A Witch Called Red

by Sami Valentine

Published by Pocketmaus Publishing

www.samivalentine.com

© 2019 Sami Valentine

A Witch Called Red is the first book of The Red Witch Chronicles, an urban fantasy series containing magic, paranormal adventure, and vampire mayhem along with swearing, violence, and adult situations.

Get free reads (including a novelette prequel story), updates on my new books, and the skinny on the latest hot Urban Fantasy/Paranormal titles by subscribing to my newsletter at SamiValentine.com. Click here to sign up!

Dedicated to the people who helped encourage and inspire me to write and publish my debut novel: Jamie, Derek, Alex, and the fabulous ladies of the Get Shit Done Club.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Chapter One

August 3rd, 2017, Afternoon, the Sacred Heart Hospital, Eugene, Oregon

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Smelling antiseptic, she tensed before opening sleep-crusted eyes to focus on the heart monitor screen. Consciousness hit her like a wave of anxiety. She pushed the thin blue blanket down. Wincing at a sudden pain in her wrist, she sat up in the hospital bed and swayed at the rush to her head.

Her vision blurred as she studied the bandage on her wrist covering unconnected IV ducts. The name on her patient bracelet read Jane Doe.

“What the fuck?” Her raspy voice sounded like she hadn’t spoken in a hundred years.

She looked around at the white curtain surrounding the bed before her eyes found the sleeping man in the chair at the foot of the bed.

Head tilted back, he had East Asian features and a shoulder-length mullet with short, spiky black bangs that popped up like a cockatoo’s. A faded Metallica logo on his denim vest peeked out from under his folded arms. The left arm was tanner than the right. His knees poked out of his torn jeans, and his dirty steel toe boots were propped up against the leg of the bed.

“Hey, Mister,” she croaked out, throat dry, before she looked around and saw a small pink plastic mug on the bed stand. She pulled it over and peered at the clear water inside before drinking, then trying again. “Hey!”

“I wasn’t there—” The man jumped in his chair, jerking his head up as his dark eyes flipped open. “Oh, shit, you’re awake.”

“Seems like it. Unless this is one of those weird dreams where you think you wake up but it’s still a dream.” She looked around again. It felt like a dream, sitting in a hospital room with a guy who looked like a roadie for a metal tribute band. But the pain in her wrist and the general ache all over her body were evidence of reality.

She put her hand to her chin, looking down as she struggled to remember. She remembered the blue sky, the plane overhead, and the grass underneath her. Then a shadow loomed over her, features slowly becoming clear.

It was him. The man in the chair.

She remembered him carrying her and settling her on a bean bag chair in a van, then only flashes of the bright lights of the hospital. “You brought me here. Um, where is here? Actually, let’s start with who are you?”

“I’m Vic. I found you off the 126 near Coyote Creek. You’re at the Sacred Heart in Eugene.”

“Eugene, Oregon.” She said the city name slowly as she read the patient bracelet again. She knew of it, but nothing stirred in her beyond a punchline from an old Simpsons episode. “Why?”

“You tell me. I’m just a guy who thought he was going to take a nap in his van after a long drive. Then I found you. Your neck is all marked up, bruises and fang bites… What happened to you?”

Fang bites on the neck?

Like a peek behind a dark veil came the awareness that humans were far from the apex predator. She didn’t have a montage of memories; it was more like his words shook supernatural trivia into her mind.

Fire and stakes killed vampires. Blessed silver could wound or repel them. Crosses were a toss-up. Supernatural speed and strength with fangs equipped with venom to put their victims in thrall. She might not be able to remember a single one, but she knew of them. She might not have known where she was, but she knew what bumped in the night.

“A bite? Like a dog or a, um, vam—” She stopped herself. She didn’t know who Vic was. He could have been a trucker for all she knew.

Vic opened the curtain a crack to glance at the sleeping patient in the other bed in the shared room. He looked back at her, an eyebrow raised. “You were going to say vampire.”

“Would that be crazy if I did?”

“Not to me.” Vic said. “Who are you? The police couldn’t find anything when they ran your prints.”

She opened her mouth, but the words died on her tongue. It wasn’t as if her name was on the tip of her tongue. Her mind just felt blank. She tried to think of where she was from or who her family was, but only found more blanks. She knew concretely that she was a white woman, from America, who had watched the Simpsons at least once and knew that monsters existed. Everything else was fuzzy. “I don’t know.”

“Where did you come from?”

“I don’t know.”

“How’d you get out there?”

“I don’t know, I…” She couldn’t even remember her name, let alone how she ended up by Coyote Creek.

“How do you know you were attacked by a vampire?”

She shrugged. That was a question she could answer. “I assumed, because you said fang bites. Oh God, what if it was a werewolf?”

“No, it looks like a vampire’s handiwork. You have some old bite scars too.” Vic slumped back in his chair. “What color are your eyes?”

“Um, brown?” She guessed, frowning as she realized she didn’t know. She reached up to find her hair in a bun, held back with two hair ties, and let her hair down. Looking at the wavy red hair, she bit her lip. Her hair was so long. The sight didn’t jog her memory, it just made her realize she would have to use a lot of conditioner.

“No, green.” Vic stood and walked closer. “So, you don’t remember anything?”

“Not about me. I think I have some general facts like Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492.” She pursed her lips, the question kickstarting her brain synapses like slapping an old TV on the fritz. “Which I have some opinions about, apparently. I know what a molecule is, and that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston dated. Which I also have some opinions about.” She frowned. “Nothing about me.”

“What day is it?”

She shrugged.

“Okay, that isn’t fair. You’ve been unconscious for a while.” Vic crossed his arms. “Who is President?”

“Barack Obama,” she said.

Vic tilted his head. “No, it’s Donald Trump.”

“The guy from the reality show?” She laughed. “Okay, I know that I’m amnesia girl, but don’t mess with me like that. It’s only two years into Obama’s presidency.”

“Two years? It’s 2018.”

She furrowed her brow before pinching herself. “I’m ready to appear naked in English class reading a book report now.”

“Tough titties on that kitty, Red. You’re awake, alive, and missing the last eight years. And you don’t know where you’ve been?”

She shook her head, then frowned at him. “Red?”

“I gotta call you something.”

She shrugged. Red… It was better than Jane Doe. “So, what’s your deal? Hunter? Vigilante trucker? Kind of the same thing, I guess, but probably not a Bard.”

“What? Why not?” Vic looked down at himself. “I am, for your information. From a long line of them.”

“You just look so business in the front and party in the back.” Red smiled. She might not have memories, but her sense of humor still worked.

In addition to Jennifer Aniston’s love life, she knew enough about the supernatural world to remember the players. Hunters were scattered vigilantes, bounty hunters, and people who couldn’t resist the call to fight the darkness. The Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes was an ancient order of scholars who acted as mentors to the supernatural champions who kept demons, vampires, and more dark beings at bay. Vic looked more like a drunk guy at a honky-tonk yelling for someone to play “Freebird” than a Bard.

“I know my badass style makes me stand out from the stuffed shirts, but I have my credentials. I had at least two years at UCLA too before I dropped out,” Vic said. “I’d ask you how you know about the Brotherhood, but I reckon you’d say you don’t know.”

Red nodded. “You said my prints didn’t come up in the check?”

“Nope. You were in a bloody white dress, roughed up, without any ID. No phone. Nothing.”

“Can you bring me a mirror? Anything to look at myself in.” Red asked.

Vic nodded and looked around before grabbing a spoon off the rolling tray beside the bed. He handed it to her.

Red looked at herself, distorted in the back of the spoon, and pulled away the bandage on her neck. The mass of purple bruises stood out first, the puncture wounds from vampire fangs nearly lost in the color. Her skin was chalky pale, and dark circles lay under her bright green eyes. She had just woken up but looked and felt like she could sleep for another week.

“It’s weird. I’m familiar, but I wouldn’t…” How could she explain the feeling of seeing a face that she barely recognized, yet instinctively knew, reflected at her? “What happened to me?”

“I’d hoped you’d tell me.” Vic shrugged. “My simplest theory is that you’re a hunter who crossed the wrong vamps. There are some with the gift to mesmerize their victims. But I’ve never seen anyone with their brain scrubbed so hard. You looked thrashed.”

“Yeah, maybe the other guy looks worse.”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Maybe that’s why you can’t remember. The vampire opened the amnesia door, and your brain said, ‘don’t mind if I do.’”

Red looked down at the spoon again, wondering what could be so bad that she forgot not just eight years, but her whole life.

“Or maybe it was dark fairies,” Vic said, “and you escaped from their realm, and this is just interdimensional jet lag?” He raised his hands, his voice pitching higher as he tried, and failed, to sound comforting.

“Is that supposed to be the bright side? Because that’s not any better.”

A male nurse wearing blue scrubs and a bright white smile on his dark face pushed a cart into the room. “Hey, hey, you’re awake!”

Vic slipped out of the room while the nurse fussed over her. She let herself sink into the pillows. Sleep claimed her in a fitful wave as she visualized her face and found a stranger staring back.

She woke to a parade of baffled social workers, curious nurses, and finally a detective.

In a suit rumpled from too much sitting, mustard stain on the lapel, the bald detective took quick notes in his notepad between brisk questions. The pen stopped moving while he studied the bite marks on her neck. His beady blue eyes blinked in recognition behind his glasses.

Familiar like a sunset, Red recognized this old pattern from law enforcement. Strange crimes with witnesses spouting fantastic tales ended up as cold cases. The supernatural might have been a secret to most humans, but she didn’t need to know her real name to know this cop had seen his fair share of the weird. He would believe her, even if he denied it, but he was just too close to retirement to chase shadows.

“Before you go, could you give me Vic’s number? The man who helped me. I’d like to thank him,” Red said.

The detective looked through his notes before jotting down a number and handing it to her. “Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am.”

The nurse tried to convince her to stay in bed, but Red felt a weight pressing on her chest the longer she stayed in the hospital. Something about hospitals gave her the creeps.

In donated baggy jeans and a T-shirt that read North Dakota: Best for Last Club, Red tied up the laces on her leather boots. She had been found wearing them. They were the only thing that she could claim. Her bloody dress and underwear had been taken somewhere as evidence. She hadn’t even seen them. She had to wonder what dress went with vintage black boots.

Walking to the nurses’ station, she dialed the number, scanning the detective’s even scrawl, wondering what she was even doing.

Vic picked up after two rings. “Vic. Talk.”

“Hey, it’s me. Red.” She sighed, realizing she hadn’t exactly practiced what she was going to stay beyond that she was going crazy in this hospital. “I know this is weird, but I don’t know, you’re more useful than the cops. Can you come get me?”

“I’m always more useful than the fuzz.” Vic said dryly. “Okay, Red, let’s be real. You’ve got no name and nothing more than the memory that something bumps in the night. I know how this ends. I’ve been there, just with more memories attached. I can help you, but you gotta choose. Those social workers at the hospital can get you into housing, maybe work, something. I’m running after jobs from the Brotherhood like a hunter. I’m not the kind of Bard you’re thinking of. You roll with me, you’ll find yourself living out of motels, hanging out in a van, always on the highway. You’ll earn a cut of whatever bounties we can claim until you’re ready to run loose. In the meantime, I control the radio.”

Red looked around the nurses’ station. She knew what he was saying was true. No specific memories came to mind, but her left hand curled as if around an invisible stake. “That works for me. I’ll meet you out front.”

Vic sighed. “Alright, kid. Keep in mind that this is temporary. I’m a lone wolf. You can stick around, but you’ll need to be useful. You’ll be my…” He snapped his fingers. “Intern. Prepare for danger, research, and beer runs, Red.”

Red laughed. “I’m waiting with bated breath.”

October 24th, 2018, Past Sunset, a gas station on the edge of San Bernardino, California, USA - Over a Year Later

The call came in after breakfast about the murdered woman found on the beach. Red was behind the wheel before noon. Eight long hours later, they were barely in LA County.

Red hiked up the reusable shopping bag on her jean-covered hip, rattling the six pack inside. Vic should be grateful for this beer run, she grumbled to herself, after she drove most of the way from Reno. The convenience store door dinged behind her.

The clerk almost hadn’t accepted the twenty she had laid on the counter. The bloody thumbprint on the bill had made the Latino man cross himself and say a small prayer.

Red had frowned when she realized she understood his words. That was a new one to tell Vic. Red didn’t know her own name, who she was, or where she came from, but apparently, she could understand Spanish. Another quirk of her supernatural amnesia.

The last glow of the sun faded, casting smoggy shadow over the San Bernardino foothills. Her boot crushed broken glass as she walked across the parking lot of what looked like the loneliest gas station in the inland empire. Heat radiated from the ground. Dead scrub brush surrounded the lot. The old light pole painted an orange circle on the pavement. Coyotes howled in the distance. Red didn’t need the reminder that predators stalked the night.

Stopping by the black creeper van with side and back windows spray painted, Red paused to look at the balding right front tire and put the beer on the stubby hood. Car maintenance wasn’t one of her lost skills, but she was quick with mechanics. It didn’t take her long to figure out how to fix minor issues with the van. It was what Vic appreciated the most about her, but they couldn’t keep patching the tire. The Millennium Falcon, the van also affectionately known as the Falcon, needed a new one soon.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and pulled a stake out of her pocket. “I see you. Neon isn’t that stealthy.”

The vampire stopped short from a run that would have put an Olympic athlete to shame, skateboard under his arm. Dropping the board, he crossed his arms over his neon orange tank top. His sun-streaked mop of blond hair would be the envy of any surfer. “No ragging on the duds.”

Heartbeat picking up, Red lifted her eyebrows and squeezed the stake. She summoned her magic from the well of energy centered over her navel. It was as reliable as an old beater car, prone to stalling, but it still felt familiar like an old jacket. It had taken months for her to even float a pencil. She wouldn’t call herself a witch just yet. She had been practicing with all four elements, but only Air ever answered her call. “Do you have a soul?”

“Fuck no,” the skateboarder said. “Do I look like a loser?”

Red shrugged. “You look like an undead Backstreet Boys reject.”

He dropped his board and charged.

She tossed the stake and forced her will onto the air, harnessing it to propel the stake toward the vampire. She couldn’t reliably make things fly, but she had almost mastered gliding. Her focus scattered as the urban coyotes yipped closer.

The stake embedded deep in the wrong side of the vampire’s chest.

“Effing A, lady!” The skateboarder stopped and hunched over, grabbing at the stake in his shoulder. “What are you? A mutant?”

Red shrugged. “That’s what I keep asking.” She tried to pull the stake back with her mind, but her energy fizzled and popped. She dodged the rocketing stake, and it hit the side of the Falcon. Jogging backwards, she glanced around in search of it, brushing her hair over her shoulder and out of her face.

“Whose marks are those?” The vampire turned paler, clashing with his orange neon. “Are you claimed? I don’t need the heat, man, not with another vamp and not with the Blood Alliance.”

“I’m not claimed.” Red bent to retrieve the fallen stake.

He wasn’t the first vampire to notice the old scars on her neck. Most vampires gave them a second glance, even though they were indistinct after laser scar treatment.

Red banged on the van door, wondering where the hell Vic was. She shook her hand, willing magic out of it, but it was as reliable as a stray cat. Not even a spark. Her energy was exhausted after making the stake fly.

“Cool beans.” The skateboarder hissed and revealed his fangs. “Let’s see what you taste like, weirdo.”

Red raised the stake, but it was too late.

The vampire slammed her against the van. “I don’t think the catch and release rule from the supreme bitch applies to whatever the hell you are.”

Red kneed him between the legs.

The skateboarder stumbled back with a yell and grabbed his crotch. A ding from the convenience store door drew his attention. “Shit, now I have to take him out too. Fuck, my sire is going to be pissed. Gonna yell at me in European.” He rushed Red.

Red had the stake ready to jam it through his heart as he collided with her. The air knocked from her, she managed to huff out, “Daddy issues?”

The skateboarder stilled and staggered to the side. His pale face decayed rapidly, blond hair falling to dust, leaving greasy bones to fall in a heap. The skateboarder couldn’t have been that old in death.

When a vampire was staked, the magic preserving them seemed to snap, leaving the body decaying rapidly as if to make up for lost time. The oldest ones barely left dust. Sunrise would take care of whatever was left, leaving burning bones to greet the dawn.

Red looked over at the convenience store to see the sign turn over from open to closed. She could imagine that a night clerk at a convenience store saw enough weirdness to teach him to mind his business. Most humans didn’t know what bumped in the night, but some people couldn’t avoid it.

She was one of them.

The van’s side door slid open.

Under the hanging Tibetan prayer flags and Christmas lights in the blanket-strewn back of the van, Vic popped his head out. Giant headphones hung on his neck. His laptop blared at top volume behind him on a beanbag. The supernatural world knew him as a hunter, one of the few who were brave enough to go after werewolves. He had a badass reputation, but she was one of the few who knew he was a TV junkie. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much, just fighting for my life against an undead Tony Hawk wannabe. Discovered I know basic Spanish.” Red rolled her eyes. “Standard beer run.”

“Hablo español, eh?” Vic asked, then quickly added, “Hangug-eseo malhal su issni?”

“Um…” Red cocked her head.

“Well, now we know you know Spanish but not Korean.”

They played a game out of trying to jog her memory. They’d learned that she knew how to stake a vampire, was good at math, and had enough magic to occasionally get her out of a pinch. Not her real name. Even after he read through a baby name book.

She brushed her red hair off her shoulder. For a guy who believed in nearly every conspiracy theory, he hadn’t been very imaginative with her nickname. It stuck anyway.

“Gonna have to explain that to Quinn.” Vic stepped out of the van and looked at the vampire’s bones before he spotted the bag with the six-pack of beer on the hood of the Falcon. Brushing his black mullet back, he nodded to Red. “IPA? Nice.” He cracked open a beer and pounded it before crushing the can against his head. “Thirsty Thursday, am I right?”

“It’s Wednesday.” Red pulled the stake from the vampire’s empty rib cage before she walked around to the driver’s side of the van. “Come on, didn’t you say your buddy was in Culver City? We still have an hour left on the road.”

“Don’t worry. Quinn’s a PI and a vampire—he’ll still be awake.” Vic grabbed the beer. Sliding the side door closed on his TV watching nest, he climbed into the passenger seat beside her. “All we have to worry about is if he got called to his other job.”

“Other job?” Red asked. Vic had told her a lot of stories, but made it sound more like Quinn skulked in alleys saving maidens rather than sat on a payroll.

“I never said he was a successful gumshoe.” Vic shrugged. “He moonlights as a sketch artist for the LAPD. Does a bit of this and that for the Supreme Master of the City when she calls on him, too.”

She knew a little bit about Vic’s two years at UCLA, where he ran from being a Bard and ended up spending more time with a souled vampire detective than in his computer science classes. He made it sound like he spent most of his time stoned and doing surveillance. Red could read between the lines. Vic’s friend wasn’t your usual souled vampire, or at least Vic thought he was more.

Quinn had called and asked for help. That was all the information Vic needed to get them on the road.

Red backed the van up, then gunned it ran over the bones on the way out of the parking lot to make it less recognizable. The vampire’s brittle remains shattered under the Falcon’s tires. Sunrise would burn the bones, but a complete skeleton didn’t take long to raise questions. From the back, the laptop’s blaring in the back of the van distracted her from her brewing question about Quinn. “What are you watching?”

“Period piece.”

Red looked over at Vic in his sleeveless denim vest and Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt. “Like Jane Austen?”

“No, it is about Victorian hookers, but tasteful. It's a BBC show.” Vic folded his arms. “I just started it.”

She smirked.

“What? I don’t just watch 9/11 documentaries or YouTube videos about the FBI. I have layers.”

“Uh huh.” Red said before she refocused on the puttering LA traffic. She navigated through the light traffic on the wide boulevard, following the signs for the 66 to get to the 10 based on her memory of the map she had read earlier. Vic was paranoid about Google and banished any GPS from the car. “Can you turn it off since you’re not watching it?”

The van jerked, and a warning icon blazed to life on the dashboard as a tire popped loudly. Turning into the vehicle’s slide, she put on her hazard lights.

“You okay?” Vic asked.

“Yeah, it’s just a tire. I bet it’s the front one.” She steered the Falcon over to the shoulder and turned right into a darkened strip mall, parking in front of a closed nail salon.

“We have a donut in the back.” Vic sighed and opened the door.

Unbuckling herself, Red rubbed her temples. She had driven most of the eight hours from Reno, each hour tempting herself with Vic’s promises of the amazing shower at his friend Quinn’s place. Culver City was still an hour away, and with a flat tire… That shower felt so out of reach.

Clever English banter boomed behind her from tinny laptop speakers.

Twisting in the van’s high seat, she climbed into the back to turn off his show that Vic had left on. On her knees, she turned the laptop around to look for the off button when she noticed the screen.

Lounging in a boudoir, the woman lay in stockings and corset, her English accent coy as she flirted with a dark-haired man in a tuxedo.

Slapping the laptop closed, Red’s heart raced, and her ears rang. The adrenaline flatlined in her system.

Dragging air through her lungs, she slumped on a bean bag chair and put her head in her hands. Her chest ached. She leaned her head between her knees, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t know what it was about the scene, but it felt like a weight had landed on her shoulders. Trying to calm her breathing, she didn’t look up when the side door slid open.

“Hey, easy, Red,” Vic said as he crouched in front of her. “Keep your breathing steady. Through your nose. That’s it.”

He didn’t ask what she had seen or what it meant. It would have been like asking how she understood Spanish. She wouldn’t have an answer.

“I hate this. I can’t avoid triggers if I don’t know what they are.” Red choked the words out as she tried to calm her ragged breathing. “I can’t trust myself if any random thing could set me off.”

“Sure, you can trust yourself. You know who you are.”

Red glared at him.

“You don’t have the bio, but you know the essence. That’s enough. The rest is baggage.” Vic shrugged. He gestured to the makeshift bed of bean bag chairs in the back of the van. “Take a nap. I’ll get us back on the road.”

She rubbed her neck, feeling the nearly invisible fang marks on her skin, then laid down on the bean bag in the nest of blankets. Red might know that she hated cob salad or loved Harry Potter, but it wasn’t the same as knowing what formed her.

After over a year, she still knew as much as she did when she woke up in that hospital in Eugene. They had crisscrossed the West and met half the active hunters and few retired ones. None had recognized her. Even talking to a spirit or two hadn’t brought more than obscure riddles about her mother. A long-dead pilgrim told her she came from a long line of witches, but they hadn’t found a coven missing a member. Every clue was a dead end.

Her hands shook.

Red had long ago accepted that Vic was probably right. She was probably an inexperienced witch or hunter that tangoed with the wrong vampire who mesmerized her into forgetting. What she’d suffered didn’t keep her up at night. It was the question around what she loved. Who were her parents, how did she grow up, who were her high school friends, what was the story behind the black lyre tattooed on her left shoulder? Those were the questions that haunted her.

She needed something to take her mind off the anxiety washing over her. She grabbed a citronella candle from a plastic milk crate filled with supplies. Staring at it, she tried to visualize a blue flame erupting from the wick.

Magic came in many forms, from the ceremonial magic of exorcisms and blessings that even muggles could do, to harnessing the power of the elements. She had been trying to make a spark for months. If she thought air was difficult, fire was even more beyond her. Yet, Red still squinted at the squat white candle in the tin.

Light, damn you, light!

The scent of citronella made her nose twitch, and she couldn’t concentrate.

“Fuck.” She tossed the candle back into the box. Who was she fooling? She was as bad at magic as she was at remembering.

Red curled up on the multicolored bean bag, trying to breathe deep and push past the faceless ghosts to steal some sleep.

Chapter Two

October 24th, 2018, Night, Strip Mall in Rancho Cucamonga, LA County, California, USA

Snow sleeted against the window. She could hear the wind howling. Red shivered before she buried deeper into the blankets. She leaned her head against a strong, firm, bare chest. She looked up and smiled.

The dim light cast shadows over the face, always obscuring him from view except for the storm gray eyes staring back at her.

She ran her blind fingers over his high cheekbones, chilled as if carved from marble, to comb through his mussed hair. “Do you at least have a secret handshake?”

“Afraid not, kitten. We have a lot of inane rituals, but handshakes are not one of them.”

Red pouted. “Not going to lie, I’m a little disappointed.”

Chuckling, he rolled her under him, faster than she could process. Rising up on his palms, lean biceps tensed, he stared down at her.

Red ran her hand down his defined abs to the ridged V-shape of his hip. “What about—”

He kissed her, lips brushing softly as he ran his fingers through her hair. The kiss deepened, leaving her breathless. His hand cupped her breast, thumb circling her nipple. He pulled back, grinning, before peppering kisses down her neck. Cold lips started a fire on her skin, and she forgot all about what she was going to ask.

Red arched her back. She fell off the bean bag onto the floor of the Millennium Falcon, her foot kicking the tackle box tied to the van wall. She panted as she pushed herself up. Her body seemed to want to fall back into sleep to carry on where she had left off. Her imagination was already making her blush at the thought of Vic waking her from a sex dream.

After Vic had found her by Coyote Creek, Red had tried a shamanic ritual to help remember past lives and repressed memories. It had only given her disjointed, shadowy dreams. This wasn’t the first time she’d had a vivid dream of the mystery man, but it was the first time she’d heard his voice.

Sex dreams—amazing sex dreams, if she were honest—weren’t the only time that the mystery man made a cameo in her subconscious. She had dreams of watching him prowling behind slabs of granite, ashes under his boots, yet she knew he would protect her. His face had always been obscured. She tried to hold on to image of his chiseled features, his soft black hair, and the look in those gray eyes… The image faded, and she couldn’t keep it. She never could hold onto the dreams.

She could only capture flickers, not of memories, but images that rarely made sense in her dreams. Times and places that she hadn’t been and couldn’t possibly have been—moonlit pyramids, crumbling towers, locomotives puffing dense black smoke. Also, places so mundane she could have seen them anywhere—a classroom, a cemetery, and a red diner booth.

