a red light. “Tell me about it. You survived at least.”

  “Yeah, guess Cora really wants me around.” Neck limp against the head rest, Red couldn’t return his smile. She wouldn’t have called tonight a win.

  “She’s not the only one.” His grin faded. “I’ve seen you around ghosts. You don’t look as pale.”

  “I saw something worse—Hilde Higbee and Sancha Constanza. Cora didn’t get the tribunal she wanted. She barely got the verdict she wanted.” Red lowered her head. “They won’t need to rally the supremes again. The next time the DVA is called on me… the judgment has already been decided. I am to be turned.” She didn’t need to say by who. Lucas knew the blood law better than she did.

  Swearing furiously in florid British English that was hard to follow, Lucas leaned over the steering wheel as if he was mad enough to bite it. His shoulder muscles rippled under his leather jacket. He adjusted his jaw as he took a sharp right turn.

  Red braced herself on the door, without comment, long used to how he could turn city driving into an extreme sport. Somehow, seeing him panic made her feel calmer. Dealing with his worry was something she could handle even without a script.

  She wanted to say the right thing, but maybe words weren’t needed. All she had were vague ideas of how she could handle Kristoff Novak after all. More like suspicions. Kristoff might have had friends looking into her secrets, but Red had been digging for his. She didn’t know if she had hit gold yet, but if she was right—it was a case of mutually assured destruction. Furrowing her brow, the thought felt wrong. She reached out, half to calm him and half to distract herself. Red put her hand on Lucas’s knee and tried to convey through touch what she didn’t have the words to say.

  Loosening his death grip on the steering wheel, Lucas leaned back and sighed. “That fucking little Lord Fauntleroy suggested it, didn’t he? Finally make good on an old promise. Tiny wanker is still pissed that I plucked out his eye that one time.”

  Red wrinkled her nose at the violent visual. “He might be, but it was Higbee. Cora pulled some fake agreement out of her ass and Marek went with it. She pulled through this time.”

  “There isn’t going to be another time, Red. If the worst came, I wouldn’t let you stay an unsouled vampire against your wishes.” Pained even in the dim light of passing streetlamps, Lucas gritted his teeth. “Whatever you want, I’ll do. I promise you that. Told you I would do right by you, and I will.”

  “We don’t need to go over my last will and testament, Lucas.” Red put her hand up to stroke his soft black hair. “I’ll already hear it from Vic. I’d like to think I’ll make it out of this town alive.”

  Silence smothered the van until they parked next to Lucas’s motorcycle at the pink stucco California Arms building. The headlamps shined on the oleanders guarding the gated side entrance to the courtyard. Old smoke from the grill hit her nose as she stepped out of the van.

  Lucas took her hand in the yellowed security lights and pulled her to him.

  Red let herself be distracted by his kiss. Even flavored with worry, it made her heart skip a beat. She finally pulled away. Covering for her rattled nerves by taking the keys, she huddled close to him, not yet ready to go.

  Too much had happened in the last few days. It all clustered together like marbles jammed in the mouth of a jar. Yearning to escape but caught. What could she tell him? That she had seen the gears of destiny turning her away from the Brotherhood and toward the Blood Alliance? That her life was becoming a modern reboot of the Juniper St. James Saga? That he was the only thing that made sense in her life, and she still couldn’t tell him all her secrets?

  Red didn’t say any of it. She just kissed him on the cheek and left him by his bike.

  He put on his helmet, but his gaze still followed her though a dark visor.

  Passing a stray black cat cleaning its paw on the outside second floor hall, Red bent down to give it a pat. The feline tolerated her before bounding toward Mrs. Morales’s balcony. She girded her loins. This pyrrhic victory had to be shared with Vic.

  Red unlocked the apartment that she’d tried to make a home in and stepped inside. It felt like a cage with matching towels.

  Chapter Five

  January 22nd, After Sunset, Quinn Investigations, Culver City, Los Angeles, California

  Red stepped to the side, sweat dripping down her chest, fists up. She kept her focus on Quinn. They circled each other in the front room of Quinn Investigations. Muffled by the light-sealed windows, the sounds of traffic seemed far away even in the middle of Culver City. The curry smell from the nearby Indian place tickled her nose. Pushed aside, the office furniture huddled along the wall as if taking bets. Moving her feet like she could out race her thoughts, Red aimed a punch for his chin.

  Despite his wooden expression, she could tell he wasn’t impressed. Quinn caught her fist without unsettling a single precisely-gelled blond hair. He released it. “You’re telegraphing your move. It doesn’t matter if you put your whole body into the blow if I block it.”

  “I keep doing that.” Red shook her head. She wiped her sweaty palms on her gym shorts. The negative stream of thoughts had dogged her all day. Training with Quinn was routine, but she couldn’t get into the rhythm.

  “You’re rattled.” Quinn tossed a big right overhand punch.

  She blocked, huffing through clenched teeth. Of course, she was rattled!

  Even pulling his punches, Quinn’s blow radiated down her arm. “That’s when the enemy usually attacks. Concentrate, Red.”

  “Is that all anyone says to me now?” Red pivoted to punch Quinn in the stomach, then across his face before she pulled out a stake from the waistband of her gym shorts. She thrust the stake upward toward his heart, stopping it an inch from his chest.

  Quinn nodded before he took the stake and spun it in his hands. “That wasn’t bad.”

 
; Red shrugged, scratching the back of her neck, forcing an even tone as her stomach hardened. “I don’t know why we’re still doing this, Quinn. I was rejected from the Brotherhood. I can’t do the hunter’s challenge. And if Hilde Higbee knew that I was sparring with a stake, she’d have a field day.”

  “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t train.” Quinn pointed the stake at her. “What did you say about the Goonies?”

  “Don’t throw pop culture you don’t understand in my face.”

  “Hey, I saw that in theaters.” Quinn defended himself sheepishly. “Out of the two of us, I was actually alive for the 80s.”

  “Pick on the 90s baby, why don’t ya?”

  Quinn tucked the stake in his pocket. He donned a mentor-ish manner like Superman pulling on a cape to give little Jimmy Olson a pep talk. “This isn’t the end.”

  “It feels like it, Q. If I can’t do the hunter’s challenge, I doubt I can claim their bounties. They might as well have fired me,” Red confessed, hand on her temple. “This isn’t an apply again situation like Vic thinks. Not with what they heard on the recording from Halloween. I’m not Juniper’s reincarnation, but Michel’s lies about me took root in the Brotherhood.”

  Quinn toed the ground, inching his shoulders down, neck drooping, his emotional IQ fading in an aura of discomfort. He had warmed up to her, but the guilt-ridden immortal fumbled in most social situations. He had talked to her about her doppelgänger, but the story wasn’t easy for him. The Black Libertine, as he used to be known, had been a villain in it.

  “You were gagged, not deaf. You and Delilah heard. And so did ‘higher circles of the Brotherhood.’” Red made air quotes. The heaviness from the grim conviction pushed her chin down. Her ribs clamped tight around her lungs.

  “That was yesterday.” Quinn’s emotionless face belied the compassion in his tone. He squared his feet, putting his fists up. “Now what are you going to do today?”

  “Be a better hunter.” Red matched his stance. Tension balled up in her guts, but she knew he was right. Sparring with him was better than scrolling listlessly through apps on her phone, or grimly rewatching some old sitcom.