Red got up, adjusting her jeans and black tank top before opening the Falcon and stepping outside. She looked at Vic, hunched over the van’s front tire.

“I almost have it,” Vic said. “I texted Quinn, so he knows we’re running late. He’s not much of a talker, but he gets livelier after dark.”

Red leaned against the van. “Most vampires do.”

“Can you be cool around him? It can’t be easy to be around vamps, even knowing that he has a soul.” He shrugged. “Considering.”

“I’ll be cool.”

“You weren’t cool with them in OKC.” Vic straightened on his knees and crossed his arms.

Red sighed and sat down in the open side door of the van. “You know I chilled out after working with Souled Sal in Oklahoma. I don’t have the best history with vampires, but I know the difference between the good guys and the bad ones.”

“You sure?” Vic raised his eyebrow. “A vampire might have been the one to erase your memories, and it's chill to be around them?” He shook his head. “I don’t buy it. Werewolves killed my family, and it doesn’t matter who they are, I can’t be around one of them without thinking about it. You’ve had a hard few weeks. How are you gonna react when you’re sitting across from a vampire?”

“If you tell me they’re hunters, that’s enough. We all come to this life differently. I’m not going to get all PTSD on your friend. You know I don’t crack in a fight. It’s just when it gets quiet.”

“All I’m saying is don’t stake Quinn. I was once his intern.”

The chop of a motorcycle sounded in front of them, getting closer. A headlight blinded her before the bike came to a stop. Red looked away.

“Thanks for the blinding light. I didn’t need to see what I’m doing,” Vic muttered.

“You should be thanking me, mate,” the English voice said as the rider popped out his kickstand and killed his lights. The streetlight reflected off the safety pins and patches of old punk bands on his leather jacket. “Quinn owes me for driving to the far side of Rancho Cucamonga.”

Red put her hand to her mouth as her ears perked up at the voice. She peeked out at him from the open van door.

“Oh, boohoo, we’ve been on the road all day,” Vic said. “I didn’t tell him to send the welcome wagon.”

“LA is crawling with vampires. Not everyone plays nice like we do.” The newcomer got off his bike. Lean in his denim and leather, he swaggered toward them.

Vic waved his hand as he stood. “Yeah, yeah, we already staked a douchebag in board shorts on our way into town. What’s your name again? Lucas, Ice Pick, maybe Greg?”

“Greg? Really?” The biker took off his helmet to reveal black hair and high cheekbones that models would die for, his skin untouched by the California sun. He had been plucked from the mortal coil in his twenties, before he could lose the boyishness in his handsome face. His lips were full and looked mischievous, but sorrow lingered in his pale gray eyes. The shadows only added more mystery to his handsome features.

Red furrowed her brow, straining to catch his voice. She stared at the vampire, forcing her jaw not to drop. He sounded so familiar. She stood and stepped beside Vic. “Who is he, Vic? Another friend?”

“No, Sid Vicious here is one of Quinn’s.” Vic shrugged as if there was no accounting for taste before grinning. “I’m giving him shit. He’s cool. His real name isn’t Greg.”

The biker stepped from the motorcycle and looked her over from head to toe. His eyes widened before he looked away. His lips gaped open for a moment before he clenched his jaw. “Who’s the bird?”

“My intern.” Vic jerked his thumb at Red. “Red.”

“We don’t need your help.” The biker put his helmet back on and hopped on his bike. “Get her out of the city tonight.” He started the bike and kicked back the stand with a final look at them. The motorcycle spun and sped out of the parking lot.

“What? What about all the sensitive Blood Alliance bullshit? Vampires not playing by the rules. Quinn called in one hell of a favor on this.” Vic waved his hands over his head trying to flag motorcycle down.

“Are we being punk’d?” Red rubbed her arms, staring at the spot where the motorcycle was. “I need to know who that is.”

“That was Lucas Crawford—proof that a soul doesn’t stop you from being a dick. He’s the annoying vampire cousin that Quinn can’t shake off. Works for him sometimes.”

“What’s his deal?”

“He’s a vampire. Enough said.” Vic shrugged and knelt to put away his tools after tightening one last lug on the wheel.

“I recognized him. I think… His voice sounded like one from a dream. At least, I think it was.” Red admitted before describing the flashes and snippets of the dreams she remembered of the granite stone circle. “I was sitting behind these stones. Hard to explain since it's a lot of flashes of images. I think he was trying to help me.”

“You’ve had this dream before.” Vic stared at her, toolbox under his arm. His fatigued eyes narrowed to slits before he shook his head. “This is some Memento shit. Listen, you were a mess when I found you. Then all the scars.” Vic gestured at his neck before looking down. “Maybe you’re remembering something, but maybe not. I’ve seen Lucas in action. If he was going to save you, he’d do it.”

“Well, he was acting all weird.” Red shrugged. “Is that a souled vampire thing?”

All vampires were animated by a demonic instinct, but for the last hundred years, more and more had been bewitched to feel their human conscience. Poetically, they had their souls returned. Technically speaking, they were cursed to feel remorse and empathy. All the facets of the human emotional condition that the demon essence possessing their bodies suppressed. It might not sound like a soul to a human, but after countless nights of murder, that guilt was a karmic bitch. It was meant to be. She’d only met a few on her journey. Traveling the byways on demon hunts, she had found more of the original unsouled and unrepentant kind.

“He’s always weird, but he usually sticks around to make with the banter.” Vic hoisted his toolbox into the van. “We need to get to Quinn. He said that something about this case being different.”

Red hopped into the driver’s seat. She put her hand over her heart, trying to calm it, before she stuck the key into the ignition. The pale gray eyes of a demon flashed in her mind as she drove under the streetlights and billboards, through the City of Angels.

Chapter Three

October 24th, 2018, Night, Quinn Investigations in Culver City, Los Angeles, California, USA

Red stepped through the broken glass door of the office building, following behind Vic to the cracked open door on the first floor. ‘Quinn Investigations’ read the small plaque on the wall beside it. She held a revolver, loaded with wooden bullets, at her side.

Loose papers and turned over file cabinets covered the floor of the small front room. Two men bent over the secretary’s desk.

Skinny and hunched over in a Rick and Morty shirt, the shorter one typed into the desktop computer. His tongue stuck out between through his fangs in concentration. Pale, he looked as if he hadn’t gotten much sun even when he was alive.

Dressed like a bank manager, the taller bald black man glared at the files as if they were stocks going belly up. He looked up, fangs jutting out of his mouth, and hissed.

Vic hit the lights and raised his shotgun. “Wooden tips, cucks.”

“I’ll rip that out of your hands and shove it up your mullet-wearing ass,” the taller vampire said.

Red pulled her cell phone from her pocket and took a picture quickly. “I guess we won’t be appealing to your souls. Let’s try your brains.” She stepped in front of Vic as she put her phone away and tightened her grip on the revolver at her side before raising it. “Bad time to make trouble, boys, what with that fancy vampire summit and all. Quinn has enough connections to make a stink.” Red didn’t know that, actually. He could have been a weirdo loner.

Since he was Vic’s friend, he probably was.

“Come on.” The shorter vampire pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sprinted out the door fast enough to stir Vic’s mullet as he passed.

“Chicken.” The black vampire left behind adjusted his suit jacket lapels and stepped away from the desk. “Hunters, eh? Is that how far the mighty Quinn Byrnes has fallen, to consort with you people?”

"You people?" Vic blew a raspberry.

“I’m a witch, so watch it, pal.” Red lifted her hand, trying to look more confident than she felt as she focused her attention to summon her magic, pleading with the little bit left to listen.

He widened his stance and raised his fists. “I don’t scare easy.”

Red slammed her palm forward, drawing upon the well of energy within as she called to the element of air.

The vampire flew back and hit the window behind him, taking the cheap Venetian blinds with him as he fell through the cracking glass. An alarm sounded, and a floodlight came on outside the building. Grimacing, the vampire brushed off his suit and fled in a blur , his bald head reflecting the light.

“I wanted to shoot that one,” Vic said.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think your friend wants either dead vampires or gunshots in his office.” Red bent over at the waist and controlled the urge to dry heave. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck. Chills rolled down her spine. That spell had looked cool, but now she felt like she was getting the flu. Too much magic took a toll. She would need to remember to eat or meditate to center her energies. She hoped that a half-melted candy bar in the van would do the trick.

“If he’s still alive.” Vic gritted his teeth, looking around. Fear glimmered in his brown eyes. He stomped past Red to go into the closed door on the left. “He has an apartment in the basement.”

Red nodded before she turned in a circle, surveying the trashed office. She stepped over to one fallen filling cabinet and pushed it upright. Trying to keep the files together, she gathered up the loose papers and folders and placed them at the foot of the cabinet they spewed out from. She found an open safe, ripped from a wall somewhere else, on the floor by the desk.

The safe had been cracked, its metal front hanging open with files, boxes, and books spilled out of it. She pushed the items back into the safe, trying not to look at them. No cash or jewels, just the ephemera of a very old life. A photo album lay open to reveal a sepia portrait of a light-haired woman in a crown and medieval garb, lounging in a Victorian parlor. She closed the album quickly, feeling like she was spying, and shoved it in the safe.

A torn piece of paper fluttered out. She picked it up. The sketch paper had gone soft with age. She set it on the pile with the others, face up, and frowned as she focused on the scrap of paper and the sketched figure of a reclining blindfolded woman on it.

The paper had been ripped at the bust line, leaving only the face, tensed bare shoulders, and an arm raised over the head. She picked it up again to study the anticipation in the woman’s mouth and jaw under the blindfold. The aged pencil marks had faded, but the lines came together in a forehead, mouth, and chin that resembled the one she saw every day in the mirror.

Hearing the opening of a door, Red pulled out her phone and took a quick picture of the sketch before shoving it back into the photo album and pushing both back into the safe. Red stood and stepped away. Her heart raced even as she tried to tell herself that the sketch didn’t look like her that much.

She was imagining things, just like with Lucas. Had she been looking so hard for clues about herself that she saw them everywhere? Hadn’t she learned anything from that wild goose chase in Nevada?

Vic stepped into the office and opened the door wider, showing a smaller private office behind him. A relieved grin stretched across his face.

A tall, broad-shouldered man, rubbing his hand over his spikey blond hair down to a growing goose egg on his temple, walked behind Vic. He had a rugged masculine look with a strong jaw and brow. A dark V-neck shirt clung to his defined chest in wet patches. His pale skin pegged him as a vampire, but the brooding glint to his brown eyes marked his soul.

“They caught the old man in the shower!” Vic said, chuckling even as he gazed at Quinn like a comic fanboy meeting Stan Lee. “Didn’t even see them.”

Red raised her eyebrows. She could call the vampire a lot of things, but old wasn’t one of them. Whoever had turned him had caught him on the cusp of thirty.

“You don’t need to sound so happy about it.” Quinn glared at Vic without bite in his eyes, his tone droll and quiet, without any change in expression.

“You’re the one who was always going on about vigilance when I was at UCLA.”

“You used to hunt high and end up at In-N-Out Burger,” Quinn said dryly. He looked over at Red, and his stone expression grew stonier. “Who’s this?”

“My intern.” Vic gestured to Red with a deadpan expression. “She keeps up my Twitter.”

Red stepped forward and held out her hand. Vic had told her so much about his adventures with Quinn that she felt like she knew him. She could recite the story of when they fought zombies at In-N-Out, at least. “Pleased to meet you, Quinn. Vic told me more about his college years than you might have wanted him to.”

Quinn looked down at her hand before shaking it, but released it quickly as if it burned. “Vic likes to talk.” He stepped away from her and looked around at his office before his eyes came to the safe. “They were thorough.”

Red said, “I tried to pick up a bit, but you’ll have to see if they stole anything.”

“You said this vamp case was delicate.” Vic gestured to the room. “It looks like the Watergate burglary up in here.”

Red stepped up to the men and held out her phone, swiping to the next-to-last picture. The sideways shot wouldn’t win awards, but it wasn’t too blurry. She held out her phone. “Do you recognize these vampires?”

Quinn stared down at it, shaking his head. “No.”

Red quirked an eyebrow at Vic as she tucked away her phone. He’d said his friend wasn’t a talker, but monosyllabic would’ve been a better description. “Alrighty.”

“Tell us what you have on this case,” Vic said. “We popped a tire, staked a vampire, and crossed states to get here. All you said was a model was found drained on the beach.”

“Staked a vampire? Describe them.” Quinn crossed his arms. “Master or minion?”

Red pursed her lips. The Blood Alliance had changed a lot of traditions, but just like sire and childe, there were some hierarchies that couldn’t disappear. She remembered reading that the old vampire bloodlines each had their own unique definitions of what made a master vampire. The way she saw it, the difference between a master and minion was the power—who took orders and who followed. “Definitely a minion. Tallish, blond, skateboarder. He couldn’t have been more than a year dead. Attacked me in San Bernardino. Ring any bells?”

“He’s not from LA. Or if he is, he’s not on the city list of vampires.” Quinn frowned.

“If he is here for the Summit,” Red said, “he drove a long way for a meal. What sire would let that young a vampire head that far afield to make mischief? Too many old, canny ones around for that.”

Quinn lifted his eyebrows at her observation, then looked down.

“Great, then let’s assume we don’t have to worry about the supreme master or the Blood Alliance coming for us,” Vic said, flapping his hand before turning to the vampire. “What about the reason you made us drive here from Reno?”

“Olivia Greene,” Quinn began. “A jogger found her on Tuesday morning, washed up on a beach.”

“We read the paper.” Vic motioned for him to continue. “Give us some new details.”

“The name is new.” Red pulled up the browser on her phone and plugged the name in. “I found her Instagram. She was represented by DB Models.” She looked up at Quinn. “Have you heard of them?”

Vic tilted his head at Quinn. He blinked slowly, and his mouth curled up like he’d sniffed bad milk. “DB Models? So, that’s what makes this case delicate?”

“What?” Red looked between Vic and Quinn.

“His ex-wife runs the modeling agency,” Vic said. “Delilah Byrnes is the Notorious DB.”

Quinn flicked an annoyed glance at Vic. “It’s more complicated.”

“Yeah, it usually is.” Red said, “Do you need help because you’ll be recognized investigating, or because you don’t know how deep you’ll dig?” She lifted her hands, palms out, with a sympathetic head shake. “I’m not judging you either way.”

“Both.” Quinn looked away.

Vic glanced at her, his eyebrow raised. “Ease up on my bro. It's complicated.”

“No problem. I don’t know either Quinn or Delilah from Adam. It makes sense to bring some new faces around. I just want to know what I’m dealing with.” Red shrugged. She’d follow Vic’s lead, since it was his bromance that lead them here. She might have gotten some wacky stories from Vic about Quinn, but this vampire drama ran deep. It wouldn’t be the first time a hunter gave up a case that hit too close to home. “Give us what you have on the case, and we can start digging into it tomorrow.”

Vic yawned and stretched. “Yup, I’ve got you covered, brother.”

“I need to be kept in the loop,” Quinn said, making eye contact with Vic before hunching his shoulders.

“Your office is headquarters, man.” Vic yawned again.

Red covered her own yawn. “If you need help with filing, let me know. I get the feeling that the break in made your folders more organized.”

Quinn straightened with a small smile. “Lucas does the filing.” He rubbed his fingernails on his chest before looking down. “Sometimes.”

“So, he’s like your secretary?” Red laughed. “Does he answer your phone?” She raised her hands. “Sorry, I met him tonight, and I can’t imagine him in a headset.”

“He saw you?” Quinn’s smile disappeared.

“Yeah, I forgot to mention what a dick he was tonight,” Vic said. “I thought we were mates or chaps or whatever is British for friend.”

“Why doesn’t he want us in town?” Red asked. She had recognized him tonight, and a part of her could have sworn that he had done the same.

“You’d have to ask him.” Quinn stared at her before looking away as if the sight burned him like a cross. “I told him to check on you. The supreme master has declared that LA will be a model city, but we have new vampires in town for the Summit.”

Vic smiled, nodding, and put his hand in his back pocket. “Stranded out-of-state travelers look like easy pickings. I get it.”

“He checked in, made with the cryptic small talk, then left.” Red said, shrugging. She looked at the safe behind Quinn, remembering the sketch. Lucas wasn’t the only one that was cryptic. Who was that sketch of, and why did every souled vampire want her out of the city?

Vic laughed. “That’s what you get for hiring relatives.”

Quinn rubbed his face. “I need to board up the window and call the security company. I’ll email the background check that I got on the victim. You’ll have it before you get to your hotel.”

Vic narrowed his eyes before he shrugged and slowly turned. “See you at sunset then.”

Red followed him out with a look back, feeling eyes on her.

Quinn looked away when she caught him staring.

Red caught up with Vic at the broken glass door of the building. “I don’t know him, but was that weird?”

“Damn right it was! He has an extra bedroom and a couch. A nice couch.” Vic shook his head. “Sending us to a hotel. Cold. Ice cold. Damn, after eight hours in the van, too.”

“You spent most of it sleeping or watching TV in the back,” Red pointed out without sass. She owed him after he had spent half of a month crisscrossing Nevada on a dead-end lead on her origins. One more in a long list. At this point, she was ready to believe Vic’s crazier theory about dark fairies kidnapping her.

“Still. He could have given me some warning that Delilah—his sire, ex-wife, and professional ice queen—was connected to the victim.” He shook his head as he got into the driver’s side of the van. “I still haven’t decided if she asked him to investigate or he’s doing it out of guilt. He doesn’t make small talk, but the brood-meister at least gives me the heads up.”

Red shrugged. “Does his ex-wife have a soul too?”

Vic nodded and looked at her. “Not just that, but they’re the original gangsters.”

“Oh, that’s right… He just looks so normal, I wouldn’t have…” Red licked her lips, trying to reconcile the stoic vampire in the center of Vic’s wacky college shenanigans

and the Quinn from the Brotherhood’s legends.

“You just met two of the four vampires so bad that the soul special was invented just for them.” Vic started the Falcon. “Delilah turned Quinn, and they rampaged around Europe for a century before turning Justine, who I hope you never meet because she is nuttier than a peanut farm. Lucas found his way into the crew after the nut job made him, then he never left. Blood, bodies, and mayhem piled up before they pissed off the wrong dude. August 1st,1900, the day everything changed.” Vic snapped his fingers.

“The spell heard around the world,” Red said.

“Exactly. They didn’t just piss off the wrong dude, they pissed off a magical librarian—which you never want to do. Killed his family or something. The guy, Father Matthew, doesn’t just shove empathy back into them, he writes a little guide to exactly how he did it with ideas how someone without soulmancy skills could do it. You know librarians, always trying to get people to read. Add a printing press and you get…”

“The August Harvest.”

“Yup. Thirty odd years of mages and more slinging souls at vampires. Breaking down the old bloodline system into a chaos of purges, revolts, and suicides. Vampire World War until the Blood Alliance brought order.” Vic shook his head. “It all started with that guy.”

“I heard the story before but really, that’s Quinn Byrnes?” Red furrowed her brow. She would have expected a Dracula type in a cape with old world charm, not a stone-faced guy in a V-neck, hunching his shoulders and awkwardly deadpanning his way through small talk. “The Black Libertine, himself.”

“Yeah, might as well be called the Stingy Libertine, now,” Vic said as he turned onto the highway. The lights of Los Angeles spread out before them.

After pulling into a no-tell motel advertising both daily and hourly rates and checking in using a fake ID and credit card, Red was bushed. She brushed her teeth and changed into her House Ravenclaw pajama bottoms and baggy North Dakota tourist T-shirt in the tiny motel bathroom, then yawned good night at Vic who channel surfed crossed legged on the other bed.

She slipped between the surprisingly clean sheets and fell into a dreamless sleep on the lumpy mattress.

Metallica blared as a low vibration skittered on metal.

Red jumped awake, blinking at the ringing cell phone on the stand between the beds. She yawned, half tempted to pick it up just to make the old rock song stop. Vic didn’t listen to anything from this century. He had gotten her hooked on classic rock, but before 4 a.m. wasn’t the time for a vintage Metallica wake up.

“Vic, your phone.” She propped herself up on an elbow and squinted at the screen, surprised at the familiar name that she usually saw on emails sending them bounty orders. “Fat Jake Crispin is calling.”

Vic coughed and rolled over, grabbing the phone. He rubbed his eyes. “Vic. Talk.” His eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright, looking over at Red and gesturing for something to write with.

Red swung her legs over the side of the bed, walked over to the empty rickety desk, and tossed him a pen before looking for a pad of paper. The motel was too cheap to provide swag beyond brittle soap bars, but she did find a notepad under a Gideon bible in the bottom drawer. She tossed over a coffee-stained pad monogramed with ‘Smith and Reaper, Financial and Legal Services,’ thankful for whichever ambulance chaser had left it.

Red crossed her arms and leaned against the desk, knowing from Vic’s lack of sarcasm that it must have been serious. She waited until he hung up. “Must be a red-letter day to get a call from headquarters.”

“He’ll never forget it, either.” Vic ran a hand through his hair. “He lost his only daughter. Found drained. She was signed with DB Models. Crispin already talked to the LAPD. There’s another connection between the two vics. Both had a snake eating its tail carved on them.”

“Quinn left that detail out.” Red kept the emotion out of her tone, walking over to her bed and laying down. Her mind raced, trying to recall where she had seen that symbol before as she fluffed up her pillow.

Vic knew her well enough to read her face. His nostrils flared as he huffed and laid back.

Red had a sinking feeling about this case. Like an animal trapped in the La Brea tar pits, she felt herself being drawn in deeper. She felt like she knew Quinn already. After enough road trips, she’d heard all of Vic’s stories twice, and the best ones even more. Red couldn’t stop herself from grumbling. “So much for keeping each other in the loop.”

“Hey, he might not have known.” Vic gritted his teeth and rubbed his eyes.

Red lifted her eyebrows but tiptoed around poking at his bromance with Quinn. “What now?”

Vic said, “Sleep. After that we do what you do in LA. We do some yoga, hit the beach, then check out the nightlife.”

Chapter Four

October 25th, 2018, Before Dawn, The Pump House Bar in Downey, Los Angeles, California, USA

"I really don't like this," Red said as she pushed open the battered door of the Pump House.

The hole-in-the-wall bar was sandwiched between an unopened taco shop and a nail salon in the southern part of Downey, known to the world for the oldest McDonald's, and known to a smaller number for having the oldest hunter bar in Los Angeles. In the pre-dawn hours, the city buzzed with cars making their 6 a.m. commutes, yet a hush lingered over the strip mall.

"You keep saying that. I thought you wanted to try yoga." Vic followed behind her, pushing his sunglasses down to take in the sparse, wood-paneled bar decorated in NASA memorabilia.

An old timer in a cowboy hat stared ahead, cupping a mug of steaming coffee in his hands.

"Not with a fucking vampire teaching it." Red muttered under her breath so the lone bartender leaning against the bar couldn't hear. Vic had woken her only an hour after the call from the Brotherhood with the order that they needed to see the Supreme Master of LA at a pre-sunrise yoga class. Fuck that.

Vic gasped dramatically. "Racist."

"Cautious." Red rolled her eyes. She’d had her fill last night of cryptic vampires, their secrets, and being kept in the dark.

Vic might have looked at Quinn with puppy worship in his eyes, but Red couldn't shake the fact that the blond souled vampire hadn't told them about what was carved on the victim, or that his ex-wife Delilah Byrnes had a direct connection with her. Then adding Julia Crispin to the body count... Fat Jake Crispin might have written their bounty checks, but she needed more than an order from the home office before she walked into a vampire's nest. She nearly hadn’t walked out of the last one.

A hunter's bar could give them the earful of gossip they needed to stay one step ahead of their enemies and allies. Red frowned as she looked around at the nearly empty place. That was the theory, at least.

Vic took his sunglasses off and met her eyes. "The place has changed. I think they dusted."

Hunter's bars didn't play by the usual rules. You could find gangs coming in for a drink after a night's hunt at the same time others were getting coffee and settling any bounties before hitting the road out of town.

In a place like LA, this cramped bar should have been full. Vic made it sound like he could get home fries here any time of day. It didn't smell like home fries had been made here for a long time.

Red leaned against the counter and held up two fingers. "Coffee, please. Black. To go."

Vic leaned next to her. "I’m Vic. It's been a spell since I blew into town, where’s Murphy or Derek?"

The bartender, sallow-faced and sleepy, shrugged before turning. "Vacation to Palm Springs. They won't be back until the first week of November."

"Can I still get home fries?"

The bartender shrugged. "No kitchen, Vic. I only know how to make coffee and pour the beer. It's just me and Chuck here, keeping the fires running." He nodded at the old-timer.

Red shifted her focus to Chuck. "We saw a lot of California hunters blowing through Reno when we left."

Chuck coughed, puffing his white mustache up, before sipping from his mug. "No one will be back until after All Soul's Day, young lady. You should get back on the road. Might make it to someplace sunny in Arizona before it starts."

"What?" Vic asked.

Chuck shrugged. "The Blood Alliance. There are enough souled vampires to keep the peace in town, the supreme made it clear. Guess most hunters decided there are other monsters in the west."

"Y'all take orders from the head vampire?" Red tried to keep her surprise and disdain out of her voice. She failed.

"Does it look like it?" Chuck tipped his hat back, his voice quiet but the threat coiling like a rattlesnake ready to strike.

Vic looked between them and tilted his head at the bartender, motioning for Red to pay.

Red slapped down a five-dollar bill and gestured for the man behind the counter to keep the change.

"We're here on a Brotherhood case. Julia Crispin was found drained last night,” Vic said.

Chuck's shoulders sank. "That pretty English gal had some stones on her. Maybe too many, getting so close to the vampers like that. I don't know much. I retired once the Brotherhood made that truce with the damn undead. I refused to be put on her list."

"Who, Cora Moon?" Vic asked.

"She has lists of vampires, lists of hunters, lists of lists." Chuck slurped his coffee with a grimace. "Best be off now, don’t want to be late for yoga.”

“We’ll be around if you hear of anything.” Vic nodded to him.

Red raised her eyebrows and grabbed the to-go coffee cups. Now, she really didn’t like this.

Rush hour started early and ended late in LA, and the sun still hadn’t risen when they finally reached their next destination. It lay on the weird middle ground between the hard scrabble neighborhoods of Inglewood and the UCLA campus.

Moon Enterprises was the social good startup listed in Essence Magazine as one of the top ten black businesses on the rise in 1992. Beyond the article and the business registry, the internet couldn’t produce any more about the company. The shadowy CEO was known to the neighborhood but kept a low profile without giving a single quote to the press.

You wouldn’t have thought that it was the vampire headquarters in LA by looking at it.

"Are you sure this is place?" Red asked as she eyed the crowd of smokers in the corner of the parking lot kitty-corner to the tall building.

Vic walked through the haze of smoke, hands in his pocket. “This used to be my hood.”

“Hey, how many people do I gotta tell?” a Hispanic man in a plaid shirt mumbled as he flicked his cigarette. “No yoga, no hot meals, no nothing.”

“We have an appointment.” Vic jerked his thumb over to Moon Enterprises.

“That’s what they all say, hombre.” The guy shook his head. “Better not try that door until after sunrise.”

An unmarked car that screamed law enforcement pulled up, and a too-pale blond uniformed officer opened the passenger’s side door and half stepped out. “Hey, I thought I told you punks to move along!”

“Ease up,” his Asian partner said before waving at the crowd from the open driver’s side window. “The center is closed for the next two weeks, folks. Have a nice day!”

The crowd wandered away, muttering, as the car drove off.

Red glared at Vic but followed him across the street to the art deco concrete building. “I really don’t like this.”

“You keep saying that…” Vic shrugged before pushing the intercom button next to the darkened door. “Cora Moon is expecting us. Two Bards come to play our respects.”

“I’m a Bard now?”

“Congrats on the promotion.” Vic pushed his sunglasses up atop his head.

Red tensed, wishing she had a stake. Fat Crispin had sent them instructions to come unarmed to get the blessing of the supreme vampire master of Los Angeles as official representatives of the Brotherhood. They had the protection of a truce behind them, but her hunter’s instinct still screamed at her to arm herself. She knew a stake wouldn't be nearly enough to protect them from the nest of vampires inside, but it still felt like she was walking in naked.

Red pushed away the flashbacks from Oklahoma City and tried to center her breathing. This wasn’t Oklahoma! This was the land of the teddy bear vampires, or so she tried to tell herself.

The door opened automatically into a small tinted glass entry way. They walked inside.

Her heartbeat jumped as the door behind them closed, and the one before them opened.

Her adjusting eyes only made out the silhouette of a gloriously full afro and a white smile. "Welcome my Bard brothers."

Vic stepped forward. "Howdy. Miss Cora Moon, I presume."

The regal vampire wore a white bodysuit, hemp necklaces, and a pink tie-dye scarf around her head. She beckoned them forward. The faint smell of patchouli and lavender lingered around her. Her smile was wide and dazed, but her brown eyes took them in with laser focus. She looked like a hippie, but that aura was pure master vampire. She walked like she owned the city. In a very real way, Cora Moon did.

Five vampires in black suits flanked them like secret service. Their jackets concealed the bulges of filled shoulder holsters.

Red kept at Vic’s heels as they moved into the dimly lit lobby painted with murals of proud brown skinned people in African garb in 70s hues. The place had the look of a well-funded community center, but the energy was of a business hotel filled with conventioneers.

Two clerks in suits and headsets typed at inhuman speeds in between answering questions at the circular front desk. Milling pairs and trios walked to the elevator and into the swinging doors of darkened hallways. Their eyes shone with amber light as they looked up at Red and Vic.

She realized that they were the only two breathing.

"I heard you offer a hungry man a hot meal here." Vic looked around, his hands balled into fists in his pockets as he tried to make small talk.

"I can hear that belly growl, son, but with the Blood Summit, I had to close the first-floor drop-in center to the public." Cora gestured them forward past an open door where a PowerPoint presentation glowed over a crowd settled in a large room transformed from a cafeteria into a conference space. “Usually we have vegan breakfast cooking in there.”

Red looked inside see a slide reading: Tips to Avoid Trending on Twitter. 1. Smash the phone or camera first.

"Tonight was our first round of knowledge sharing workshops before the official committees. Some go longer than others. We only get together every two years, and some vampires have more to say than others." Cora rolled her eyes. “Prétentieux, je sais, mais que pouvez-vous faire?”

"Conferences really are all the same." Vic chuckled, but his laugh was thin.

“I am lucky that my homegirl Delilah is happy to hostess.”

Red glanced at Vic to see if he picked up on the name. Did Cora mean Delilah Byrnes?

Cora pushed open a door into a brightly lit room painted with Sanskrit characters and lined with shelves of yoga mats. One teal and gold tie-dye mat remained in the middle of the room. "You two are a chill excuse to peace out for a bit.”

"Jake Crispin said you were a friend to the Bards," Vic said.

"Our truce was the capstone of my work in the last century. We want peace. I’ve tried to create it here as the supreme master."

"His daughter was killed," Red said, then wished she hadn't. Vic had told her to keep quiet, but following the rules wasn’t her strong suit.

Cora looked at her, the groovy hippie vibe disappearing from the vampire’s eyes. "And I want her killer brought to justice. Trust me, chica, I am making this a true City of Angels."

Vic glared at Red and coughed. "Can we trust on your protection while we investigate? I know this is a sensitive time."

"Let's drop the tension. You missed the class, but we can still relax a bit." Cora strode over to a high shelf and climbed up. Not the shelves but the wall itself. Her hands and feet pressed flat against the wall and she climbed like a spider to grab two yoga mats.

Red took a half step back and craned her neck up. Watching Cora was the exact opposite of relaxing. She had seen wall crawlers before. Usually, she had a gun with wooden bullets in her hand to take them down. All vampires came with super speed, senses, and strength… some came with extras. They called them the Gifted. Red called it creepy.

Standing on two feet, Cora climbed up the wall and strode across the ceiling. Gravity pulled at her brown afro, but her poise was as graceful upside down as it was on the ground. Cora jumped down to the middle of the room and unrolled both mats out flat. "We are allies." She dropped into a lotus pose on the tie-dyed mat. "Sit. Your auras are as tense as your shoulders.”

Vic and Red looked at each other before walking closer and sitting crossed legged on the yoga mats.

"Um, yeah. This is cozy.” Vic drummed his fingers on his bent knee. “So, you know that Crispin doesn't just want justice, he wants..."

"He wants to see the vampire who killed his daughter staked. Preferably by his own hand." Cora shrugged. "It's an eye for an eye, but that happens when a man loses his baby girl. Any vamp in my city who is stupid enough to break my rules and go for a Bard's kid is fair game."

"You really mean that." Red tilted her head. She had met supreme masters before, and they were usually less like an earnest vegan social worker. Then again, she’d never met a souled vampire who managed to run a city.

"Yeah, I just run a soup kitchen, an after school program, and job development training for single moms for the diabolical glee of it." Cora shook her head before stretching one arm across her chest and holding it. "You haven't met many like me, hunter chick, I can see. Let me educate you. Running around trying to end the world is for crusty old-world vamps. I created a sustainable community in LA. That means all of us, even the unsouled vamps, have a social contract. Everything I’m trying to do at this Summit is to school these immortal fools that it’s not optional to give peace a chance." Cora smiled. "Obviously, you will both have my protection during your investigation.”

“Kick ass.” Vic nodded. “The Brotherhood will keep you informed.”

“You'll be safe here, sugar,” Cora said to Red, then put her hands into a praying position and addressed them both. “Now, let's take a deep breath before I have to run to my next meeting."

Red breathed along with Vic and Cora until a bodyguard in a black suit came to the door.

Cora departed, giving a cheerful farewell of Namaste with four bodyguards trailing behind her.

Another escorted them through the now crowded lobby of vampires complaining about social media.

A vampire in a yarmulke sighed and slapped his hand on the shoulder of a black vampire in a red suit. His New York accent cut through the crowd. “And I thought the printing press was bad for business!”

“I’m ready to sleep. I hope our rooms smell less like the homeless.” The vampire in red wrinkled his nose.

Red kept her head down and a calm pace to her feet, feeling like a lamb among wolves. Primal instinct told her to run. Her brain agreed, but she kept close to Vic’s side, hoping that she looked as unaffected as he did.

The smoggy LA air had never felt fresher than when they stepped outside Moon Enterprises.

Red looked at Vic.

Vic shook his head. “I already know what you are going to say. None of us like this. Come on, let’s get some home fries and a nap in before we hit the beach.”

“You know how to treat a girl. Diner food and crime scenes.” Red pulled on her sunglasses, already feeling the heat of the day bouncing off the concrete buildings. The sun had risen, but she felt the shadows closing in.

Chapter Five

October 25th, 2018, Night, Club Vltava off Sunset Strip in Los Angeles California, USA

The last lights of the California sun had turned the city to gold, the mythical El Dorado, making Red understand for a moment why so many young creatives were drawn here like gold miners of the past.

Sunset had followed them when they left the beach, finding nothing and no witnesses at Olivia Greene’s murder site before returning to the motel.

Quinn had emailed the background check and the pictures he had taken of the police report, but they hadn’t gleaned anything close to a lead beyond DB Models. Unlike Julia Crispin, Olivia Greene was exactly as she appeared at first glance: a normal girl who stumbled onto the supernatural and lost the fight. Fate would push her murder into that percentage of cold cases too weird to investigate. If it hadn’t been for Vic needing to take a piss and a nap by Coyote Creek after a long drive, Red could have been the same statistic.

Vic always prayed for the victims, but Red swore justice. She figured between the two of them some power out there would take pity.

Hours later, they dressed to hobnob with aspiring celebrities and current has-beens. Nightfall had left the city blazing with lit up billboards, neon signs, and streetlights. No star could be seen through the smog reflecting the light, leaving the night sky a dark burnt orange.

Vic cursed as he navigated through the stop and go traffic on Sunset Strip.

Red frowned as the last download from Fat Crispin’s email attachment stalled on the laptop. “Damn, out of data until we get that bounty.” She transferred a few crime scene photos to her phone.

“Fantastic,” Vic grumbled.

“The Brotherhood must have some clout to get the LAPD to pony up so much info about the case.” Red sighed as she closed the small laptop and untethered the cell phone from it before pushing it underneath the car seat and covering it with a layer of washed Mountain Dew cans. Vic called it urban camouflage.

“The Brotherhood has people in more places than you’d think.” Vic kept his eyes on the road, avoiding her gaze. “I bet the deal with the Supreme Master of LA did more than make us sanctioned investigators. The protection is a plus. Can’t say that it’ll stop anyone from killing us if they really wanted to, though.”

“Cheerful.” Red shook her head. “Fat Jake was detailed, as usual. I can’t imagine writing a crime report like that for my kid. He even estimated to the minute how long it would take him to analyze the surveillance camera footage.”

“Duty is mother’s milk to the Brotherhood. We vowed to be a shield to humanity. That doesn’t stop in grief,” Vic said, jaw tightening.

Red studied him, noting the drop-in snark, letting the silence grow as she hoped he’d continue. He’d told her everything about his time at UCLA, but he never gave details of his time training in London with the Bards.

Vic grunted, changing subjects as quickly as he turned right. “I’m going to violate one of my sacred beliefs.”

“Parking garage?”

“Parking garage.” Vic began ranting about pay parking, late stage capitalism, and civil liberties as he turned into the three-story garage. Then, as always, he quoted the Constitution as if the founding fathers could have foreseen the automobile.

Red let his grumbles roll over her. After a year riding shotgun with him, she had heard all his gripes about federal, state, and municipality overreach. She rolled down the window to let in the night air, hot and dry even in October.

They were going to check out the club and the alley where the second victim, Julia Crispin, had been found. Vic made it sound like the Crispins were an oversized old Brotherhood family with more arms than an octopus and at least five named Jacob, which led to the Fat Crispin nickname for Julia’s father. Ironic, given that he was a skeletal beanpole of a man. The bounty on staking the vampire who killed Julia would keep them afloat for months. Vic said he kept his distance from the Brotherhood, but he still seemed to know everyone.

Red envied that.

Vic had strong history on both sides of his family, from Henry Constantine who adopted him, to the Parks—his biological family he had lost to a werewolf attack. He even had an adopted brother named Lashawn out there. He had collected people in his life.

Red had a big blank when it came to friends and family. She had Vic and the scattered people she had met on the road, but everything before August 2017 might as well have been a question mark. She might never find the answers she wanted, but they could find some for Julia Crispin.

Getting out of the car, Red adjusted the drape of her slinky green dress. The asymmetrical skirt covered her to the knee in the front while exposing the thigh at the side. The back was high, but the neckline plunged low. The knockoff wide choker spelled out Versace in metal letters over black velvet.

Vic had tried to convince her that everyone in LA wore heels, but Red wasn’t sure. She put foldable black leather flats in her black purse as backup. 5’7 might have been short in the land of models, but heels were a recipe for a sprained ankle if they got in a fight. He could fight in the heels for all she cared.

Walking together to the line at the half-open, rounded, red-varnished double doors of the club, Red looked up at the black letters above. Club Vltava. She had already looked up the club, owned by Novak and Novak Company, distinguished by a rare liquor selection comprised of obscure European vintages like Vino Verde from Portugal and Slivovice from the Czech Republic.

Just another hot spot hyped up on social media with even two of the Kardashians sisters coming to the opening last week.

“Ugh, a line.” Vic scowled. He brushed his hair back. He had forgone his vest and donned a blazer over his jeans and Star Wars T-shirt. His mullet lay slicked back. He looked like a tech startup founder ready to burn investor cash. “I don’t understand waiting to buy a twenty-dollar cocktail.”

Red smirked. “Blend in. Pretend you have money.”

“I wouldn’t spend it on this.” Vic listed a few better things, in his opinion, to spend twenty dollars on, from a plate of chicken and waffles to new windshield wipers.

A beefy bouncer in a black suit glared down at them from nearly seven feet. A jagged scar cut down his dark-skinned cheek. “Not feeling you two tonight. What is that, bro, a mullet?”

“Hey, this hairstyle is big in Korea, pal,” Vic said.

Red fluffed out her loose red hair, forcing a smile as Vic argued with the bouncer. She looked over his bulky shoulder.

The open door showed a black painted hallway. A pale, brown-haired man in a pinstriped suit with a white Bluetooth device in his ear walked down the hall, chatting as he swiped through his phone. His thumb was a supernatural blur. He looked up when he reached the bouncer. His eyes flicked over Red, head to toe, but without any heat in his gaze.

“Let them in.” He chuckled. “My brother likes gingers.”

Red resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Even with this dork, Arno?” The bouncer asked.

“Hey!” Vic said.

“She’s hot enough.” Arno shrugged and pointed out three other groups in the crowd. “And them. Wait until ten come out before you let more in.”

Vic glared at the bouncer as he took Red’s arm. “Dork? I don’t know what he’s seeing. I look badass.”

“That’s right, honey.” Red patted Vic’s arm before they disengaged to walk down the short hallway into the elevator. She and Vic had pretended to be a couple on jobs before, but it always felt like taking her cousin to the prom. They ended up having to stop themselves from making each other laugh and breaking cover. Tonight, they had to play it cool. This wasn’t just any night club. This was a club run by vampires.

The elevator filled up with the other clubbers, then rose to the second to the top floor. The doors opened to a dark, fog filled, strobe-lit dance floor playing electronica.

“Great, Eurotrash music,” Vic said as he stepped out.

“Come on, let’s do a lap, then see if they have an IPA for you.” Red motioned with her head, and they walked around the chamber. Along the wall, alcoves and niches were filled with white pillows that glowed in the strobing black lights.

Two even bigger bouncers stood in front of a staircase with a velvet rope. A sign on a pedestal read: PRIVATE PARTY.

Red stopped Vic and nodded to it. She watched two tanned blondes in tiny black dresses get turned away.

A pale man in a wrinkled brown suit, bald and blinking behind round glasses, stepped in front of the bouncers.

The velvet rope lifted.

The bald man looked over his shoulders, fangs just barely visible on his lip, before he disappeared up the stairs.

Red said, “It looks like that is where the real action is.”

“No, it just walked through the door.”

Red turned to see who Vic was waving at. Lucas.

He tightened his jaw and glared at Vic before his eyes widened on Red. He glanced her up and down, a dumbstruck expression flashed across his face before he collected himself and stomped forward. His voice was deep and harsh. “What are you two doing here?”

“Oh, you know. When in LA, go where the beautiful people are.” Red smiled to spite Lucas’s grumpiness.

“Get us into the vamp party upstairs, Greg.” Vic jerked his thumb at the staircase.

“Oi, enough with the Greg business,” Lucas scoffed with a small resigned smile.

Red looked away to hide her smirk. After Lucas had left them at the strip mall, Vic had declared him Greg forever more.

“Whatever, Greg. We’re working for your boss and with the local vampire fuzz. What’s the deal with upstairs?” Vic asked.

“It’s a big to-do for the Blood Alliance, speeches and kumbayas between vampires—souled and unsouled. Quinn sent me to be bored to tears up there and report back.”

“The supreme master has a tight enough leash that even the vampires in San Bernardino are playing along with her catch and release policy,” Red said. “It can’t be a coincidence that a girl was found drained and dumped here right before the pep rally. That’s a message. We just need to know who it’s for.” Red put her hands on her hips when Lucas opened his mouth to argue. “Come on, this is a PR event with enough souled vampires that we know it’ll be tame. We’re not going to start a fight. We just want to have a look around while we have most of the town up there.”

Lucas crossed his arms. “Then half the town can get a look at you.” His eyes flicked to Vic. “Both of you. You shouldn’t be in this club. This is dangerous.”

“It’s hard to investigate a murder if you don’t see the full crime scene. I doubt she spent the whole night in the alley.” Red folded her arms and composed her most determined face. Vampires, souled or not, only respected confidence. No one wanted strangers taking over a case, but Quinn had given this to them. Lucas would have to respect that.

“Come on,” Vic said. “We’ll hang out in the background.”

Red looked over Lucas’s shoulder as she noticed the dancing crowd part around them as if unsettled by an unseen wind.

The Supreme Master Vampire of the City had arrived.

The tall dark-skinned woman stepped onto the dance floor. The strobe lights caught the yellow of her patterned caftan as Cora Moon raised her arms and moved her hips, dancing through the crowd. Her large brown afro framed her thick brows and soft hazel eyes.

She wasn’t alone.

A pale man stepped behind her in dark slacks and a light jacket, a white patch over his eye and his black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Cellphone pressed to his ear, he strode through the parted crowd with the impatience of a rush hour commuter in Manhattan.

“Is that…?” Vic said.

Red caught a glimpse of a curly blonde-haired woman beside the vampire with the eyepatch.

Lucas stepped closer and gestured for them to turn around for privacy. He huddled closer. “Brilliant detection, Vic. Yes, the hippie is Cora Moon and that’s her second-in-command and public relations prick, Michel de Grammont, behind her. You’ve both stepped into the viper’s den, and found the head vipers.”

“Awesome, let’s rock and roll. Get us up there.” Vic rubbed his hands.

Lucas looked between them. His eyes lingered on Red. “Okay, Vic. You’re my date.”

“What?” Red said.

“Hell yeah!” Vic said. “You can scope out this level and the alley. I’ll let you know what the stiffs are doing upstairs.”

“You’re so lucky I brought flats with me. I knew I’d end up doing the dirty work.” Red said, shaking her head. “I can’t wait to get out of these heels and into cozy socks.” She folded her arms.

Lucas’s face gained a brooding edge as he stared at her. His lips pulled up in a sad smile.

“What?” Red frowned and tilted her head at Lucas.

Lucas shook his head. “Nothing. You reminded me of someone.” He gestured Vic forward. “Away we go to be bored by speeches. Rah rah, unity between vampires.” He walked away but glanced over his shoulder at Red as if she was a mirage about to disappear.

Red pushed her loosely curled hair out of her face to drape over the covered back of her dress as she watched them go.

Questions about Lucas bubbled up like a witch’s brew. She couldn’t stop staring, but neither could he. Who was he? No, that was the easier question to answer. Why did she remember him from a dream that had already crumbled into scattered sounds and flickering visuals? For an amnesiac, she had a good memory. She remembered what she ate for lunch last Tuesday, but these dreams didn’t belong to that tidy, conscious side of her brain. The dreams came from the unhelpful part of her brain that brought on panic attacks and spontaneous language fluency.

She turned away as the two men reached the top of the stairs. Red strode between the dance floor and the low padded white benches and chairs clustered to the side. Stepping to the corner of the metallic topped bar, Red pulled out her phone.

She flipped to the picture of Julia Crispin in her Oxford University shirt with her bright blue eyes and lush blond hair. She held it out to the bartender. “Did you see this girl?”

“Are you going to order or what? I got customers.”

“I get it.” She looked at the cheapest drink she could get on the menu then ordered a glass of Portuguese wine. “I just need to know what happened to Julia.”

The Hispanic bartender in a black dress shirt and white bowtie put her hand on her hip. “I already told the cops what I know. What’s it to you?”

“I’m a friend. Her dad wanted me to ask around. He hasn’t been able to book a flight yet from London.” Red tried to look mournful.

“Shit, sorry.” The bartender dipped her head, showing the bright green streaks in her short pixie cut, before she sighed. “She’s been here every night since we opened last week, but outside tipping like a stingy Brit, I didn’t see any more than that. She usually walked out with a daddy type. Rich white guys. But I wasn’t doing more than making drinks.” The bartender’s eyes darted around before she said with urgent emphasis. “They were really really white guys.”

“Say no more.” Red nodded, understanding the bartender immediately. She pulled out cash, wincing at dipping into her wallet, and put the bills on the bar. “Thanks.”

The bartender hurried to help the growing line.

Red sipped the Portuguese Vino Verde and turned around to lean against the bar. It was more than she wanted to spend, but the light bubbles made her smile, summoning up the feeling of sunshine and beaches. The mini mental vacation was quickly over as she refocused on the job at hand.

Red had gone over the case files. The Los Angeles Police Department had done a thorough job with questioning Julia Crispin’s grad school friends, roommate, and even Delilah. They had covered her days, but what about her nights?

She scanned the nightclub, trying to imagine the vampire who bit Julia Crispin in that alley. She walked around the perimeter of the chamber, trying to answer the question. Who killed Julia Crispin?

Olivia Greene, the first victim, was just a regular blond sorority girl from Orange County who became a model. Julia was raised in a Brotherhood family. She knew what bumped in the night. Fat Jake Crispin wrote in his report that his daughter went to school, modeled on weekends, and was at home by a sensible bedtime.

Father might have known best, but he didn’t know it all. He certainly didn’t know that Julia had been signed to DB Models.

With two floors, plenty of seating space, and a rooftop, Red couldn’t imagine what could have led Julia out to the alley besides one of those “really really white guys.” It wouldn’t have been an accidental meeting. She had seen the smokers out on the front sidewalk, so she doubted there was a smoking area out back.

Fat Crispin had noted that his daughter didn’t do drugs, but he didn’t mention that his daughter regularly hung out in vampire clubs. Red studied the dancers in their mix of hipster and designer fashions. This looked like a place where you didn't find your fix in the bathroom; you were rich enough to have a dealer on speed dial. Why skulk in an alley to find your brand of high when you had a trust fund?

Red found herself back at the large bar, closer to a door marked employees only. She set her wine glass on the bar.

“A pretty lady shouldn’t have an empty glass.” An overly tanned man with a manbun leaned close and smiled.

“I’m good.” Red nodded and stepped away from the bar. Goosebumps rose on her arms when she looked over Man Bun’s shoulder to the figure standing in a dark corner of the bar.

A flash of green and white strobe lights briefly illuminated his high forehead, dimpled chin, and chiseled jaw. Masculine lips curved into a grin for a second. The lights reflected off his dark blonde hair.

Déjà vu hit her like an ice cube down the back of her dress. She shivered. Red stepped around Man Bun, ignoring him as he opened his mouth to speak to her.

She waited for the lights in the club to shift again. Cocking her head, she studied the tall handsome man, clad in a fitted black suit without a tie over his gray no-collar shirt. He looked at least four inches over six feet.

His stylish suit covered broad shoulders, and—well-tailored as it was—it couldn’t hide his strong arm muscles. He held a blonde glamazon loosely, one hand on her lower back and the other brushing her hair off her shoulders before running up her neck. His fingers looked too pale against her tanned cheek.

Vampire. Red knew she should step away, but something about him… It didn’t jolt a memory, but it jolted her. She pushed her chain purse strap higher on her shoulder, telling herself to move.

His gaze turned to her, the easy flirtatious grin softening before his mouth gaped open. His blue eyes widened like a kid seeing presents on Christmas morning.

Red took a step back, breath catching in her throat, then tried to disappear into the crowd. The shiver going down her spine wasn’t fear, but something about him compelled her. Was he one of those vampires with the gift to mesmerize?

“Juniper!”

She didn’t turn at the shout as she slipped behind a grinding couple on the dance floor. The club went dark as the music dropped before the lights came on in a cascade of beats.

The dark blonde-haired vampire appeared in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. “Miss Juniper St. James.”

She gasped and put a hand over her heart.

Red weighed her options. She could pretend to be a clueless human. That had cons too. If he thought she would be easy pickings, she didn’t want to have to stake a vampire under the nose of the Supreme Master of the City. She didn’t care how handsome this wannabe playboy vampire was, she wasn’t going to be intimidated.

“Not cool. First off, I don’t know who you are, but it’s rude to pop out all vampire-like. and second, even if that was my name, I’m not a dog to be called after.”

“What game are you playing?” He stepped closer, brow furrowed, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. His eyes darted over her face as if expecting her to disappear.

She folded her arms. “I could ask you the same thing. Far be it from me to give you vamp advice, but sprinting across a dance floor full of humans isn’t really keeping a low profile, Mister.”

“Juniper…” He frowned, blue eyes concerned, and put his cold hands on her upper arms. “It’s me, Kristoff. Kristoff Novak.”

Red looked down at his hands. Her heart began to race. She stepped back.

Kristoff let her. He stared down at his hands as if in shock to discover she was solid before glancing up.

Red told herself to run. Curiosity made her stay. He recognized her, but the name was all wrong. Juniper St. James… the name sounded like a Romance author’s pen name. “I don’t know who you think I am, but if you’re Kristoff Novak, then you’re one of the owners of this club, right?”

He nodded, putting his hands behind his back, lips curling into a smirk. “This is one of mine.”

Red pursed her lips at the brag. Kristoff was staring at her with too much interest. This was what passed for friendly banter among the undead and she wasn’t here for it.

Bringing more chilly professionalism into her tone, she said, “I’m here on an official joint investigation with Cora Moon and the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes. I will need you to cooperate, Mr. Novak.” She held her breath, waiting for the reaction. Powerful vampires didn’t like to cooperate with hunters.

“Mr. Novak, is it?” His smirk grew wider. “You have my full cooperation. Ms…?”

She ignored the question and held out her phone, showing him Julia’s picture. “Did you see this girl here last night?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure, she was here. But she left alive, as you could see if the cops hadn’t taken our security footage. We run a tight operation. None of ours would be so stupid to break Cora’s laws, especially not here where they’d have to answer to me first.”

“You don’t have a soul, do you?” Red put her phone in her purse as she folded her arms.

“No, but I have a brain.” Kristoff shrugged. “Arno and I have opened a new club. We don’t need the heat.”

Red snorted. “Oh, so you’re the brother who likes gingers?”

“You would know, Juniper.” Kristoff’s grin turned flirtatious.

“Why are you calling me that? My name’s Red.”

“It’s impossible, but you look...” Kristoff leaned forward to sniff at her neck. “You even smell…” His lips hovered over her skin

Instinctive fear bolted up. Red jumped back from Kristoff. “Hey! Personal space, dude.” She pulled a blessed silver cross out of her purse to shake it at him. Crosses might have been hit or miss for her faith level, but blessed silver made any vampire think twice. “Ugh, I’m not a cupcake.”

“No, you’re more like a macaron.” Kristoff smirked and snapped his head to the side, looking across the dance floor. His flirty manner popped like a bubble, and his eyes flashed amber like a predator, the tips of his fangs poking out under his upper lip.

She followed his line of sight.

Lucas stomped through the dancers toward them. The strobe lights reflected off his patched leather jacket and ripped jeans. The dark hair dipping over his grey eyes didn’t hide the amber flicking in the irises.

“Has he claimed you?” Kristoff asked.

Red snorted and shook her head. “What is it with vamps?” She crossed her arms as she stared at Lucas. She didn’t need a rescue, especially not from a vamp that already thought she couldn’t handle herself. He was supposed to be minding Vic up in the private party upstairs, not agitating her witness. If expressions could talk, Kristoff’s would be cursing. “I’m under the protection of the supreme master. No one is claiming me.”

“Red, you need to step away from this soulless tosser.” Lucas glared at Kristoff, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning on his heels, his gritted jaw highlighting his high cheekbones.

“How long were you going to keep her a secret, Lucas?” Kristoff’s tone turned to a growl.

“So, not friends?” Red sighed and glanced around at the human crowd, wondering how big a scene the two vampires were going to make. She rubbed her left temple. “I’m in the middle of questioning him.”

“He thinks you’re someone you’re not,” Lucas said, glancing at her. Worry battled with anger in his gray eyes. “You’re in danger, even if he seems… domesticated. Novak will play the friend before he stabs you in the back. It's what he does.”

Kristoff stepped up to Lucas. “Your soul doesn’t change what you’ve done. Don’t act like you’re better than me.”

“I don’t need to act.” Lucas held his hand out to Red.

Kristoff smacked it away.

The club went dark again.

Red found herself pulled against a hard chest. Her head tilted to the side as fangs dug into her neck. She gasped, but she couldn’t scream. She tried to raise her cross, but her arms felt limp.

She had fought vampires before, even had one or two dig their fangs into her, sending enough venom into her system to bring her into a numbed thrall. Nothing felt like the wave of pleasure that radiated from that bite. Red panted, trying to tell herself that her trembles were struggles against the firm arms. It happened in seconds, even if time felt slower in his arms.

The lights came on.

Fangs retracting, the vampire licked at the bite, his arm around her waist. His biceps tensed as if ready to pull her away from the crowd for round two.

She snapped her gaze to the vampire’s head buried in her neck. Her eyes widened as her skipping heartbeat dropped. The ecstasy in the thrall ebbed away like low tide. Kristoff.

Cringing, Red pulled away from the tongue on her neck as reality set in.

Kristoff turned her chin to meet her gaze, smirking. He knew exactly how his bite felt. “Mmmmm, Red, you’re delicious… and mine.”

She glared at Kristoff. “Wait a second!”

His chilled fingers brushed her cheek as he grinned, a mix of relief and elation in his blue eyes contrasting with the blood on his lips. “I claim you with this bite.”

“Bastard!” Red jerked her head away. After Oklahoma, she’d thought she’d learned to never trust a vampire without a soul. It only ended with fangs in your neck.

Red stomped on Kristoff’s foot before she angled an elbow to slam into his nose, wincing at the pain in her neck. Wiggling away from him, she pressed her hand against the bleeding bite and stared at Kristoff as she stumbled away on those stupid heels.

Kristoff, blood on his chin and amber in his eyes. He wiped the blood off with his thumb, bringing the digit to his mouth, staring at her like an animal in a tailored suit. “Tastes like strawberries. You can thank me later.”

“Bugger the Black Veil.” Glancing around at the crowd, Lucas gritted his teeth. He rushed forward at vampire speed. He grabbed Kristoff by the collar and clocked him across the face. “You won’t get close enough, Novak.”

Kristoff headbutted Lucas before raising his fist. “Give me time. She’ll want me close. Juniper did.”

Lucas growled before tackling the taller blond vampire around the middle and bringing him down to the floor.

Red’s head spun as the eerie pleasure fully evaporated, leaving only pain. Warm blood dripped under her hand from her neck. She stepped away from the fighting vampires, trying to blend into the few startled, tipsy club-goers gawking at the fight nearby. The loud, dark club was too big and loud for even a vampire fight to draw much attention from the humans. She had no doubt that the other vampires had noticed.

The club went dark again, and the frantic techno beat grew louder.

Red could still hear the growls, hisses, and thump of fist on flesh. She raised the cross and her phone screen up.

The dim light of the screen caught Kristoff and Lucas rolling on the ground in the curling smoke of the club fog machines.

Red thumbed out a quick text to Vic. Get out. Lucas in fight. I got bit! The screen blinded her in the darkness. The pain made tears come to her eyes. She gritted her teeth. Fucking vampires… Fat Crispin was going to get an earful about this deal with Cora.

Raising her lit phone, she roamed her eyes over the club to see the vampire she had seen at the door. She wanted to investigate a crime scene, not start a fight at an undead UN party.

She looked up to see someone whisper to the DJ in his raised booth.

Arno ran in from the front of the club, yelling into his Bluetooth earpiece before pulling it out to throw at his large bouncer.

The vampire in the white eyepatch and black ponytail came from the stairs. He got there first.

The strobe lights came back on as the beat switched to a remixed pop banger.

“Boys, boys…” Michel de Grammont, the supreme master’s right hand, stood with his arms spread between Lucas on one side and Kristoff and Arno on the other. His white eyepatch seemed to glow purple in the blacklights. “Such behavior at this historic event. Miss Cora has brought together the cream of the Alliance to our fair city to marvel on how we’ve managed to integrate between souled and not— dove and bloodliner, all while maintaining the Dark Veil. We are on the world stage, and you fucking monkeys are taking a shit on it.”

Arno and Kristoff exchanged a glance.

Kristoff dipped his head. “He challenged my claim on a human. I reacted. Apologies.”

Lucas gritted his teeth and cracked his neck.

“Je m’en fous!” Michel spat out, clearly not giving a shit as he straightened his lapels. “I expect more from the Novak Brothers, since the Master of Portland speaks so highly of you two.” Michel turned his glare to Lucas. “And you. Get the fuck out before you draw any more attention. If Cora hears that you were challenging a claim… you know the rules. You’re lucky Delilah has me wrapped around her finger, or I’d bring you to the supreme myself. Test me, and I will.”

Nodding, Lucas stepped back. He glared at Kristoff before looking back at Michel. “Already gone, mate.”

Red caught Lucas’s eye and gestured to the elevator. She stepped through the dancers, still clutching the bleeding mark on her neck, the pain making her grimace at each bump of an elbow or a shaking booty.

Lucas caught up to her at the elevator and reached out to take her wrist to stop her before he stilled himself. He handed her a black bandana instead. “How’s the bite, Red?”

“Doesn’t feel great. Let’s get out of here.” Red took the cloth and pressed it to her wound before walking into the open elevator and hitting the button for the ground floor. The pain didn’t hurt as much as the humiliation of being so stupid.

Kristoff Novak. She recognized the name from her research on the club, but she hadn’t expected anything more than the usual vampire deflecting banter. Maybe some threats. Not whatever the hell that was.

Stupid curiosity had had her chatting with Kristoff like a teeny bopper expecting sparkles instead of fangs. After a year of hunting, Red should’ve known better. Vic taught her that you kept out of a vampire’s sight until you were fixing to kill them. Now, she had new marks on her neck. And a question that wouldn’t go away. Who was Juniper St. James?

“Your chest is covered in it, kit—er, Red.” Lucas distracted her from her thoughts before he pulled off his jacket and put it around her.

“Thanks. I definitely can’t return this dress now.” Pulling the jacket on, the smell of leather and sandalwood enveloped her. Red tipped her head down before she stepped out of the elevator to the front entrance. The bouncer came into view. She glared at him as she stomped forward. The feel of eyes on her back made her look over her shoulder as she walked onto the sidewalk.

Kristoff called out behind her. “Lucas was the one who was kicked out. You should stay, Red.” His voice said her name slowly, as if to roll the word over his tongue to taste it.

“Fat chance.” Red glared at him as she pivoted around.

“Doesn’t matter. I can always find what I claim.” Kristoff smirked. His suit jacket had disappeared in the scuffle, leaving only his slacks and gray shirt, ripped at the neck, revealing some of his toned chest. Blue eyes raked over her body before softening on her face.

“That’s a myth.” Red flipped him off as she stormed away with Lucas on her heels.

He wasn’t the first vampire to have tried that on her. It had to be a myth. If vampires could always find their claimed humans, then wouldn’t the mysterious vampire who had roughed her up outside Eugene have found her already? She might not remember what had been done to her, but she didn’t need to be claimed again and find out what she had missed.

“Lady made her choice, Novak.” Lucas smirked and held up his hands.

Kristoff crossed his arms, his blue eyes following her. “She doesn’t know what she’s choosing.”

Chapter Six

October 25th, 2018, Night, Alley behind Club Vltava off Sunset Strip in Los Angeles California, USA

Red held her tongue until they turned the corner a block away from Club Vltava. “What was that back there? Who the hell is Kristoff Novak? More importantly, who does he think I am?”

“You live long enough, you see some faces again. Never thought I’d see hers. Not when she died over a hundred years ago.” Lucas looked away as if the sight of her hurt him.

“Juniper St. James.” Red furrowed her brow, and the realization hit her like a shovel to the face. She didn’t know how she felt about being a doppelgänger. Or the fact that more and more vampires seemed to recognize her in Los Angeles. Now, she knew why. “Is that why you and Quinn have been acting weird? I look like someone you two knew back in the day?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least tell Vic? He’s sensitive and took all the cold shoulder personally.”

Lucas chuckled, then grew serious. “Because that sounds insane. ‘You look like my dead girlfriend that Kristoff always had a thing for so stay out of LA for a while.’” He shrugged. “Seeing your face… It brought up a lot of memories.”

“Bad ending?” She looked down, wanting to wince at her words. Of course, it was. Two feuding vampires and one dead woman wasn’t the sign of a happy ending. How could something between a vampire and a human end well?

“Something like that.”

“I’m sorry. You cared for her. That was callous to say.”

“I loved her as much as I could without a soul. Not nearly enough. Fair warning, I’m the original bad boyfriend.” Lucas put his hands in his pockets. “She was nice like you are.”

“I’m not fucking nice.” Red crossed her arms before looking down and stepping aside to avoid tromping on a praying mantis strolling the sidewalk.

“You’re a little Billy Badass.” He shook his head to hide a smile, but then his face fell. “Let me see that bite.”

“I think I have had enough vampires in my face.” Red pressed harder on her neck wound.

Lucas arched an eyebrow. “I have vampire vision. I don’t need to loom over you.”

Red pulled up the jacket and the black bandana to reveal the two fang marks on her neck. The bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped. She mopped up the drying blood. “Hurts, but I’ll live.” She sighed. “As a claimed human. It’s a territory thing, I know. I’m like a hydrant that he only peed on so you couldn’t.”

“That’s one way of describing it.” Lucas shrugged. “Might not be far off. The bastard didn’t waste any time, that’s for sure.”

“What does that even mean in a city like this?” Red wasn’t a scholar of vampire society, but she knew enough of the rules, and when vampires set rules, they could always break them.

The Blood Alliance was the vampire UN, but each supreme master ran their city differently and interpreted the Dark Veil policy in their own special way. Older than the Blood Alliance, the Dark Veil was the agreement made by the supernatural community to stay hidden from humans. In Oklahoma City, the Dark Veil was upheld by leaving no witnesses.

Vic and Red had barely gotten out of OKC alive.

Los Angeles had the most souled vampires in the West. A catch and release rule would have gotten supremes ripped off their thrones in other cities. Where did that leave claimed humans in this land of the cuddly vampires? She had already learned that Cora didn’t have the out-of-towners under the same control as her own people.

Red hugged an arm to herself. “You know him. How fast should I be running?”

“He can’t turn you in LA county. Even if you didn’t have the Brotherhood behind you, Cora keeps tight control on our numbers.”

“No, but he can put me in a car and take me up to Portland.” Red pressed the bandana back to her neck and shivered. “I got blood on your coat. I made it more punk.” She sighed and started walking down the sidewalk to the opening of the alley behind Club Vltava. “You’re welcome.”

“Where are you going?”

“I might as well do my job, between all the macho brawling, I didn’t get to do much sleuthing. Give Vic a text, and tell him to bring the van around.” Red didn’t look back. Fighting monsters, solving crimes, that was something she could focus on. This doppelgänger business only made her head hurt, while thinking of Kristoff’s claim chilled her.

She pulled off her heels one at a time as she walked, putting them in her purse before jamming the flats on her feet, mentally cursing herself for listening to Vic. Her ankle tendons stretched in painful relief to be on flat feet.

As she walked down the alley, lights came on from hidden sensors. Club Vltava took up the corner of the block with three back exits in the alley. She was impressed by how clean and well-lit it was. Kristoff might not have been able to keep the dead bodies off his doorstep, but he certainly took out the trash.

Red pointed at the cracked surveillance cameras above the doors. “Someone’s taken out the cameras.” She squinted. “Looks like they threw a rock at the lens of each one or something. That wasn’t in the police report.”

She stepped under the police tape and looked for where Julia had been found. In the crime scene photos, Julia had huddled in a corner made by the fence and dumpster. One arm stretched out towards the bottom of the dumpster as caught trying to lift herself up.

Red looked up at the fire escape, then crouched by it. Partly to see better, and partly to stretch her hamstrings. Julia had been found with her face looking toward the club. Tilting her head, she tried to focus on what Julia had seen.

“Red, you should be getting a plaster on that wound,” Lucas murmured behind her.

“If you had finished draining someone, would you just drop them?” Red asked over her shoulder.

“Not my game anymore, ducks.” Lucas put his hands in his pockets.

“Hmmm, but if you did now…”

“I wouldn’t leave them near the rubbish.” He said, his voice low.

Red looked over at the dumpster before studying the alley floor. . The crime photos Fat Crispin had sent rose in her mind. Julia had been bruised on her face and hands, but her wounds were defensive, not from torture. The Bard’s Daughter had fought to the end.

“I’m doing a bit of pop psychology to guess if it was a souled vampire or not.” She flipped to the crime photos on her phone gallery, stood, and handed him the phone. “What do you think?”

Lucas took it, fingers avoiding hers, and looked down. He swiped to the next. “A rush job. Looks like a quick feed and dash.”

“Except they had enough time to take the cameras out.” Red looked at him with her phone. “Hey, no more swiping.”

Lucas gulped as he stared down at her phone. The torn sketch of the blindfolded woman that she had found in Quinn’s safe stared back. He handed it back to her. “How’d you find this? It was lost.”

“Then I guess I found it. It was on the floor when those guys did the smash and grab at Quinn’s office. I noticed the creepy weird resemblance. It’s her, isn’t it?” Red studied his face.

“It’s Juniper.” Lucas turned away to hide eyes troubled with memories. He put a hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels, before he turned around. Steadying himself on the dumper with a thud, his fingers dented the metal. “That should have stayed lost.”

“Then you might want to ask Quinn how it ended up in his safe.”

“Do you have it? The full sketch?”

“No, I just saw that one piece and put it back in the album it fell out of.”

Headlights flooded the alley. A breeze pushed an old styrofoam cup out from under the dumpster.

Red put her phone in her purse and looked over her shoulder to see the Falcon before she looked back to Lucas. She shifted her feet. They were strangers who had met before. She had met him in dreams, and he had loved a woman with her face. What did that leave them? “I’m guessing that this sketch is from your bad no-soul days.”

“I wasn’t just bad, I was the worst. And I taught Kristoff everything I knew.” Lucas warned.

“I’ll keep that in mind about the both of you.” Red put her hand on her hip, trying to strike a pose that was something other than creeped out. A claim mark on her neck felt as terrifying as the idea that she was a double for a dead woman. “Let’s do what we came here for.”

She refocused on the alley. The crime scene techs had picked it clean, but the breeze and Lucas’s bear grip on the dumpster had freed trapped rubbish. A glimmer reflected in the dirt and wrappers on the ground. “Hey, can you move that dumpster?”

Lucas nodded and pushed it aside like a human man would move a cardboard box.

Vic hopped out of the van. “Come on, idjits. Stop playing with trash.”

Lucas stepped toward him. “Took you long enough.”

“I had to get out of a paid parking garage.” Vic scowled.

Red let the bickering roll over her as she walked over to the dumpster and pushed her foot around to move the few pieces of litter. She bent over and picked up a small circle of old gold—half of a locket. She turned it over to see a small sepia portrait of a petite blonde with wide-set eyes and a coy smile.

“Vic, get the first aid kit ready. I’ll join you in the van in a second,” Red said.

Vic gave her a look that said they were talking later.

Red shrugged out of the leather jacket and walked it over to Lucas. “Thanks.” She bit her lip, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Do you only see her when you look at me?”

“I’m trying not.” Lucas cocked his head. His brows drew together, his mouth soft as his gaze seemed to memorize her. As if she would fade like a ghost.

“What happened to her, to you?”

“I got a soul. She was murdered by hunters.” Lucas shook his head. “Kristoff left her to die to save his own ass.”

Red blinked, and the vampire was gone, leaving her alone with her long shadow cast in the van’s headlights. She looked down at the locket half and brought it close to her chest. She wasn’t thinking about the woman in the locket, she was thinking of another woman from the past.

Juniper. Her dopplegänger.

Who was this woman who had captured the hearts of two master vampires and held them even a century after she died?

Chapter Seven

October 26th, 2018, Just Past Midnight, Los Angeles California, USA

Vic drove, his fingers clenched on the wheel, listening to her story in silence as they drifted through the lighter night traffic back to the motel. When he pulled into the motel parking lot, he glanced at her. “We can’t stay here.”

She wasn’t surprised. They traveled light, just in case they needed to make a quick getaway.

“We can’t keep driving on the donut.” Red got out of the van.

The two moved quickly into their motel room. She changed out of her club clothes in the bathroom, wiping the blood off her skin, surprised to see the fang marks already scabbing up. She stepped out of the bathroom to see Vic pulling the linens off the beds.

Red tossed the bloody green cocktail dress into the lined waste bin.

Vic poured some beer onto the blankets and sheets on the floor to ensure they were laundered.

They worked together to make sure to clean up all the trash, stray hair, and wipe down their fingerprints before they carried the small plastic waste bag into the van. They would burn the contents later. Scents, prints, blood, all could be used to track them either magically or the old-fashioned human way. These were the first things Vic had taught her: fake names, no traces, keep moving.

“You’re freaking me out, Vic. You’re not talking.”

“I’m thinking.” Vic put the van in gear and sped out of the parking lot, turning right. “We can’t stay in LA. Quinn pulled us into some deep shit and didn’t give me any warning.”

“Agreed,” Red said.

Vic shook his head and pounded the steering wheel. “He could have mentioned you’re a dead ringer for a long dead girl. I would’ve never taken you to that club, if I knew. This is fucked up. Vampires don’t just claim humans and defy a supreme master for kicks. If there’s bad blood between him and Lucas, you’re right in the middle of it now.”

“You didn’t see the fight. It isn’t just bad blood. It’s some serious hate. I stumbled into old love triangle drama.”

“You don’t want to be the chew toy stuck between those dogs. Lucas can be a dick, but he has a soul. I don’t know Novak, but he’s got you in his sights.”

“Where are we going?”

“To get some answers. I’ve lost one partner on a hunt. I’m not losing another.” Vic gritted his teeth as he took the off-ramp toward Culver City.

After being buzzed in, Vic stomped into Quinn Investigations.

Red followed him into the office which looked mostly clean beyond the stacks of files on the small couch and coffee table. The large window had been repaired. Blue painter’s tape still clung to the frame.

Quinn sat behind the large desk with two stacks of files in front of him and a filing cabinet pulled close to his rolling chair. Fluorescent lights washed out his blond hair. He stood, pushing the folders aside, his handsome face nearly blank except for a nervous furrow to his brow. “Hey.”

“Hey…? That’s all I get, after tonight?” Vic snorted. “Come on, Q.”

“Who do I look like to you?” Red put her hands on her hips. She tilted her head to better show the white bandage on her neck next to the strap of her black tank top. “Because to Kristoff Novak, I look like a long-dead Victorian snack. Guess who got claimed tonight? Hint: it wasn’t Vic.”

Quinn’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t even get anyone’s phone number.” Vic groused, but then his lips thinned, and he shook his head. “Dude, you could have given us a heads up! Lucas fought Novak off, but I could have been down an intern tonight.”

“Where did he find you? At the beach working the Greene case?” Quinn asked, confusion pressing his eyebrows together. “Lucas found you there too?”

“No,” Red said. "We got word of another victim from the Brotherhood. A Bard’s daughter, dumped behind Club Vltava. Looked like the same MO, from the bite marks to the ouroboros carved into them.”

Quinn crossed his arms. “What happened with keeping me in the loop?”

“Don’t play that card, hombre,” Vic said. “We’ll ignore the red-haired mystery in the room for a moment.” He counted off points with his fingers. “One, did you know that Olivia Greene had a snake eating its tail scratched on her? Because you didn’t tell us. That’s the Alaric Order symbol—of which, you may recall, Delilah was once a member. You too. Does a scary vampire society ring any bells?”

Quinn nodded, shoulders drooping and arms unfolding.

“Two, you would have known if you just let us crash in your pad. How many times have I passed out on your couch? Which I guess leads me to my last damn point: you didn’t tell me about this doppelgänger bullshit! I get not telling her because it’s freaky, but me?” Vic pointed at himself. “I was the Robin to your Batman.”

“He’s really the one who’s suffered the most.” Red rolled her eyes.

Quinn sighed and sat on the corner of his desk. He rubbed his knuckles absently on his white V-neck shirt. “You’re right. Not about Vic.” He furrowed his brow. “But the other points.”

“Lucas was less cryptic than before, but I only got that I look like his dead ex-girlfriend, and Kristoff is bad news. I don’t know what the hell is going on. It feels like I’m being dumped blindly into some Downton Abbey drama.”

“I thought I was imagining it when you walked in. I haven’t seen a picture of her in a lifetime. The resemblance is uncanny.” Quinn shook his head. “I was going to find an excuse to send you away before anyone else could see you.”

“Well, I’ve been seen, but I don’t know what they see.” Red gestured to her face.

Quinn sighed. “They see a vampire’s courtesan.”

“What is this, Undead Pretty Woman?” Vic asked.

Red glanced at him and rolled her eyes, then glowered at Quinn. “Who is Juniper St. James? Because that name came up a lot tonight.”

“That wasn’t her real name. Just the last one we gave her.” Quinn rubbed his knuckles on his chest like a nervous tick. “I never learned her real one.” The sentence came out like a confession.

“Go on.” Red rolled her fingers for him to continue.

“It’s an old story. I’m a villain in it, don’t mistake me.” Quinn furrowed his brow. “Juniper was part of the family, but we were more like the Manson Family than the Brady Bunch.” He looked Red in the eye, his brown eyes filled with guilt, self-loathing, and sorrow. Enough to make her want to take a step back. “Juniper St. James was an accomplished woman despite everything.”

“Everything?” Red crossed her arms.

“Everything we did to her,” Quinn said. “Juniper was Lucas’s paramour, but she essentially functioned as the human servant to the four of us. My filing didn’t look like this when she was my secretary.” He looked around the office before his brown eyes flicked back to Red. “She played nursemaid to Justine, ran errands for Delilah. Domestic toils punctuated by mayhem and murder in a glittering cage.”

“Yeah, so she was there for the golden years of the Bloody Byrnes when the fanged four was in their groove. Where does Novak come in?” Vic asked.

“Lucas turned Kristoff.”

Vic and Red looked at each other.

“What? I thought the sire bond… well, bonded you more?” Vic said.

Red added, “That fight wasn’t family roughhousing. It was just rough.”

Quinn shrugged. “It’s complicated. Lucas was never an attentive sire. He wanted a servant, not a true childe.”

“Let me get this family tree straight,” Red said. “Delilah turned you, you turned Justine, she turned Lucas, and Lucas turned Kristoff. So, Kristoff is like your great-grandson?”

“Don’t put it like that but, yes. Bored in Prague, Lucas turned Kristoff. I played my own part in that too. I considered myself a master of discord, but even I couldn’t have predicted what was to come. Kristoff was obsessed with Juniper. It doesn’t matter that you aren’t her, that you’re a genetic coincidence. Nostalgia isn’t just for humans.”

“How do I get unclaimed? Kill him, right? That’s what I did to the King of the Prairie Dead.” Red looked at Vic, but Kristoff Novak’s face rose up in her mind. Her neck throbbed in remembrance even as her stomach clenched at the memory of the strange pleasure in his bite. She wasn’t falling for that weird vampire trick.

“Killing him would break the claim. Another vampire challenging him and defeating him would also do it. All else fails, we get the marks lasered off you and run.” Vic said, gesturing to his neck.

“What does he have up his sleeve? Any Gifts?” Red asked, letting the part about the seductive bite go unsaid. All vampires had super speed, strength, and fangs that could induce a thrall with the perks of immortality as a tradeoff for having to drink blood and avoid direct sunlight. A few had gifts like crawling on ceilings, turning into mist, entering homes without permission, and others. “He’s rich, but that isn’t a superpower.”

“It is for Batman.” Vic nodded. “We can take him down.”

“It won’t be easy to kill him. Kristoff is representing the Master of Portland while his club is hosting half the events of the summit. He’s stronger than he should be at a hundred and eighteen and has his own crew of minions.” Quinn shook his head, brow furrowing.

Red stepped away and rubbed her arms. “You’re making it sound like I’m already vampire chow.”

“Hey, Goonies never say die.” Vic said, lightly punching her shoulder.

“Kristoff can only buck the rules so much. Vampires don’t have diplomatic immunity.” Quinn tilted his head, a slight wince to his mouth as his brown eyes narrowed. “Theoretically.”

“The Brotherhood made sure we were sanctioned by Cora,” Red said. “That must count for something. Then the fight got broken up by the French pirate-looking guy, so he’s already had his warning, right?”

“Michel?” Quinn’s expression darkened at the name. “Did he see you?”

Red shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I tried to stay out of the action, blend in with the crowd. He was more focused on stopping the fight.”

“I was upstairs. I don’t even know how Lucas got down there so fast. Or how he knew. Did he hear?” Vic snapped his fingers. “That explains why, when I asked him what his favorite TV show was, he said Juniper and disappeared. I was thinking it was a new Netflix show.”

“He looked so intense when Kristoff grabbed me.” Goosebumps rose on her arms as Red remembered Lucas’s gray eyes, dark history in his gaze, honed over lifetimes, directed straight at his progeny.

Quinn shook his head. “The soul has tempered him, but that instinct to defend is still there.”

“I’m not her. I might not know who I am, but I know what I’m not.” Red turned away.

“Damn it, Quinn, you should have fucking told me all this.” Vic banged his fist against his palm. “This whole case is tied up in your twisted undead family, and you can’t drop a clue so I don’t take Red into it? We have a vampire going all serial killer on some models. One of the suspects wants to make my intern his undead bride, and the other is your ex-wife.”

“I know.” Quinn looked away.

Vic squared his shoulders as he laid out his demands. “I’m taking that badass California king in your room. Red’s taking the guest room, and you’re putting that hulk body on the sofa.”

Quinn’s shoulders slumped. He sighed and gestured to the closed door to his private office. “I’ll give you the tour.”

“I’ll get the bags,” Vic said, flashing Red a grin.

Red followed Quinn into his basement apartment. Exposed brick walls gave it a cave-like ambiance. The open floor plan put the small quilt-covered leather sofa and leather chair right next to the kitchen with a tiny butcher block island counter separating the space from the countertops.

“There is only so much apartment to show you.” Quinn pointed to the three doors off the main living area. “My room, bathroom, second room.”

“Is it okay to have me here?” Red asked.

Quinn turned to his room. “I need to prepare the beds.”

Vic had ordered delivery when he went to get their backpacks. Soon after they were dressed in pajamas, the pizza man brought them cheesy pepperoni goodness.

Quinn slipped away after leaving the food.

Red and Vic devoured the pizza in silence, huddled over the island counter in the kitchen, more like hyenas hovering over an antelope.

The weight of the evening pressed on her shoulders. She might have considered herself bisexual, but she hadn’t spent this long thinking about a woman in months. Juniper St. James was the reason Red was in this mess. She scowled.

“This is fucking weird.” Vic said around a mouthful of pizza. His eyes widened as he swallowed.

“Ugh, I can see your food.” Red laughed and shook her head. “And yeah, this is Twilight Zone meets Vampire Diaries right now.”

“Are you going to be okay? This trigger… um, anything?” Vic asked, gripping his empty beer bottle tighter as he shifted on his feet. He was the guy in the chatroom who mocked trigger warnings, but he had seen her panic attacks. He wasn’t comfortable with emotions, but he tried.

Red smiled through her fatigue. “I’m fine. We’ve been through worse with fewer allies.”

Vic stretched and yawned. “Good. I am claiming the shower first.”

“Shoo then!” Red shook her head.

After putting the empty pizza box by the trash can, Red heated herself a cup of water in Quinn’s microwave. The vampire didn’t seem to have much beyond glass jars of blood in the fridge and loose tea in the cupboard, so she made do with some chamomile.

She pulled out the small black traveler’s journal that Vic had given her after their first hunt. He’d made it clear that it was a journal and not a diary. He said that every Bard kept field notes. She knew that he still treasured his adopted father’s journals. At first, she hadn’t done more than put short bullet point notes of the monsters they had encountered, but she had started to write more. Each entry seemed to get longer than the last. She was almost running out of space in this one. Tonight’s entry would be a doozy.

She had been searching for her real life for months; she had found someone else’s instead.

Writing in her baggy old t-shirt and soft gym shorts, she didn’t hear the door open. She looked up at Quinn. “Oh, hey, you probably want to sleep.”

“I’m a night owl.” His eyes were as wide as one. He hunched over, trying to take up less space, futile for a man over six feet tall and broad shouldered to boot.

“Of course. I can get out of your hair anyway.” She noticed him looking at the fridge. “Hey, it’s your kitchen, you can drink in front of me. You only have mugs, so it's not going to look that different from mine.” She raised her mug of lukewarm tea.

Quinn nodded and went to the fridge, using his back to block her view of him grabbing two jars of blood to mix and pour into a mug he put in the microwave. “Animal blood.” He said nervously over his shoulder.

“Do you mix them for flavor?” Red closed her notebook and tilted her head. “Like three parts cow, one part chicken?”

“Modern chickens don’t taste good.” Quinn frowned as he crossed and uncrossed his arms before holding them to the side.

“Is free range goat where it’s at?” Red smiled, trying to make a joke. She could almost hear the joke crash and burn as Quinn’s expression grew more remote.

The microwave dinged. Quinn turned to pull out the mug. He sipped it, staring down.

“Is it uncomfortable to have me here?”

“You’re a reminder of what I have to atone for.” Quinn gazed at her as if forcing himself to not look away.

Red bit the inside of her cheek as she struggled for the right words to say in the face of such deep guilt. “Vic said you were a vampire on a mission for redemption.”

“Redemption...” Quinn shook his head. “Vic talks a lot.”

“He does. He made it sound like Lucas did too, but I can’t get much out of him. You’re more talkative.”

“I’ve never heard that before.”

“Please, tell me something. I need to know.” Red hated the pleading note in her tone. “Whoever Juniper was, she still has enough pull to make two vampires defy a supreme master. I could’ve died tonight.”

“If seeing you brought up memories of old sins and dark nights for me, I can’t imagine what Lucas sees.” Quinn’s reserved expression grew more contemplative. “He doted on her. I used to mock him for it when he would bring her books and chocolates. Without a soul, I was incapable of such caring, so I saw it as weakness. Lucas wasn’t incapable. He could love, even before, but love becomes twisted without a conscience. He would kill for her—and did. When she was nearly burned at the stake by witch hunters in Prague, Lucas ripped through them. Seeing your face… If I have guilt, he has that and more.”

Her mouth gaping open, Red didn’t know what question to ask first.

Juniper was a witch? Could she have been a part of the mysterious line of witches that Red’s mother had supposedly been a part of? What was her real name? How long was she an item with Lucas? What the hell had happened in Prague that had brought her to London in 1900 to die when the Byrnes were cursed with souls?

She opened her mouth to start interrogating Quinn.

Vic opened the bathroom door, releasing a cloud of steam, and stuck his head out. His black mullet was toweled off and sticking up every which way. “I’ll miss that water pressure when we leave.”

Quinn nodded to Red before he disappeared up the stairs, brooding gaze lingering on the blood in his mug. He walked like Atlas with the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

“What’s his deal?” Vic stepped out, gripping the wide black towel wrapped around his waist.

Red scowled at him. He had the worst timing. “I can already tell there isn’t going to be much hot water left.”

“What’s your deal?”

She put her empty mug in the small dishwasher. “You can run the dishes when I’m done.”

She headed in to shower and tried to wash the lingering blood residue off. Shielding the scabbed-over fang marks on her neck with her hand, Red sighed in the hot water as she leaned against the white subway tiles. Her thoughts raced. Breathing deep, she tried to calm her shallow breathing.

In the action with a case in front of her, Red kept her head. That fell apart once the quiet set in, and she could let down her guard. The moment when she wasn’t going to die was when she felt like she was. Delayed terror made her shake.

The panic attacks didn’t start until she had been out of the Eugene hospital for a few weeks. She fooled herself into thinking she’d managed to hide them for a few more. Like a smothering wave, the panic pressed down on her once the job was over. Vic was the one that made her get help.

Uninsured and paperless, she found it in a moldy Unitarian church basement in Colorado for a few group sessions until a job took them back on the road. They taught her to focus on the little details when she couldn’t control her racing thoughts on everything from her research to-dos, fixing a busted light on the Falcon, and vampires A-Z.

She opened her eyes to spy Quinn’s surprisingly upscale and unscented shampoo and conditioner. Breathing steady, she focused on the bottle until her thoughts slowed.

His face wash had a Korean label and felt like a dream to rub on. This was a vampire that cared about his skincare regimen. Quinn might have a soul and live in a basement apartment, but his inner Libertine still appreciated some of the finer things.

She took a deep breath. Red had gone from dodging vampires in the West to borrowing toiletries from one. It didn’t end at face wash. Her neck proved that.

Red had been warned in Reno. Then again at the Pump House bar. The vampires in the City of Angels walked quietly in the world of man. Let them have their meetings, everyone agreed, there were other monsters to fight. Coming to Los Angeles right now was asking for trouble.

Now, Red was claimed by one of them.

Her first mistake was thinking that a vampire would obey his kind’s rules. Kristoff owned the club; he could manipulate the lighting and music to cover up any breach of the Dark Veil. He was from Portland; he could flee Cora’s jurisdiction. The cards were in his hands. She had met the spider in his web, and this spider had waited a long time for a fly like her.

She hadn’t a clue when she walked into that nightclub. The pieces were coming together, but everyone, including Vic, seemed to know more about the players in this drama than she did. If someone had asked her what tormented her the most about amnesia, it wasn’t the loss of a life lived, it was the unending curiosity. Not knowing burned at her.

She closed her eyes and hunched over, arms around herself, wrestling with her own demons until the hot water ran out.

Red tried to imagine her troubles swirling down the drain as she turned off the shower and stepped out. Setting a bandage on her healing bite came first. Kristoff hadn’t done more than sip at her. It was the coldest of comforts knowing what he might have planned for her.

She blow-dried her hair, then brushed her teeth with her plastic travel toothbrush, trying to pretend that it was what passed for a normal night for her. She stared into the mirror at a shared face. Shivering, she absently wiped down the counter with a tissue. Red had wanted to shower then crack open her laptop to research Kristoff. Her legs trembled. Exhaustion made her put her head in her hands.

Sleep, it was.

Red wrapped a plush black towel around herself before leaving the bathroom to find the living room empty. She went to the guest room, turning on the lights to reveal the dark blue, windowless walls.

The king size bed took up most of the space with a shelf jammed in the corner and a small closet door beside it. Red re-dressed in her pajamas before she flopped on the bed and rolled over. The vague scent of sandalwood lingered in the air. The walls seemed to lean in on her. Closing her eyes didn’t help. She glanced around the room before a yawn broke from her lips.

She looked over at the bookcase and got up to peruse the packed shelves. Bookshelves were always her kryptonite even when she was bone tired. With the loop of regrets, fears, and obligations playing through her head, Red wanted something else to think about.

An eclectic mix of books, records, and old magazines mingled with random things shoved carelessly on the selves. A collection of Lord Byron’s poetry sat next to a battered copy of On the Road by Jack Kerouac and an old Doc Martens boot.

Red focused on an old VHS tape of SLC Punk and tapped at the lime green case. Realization struck her. This wasn’t a guest room. It was Lucas’s room. Or at least he stashed his stuff here.

Pulling out the copy of On the Road, she looked back at the freshly changed bed and shrugged. She had worn his jacket tonight. Using his blanket wouldn’t be much different. Exhaustion pushed the weirdness aside, leaving only the fact that after this freaky day, any bed looked good.

She switched off the bedroom lights and turned on the small bedside lamp, then curled up in the blankets. The strange apartment felt too quiet and her mind too loud. She put a hand on her heart and breathed in deep. She opened the book and tried to distract herself with the adventures of Sal and Dean being beatniks across America.

The sandalwood scent surrounded her as she yawned and told herself that they would hit the road tomorrow, leaving Lucas, Kristoff, and especially Juniper behind.

October 26th, 2018, Noon, Smith and Reaper Bank, Downtown, Los Angeles California, USA

Sitting in the private cubicle at the Smith and Reaper bank, sweating under the high lace collar of her vintage blue dress, Red clutched the purse in her lap.

She might have chased after bounties doled out by the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes, but that money only went so far. Small scams kept the Millennium Falcon running and their mission on the road. Usually, they passed through small town banks with fake socials and managed to hustle loans or credit cards before leaving a defeated monster behind in trade on their way out of town.

This was the biggest place they’d ever tried to con. The bank didn’t just look like the definition of corporate class, it even smelled like money. When she had found the notepad with the Smith and Reaper Bank logo in that dingy motel off the freeway, she hadn’t imagined their office would look like this. She usually did more research on their marks. Desperate times led to stupid measures.

Her mind raced with doubts once the banker left to go find a supervisor after she had given her information to open an account and get a credit card.

“That social was bogus,” Red whispered to Vic. She glanced at the thumb print scanner on the desk.

“I paid good bitcoin for that on the dark web. Its legit.”

“This is big money we’re walking away from,” Red said, thinking of the bounty that Fat Crispin had put on the head of the vampire who murdered his daughter. She tried not to think of Julia Crispin and her bright smile. Julia had crossed an ocean to make it as a grad student by day and model by night in the City of Angels. She’d ended up dead in an alley. Julia’s face hadn’t left her mind since they decided to take Lucas’s advice and skip town.

“This credit card will get the tire fixed, and we can ride on the rest before we ditch it,” Vic said. “There was already the stink of vampire conspiracy on this case and then you…”

“You said we were the only hunters with the balls to come to LA with the Blood Summit happening. Did you mean it?” Red shifted in her chair. The hunter bar had been empty enough to prove him right. Who else would work the case?

“Hey, do you want to become some Eurotrash’s pet?”

Red glared at him.

“Sorry. I’m jumpy. I know what you’re saying. I don’t like running from a case either, but this is next level strange.”

“Strange doesn’t cover it. I didn’t even recognize myself when you found me, and now I can’t go anywhere in this town without some vampire gawking at me.” Red touched the large band-aid through her dress lightly.

Being claimed by Kristoff Novak had been freaky enough even before she was clued in about being a lookalike of his old crush. Then there was Lucas with his soulful gaze. This was someone else’s life that she had been dropped into. Red might have Juniper’s face, but she didn’t want her baggage.

“You’ve been looking for yourself, kid, but I don’t think you’re going to find anything here. LA doesn’t have anything for you,” Vic said.

Red looked up at the smiling white-haired banker as he re-entered the cubicle.

“Thank you for your patience. I’d like to introduce Sheila Jones from the Special Accounts Division. She will take care of you.” He gestured to a younger woman in a business skirt suit with a severe bob, highlights artfully streaked through the brown hair. She wore a Bluetooth earpiece and smartwatch.

Sheila shook Red and Vic’s hands with firm precision before she sat behind the desk. “Mrs. Pfannenstiel, it's a pleasure. When we ran your application and prints, we found that you already had an account with us. A trust fund, to be specific.” Sheila’s lips curled up, the matte red lipstick smile not reaching her eyes.

“Pardon? Where is this trust coming from?”

Sheila folded her hands. “That is the part where the special comes into Special Accounts. This trust was set up overseas under what I’m certain is a fake name. It’s not as uncommon as you might think for families to preserve their assets discreetly.”

“What kind of assets are we talking about, lady?” Vic asked.

She typed into the desktop computer before she turned the flat screen around to show the client record.

Red leaned forward. The slick interface with all its fields was nearly empty of personal information beyond a name—Hermione Granger—and bright red numbers listing a figure with enough zeros to make her blink. “Oh, my.”

“Thank you, Grandma Pfannenstiel.” Vic whistled low.

“Now, the instructions on the trust stipulate that the account belonged to whoever matched the fingerprints. There’s one more step before we can hand the account and your new card to you.”

Red nodded. “Sure.”

Sheila pulled out a small metallic box from her pocket and placed it on the desk. She opened the lid to reveal a small interface. “Put your thumb or index finger on the sensor.”

Red put her thumb down. A sharp pain shot through her thumb. She lifted it to see the small drop of blood from the wound.

Sheila closed the box, and her smartwatch beeped. “Fabulous. It’s a match.” She pulled out Red’s fake ID and a shiny black metal card. “These are yours. You’ll be able to set the pin in your new online account. The process to transition the account can take ten business days, but you’ll have access to fifty thousand liquid cash until then. The physical items will be shipped and should arrive in 4-6 weeks.”

Sheila typed into the keyboard again before clicking the mouse. A printer began to whirl under the desk. Sheila pulled out a folder from the desk drawer with account info. “I’m printing out the account record for you. Let’s go over the terms and agreements.”

Red looked at Vic before she pulled her chair closer.

The two left the air-conditioned building onto the busy downtown street, blinking into the bright sun.

Red leaned against the wall of the bank. “I’m a millionaire. Multi-millionaire.”

“I stand corrected. There was something for you in LA.” Vic rubbed his hands on his cheeks, staring at her. “We found a clue to your origins, my mysterious intern. A money clue. Many many money clues. Were there really that many zeroes?”

Red nodded. “I guess I do have a family. A very rich family.”

“Who have offshore accounts and use blood for verification.”

“Yeah, what kind of bank is this?” Red shook her head. “We should have asked more questions. I got so distracted the second I saw all those zeros.”

Vic scratched his jaw. “As a newly rich person, I think you need an entourage, and I should be the first one in it.”

Red laughed as she pushed off the wall and started walking toward the underground parking garage. “Well, I pulled out two thousand dollars. Let’s get the van fixed and do some research.”

“Does this make me the intern now?”

“No, don’t worry. Being your intern will just be my eccentric hobby.” Red grinned.

“Seriously, Red, you should get out of here. I can work the case. We’re not just talking about money here. We’re talking about Fuck You Money. Ready to burn. This is your escape hatch.”

“Where is Mr. The Truth Is Out There? I can’t believe you even want to touch this money.”

“I bet there are strings a-plenty on this trust, and yes, I smell conspiracy. But damn, those are liquid assets. You can drain that and run without a trace.” Vic shrugged. “Hide out in a castle in Spain if you want. You already know Spanish.”

Red shook her head. “This is the first real lead on who I am. It’s not about having money. I’ve been searching for some sign of who I am for the last year. This trust could lead back to my family. Too much is happening here. It can’t be a coincidence. Doppelgänger, reincarnation, secret heiress, I don’t know what. But it’s happening here in LA.”

“But Novak... He’s going to come for you again,” Vic pointed out as they walked past Mercedes and Ferraris to the Falcon.

“We’ve killed older vampires. I’m not helpless. My magic might not work all the time, but I’ve done well as your intern. Besides, I have fifty grand liquid in the bank. We can gear up like Batman.”

Vic hopped into the van and turned the ignition. He squealed like a teen girl. “I wanna get a flamethrower.”

Chapter Eight

October 26th, 2018, Evening, The Pandora Hotel, Los Angeles California, USA

Sitting cross-legged on the long leather couch after writing a clipped and peeved report to Fat Crispin about their evening at Club Vltava, Red surfed through the files on Julia Crispin’s laptop.

They’d grabbed it from the victim’s apartment when they visited the small two-bedroom apartment in Silverlake and spoke to her grieving girlfriend. Red had been surprised, since Fat Crispin’s report had only mentioned a close roommate. She’d asked if Julia was bisexual, but the girlfriend denied it and said that Julia’s family wasn’t supportive.

Out of all the questions that Red had walked out of Julia Crispin’s with, one stood out: What was a lesbian from a Bard family, with a cute professional volleyball player for a girlfriend, doing with a bunch of male vampires at Club Vltava?

Vic flopped on the couch, wearing his clubbing blazer from the night before with his hair slicked back. He put his boots up on the coffee table before putting them down again, nervous energy wafting from him. “When are we going down to the bar? What’s the point of being in a fancy place like this if we’re not enjoying it? You’re not even glammed up yet. I am!”

“I found some interesting files on her laptop. I’m uploading them to a thumb drive now.” Red had done a computer-wide search for the words vampire and demon, and a surprising number of files and folders came up, each with boringly innocent names like School Receipts, Book Reports, and Period Tracker. She copied them all onto the thumb drive. She clicked on the period tracker. It opened with the red headline “Hell-A” and a table of contents listing sections like City Summary, Leadership, and Death Rates. “Hmmm, she was researching something. This reads like a dossier of the city’s dead. It’s a huge document. It’s taking forever to load.”

A pop-up appeared on the screen, asking for a password before blocking the words on the document.

Red frowned. “It’s password protected.”

“I’ll crack the password tomorrow. You said the files have to transfer. You don’t need to watch them.” Vic hopped up. “Come on, we have money to burn, and we’re in the safest place in LA.” He gestured to the hotel suite on the second to the top floor of the Pandora Hotel.

Decorated in a Southwestern Art Deco style, the suite boasted three balconies, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a sitting room with an attached kitchen. Then there was the magical security system. Unlike most hotels, which didn’t have that special essence of home, the rooms at Pandora Hotel could repel uninvited vampires. Every city boasted of one neutral ground with a sanctuary spell where the supernatural could mingle in peace. LA was big enough to have a few. The Pandora Hotel was the most luxurious and fortified.

“Let’s party like we’re the beautiful people tonight!” Vic said.

Red laughed and closed the document, adding it to the queue of transferring files before she put the laptop on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, you head down to the bar, and I’ll meet you after I get dressed.” She reached into her pocket and fished out her wallet. “Hey, I still owe you $200 from Reno. Here you go with some interest.”

She handed him three hundred. He had taken her in without a cent—or even a name to, well, her name. It felt good to begin to pay him back.

“This is the good karma coming back. Hell yeah.” Vic pumped his arm and took the cash. “See you down at the bar.” He left with a skip to his step.

Looking down at the laptop, she turned and walked into the room with the king-sized bed and balcony overlooking the darkened Hollywood Hills. This hotel suite cost more per week than all the hotels they’d stayed in for the last few months combined. The opulence felt strange, like new leather boots, but it felt like she had released a breath that she hadn’t known she was holding.

After months of rubbing pennies together to keep afloat on the road, it was nice to finally get what they needed, like new tires or wooden bullets. Worrying about monsters was easier when you weren’t also worrying about how to keep gas in the tank. Of course, all this newfound money could be from blood diamonds or used to track her for a nefarious end. It also could lead straight to the person she had been. Who knew?

Red didn’t. They had tried to find her identity before, running searches on missing redheads in 2010, showing her picture to hunters around Eugene, even visiting an overpriced shaman in Nevada. Nothing had shaken out. This trust fund had been the closest connection that Red had to anything in this world that wasn’t a creepy Victorian love triangle.

In the meantime, she was happy to take advantage of the money. Vic had already sent out feelers to his sources to get some more intel. If it turned out it was from Nazi gold, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Her accommodations might have upgraded, but Red still had the same old military surplus duffle bag. Olive green and dingy, it rested on the all-white bed. She unzipped it to see copies of the same outfit. Black shirt and jeans. There were scattered peeks of color from her pajamas, random shirts, and scarves, but constant travel in a van, demon-related mishaps, and being broke between bounties or credit card scams didn’t lend itself to a diverse wardrobe.

Red looked at herself in the mirror. The fifties-style blue dress had a matching lace panel that covered her from the neck to the short sleeves. It almost hid the bandage. She had worn it to the bank to look like a respectable citizen. Since she’d had to toss the green cocktail dress, she didn’t have much in the way of cute things.

Going to the attached bathroom, she freshened up and released her hair from the French twist, letting it fall down her shoulders. Red shook out the gentle waves. She cleaned up her eye makeup but didn’t apply any more. She put on a hint of red lipstick to brighten up her face. Kristoff hadn’t taken all that much blood, and the wound was healing quickly, but she still felt paler than usual.

Red looked herself over in the mirror. She didn’t look bad, but she did look like she could use a drink.

Habit led her to hide her laptop bag and stash of IDs under the low bronze varnished dresser. She pushed them flush against the wall.

Grabbing her purse, she checked Julia’s laptop and noticed the transfer had stopped because the thumb drive was full. Red frowned, wondering what in the hell Julia had in those folders that was bigger than 16 GB. She found another empty drive at the bottom of her backpack by the couch and traded swapped them out to resume the transfer.

Curiosity tugged at her, but Vic was right. They had arrived in LA two days ago, and it had been one damn thing after another. She could take a break for a glass of wine and process how she’d once been a hunter without a past. Now she was caught up in a supernatural soap opera of doppelgängers and secret heiresses.

Palming the full thumb drive, she felt too lazy to hide it with the rest of her hidden stash. Instead, she scooped up the suite’s card key and dropped both in her small purse before heading out of the room, double checking the door was locked on the way to the elevator.

The vague tickle of magic made her nose twitch. Maybe if she’d had a magical mentor, she could hone in on it, but she only knew what she had picked up along the way about her magic. She had a third eye that needed contacts, but she could sense the energy in the old hotel off Sunset Strip. Smudgy vague auras and whisper thin mists hung over the doorways and drifted to the ceiling. Every city had a neutral zone where supernatural beings, humans, and even hunters obeyed the peace. The Pandora Hotel was the only sanctuary with a five-star lounge.

Red stepped out of the elevator into the high-ceilinged lobby, designed in a 1930s Old Hollywood style with golden wallpaper and cream-colored circular couches in front of the wide angular front desk. The vintage illusion was broken by the pop music drifting from an open hall. She flashed her card key to the pale bouncer by the door to the lounge.

The retro theme continued in the lounge. Filled white booths and tables faced the bandstand, empty but for a DJ, his white suit bright against the red velvet curtain of the stage. Humans and vampires mixed with even more exotic beings. A hooded creature holding a brandy glass in his red reptilian claws chatted with a blue skinned dwarf taking tequila shots at the circular, bronze-plated bar.

A few stools down from the dwarf, Red spotted Vic examining an offered box of cigars and walked toward him. She looked around. “This is pretty nice.”

“It beats the hell out of a no-tell motel.” Vic pointed at a cigar in the middle of the box. “That one, my good man, and a glass of pinot grigio for the lady. The one you recommended earlier.”

The bartender complied with that polished ease found only in upscale establishments where customer service was elevated to client relations. The wine glass appeared before her with a sip poured in for her to taste.

“Oh, wonderful.” Red nodded and gave back the glass to be filled. “Thank you.”

“Feeling rich is amazing. It’s like I have contact wealth,” Vic said. “I’m already used to this. I refuse to go back to peasant life. I’m taking the blue pill.”

Red laughed. “Let’s not start lighting our cigars with Benjamins just yet. We’ll only be here until we figure out the Novak stich, but I gotta say, my bathroom is like the same size as our last hotel room.”

Vic raised his beer and tapped his pint against her glass. “The water pressure is out of this world. I also suspect that this cigar will be as well…” Vic grinned and downed the last of his beer before setting it on the bar. “...which I billed to the room.”

“I’m happy to play sugar mama. Enjoy your sin stick.” Red chuckled at Vic as he left with his cigar. She spun in the stool to see him strutting toward the bar door. Her breath caught as Lucas came in.

In his leather jacket and torn jeans, he stepped into the lounge with the grace of a panther, lazy movements hiding the watchfulness. His gray eyes found hers. His strong jaw tensed even as his gaze softened. That thread of doubt crept onto his face, as if he couldn’t decide if he should step back or come closer.

Vic slapped Lucas on the shoulder. “Hey, Greg, great to see you. Watch my intern.”

Lucas shook his head and strode to the bar.

Red grinned, snorting into her wine glass. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.”

“You’ve managed to get Vic out of his Canadian tuxedo twice in one week.” Lucas smiled, then looked down, a broody cast to his face chasing the smile away.

“It’s all him. He’s just excited. He chooses to wear a blazer.” Red shrugged. She wasn’t ready to tell all and sundry about her windfall, so she kept it brief. “We’re usually in a van, not a swanky hotel.”

“I’m surprised you told Quinn where you were.”

“He was honest with me last night. Besides, keeping case secrets didn’t exactly help the investigation.” Red gestured to her neck. “Even safe behind wards, it’s good to have someone else watching our backs.”

Lucas looked toward the lounge door that Vic left through. “Package set, eh?”

Red raised her eyebrows, swallowing the urge to laugh at the vampire’s not-so subtle question. “We’re not dating, if that’s what you mean. He’s like my brother. We’ve been through a lot.”

“How’d you meet?”

“He saved me. Gave me a spot in his van.” Red shrugged. She wasn’t ready to talk about being amnesia girl either. That led to awkward questions even with people that she didn’t have unexpected baggage with. She had learned to stay vague. “Taught me how to be a hunter.”

“It’s a hard life. What brings you to it?”

“Like most hunters, the life found me. What about you? Vic makes it sound like you’re on the road as much as we are.”

“Something to do. Its simpler on my bike, running jobs for Quinn.”

Red smiled. “You’re like a lone ranger, except instead of Tonto you have a sense of empathy?”

“Something like that.” Lucas looked down, his face growing reserved, before he looked at the bartender and ordered a draft beer.

“You don’t have to shut down,” Red said once the drink was in front of him, then shook her head. “Sorry, it’s just, I know I’m a freaky genetic coincidence, as Quinn put it, but you don’t need to act weird around me. I mean—never mind, it’s a free country.” Red frowned and looked down, wishing the ground would swallow her up after her ditzy ramble. Of course he was going to be weird around her. She looked like a dead woman. “That probably sounded stupid.”

“You’re trying to be nice. I get it.” Lucas shrugged and drank his beer. “You don’t need to be.”

Red heard the hint of self-loathing and resignation underneath the lazy clip of his English accent. He didn’t walk with the visible burden of guilt that Quinn did, but she saw it through his punk outfit and sarcasm when she had first met him. “It’s hard, huh? Quinn said it was for him.”

“You and Quinn had a heart to heart over tea?” Lucas lifted his eyebrows.

“Yes, actually.” Red sipped her wine. “Chamomile.”

“And what did you learn from my brooding grandsire?”

“That chicken blood isn’t tasty—I assume because of the hormones, but we didn’t get that far.” Red smiled. “He didn’t spill any of your secrets. I already figured that it was complicated. I can’t imagine a vampire-human relationship that wouldn’t be. Then enter me, oblivious, thinking that I was unique like a snowflake when I’m more of a carbon copy.”

“You have your own flair.” Lucas dipped his head, looking at her with a small boyish smile.

Red brushed her hair off her shoulder and mock fluttered her eyes before rolling them. “Thank you.”

The boyishness in his expression faded, replaced by a hardened glint in his gaze. Lucas’s eyes narrowed on her neck. “Where’d you get those old bite marks?”

“See those, huh? This dress hides less than I thought. I tried to get them lasered off after a vampire got ahold of me in the Midwest.” Red rubbed her neck through the lace. The new ones had faded after one treatment. A few of the old were too stubborn to go away. “I was the one who walked away from that fight, so put the worried look away.”

His shrug was casual, but his gray eyes were earnest. “You’re special, Red, even if you didn’t look like her.”

Red felt the heat rise in her cheeks, cursing her pale skin for betraying her. She got a lot of pickup lines dropped on her in highway honkytonks, but even the smoothest barely earned more than an eye roll from her.

This was different. He meant it.

She turned more serious. “You know it doesn’t need to be you watching over me. I can understand that, if having contact with me is too much.” She said the words calmly, but something panged at the thought. Call it a weakness, but she always felt protective over the rough loner types with good hearts. She’d labeled him a cryptic vampire jerk when they first met, but he was warming on her. And not just because he was gorgeous. He felt… familiar was the only way to put it. She couldn’t imagine how she felt for him.

“No, it doesn’t hurt. It just brings up the what ifs. That isn’t your problem.” He sipped his beer before clenching his jaw as his eyes looked past her, calculating his next words. “I know you’re a doppelgänger. You’re not the first one that I’ve encountered, but it’s different seeing an old girlfriend instead of a Latin teacher.”

“You had a Latin teacher?” Red tilted her head. “How old are you?”

Lucas put his hand to his chest in mock outrage. “Oi, a lady never tells.”

“So coy.” Red laughed. “Fine. How about we actually just meet each other?” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Red. I’ve been to every state on the West coast. My favorite color is purple. I’m a terrible singer, but I can’t help but sing along to the radio if Tom Petty comes on.”

Lucas shook her hand. His touch might have been cold, but it radiated through her skin. “I’m Lucas. My favorite color is black. I was born in 1853.”

“What? I don’t get another fun fact?”

Lucas grinned and leaned forward on his stool, elbow on the bar. “Er, I don’t have a Facebook profile.”

“Obviously. You’ve had a centennial.” Red tipped her head forward and bit her lip to stop her smile. “Do you even have a computer?”

“Hey, I wasn’t born in the middle ages. I’m not that old.”

“You don’t look a day over a hundred.” Red smirked before taking the last sip of her wine.

Lucas cocked his head. “What’s your real name?”

“Red is real enough.” She frowned, not at the question, but at the large analog clock on the wall. The black hands of the clock ticked at the top of the hour.

“What is it?”

“Vic’s been gone too long.” Red put her glass on the counter. It wasn’t just danger from their case making her wary. Vic could make more than enough trouble being drunk and cocky, waving a cigar around, acting like a big shot. “He should’ve come back by now. I’m going to go look for him.” She strode for the lounge door.

“I’ll come with you.” Lucas fell easily into stride with her.

Red passed through the lobby and out to the front of the hotel. She scanned the sidewalk of the small drive up to the Pandora. To the left, she spotted the empty benches of the smoking area under three palm trees just before the entrance to the underground hotel parking garage.

A yelled curse echoed on the wind.

She pulled the stake from her purse. “Do you hear that?”

Red looked over at Lucas in time to see him sprint into the mouth of the garage. She jogged after him, feeling impossibly sluggish compared to his speed, but slowed on the garage ramp, pulling the blessed silver cross out of her purse.

The back doors of the Falcon lay open. A bean bag chair and a half-smoked cigar laid beside the van.

Lucas stopped his blurring speed in front of the shadow of a concrete stairwell. “What’s so confusing to you wankers about neutral ground?”

A black vampire rubbed his bald head as he stepped out of the gloom. Blood splatters darkened the white pinstripes on his suit lapels. It was the same vampire that had broken into Quinn’s office. “Mind your own business.”

The skinny white vampire, glasses dipping low on his nose and wearing a Star Trek T-shirt, pulled Vic forward. He glanced between his partner and Lucas. “He’s older than us, TJ.”

“No names,” TJ said through gritted teeth.

Red trotted forward along the ramp wall, stopping to pick the van’s keys up off the ground. All the while, she kept her eyes on Vic, struggling in the vampire’s grip, his nose bleeding and an arm hanging limp at his side.

“I don’t recognize you, mate, Or him. Looks like we have some rogue minions.” Lucas put his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Killing you two will be fun.”

The pasty vampire widened his eyes and pushed Vic away before hiding behind his partner. “Let’s go!”

“No, stay,” Lucas said. “After I stake your big friend here, we can have a little chat.”

Vic hobbled over to Red. She handed him the cross, then stepped over to block him from the view of the two vampires.

TJ glanced at her, his clever brown eyes filing her appearance away like a banker putting a stack of bills in a safe.

Lucas stepped forward. “Let’s start with who turned you two twats and then move on to why the fuck you were breaking into Quinn Investigations.”

Shaking his head, TJ chuckled. “That’d be scary if I didn’t see that weak ass soul in your eyes.” TJ elbowed his cowering partner. “Take out the hunters.”

Red side-stepped over to the van while Lucas distracted the vampires. She tried to spot their demon hunting kits. Vic kept the collection of salt, sulfur, blessed silver, cold iron, and stakes in a tackle box. The back of the van looked like it had been set on a spin circle in the wash. She dove for the crossbow half hidden under an overturned plastic milk crate. Red spun around with the crossbow in her hands.

The smaller vampire ran to Vic, but stopped and cringed before the blessed silver cross. Crosses didn’t always work for her unless they were blessed silver, but Vic had the power of a true believer behind him.

Red fired the crossbow. The arrow hit the nerdy vampire in the side, impaling the Star Trek character printed on the side of his shirt. He fell back.

“Right in the Spock!” Red quipped before rushing over to Vic.

Growling, TJ charged Lucas.

Lucas caught him with a punch to the gut, then a right hook to the face. His arms were a blur.

TJ jumped back, shaking his head before he readjusted his broken nose. The crunch echoed off the concrete walls.

“How’s that for my weak ass?” Lucas spun and back-kicked TJ in the chest, sending the vampire in the business suit flying back.

Smiling, Red lifted the crossbow with the remaining arrow in it at the undead Trekkie. “Alright, Comic Con, you might want to start answering my friend’s questions now.”

“Run, TJ!” The nerdy vampire pushed up his glasses and rocketed up the ramp, his blurring pace marred by a slight hobble.

Red lowered her crossbow to check out Vic’s arm and the chalky, sweaty cast of pain over his features. “Your arm is bending wrong, Vic.”

“Watch out!” Vic pointed with his cross, but he was too far away.

Swiveling around, Red raised the crossbow, but she was too late. The cold hand gripped her throat. She gasped, staring at the vampire fangs dripping venom onto TJ’s starched collar and tie.

“You’re letting me walk out of here, or I’m snapping this human bitch’s—”

Lucas moved so fast, he seemed to teleport. He grabbed TJ by the neck and snapped it quickly before slamming the vampire to the floor. He looked at Red. Amber shone out through his gray eyes. “Are you okay?”

Red nodded and stepped back.

Lucas pulled a stake out of his pocket, twirling the wood between his fingers, and looked down. “By the law of the bloody supreme, Cora herself, you’re dust.”

The parking garage spun as Red croaked out, “Stop!”

She was too late. Lucas had already knelt and staked the vampire. He leaned back on his heels. “Look at me, acting like a good citizen.”

TJ decayed to a dry skeleton, leaving only a scrap of tie around his neck bones.

“Shit, we could have questioned him.” Red sighed.

“Ah, fuck! My arm.” Vic groaned as he walked over to the pile of bones and kicked at it. “This dick broke it.”

“Those were the minions who broke into Quinn’s place.” Red said once she regained her voice, her mind still focused on the predatory territorial gleam to Lucas’s eyes when he’d twisted the minion’s neck.

“They knew I was investigating the murders,” Vic said. “They wanted to know what I knew.”

Lucas looked around. “Come on, let’s get you back into your rooms.”

“Oh, yeah, the hotel is paying for a private doctor to come here.” Vic said as he walked with them out of the garage. “Unbelievable. We were promised a sanctuary spell on neutral ground. Don’t they know who we are?”

“I think that's the problem.” Red said before she looked at Lucas, remembering her manners. “Thanks for the rescue back there.”

“Anytime, Red.” Lucas said. “Anytime.”

She smiled, then hurried to help Vic who began to stumble by the hotel front door.

Lucas beat her to him and put Vic’s uninjured arm around his shoulders. “I got him. Let the hotel know their rutting protection spell doesn’t work in their garage.”

Red held the door for them before alerting the front desk, then she joined Vic and Lucas up in the hotel suite. She looked at the coffee table and frowned. “Where is Julia’s laptop?”

“Someone broke the door lock,” Vic said from his seat on the couch, clutching his arm.

Lucas paced behind the couch, sniffing like a hound on the scent.

Red went into her room and checked her stash under the dresser to find her laptop bag and her wallet full of fake IDs still hidden. She sighed in relief, then moved on to Vic’s room in the suite. She preferred to hide low, but Vic was a high hider. She looked around the room before noticing a vent above the slick black desk. Climbing on the desk, she stood on her tiptoes and flipped the knob on the vent to open the slats to reveal a sturdy laptop, built like a brick and running on Linux.

“Looking to break your arm too?” Lucas asked, leaning against the open doorframe.

“Seems fun, but not today.” Red hopped down from the desk. “Looks like our stashes are safe.”

“They didn’t do the same smash and grab like at Quinn’s.” Lucas scanned the room as he stepped inside.

“Does Quinn know what they took?”

Lucas shook his head. “Doesn’t think they took anything.”

“Weird.” Red shook her head, walking past Lucas to the doorway, inhaling his sandalwood scent as she passed closer than anticipated. “I think they knew what they were looking for this time.”

She looked away from his gaze, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks for no reason, to check on Vic who groaned on the couch.

A Middle Eastern doctor and a vampire handyman came soon after with a fervently apologetic hotel representative who presented flowers and a complimentary upgrade to their wards.

The hotel representative practically begged them to not tell anyone that their ward malfunctioned in the parking garage or that their rooms had been burglarized. Their reputation was what justified the Pandora Hotel’s steep room rates. He promised to examine the hotel footage for the burglars. The door lock was repaired before Vic’s arm was cast.

Red gestured to Lucas and brought him through her room and out onto the balcony. “When I searched the files on Julia’s laptop, I discovered that she was doing research on the vampires in this town. I was able to grab some of the files. Vic will need to decrypt them tomorrow. With him out of commission, I’ll have to work double time on the case.”

“Bloody hell, Red. You need to lay low until the Summit’s over. Hide out here and catch up on TV.”

“Excuse me? I don’t need to do anything.” Red put her hand on her hip. “There’ve been two bodies in three days. Do you really think it’s going to stop? This isn’t just some vampire not playing by the rules. This is bigger.”

“You sound like Vic.” Lucas crossed his arms over his chest. “Is there a conspiracy, Mulder?”

Red matched his stance and tilted her head. “You’re a vampire. You know that nothing is simple when this many get together. I was going to ask for your help, but if you’re going to be like that, never mind.”

Lucas jammed his hands in his pockets and studied her. “What do you need?”

“A man on the inside.” Red smiled and pulled out her phone. “Now, you don’t have a Facebook. I won’t hold that against you, because neither do I. But I’m guessing you have a phone. Give me your number.”

Lucas recited the number.

Red typed it into a text message and sent him a quick message so he’d have her number too. “Alright. So, can I trust you to have my back?”

“That and then some, Red.” Lucas’s grin was cheeky, but his eyes were serious.

“Good to know.” Red dipped her head and walked past Lucas off the balcony and into the living room.

She flipped through her phone’s contacts before she landed on Quinn Investigations and hit the dial and speaker buttons. It was time for a group powwow on the Greene-Crispin case. She had an idea for the next lead to chase. The guys were going to hate it.

Chapter Nine

October 27th, 2018, Sunset, DB Models, Fashion District, Downtown, Los Angeles California, USA

Eyes darting around the scanned PDF on her computer screen, Red checked the personnel file of a model named Georgia Erickson. Everything looked normal about the PDF. Only the physical folder had a sticky note on the inside that read: DEAD. Red saved a copy of the file and transferred it to her thumb drive. She took the physical folder, swiveled in her chair, and filed it in the rolling file cabinet behind her.

The light dimmed from wide west-facing windows as twilight chased the last hint of sunset away. She stretched and pushed her fake heavy-framed black glasses down. She blinked, trying to gather her thoughts, and resisted the urge to yawn. It had been a long day of digging.

The original two victims had been joined by a possible third, Georgia Erickson who was found dead weeks ago. All three models were trying to leave their contracts. Georgia had already been signed by Elite Models when she died. The hours flew by as Red tackled scanning and organizing the files from the last few years. Red knew she needed to get out before sunset, but she needed to know more.

When Red had come in this morning in her low kitten heels and cardigan, packed lunch in hand, she didn’t know what to expect from the house that Delilah Byrnes built. She didn’t even know if she could get in. Quinn’s ex-wife and sire had been mentioned, but Red hadn’t seen her beyond a few pictures of a blond in designer clothes giving off alpha woman vibes.

Last night, she had brainstormed with Vic, Quinn, and Lucas on how to get into the agency. Quinn hadn’t liked the idea. Vic wanted her to hook him up with a model. Lucas stayed quiet. It took some arguing before they finally agreed that coming in as a temp would give her the best access.

Lucas told her that he would take care of it. Just to show up, he said.

Linda Li, the general manager, had been curt when she arrived until Red explained herself, then the other woman nearly cried from joy.

Ms. Li had been crying out for help digitizing their files for five years. DB Models was one of the oldest boutique modeling agencies in LA, and the filing system reflected it. The bustling office was soon filled with aspiring models, photographers, and agents, leaving Red alone with the file keys.

It was like instead of robbing the bank, the clerk just put the robber on the payroll. She might have infiltrated their system, but she left it more organized than she found it.

A petite Asian woman in red pumps and a matching designer suit approached her cubicle. “Stephanie, time to clock out. It’s past six.”

She looked down at the short pile of records stacked on the desk next to the scanner. “Hi, Ms. Li!” Red tried to sound as perky as she imagined a Stephanie would be on her first day on the job. “I’m nearly done with last year’s records.”

“I’m glad you decided to start with the new ones. I already needed to search the digital files today. So much quicker than walking back and forth to the physical files!” She chuckled. “Is this what it’s like working in the computer age?”

“You’re welcome. It’s my pleasure.”

Ms. Li nodded. “Keep this up, and you won’t stay a temp!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Red smiled. She had spent most of the day searching files and trying to eavesdrop on office gossip, but beyond one model saying Delilah’s boyfriend looked like a sexy pirate, she hadn’t gotten much of anything. Nothing on Julia Crispin or Olivia Greene, specifically. Even discreet questions hadn’t dug up more than confessions about what so-and-so did in Milan or which three models were dating the same rock star.

Lucas had told her she only had today to spy, then her cover would be blown once Delilah came in. “Um, before I go, can you tell me if you have any specific orders on how you want me to organize the files of deceased personnel and models?”

“Oh, those poor girls—two murders and a suicide.”

“Did they ever find the killers?” Red asked, leaning forward, trying to find the appropriate blend of sympathy and morbid curiosity.

“This is a hard town.” Linda shook her head and put her hand on her chest. “Keep them off the hard drive so Ms. Byrnes doesn’t see. She was so upset. You can actually just pile the folders on this desk, and I’ll take care of them later.”

“Are you sure? If there are more, I can dig those up before I go.”

“God willing, those are our only tragedies. I’m already impressed. You don’t have to volunteer for more work.” Linda put her hand on her hip. “Now, I’m salaried, so I have to stay late. You go and enjoy yourself. Celebrate your new job. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Red smiled and nodded, logging off the computer and bending over to grab her purse and the thumb drive. After saying goodbye to Linda, who retreated into her cubicle, she headed for the door.

The thick wave of blond hair covered the familiar woman’s face as she stared down at her phone. She opened the glass door leading to the sixth-floor office, tucking her phone in her pocket..

Red’s eyes darted around, trying to find a sanctuary amongst the open desks and low-walled cubicles. There was nowhere to hide.

Delilah Byrnes had the classic beauty of Old Hollywood with her oval face, pillowy red lips, smoky blue eyes, and Veronica Lake curls. An eyebrow arched when she spotted Red. “What do we have here?”

“A temp.” Red nodded and smiled, feeling a bizarre urge to curtsy. She tried to keep her heartbeat steady.

“I didn’t order one of those.” Delilah’s eyes narrowed under her fake eyelashes.

Red furrowed her brow, trying to look perplexed, before she said in her best valley girl voice. “I was told to report to the general manager. I was referred by All Star Staffing. OMG, what if I just worked all day at the wrong place? Do you think they will still pay me?”

“You’re good.” Delilah’s lips curved into a smirk. “I almost believe you. Now, who are you, really?”

“Stephanie Connor from the agency.” Red looked over Delilah’s shoulder and was calculating how quickly she could run past her when she saw Lucas open the door.

“Hey, Stephanie, ready to go?” Lucas said as he strode in. He nodded to Delilah. “Delilah, nice dress.”

“Don’t tell me you’re responsible for this piece of déjà vu.” Delilah crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, I met Lucas at a nightclub on Sunset, and he told me I should apply for this temp job.” Red shrugged. “I always wanted to be a model.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Michel didn’t tell me what the girl at the nightclub looked like.”

“She’s not the same girl.” Lucas reached for Red’s hand. His fingers entwined with hers, causing little sparks under her skin.

Gesturing to Red, Delilah laughed. “I have eyes, Lucas. Now I know why you paid me a visit last night.”

“So, I guess I don’t get the job?” Red asked, voice pitched higher.

“Leave before I change my mind.” Delilah put her hands on her hips with the poise of a model at the end of a runaway.

Red let Lucas hold her hand and lead her out into the hallway.

“She’s just going to break your heart again, Lucas!” Delilah called after them. Her tone coiled like a mellow snake, the venom under the surface.

Lucas waited until they were out in the dry heat of the concrete jungle of downtown. “And now, you’ve met the devil who wore Prada.”

“That’s Quinn’s ex-wife?” Red said, as she pulled her hair loose from her low chignon and pulled off her fake glasses. “I wasn’t expecting… She’s an intense person.”

“You were supposed to leave before sunset.” Lucas directed her down the street, cabs and cars rushing past them. “I came to check in when you didn’t text the group at five.”

“I know. It was stupid of me. I just got lost in the work. I actually did a great job on those files. That’s really going to streamline their workflow.” Red pumped her fist before realizing her inappropriate enthusiasm. “I also found clues too.”

Lucas reached out to brush his thumb against the apple of her cheek. “Had some ink on you.”

“Thanks.” Red looked down. “How’d you get me in there?”

“Managed to snatch Delilah’s cellphone last night to send a text to her manager.” Lucas looked down before he glanced up at her, head tilted with the mischief of a little boy.

“Sneaky, sneaky.” Red laughed. “So, now what?”

“Ever ride a motorcycle?” Lucas patted the seat of his parked bike.

“Not on the back.” Red smiled. Her heart raced and she felt a blush move up her neck to her cheeks. Was this how Juniper felt with Lucas? Like anything could happen at any moment?

He opened the pannier to pull out a small helmet to hand to her. “First time for everything.”

Red took the helmet and passed him her purse to store in the bike’s pannier. She hopped on the back of the bike, adjusting the skirt of the new green sundress she had bought this morning. She bit her lip as she wrapped her arms around his middle. Her white cardigan sleeves looked so bright against his dark leather jacket. “Keep in mind that I’m precious cargo.”

“That you are, Red.” Lucas put on his own helmet and started the bike, turning them into LA traffic.

Lucas drove like the immortal he was, weaving in and out of traffic, only slowing down when he spotted a lurking cop car.

Red didn’t plan on clinging to him, but she couldn’t help but hold on tight. The bike vibrated between her thighs as they sped through the smoggy highways toward the Pandora Hotel. The Hollywood Hills rose higher in front of them. She braced herself as he took the last turn hard, clinging to his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“You can let go, Red.” Lucas said over his shoulder after they’d stopped.

“Oh.” Red swung her leg off the bike, brushing the back of her skirt down. She hadn’t ridden in months, and her legs felt like jelly. Pulling off her helmet, she shook out her hair and handed him the helmet. “How bad is my helmet hair right now?”

Lucas took the helmet and shook his head. “Your hair looks beautiful.” He turned around quickly and pulled her purse out, handing it to her without a glance.

Red smiled and settled the purse strap on her shoulder. “Thanks for the extraction.” She tilted her head. “Do you ever go by Luke?”

His shoulders tensed, and he shook his head tightly before walking to the elevator from the underground parking garage to the hotel lobby.

Her kitten heels clicking on the concrete, she hurried after him and frowned as she caught up with him at the elevator. The up button blazed red.

She noticed his lack of reflection in the steel elevator doors. That myth about vampires was true, but with exceptions. Vampires with weak blood, minions, still showed an outline. Lucas was strong enough to be completely invisible. Red had forgotten what he was as they sped down the freeway, even holding onto him and not feeling him breathe.

Lucas stepped into the elevator, his eyes darting to her as he put his hands in his pocket. “Luke is what she called me sometimes. Only her.”

Red nodded. She knew who “her” was. Juniper. She pushed the button for the 8th floor and pulled the hotel card key from her purse, inserting it into the slot. “Thanks for trusting me with that. I can tell it’s not easy to talk about her.”

Looking down, Lucas shook his head. “It’s easier around you.”

The elevator doors opened at the lobby, and a crowd entered.

Red tried to keep from looking at Lucas over the other hotel guests. When they finally reached their floor, she followed him out of the elevator and opened the door to the hotel suite.

Vic lay sprawled on the couch, head tipped back, arm in a white cast, his laptop on his belly. The flat screen TV blared a news program.

Red walked to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning off the TV. Pulling the laptop off him, she set it on the table. “Hey, sleeping beauty.”

Vic snorted and coughed as he woke up. “Back from bringing home the bacon?”

“Yeah, make some space and I can tell you all about it,” Red said, sitting on the couch beside him while Lucas sat in the nearby chair. She delved into the story of her day, leaving out the parts about organizing their files and focusing on the facts of the new possible victim, Georgia Erickson, and that the three models were all trying to leave their contracts. “Kristoff Novak did a photoshoot with each of them in the month before they died.”

Red had been surprised to learn that Kristoff was a photographer, but he appeared to do many of the ad campaigns for Novak and Novak Company which included an impressive portfolio of nightclubs, restaurants, and even a casino on the West Coast.

“Well, your day was more productive than mine. Julia’s passwords were harder to crack than I expected,” Vic said, a yawn bursting through. “She’s definitely done a lot of research on the vampires in town. I just can’t access the full documents on the thumb drive. She even has audio and video in there. I sent copies to Fat Crispin, but it was late in the day in London. I haven’t heard back. It kills me to say it, but I hope they have more luck than I did.”

“Hey, you’re tired and on painkillers. It’s alright. You can try again in the morning.” Red patted his shoulder. “You can take a break. It can’t be comfortable on this couch.”

“No, I think I have a crick in my neck,” Vic said, stretching. “I’m going to bag my arm and hop in the shower.”

Red nodded. “Good. You have a lot of Dorito dust on you.”

“It’s the fuel for the madness.” Vic laughed and walked into his room, closing the door.

Red turned to Lucas. “Are you heading back to Quinn tonight? Can you fill him in?” She bent over and slipped out of her kitten heels with a sigh and leaned back against the plush couch. “What’s the deal with Delilah? Quinn brought us here because he was too close to the case. Ex-wife, sire, I get that, but I think I saw her at Club Vltava, walking in with Michel and Cora.”

“Michel must fancy her because he has no love for me. Once upon a time, he would have used the pretense of challenging Kristoff’s claim to crucify me.” Lucas shook his head and sat down next to her on the couch. His voice turned confidential. “Don’t say anything to Quinn. The poor bastard already knows the frog is her boyfriend. Delilah always loved being in a power couple with a powerful man. It doesn’t matter if he has a soul or not. Maybe it makes it easier for her.”

“Oh…” Red pursed her lips. When she had imagined souled and unsouled vampires in social situations, she assumed they would have a dodgeball game style split with the remorseful on one side and the gleefully demonic on the other. Not dating each other. “Bad breakup between Quinn and Delilah, then?”

“It’s never good, but they always make up. This has been the longest they’ve gone without getting back together.” Lucas shrugged, but his expression showed more concern than his casual words. In vampire terms, they were his family.

She didn’t know what that word meant for her, let alone for him, but she knew it meant something. “Why do they even live in the same city?”

“Some people just can’t stay apart.” He looked away.

Red glanced down, swallowing thickly, then turned back to business. She repressed the urge to put her hand on his arm to comfort him. “She’s our best suspect. She had motive and connection to the victims. What will he do if it turns out to be her?”

“It won’t.” Lucas shrugged. “If Delilah wants someone dead, soul or not, she’s not going to get caught like this.”

“You sure about that? You think it’s Kristoff?”

“Think a lot of things about Novak.” Lucas leaned over in his seat, looking at the laptop. “The Bard’s daughter had more information here than just about Delilah, right?”

Red nodded and stood to grab a small bottle of pinot noir from the fridge. “What happened to laughing at the conspiracy idea?” She unscrewed the small bottle and took a sip before stepping out on the balcony.

Lucas followed her out on the balcony and leaned against the railing. “That’s when I thought it was some out-of-towner getting sloppy.”

“Enjoy the red pill.” Red sipped the wine before handing the bottle to Lucas who took a drink and gave it back.

“You thought pretty quickly on your feet with the viper queen glaring down at you. That’s impressive.”

“She didn’t have shoulder pads on that dress, but I could feel their aura. She had a power stance.” Red gestured to her shoulders before setting the small bottle on the patio table. “Hey, I have to tell you… You drive like you’re in a car chase.”

“You held on just fine.”

“I managed to keep on my heels, but next time I’m on the back of that thing, you’d better obey the speed limit.”

“Next time?”

Red leaned toward him, laughing. “What? You wouldn’t pick me up again?”

Lucas brushed his fingers across her cheek. His pale grey eyes focused on her face as if they were alone in the City of Angels. He leaned forward, his lips whisper-soft against hers. His voice pitched low. “I’d always pick you… up.”

Placing her hand on his, Red let her lips part.

His voice echoed in her ears, sounding so much like the mystery man in her dreams. Was it a doppelgänger transference? His touch felt the same as the mystery man’s as he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. The hint of sandalwood rose from his leather jacket. He deepened the kiss, and his fingers trembled as he ran them over her hair.

Goosebumps rose on her arms as Red wrapped them around his neck. There was none of the awkwardness of a first kiss, banging arms or noses. Feeling him against her felt so familiar. She bit her lip, pulling away for breath, and stared into his eyes. Gray bored into green.

Red dipped her head. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” Lucas grinned before kissing her quickly and murmuring against her lips. “You seem to like it.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to hurl.” Vic mock gagged, wearing a bathrobe with a towel wrapped around his head as he stared at them through the open balcony glass door from the living room. “Can we keep the PDA to a minimum?”

Red glared at Vic, blushing, as she pulled away from Lucas. She stepped from the balcony toward Vic. “Can you say that louder? I don’t think the people in the penthouse heard.” She rubbed her neck and ducked her head. “Lucas, it’s time to go.”

Lucas grinned at her before nodding at Vic. “I’ll show myself out.”

Vic watched him go, holding his tongue until the door closed behind him. “Bad news bears, kid. What are you thinking?”

“He kissed me first!”

“I don’t know if you have a big brother, but I’m filling those shoes right now. Watch out. He might be a reformed lady killer, but he can still break a heart.” Vic shook his head and went into his room.

Red touched her lips. She knew when she was kissing Lucas, she was thinking of him. Who was he thinking of?

Her or Juniper?

Chapter Ten

October 28th, 2018, Past Midnight, The Pandora Hotel, Los Angeles California, USA

Hours later, sipping a glass of wine, Red sat crossed-legged on the floor of her room’s balcony. Two dozen tabs lay cramped and open in her computer browser. The camera in their hallway had been on the fritz at the time of the break-in. It got them a few complementary days at the Pandora Hotel, but it meant a dead end on that lead. That left only the information sent out by Fat Crispin. She had been reviewing the Olivia Greene file, even though she wished she could get her hands on the hotel footage.

Red had checked out the murder scene days ago, pacing around the secluded beach where joggers had found her. She had looked over the photos of Olivia, washed up on the sand, lying prone in her long sleeve dress. The coroner had taken pictures of the mark left on her of the snake eating its tail.

It was easier to think about the case than kissing Lucas or joking with him or fighting beside him or how her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to him whenever he walked through a room.

Yeah, she would rather read more about murder than think about the warm fuzzies that she was developing for a vampire.

She opened another browser tab. The dated database portal looked like it was built on GeoCities, but it housed the digital collections of the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes. Registered hunters and Bards like Vic—or whoever had their passwords—could get access. It had been down for maintenance for the last week.

She typed Delilah Byrnes into the database before scrolling through the dropdown menu to select vampire for the species. A picture of Delilah taken at the height of 80s power businesswoman fashion appeared on the page. Scrolling through the entry, she picked up the main points in Delilah’s biography: turned into a vampire by Alaric in 1672, left her sire to travel with Quinn, and mayhem followed.

Red’s finger started to ache as she scrolled through the massacres that Delilah had either caused, participated in, or finished.

She paused as she noticed a painting of Delilah dressed as if ready for a ball at the court of Versailles. A golden ouroboros pendant necklace hung between her cleavage.

A sentence in a nearby paragraph caught her eye. “The local priest reported seeing the ouroboros carved onto their skin…” She read through the paragraph about a massacre outside Madrid in 1738. Quinn and Delilah had left only the local priest alive in the village.

Red scanned through the rest of the biography to get to the part where the Byrnes were cursed by the soulmancer. She expected an epic blow-by-blow account, yet only one line spoke of the curse that tipped the vampire world into chaos.

“On August 1st, 1900, Delilah Byrnes fell to a soulmancer’s curse upon attacking the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes alongside Quinn Byrnes, Justine Byrnes, and Lucas Crawford. See entry on the Defense of Stonetree Monastery.”

Red tried to click the link, but the database denied her clearance. She surfed to all the Byrnes’ entries, ignoring a pang of jealousy at how beautiful Justine Byrnes was, and found the same line. She furrowed her brow before scrolling up on Lucas’s entry to look for a mention of Juniper St. James. She found a quick mention of a redheaded human companion in Brighton and reports that she had died in Lisbon.

The entry writer noted that the records are confusing, and the later reports of another redheaded woman with the Byrnes in Prague could have been the same woman. The last reference to the mysterious female is to her death in Dresden, which set Lucas off on a vendetta against the famed Witch hunter, Peter Svoboda. In an editor’s note, the biographer mused on the likelihood of a single human surviving eight years with an evil vampire and theorized that Lucas must have had multiple redheaded claimed humans. Not even the Bards seemed to know about Juniper.

Red gulped down the last of her wine before she finished reading the scant details on Lucas post-souling. There was a note about him moving to America, starting hunting monsters, and a paragraph about him helping to destroy Alaric, the founder of the Alaric Order, ten years ago.

She closed her laptop. This was the reason other hunters were laying low during the Blood Summit. Vampires were never simple, even if they had souls. They lived too long for that.

Gathering up her mess on the balcony, she yawned and told herself no more research. She brushed her teeth and hair before she got into pajamas and laid down. Turning and wrapping her blankets around herself, she tried to sleep but only managed to toss and turn like a fish dropped in the desert.

Red sighed and re-dressed. If she was going to be awake, she might as well be useful. The hotel suite was immaculate, and she needed something to do with her hands.

Leaving the room, she searched for something to do before she found herself rummaging through the back of the van, tossing blankets into a plastic bag.

Vic had been attacked in the van, and it still looked like it. Half the van looked like a stoner den with bean bag chairs and Christmas lights hanging, while the other side was pure storage with plastic and metal crates tied down with weapons, dry goods, and supplies. She made notes in her phone of what they were running low on and what could be replaced. She still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of having money. She felt like she had to spend it quickly before it was taken away.

Cleaning usually soothed her. She was waiting for the soothing part to kick in.

A scrape of a pebble on concrete ripped through the quiet underground parking lot of the Pandora Hotel.

Red grabbed the shotgun loaded with wooden tipped bullets from the open gun box beside her. She turned around in a crouch to the open back door of the van.

Kristoff stared at her, hands behind his back, dark suit jacket revealing a white shirt. The bright lights of the parking garage reflected the golden strands in his dark blond hair. His lips quirked into a small wistful smile as he stared at her. “Red.”

Red cocked the shotgun, wondering how the hotel’s no violence sanctuary spell dealt with self-defense. She should have fired. Instead, she said, “You finally learned my name.”

“I keep trying to learn more, but you’re a tricky woman to research.” Kristoff grinned, blue eyes twinkling, and the dimple deepened on his chin. His chest only moved with breath when he spoke.

“That’s intentional.” Red lifted the shotgun higher. He didn’t have a soul, she told herself. The bastard hadn’t just bitten her, he had claimed her. Red knew where that road led: being a 24/7 blood bank. Juniper St. James might have lasted eight years as Lucas’s paramour back in his bad boy days, but Red didn’t like her odds with Kristoff. She tried to call on that well of magic within, but ever since she’d thrown TJ the vampire through the window of Quinn Investigations, her energy had been tapped.

“This isn’t what I imagined you driving.” Kristoff looked at the van.

Red pressed her eyebrows together at the mundane topic change. Pride in the black-painted van, ramshackle and smelling of Mountain Dew as it did, rose up in her. “Hey, this is the Millennium Falcon. It made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.”

Kristoff chuckled. “You never were the pretentious type.” He shook his head, smirking. “I’m not surprised that in your next life you’d be a sci-fi fan traveling with a hunter.”

Red frowned. Lucas had kissed her tonight, and all she could think about was if he had been kissing her or imagining a dead woman. Now, Kristoff was making small talk as if she was his blast from the past. Her life was on the line, and it was still about someone else. “How would you know? You just met me and then claimed me like two seconds later. I’m not Juniper St. James.”

“Then who are you?” Kristoff tilted his head. “You may not be her, but you seem to be just as mysterious.”

“I’m a hunter, so you’d best give me some space.” Red gestured with the shotgun for him to move back. She slid forward to hop out of the van, neck already stiffening from her awkward position in the van. The vampire bite throbbed as if sensing the fangs that had made it close by.

“I like that in a woman.” Kristoff gestured to her weapon. “Wooden bullets?”

“How did you know?” Red frowned. How much research had Kristoff managed to do on her?

“What lady leaves home without them?” Kristoff smiled, but then his expression cooled to a stoic mask. “You don’t need to fear me. You could’ve been claimed by worse.”

“Don’t think that these marks make me yours. This body is all mine, mister.” Red’s hands were steady on the shotgun, but memories of Oklahoma City made her breath catch. She wasn’t going to let a compelling vampire play on her trust again even when they helped you it was for their agenda. She knew the difference between souled and unsouled vampires. Kristoff might have been doing the vampire version of shooting the shit, but she wasn’t fooled into thinking he was like Lucas or Quinn. Kristoff had no shackles on his inner demon. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Your heart’s racing.” Kristoff lifted his hands and tilted his head. “I can hear it.”

Red scowled at him. “You snuck up on me like a creepy vampire.” She had staked how many vampires? LA was shaking her focus. She wanted to know who she was, not more about some historical lady she randomly looked like. A thread of anger grew in her at Juniper St. James, that she had to shovel the fallout from that debutante’s love life.

Kristoff smoothed his hair back as he studied her, his eyes dismissing her weapon to focus on her face. His gaze fell on her with the familiarity of a long relationship, curiosity in his expression. “Who is that girl to you? Julia. She’s English. A Bard, I heard?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You’re my number one suspect. What did she see? Health violation in the kitchen?” Red asked, deflecting the Bard question. That string led to Vic and the dozen hunters she could name as friends.

“Trust me, I don’t kill Bards or leave bodies behind my own club,” Kristoff raised an eyebrow at the foolishness of the idea. “I didn’t live this long by being stupid.”

“Why should I trust you?” Red backed away from him, even if his words sounded true. His logic was solid. There weren’t many hundred-year-old vampires around. The August Harvest, the chaos after the soul spell went viral in 1900, cleaned out a lost generation of young vampires, and many far older. Kristoff had to be smart to have survived it.

“Juniper did.” Kristoff tilted his head as his brow furrowed.

Red narrowed her eyes and cocked the shotgun. “Lucas told me you left her to die.”

Kristoff leaned forward, shaking his head, his irises flashing amber. “That’s a lie. I tried to rescue her from him.”

“What happened, then?” Red challenged him. If she was going to have to take the dramatic walking tour of Juniper St. James’ life, she was going to have some answers. The online sources gave her dates and a list of events in Lucas and Kristoff’s lives, but nothing about the woman they loved.

“She saved me.” His voice sounded like a sad whisper on the wind, too small for his tall frame.

“What?” Red’s mouth gaped open.

“Lucas had beat me to a pulp, and I blacked out. In the most beautiful act of karmic revenge, he got his soul. I wish I had seen that.” Kristoff looked away, as the snark dissolved into surprising amount of pain in his tone for a vampire without a soul. “I never left her. Juniper ordered a friend to drag my unconscious body out before the hunters came. I was willing to die for her that day, when Lucas tried to turn her into a vampire. She wouldn’t let me.”

“He tried to turn her?” Red noticed the shotgun lowering and raised it up again.

“She was his courtesan, but she wanted more.” Kristoff looked down on his clenched fists. “She didn’t want his gilded cage.”

“You think she wanted you?”

“I know she did.” He met her gaze with flashing eyes. “I may not have a soul, but I loved her. I saw him claim a flower and let it die. You may not be her. You may never love me like she did, but I wasn’t going to let him claim you too.”

“Yes, I bet it was all altruism. Not a bit was about getting back at your sire.”

“Oh no, that was in there. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing his face when I claimed you. Then punching it.” Kristoff shrugged. “I’m not a saint, but I won’t lie to you.”

“No, you’ll claim me like a piece of meat, then stalk me in a parking garage. I’ve dealt with unsouled vampires before.” She shook her head, thankful that the hotel had put a sanctuary spell on the parking garage. “I don’t have any illusions about what you would do to me if there wasn’t a protection ward on this hotel.”

Kristoff crossed his arms. “My sire might have a soul, but I doubt his toys fare any better than before.”

“I’m not a toy.” Red sneered. “I’m a person. That might not mean much without a soul, but it does to me, and I’ll fight to stay my own person. That bite was your last.”

“You’ll ask for the next one.” A promise lingered in Kristoff’s grin. “You enjoyed it. Better than those other marks on your neck. Oklahoma, right? You staked a master there.”

“A supreme master, and it was with a wooden spoon.” She grinned back, baring her teeth.

Vampires reacted to the news that she had killed a supreme master of a city in a lot of ways. They didn’t usually smile. Kristoff did. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I can do it again.” Red glowered. He’d had more luck researching her than she had him. She’d found some business intel and a dry entry in the Bard database about being a monster in the boardroom. “I’m not a house pet to put a collar on.”

“No, you’re not a kitten.” Kristoff frowned, his voice harsh with fervor.

Red took another step back at the intensity in his tone. What the hell had kittens done to him? She gritted her teeth. “Get that through that thick handsome skull, and keep your mitts off me.”

“You think I’m handsome.” Kristoff put his hands in his pockets, grinning at her boyishly.

“And now I think you’re arrogant.” Red rolled her eyes. “Who do you think you are?”

Kristoff spun around to hiss.

Red looked over his shoulder

“Fuck.” A vampire built like Hercules, in biker denim with a long blonde ponytail, snarled. He reached in his pocket and whipped out a stake, tossing it with the precision of a ninja with a throwing star. “This was supposed to be a break in.”

Blinding light flashed.

Kristoff caught the stake a foot away from his chest. “And this was supposed to be a private conversation.”

Invisible hands seemed to pull the muscled vampire swiftly back to the mouth of the underground parking garage, gripping the patched shoulders of his denim. His heels dragged on the cement floor as he struggled. “What the burning hell?”

“Sanctuary spell. You broke it.” Red smiled and shrugged, grateful the hotel had done something right.

Kristoff raised the stake, waiting, blue eyes focused on the intruder being forced out by the ward. He threw the stake the length of a football field as the undead biker’s foot hit the sidewalk at the opening of the parking garage.

The stake hit the biker vampire in the chest, and he fell back, transforming into a pile of bones.

“Kristoff Novak. That’s who I am.” Kristoff nodded to Red. “We’ll meet again.” He disappeared in a blurred sprint.

Red sighed and bowed her head before putting away the shotgun and locking up the van. Pulling out her phone, she rubbed her face before sending a text message to the hotel representative, asking for an anti-theft ward for their van. At least she knew the sanctuary spell worked. She went to the elevator, feeling eyes on her until she was inside the darkened hotel suite.

She walked into her room and curled up under the blankets. Vic would kill her for not waking him and telling him that whoever sent the first guys to break into their van had sent more. She didn’t know what to tell him. Why hadn’t she tried to take out Kristoff? Even with the sanctuary spell, she could have tried to lure him outside of the ward. She had made chit chat with him instead, more interested in Juniper St. James than her own survival.

Kristoff had protected her.

She reminded herself that vampires always defended their claimed humans. Red pressed her hands to her temples, trying to gain control of her rushing thoughts. Counting her breaths like Vic taught her, she tried to focus on the air filling her lungs.

Her heart still raced. She didn’t expect to fall asleep, but soon her breathing evened out, and she sunk into dreams as if falling overboard into a dark winter sea.

The room smelled like infection, closed-in and dark with stagnant air.

A familiar English voice whispered in her ear, pleading with her to live. Names and places escaped her in the dream. She only knew a deep emotional pain that felt worse than the wounds on her body.

Rolled on her belly, she felt the mattress lift and angry voices grow louder before a slam and a thud echoed in the hallway outside the room.

A different door opened.

She looked over her shoulder at the tall masculine figure that stepped over to her, carrying a tin of salve. His face was obscured, but his blue eyes stared down at her with devotion.

The dream disappeared from her memory when she woke in the morning.

Chapter Eleven

October 28th, 2018, Near Midnight, Gianni Construction, San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles County, California, USA

Sitting in the front seat of Quinn’s old convertible, Red leaned forward to squint at the aluminum-sided warehouse. The whispers from the supernatural gossip mill had led them to the Gianni Construction warehouse. A row of parked Harley Davidson bikes stood by the large cargo door in front.

Red spoke to Quinn without looking at him. “It doesn’t look like much. Are you sure there’s a bar in there?”

“The Valley is the one place in LA county where an unlisted minion could hide,” Quinn said.

She looked over at Lucas climbing off his motorcycle, feeling her cheeks warm before telling herself to focus on the job at hand, not the vampire she kissed the night before. Despite the flirty banter he had felt last night, Lucas hadn’t wanted her to come along.

This morning, she had filled in Vic on the details of Kristoff’s late-night visit but skirted over her conversation. She hadn’t been surprised that Vic forced her to recount the story to Quinn and Lucas or by Lucas’ vehemence that she lay low. Mentioning Kristoff in the parking garage had set him off.

Quinn had been the one to surprise her when he said she’d brought them a clue and made the connection between the biker-looking minion and Gianni Construction. He insisted they could use her.

Red looked back to Quinn, “Why?”

“Cora’s iron fist eases up north of Balboa Park.”

Lucas leaned against the passenger side door, helmet under his arm, and said, “No one is willing to drive up Ventura to check.”

“What’s up with this list?” Red asked, remembering the warning from the old hunter at the Pump House.

“It’s like a registry,” Quinn said. “Cora likes to know her subjects.”

“It goes beyond forcing us to all go to her Halloween Ball.” Lucas shook his head. “As if that wasn’t bad enough.”

“She has at least pictures of all of us.” Quinn added, his head high and shoulders straight as he scanned the area. Purpose infused his bearing. His tone grew thoughtful, like a mentor parsing which insights to give. “She even has a registry of fang molds of every LA vampire made in the last twenty years.”

“When you said tight ship, you meant it.” Red said, leaning forward, curiosity piqued by the idea of a hippie vampire acting like the FBI. “How can she make them all fall in line? I know supreme masters have the power of veto over who is turned, but she must have a lot of power to take a census.”

“Just because she has a soul doesn’t mean she is to be fucked with,” Lucas said.

“What about these guys?” Red gestured to the warehouse.

“They aren’t as scary, but keep close to us.”

Quinn nodded. “Keep your eyes open too.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes as he followed her line of sight, high cheekbones sharpening as he steeled his jaw. “We shouldn't have brought her.”

“Hey, still here.” Red scowled at him.

“We’re looking to get information and stay under the radar.” Quinn crossed his arms. “It’s simple reconnaissance.”

“I can’t believe I’m telling you to be cautious.” Lucas shook his head as if saying it to himself. “Adding her into the mix calls attention.”

“What do you mean? Look at this outfit.” Red pulled off the bandage under the studded strap of her cropped black tank top before gesturing to her jean mini skirt, fishnet tights, and leather boots. She had chosen her least attention-getting wig: a simple center part in a wavy black mane. Lucas was lucky she didn’t wear the purple one. Pulling the sunglasses down from the top of her head, she wiggled the frames of her aviators before resting them on her nose. “Someone puts an arm around me, and I look like an undead biker’s old lady. I’ll fit in.”

Lucas glanced at the mark before opening her door. “Let’s go.”

Red stepped out of the car and adjusted the small leather pouch hanging off the side of her belt with her ID, cash, and phone. With a stake taped between her shoulder blades, she was ready to party. “So, whose dame am I?”

Quinn closed the driver’s side door, looking to Lucas. “I am going to be asking the questions. You two are eavesdropping.” He started walking across the gravel parking lot to the warehouse.

“You’re the one who wanted to bring her.” Lucas gritted his teeth.

Quinn ignored him and kept walking.

Red furrowed her brow. She knew Lucas was being protective out of good intentions, but she had been a hunter for over a year. That she remembered. She wasn’t some casual brought in off the street. Fighting monsters was what she did. It wasn’t the first time someone had underestimated her on a hunt.

She looked at Lucas, forcing herself to smile. “You’re my gentleman escort then.”

Lucas put an arm over her shoulders. “I’ve never been a gentleman, Red.”

Walking to the warehouse door, they caught up with Quinn. A panel opened on the door.

Quinn and Lucas flashed fangs.

The door opened.

Instinct pushed Red to step closer to Lucas as she walked into the warehouse. A fleet of vans, pallets of lumber, bricks, and other construction supplies looked normal until they followed the heavy pounding of rock music to a rolling garage door open to reveal a dingy illegal bar decorated with hubcaps and old dusty pictures of Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack.

Red knew as she stepped into the room that she was one of the few humans. The bar smelled like spilled beer and tobacco smoke, but there was an underlying scent like curled up serpents that rattled the primitive parts of her brain. Predator.

Red glanced around the room. The room was dimly lit, better than fluorescents for immortal eyes, but she could see the nearly two dozen vampires spread over mismatched tables and chairs.

She could tell the humans immediately. They were the only ones breathing.

A large male ginger vampire, suit jacket thrown over his chair, played cards with a blond human man wearing too much eyeliner, cooing over his shoulder.

In the corner, a petite black vampiress in a silver catsuit with beaded braids in her hair laughed on her cellphone. She held a leash attached to a shirtless white man in jeans sitting at her feet.

Lucas played with Red’s hair idly. His fingers stopped as he looked over, as if realizing his absent-minded gesture, but his tense arm remained on her shoulders. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” Red joked as she had with Vic on the countless times they had pretended to be a couple on a job. The joke didn’t land right. She looked down. It felt different when you had kissed the guy.

She wanted him to take her seriously as her own person. Stupid jokes weren’t going to cut it. Good job, Red, she told herself.

Guiding her to the small bar in the corner, Lucas ordered two bottles of beer before taking her over to a floating shelf on the wall under a blinking Pabst sign. He took a sip, scanning the room. “New faces in the old.”

With this many supernatural ears in the room, they couldn’t say much openly, but she understood his meaning. Their mission was to find the source of the rogue minions. They had more than two rogue minions on their hands. Three unlisted minions were bad enough… dozens were an army. Whoever had attacked her and Kristoff the night before was probably more of the same. Could they all be from the same clan?

Red hid her peeping eyes behind her sunglasses. “What’s on the agenda, Mister?”

“The night’s still young,” Lucas said. The worry in his gray eyes didn’t stop the small grin tugging at his lips. “There’s a poker game that I heard brought in real power players. I’ll buy into the next round. Might have to wait for the action to start.”

His arm still rested on her shoulders. She didn’t know if she should cuddle in to keep their cover or if she wanted to do it. She compromised and tilted her head back on his arm. Red looked up at the sign, and a sudden curiosity struck her. “Were you there when Pabst got its one ribbon in 1893?”

Red didn’t know what accounted for small talk with vampires, but historical beer trivia had to be a safe topic. Unless he’d had some dramatic moment with Juniper at the World’s Fair.

Lucas tilted his head, confused before he noticed the sign. “No, I wasn’t in America then. London, or maybe Dublin? I spent a lot of ‘93 drunk. Both ‘93s.”

“Bad boy from the start?” Red tipped her sunglasses down.

“What can I say, I’ve always been a rebel. What about you?”

“I’m…” Red licked her lips. She didn’t know what she had always been. She knew what she had been for the last year. Everything else was a game to jog her memory. “...an explorer. It’s probably why I’ve been traveling in that van so long. There’s something about the start of a journey, that next horizon. You never know what you’ll find, for better or worse.”

“What do you think of what you found in LA?”

“I’m still deciding.” Red smiled before sipping her beer.

“Let me know what you decide.” Lucas said before he looked over to the bar and rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”

Red followed his stare to the center of the bar where Quinn stared down two male vampires in leather and denim.

“How do I know this fucker?” The barrel chested one with the cauliflower ear asked his friend who wore a red-stained jean jacket patched with a faded Hells Angels logo.

The ginger-haired vampire at the card table chuckled and called out, “That's Bloody Quinn Byrnes himself, boyos.”

The Hells Angels vampire looked back at Quinn and crossed his arms. “Now, what is Quinn the defender of downtown doing in the Valley?”

Watching the drama unfold from across the bar, Red rolled her eyes. “And I was the one who was going to attract too much attention?”

“Rub it in my face later.” Lucas took her hand and pulled her forward in a wide circle around the bar to stand behind the bikers. “Go to the car.”

Red wished she could disagree, but she only had the stake taped to her back. Two master vampires couldn’t take on a dozen each even with a hunter’s help.

She looked over her shoulder at a reedy vampire in an Iron Man shirt trying to sneak behind a cluster of biker chicks toward the door.

It was the vampire who was smart enough to run from both Quinn’s office and the Pandora Hotel. He didn’t have his friend TJ to hide behind anymore.

She nodded to Lucas before she followed the nerdy vampire out to the main warehouse floor.

In the bright lights of the warehouse, she noticed the fleur-de-lys pin on his backpack along with the other fandom pins. He must have been a Francophile who loved the show Wynonna Earp—a well-rounded geek. She kept her pace casual.

He looked at her and ran, an action more prey than predator.

The vampire bouncer at the door, noticing Iron Man fan fleeing, lumbered over to the bar as he cracked his knuckles.

She looked back inside to see Quinn and Lucas circled by six minions holding pool cues and broken bottles. The two souled vampires stepped back deeper into the bar.

Lucas grabbed a pool cue swung by a snarling vampire in fringed leather before he slammed the handle against the vampire’s forehead.

Quinn blocked a knife from a lanky vampire in bell bottoms before punching his attacker in the gut.

The other four minions rushed them, to the hoots and cheers of the stomping crowd.

Red tried to focus and summon up her magic, but the energy didn’t answer her call. A shaman told her once that she had a capacity of an ocean of power in her, but Red barely felt a puddle. She shook her hand before sighing. Fuck sticks. She was still regenerating her energy levels. Looking around, she wished for her revolver loaded with wooden bullets. If wishes were weapons…

Red noticed a pegboard lined with hanging keys on the wall over a low desk. Checking the tags, she noticed that they matched the licenses plates of the vans. Grabbing a fistful of keys, she ran to the vans and unlocked one.

This was a crazy idea, she told herself as she breathed deep. Red might have been rolling with immortals, but she wasn’t one. She looked around, trying to think of something less dangerous than ramming a van into a crowd of vampires.

She saw a stack of bricks and rushed to grab two.

Going back to the van, she stuck the key in the ignition and angled the wheel. She pulled two thick hairpins from the back of her wig and stared at them, hoping they would be strong enough. She put the hairpins upright on the carpet of the van, propping up the gas pedal before she put the brick on the pedal. The hair pins wobbled and started to bend as she set the van into drive. She didn’t have long.

Running around the back of the van to the next one, she unlocked it and turned the van on. She pulled out another hairpin from her wig and placed it under the pedal. She angled the steering wheel, then dropped the brick on the gas pedal and jumped back. The van zoomed forward toward the open garage-style door of the illegal bar.

Red ran to the front warehouse door before looking behind her shoulder to see the van hurtle toward the bar. The second one rocketed behind it. The first van slammed into the wall of the warehouse. The other careened into the open garage door, mowing through the crowd of vampires circled around Lucas and Quinn. She hoped that was enough of a distraction.

Red sprinted to Quinn’s closed-top convertible, but when she got there she realized she didn’t have the keys. Quinn had them in his pocket. She rushed over to Lucas’s bike to see if he had left his keys. Of course not.

She had just kicked over the wasp nest. She needed to run.

Vampires were about to spill out of the warehouse, stronger and faster than she was. She needed more of a head start. She looked up to see Lucas and Quinn sprinting from the warehouse. Red hopped on the back of Lucas’s bike and grabbed a helmet from the unlocked back pannier and put it on. “Let’s roll!”

Lucas was on the bike in front of her before she could blink.

“Split up.” Without opening the door, Quinn leaped into his convertible.

Red wrapped her arms around Lucas before the motorcycle spun out, sending gravel flying behind them, and burning rubber out of the parking lot onto the street. She clasped her arms tighter around him.

Lucas drove like the devil was on his heels. The bike passed cars on the shoulder at 80, turning south down Coldwater Canyon Avenue.

The rev of motorcycles echoed behind them.

Lucas sped up, passing a semi-truck before darting through an intersection on a yellow light. He weaved through traffic to take a wide left at the next street, following a sign for the 170.

“Don’t take the freeway! Not with a vampire gang on our tail.” Red shouted to be heard through the helmet and over the wind. The second they got onto the highway, the risk for being spotted by cops or hurting bystanders rose a hundredfold.

Taking a sharp right, Lucas began a twisting route past strip malls and neighborhoods in North Hollywood.

Red looked over her shoulder and saw a motorcycle following them. She glanced to the side. Her eyes widened.

A second vampire biker drove across the two-lane traffic, fangs flashing, and slammed into their back tire.

Fear spiked in her before impact. Her magic rushed to her in a panic, and she opened herself up to channel the energy. The moment was too fast to form words for a spell. A cushion of air wrapped around her as she flew off the motorcycle and bounced onto the sidewalk. The second bounce broke her magic bubble. She gasped as her helmet slammed against the concrete, knocking the wind from her.

She looked up in a daze to see Lucas regain control of his bike and spin it to a stop beside her.

Lucas jumped up, letting the bike fall, to kneel beside her. “You okay?.”

She nodded and pulled the helmet off. It took the wig with it. Panting, she stared down at the ground, realizing how close she had come to a broken neck. Maybe that specter in Oklahoma had been right about her mother being a witch. The rev of an engine made her gasp and look up.

Lucas jumped up and charged the motorcycle rushing toward them. He stopped the wheel with two hands. “Mistake.” He reached out and yanked the bigger vampire off the bike and over the handlebars.

Pulling the stake from her back, Red rose to her feet. She saw the other vampire in bell-bottom jeans out of the corner of her eye. He charged her, denim flaring around his legs. She raised her arm, catching him in his run with a stake to the chest, letting his own momentum power the blow.

The vampire dissolved into bones.

Red looked back at Lucas before bending over to pull the stake from the bare rib cage. “Need a stake?”

Lucas had the undead biker by the hair. He punched him in the face, then twisted the vampire’s neck. “Just in time.”

Red tossed him the stake. He caught it over his head without looking.

Lucas slammed the stake into the vampire biker’s heart. He turned to look at Red before he ran to her side. He brushed the loose locks of red hair escaping her bun back to examine her face and neck. “How are you okay? You flew off the bike.”

Red smiled. “Magic. Sometimes it comes through in a pinch. Let’s get out of here before the others catch up.”

Lucas nodded before picking up his bike. Red took a deep breath and put on the scraped helmet, leaving the wig, before she got onto the back. She set her hands on his waist and held on tightly.

“You up for round two?”

“I’m cool.” Red said even as her legs shook.

Lucas sped into the night, back onto Coldwater Canyon Avenue.

The road grew hillier as the houses got bigger and more private with old growth trees and high fences. They whipped through winding roads over onto Mulholland Drive as LA spread before them. The city lights glimmered brighter than any star.

Her heart pounded in her ears even as the danger passed.

She kept looking behind her, but she didn’t see a single biker. They came upon Sunset Strip quicker than she would’ve imagined and turned onto a side street toward the Pandora Hotel. Red hopped off the bike when Lucas parked in the garage. She pulled off the helmet, her hair falling loose from the bun, and set it on the bike with trembling hands.

Her mind raced, but she pulled out her cell phone and sent texts to Quinn and Vic that they had arrived safely at the hotel. She looked up to see Lucas staring at her. “What?”

“You could have died.” Lucas shook his head, guilt in his gray eyes. “I shouldn’t have let Quinn bring you along.”

Red put her hand on her hips, annoyance powering through the fear. “What are you talking about? I’m the reason you two got out of that bar alive. It was my two vans that mowed down those bikers. You’re lucky I was there.” Shaking her head, she turned to walk to the elevator. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly cold as the adrenaline settled in her body.

“Didn’t mean it like that.” Lucas appeared at her side. “You did a cracking job. I was the wheelman that let you get bumped off my bike.”

Red shrugged. “I don’t want to get on a bike for a while, but I’m fine. My magic doesn’t always listen to me, but it pops out when I need it.” Red smiled wanly and pushed the elevator button. “Put away the guilt. I’ve done this before.”

“You’re a witch?”

“Sometimes,” Red said, blushing. She knew after using so much magic she wouldn’t be much of one for a while. Only her near-death experience had wrenched what was left in her out in defense.

The elevator door dinged.

“You have to stay here while I find Quinn and pull him out of whatever fight he is in,” Lucas said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Fine.” Red stepped inside and pushed the button for the 8th floor before glancing out the door. “I guess this is good night?”

“It should be, but not yet.” Lucas stopped the door from closing and stepped through. He brought his hand to her face before he pulled her in for a kiss.

Red tugged him closer. The rush of surviving fell upon in her the security of the elevator; the buzz in her ears and the thump in her chest told her she was alive. Her breath grew heavy as she pulled back. She stared into his grey eyes, then kissed him again.

Their hands roamed over each other’s back with frantic energy.

Lucas pressed her against the wall of the elevator. His tongue brushed against her lip before he deepened the kiss. His hands circled her waist, pulling her closer.

Breaking from the kiss, Red nibbled along his jaw to his neck, her hands running through his hair. She leaned her forehead against his neck.

He lifted her, palms under her ass to wrap her legs around his waist before he kissed her again.

Red threw her arms around his neck.

The elevator door dinged open and a panicked voice squeaked, “I’ll take the next one!”

Red looked over Lucas’s shoulder and blushed, then buried her face in his shoulder as the door closed on the 4th floor. She bit her lip and put her legs down. “Okay, time for a cold shower.”

“You’re remarkable, Red.” Lucas tipped her chin up with his finger. He kissed her again, this time slow and soft.

Red’s phone vibrated in her hip pouch. Her eyes remained closed from the kiss.

Lucas said, “You’re buzzing too.”

She licked her lips before pulling out the phone out to see Vic’s name. She answered it as the doors opened on the 8th floor. “Heya.” Her voice cracked, and she looked at Lucas, blushing. “Hang on, I’m right outside." She stepped into the hallway and went to open the hotel suite.

“Are you okay?” Vic asked from the couch, hand in a bag of chips. “Quinn called twenty minutes ago. He said he saw one of Kristoff’s buddies with a mess of minions at that bar. The bastard blew his cover, apparently. He was still trying to shake off Valley minions.”

Lucas gritted his teeth. “I thought I recognized that ginger wanker. Fucking Novak has eyes everywhere now.”

Red looked away as she stepped inside and set her purse down. She had told Lucas and the gang that Kristoff had found her cleaning out the Falcon last night, but she didn’t tell them that Kristoff had told her his side of the Juniper saga. Or that he promised they would meet again.

Had Kristoff sent his buddy to watch her? No, it didn’t make sense, because no one besides Vic knew where they were going. The ginger vampire had been settled in that bar when they had arrived. He hadn’t noticed her either. She had certainly surprised those minions, especially with the careening vans. Only one seemed to recognize her. “I saw the nerdy vamp that roughed you up. He ran from the bar before the action started.”

“He wasn’t the only rogue minion,” Lucas said, rocking on his heels as his jaw clenched in thought. “Two dozen in that bar, and I recognized a third of the lot.”

“I was afraid of that.” Vic rolled up the chip bag one handed and sat up on the couch. “I managed to get into Julia Crispin’s files, and she was into some heavy shit. She was investigating the rising vampire population in LA, trying to figure out which vampire went rogue. The Brotherhood has a truce with the supreme master here, but Julia went deep undercover and kept it a secret from everyone.”

“That explains why a lesbian Bard was seen on dates with male vampires.” Red sat down next to Vic. “Did she find out who?”

“I only have her early notes with write-ups on players like Delilah, Michel, and Cora. I think the later stuff was on her stolen computer. Had to be something big.” Vic tossed the chip bag on the coffee table and crossed his arms. “Hired goons is one thing, robbing a hotel like this is another.”

“Whoever killed her must have wanted her secrets buried too,” Red said. “Why else go after the laptop?”

Vic nodded before he looked at Lucas as if noticing him for the first time. “Hey! Why aren’t you out there finding Quinn?”

“No need,” Lucas said as he opened the hotel suite door.

Quinn stepped inside, shoulders hunched, bruises on his face. “Lost them after Ventura Boulevard.”

“Thank God for LA traffic then. Never thought I would say that.” Vic shook his head. “How did you guys escape that lair?”

Lucas furrowed his brow and looked down. The cloud of guilt was palpable around him, but then he smirked at Red, proud. His words came out husky. “Don’t be modest.”

Quinn folded his arms, but a tiny smile ghosted his lips. “Lucas and I were backed against the wall with two dozen minions at our throat.”

Lucas put his hands in his pockets. “Then I see this van mow through the crowd. Had enough time to jump to the side and run.”

“I might have put bricks on the gas pedal of a couple of vans.” Red shrugged, looking away from Lucas.

“It got us out,” Quinn said. “Now, lay low. Our stunt is going to attract attention.” He gestured to Lucas. “We have explaining to do.”

Lucas grinned as he walked up to Red. “Don’t let the old grump fool you. You did good.” He ran a hand down her arm. “I should have known that you’d handle yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, Greg, ‘atta girls all around.” Vic crossed his arms. “Get to stepping and use that charm on the supreme.”

“And the role of my big brother will be played by Vic this evening.” Red cocked her head. “But he’s right. We’re not flying under the radar anymore.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Red.” Lucas chuckled and turned on his heel to join Quinn, striding for the hotel suite door. He closed the door behind him.

Vic shook his head. “Oh, to have the confidence of a mediocre white male vampire. I admire your ability to get those chuckleheads out of a sticky situation, but did there have to be an explosion?”

“The tables have turned on the pyromania, I see.” Red chuckled. “You’re not the only one that can make things go boom.”

Vic smirked, then asked, “Was it cool?”

“The vans didn’t explode as much as they could have.” Red grinned, shrugging.

“Wiped that smug look off Greg’s face?”

Red laughed as she shook out her long hair. “His name is Lucas.”

“Oh, no. Can we not joke about Greg anymore? Has it gotten there?” Vic put his head in his hands with a dramatic sigh. “When I told you to play nice with the souled vampires, I didn’t mean to go and get a crush on one. This doppelgänger stuff is going to your head.”

“Hey, don’t go analyzing me. Your love life isn’t any more normal. I remember a certain pastor’s shapeshifting daughter.” Red shrugged and forced herself to yawn. “Oh, look at that, time to go to bed.”

“Fine, fine, we don’t need to paint our nails and talk about boys. You just look like you came from a first date, not near death from a vampire mob.” Vic settled back on the couch. “Be careful.”

“You’ve gone from big brother to Mom,” Red said, smiling as she walked over to her bedroom.

“I feel like a single mother,” Vic grumbled playfully as he turned the TV back on.

Letting herself fall into her nighttime routine of brushing her teeth and taking a shower, she went out onto the balcony off her bedroom when she finished. The lights and sounds of the city bounced off the concrete jungle. Wind blew the hem of her white robe back. She braided her towel-dried hair as she zoned out, staring ahead.

A whirl of a helicopter overhead broke through her distraction. A searchlight beamed from it. The light ran over the top of the five-story building next to the Pandora Hotel before the helicopter zoomed away.

Red squinted as she looked over the balcony rail. Even four stories down on another building, she recognized him. Kristoff.

Hands behind his back, wearing another stylish dark suit, he nodded to her before he turned and walked away on the rooftop.

She backed into her room and closed the balcony door, then pressed her forehead against the glass. “Oh God, this is getting complicated.”

Chapter Twelve

October 29th, 2018, After Sunset, Quinn Investigations, Culver City in Los Angeles, California

Standing by the filing cabinet, Red looked inside the messy top drawer. She had gone from cabinet to cabinet in the row, but each was crammed with files, loose papers, and faded receipts. If there was an order to them, she hadn’t found it. The routine organizing calmed her, but she couldn’t help but be aware of Lucas reading the computer screen over Quinn’s shoulder.

Vic had insisted that they come to Quinn Investigations to show Julia Crispin’s research to Quinn. They hadn’t a chance last night. After regrouping at the hotel from the explosive mission to the illegal bar in Gianni Construction, Quinn and Lucas had left to go tell Cora Moon about the mystery vampires in the Valley. Red knew they could have emailed the research, but Vic was getting cabin fever.

Red felt eyes on her. She looked up to see Lucas smiling at her. She shook her head and smiled back. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me dig up the files on vampire attacks?”

“Can’t help but be curious to see what the Bard chit wrote about me,” Lucas said.

“Impulsive, rude, and occasionally heroic. She has your number, boy.” Quinn’s reserved expression flickered as amusement twisted his lips.

“We already know about you, Lucas. Its other vampires that we need to learn about. With Quinn’s sources at the LAPD keeping quiet, we’re relying on your record keeping.”

“Bloody hell.” Lucas looked away.

“Vic wanted us to make some progress when he stubbornly went on the food run alone.” Red grumbled. “He’s even hitting up the butchers for you, too.” Red shook her head, letting the mysterious overcompensating ways of her mentor go. She glanced back at the files. “I’m really trying to find an order, but your logic escapes me.”

“Simple. I stuffed them in a folder once we finished the case.” Lucas pointed at the second drawer of one file cabinet. “I started stuffing them in around ‘93.”

“Weren’t you drunk for all of ‘93?” Red asked.

“Sounds about right.”

“He was a charity hire,” Quinn said sheepishly.

“The really interesting ones, I put here.” Lucas walked over to the file cabinet next to her. He opened the top and flipped through at vampire speed, his eyes moving quickly as he scanned the messily written labels. He pulled one out. “This is a weird one. Lots of tentacles in places you wouldn’t expect.”

“Unless that ends with a vampire attack, I don’t think it’s what we are looking for.” Red leaned next to him to investigate the drawer. She reached out when she spied a label reading “vamps in Venice,” and her hand brushed Lucas’s. Biting the inside of her cheek, Red looked down. “This one looks more promising.”

“Yeah.” Lucas studied Red, voice lowering. “Maybe we’re onto something.”

The door opened, and a powerful feminine voice dryly replied, “Or maybe you’re just pissing the wrong people off.”

Red’s heart picked up, and her shoulders tensed as she looked over at the open doorway.

Delilah put her hand on her hip as her head tilted. She looked like a femme fatale from a noir film coming to see a down-on-their-luck private dick. Long loosely-curled blond hair framed wary blue eyes. Her classical features were poised except for a trace of annoyance in her pursed crimson lips. Tapping the door closed with a red-bottomed heel, she sauntered into the office in a blue Chanel dress that fit like a second skin. Delilah was a nearly 400-year-old vampire and radiated the confidence of one.

“Sire.” Quinn stood up, his head lifting as he looked the vampiress up and down. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You might look like a male model, but you’re smarter than that. I asked you to find the culprit killing my best girls, not to have a car chase on the freeway!” Delilah crossed her arms. “This has to stop.”

“The case has gotten more complicated, as I told Cora last night,” Quinn said, his voice silky and conciliatory.

“Some vampire is growing an army of minions in the Valley.” Red matched Delilah’s stance.

This case was too important. Was everyone forgetting the most important part of the story, a rogue vampire on a murder spree? Julia Crispin wasn’t a wrong-place-wrong-time situation. She was on the trail of something big. More than half the research encrypted on Julia’s laptop had been stolen from her hotel suite, but they had seen enough to validate her suspicions. This case had too much momentum to stop now.

Delilah met Red’s eyes before dismissing her with a quick eye roll. She focused on Quinn as she stepped up to his desk and leaned against it. Their glance exchanged a silent communication honed over centuries. She then studied Red like a person observing a zoo animal. “I can’t decide if this is like the good old days or an utter perversion.”

Red tightened her arms around herself. She could already tell that Delilah wasn’t nearly as impressed with her as her general manager had been.

“It still takes me back.” Delilah smiled, an act devoid of amusement. “Is she writing your letters too, Quinn?”

Lucas stepped forward, his body partially shielding Red. “Bugger off with that. If you’re here to scold us, do it. Don’t drudge up the past.”

“The girl is a rake. She is dredging it up with her very face.” Delilah stared hard at Lucas.

Red felt her face and frowned before shrugging her shoulders under her tank top straps.

Noticing the bandage on Red’s neck, Delilah rolled her eyes. “I can see Kristoff got ahold of her. Fabulous. Are you going to destroy his bar like you did Fabio Gianni’s? Because Gianni is billing the supreme for the damage.”

“I’ll have you know that I was following the law. Unregistered minions and all. I did Cora a favor.” Lucas gestured, flapping one hand and putting the other in his pocket.

“A favor? Even the LAPD was able to follow your trail, especially the daredevil in the convertible.” Delilah glared at Quinn at the last sentence, but her lips puckered up into a repressed smile.

“Guilty. Now, when I told the supreme that I found over a dozen rogue vampires in the Valley, she wasn’t displeased with me. What changed?” Quinn asked.

“You’re lucky that Kristoff sent his own to turn back the rabble. Between the two of you, that three-car pile-up might have been cleaned up. Except every human has a cellphone these days.” Delilah shook her head. “Michel tried to repress the news before the Blood Alliance found it. Then a short video went viral locally. Hashtag trending, boys.”

“Bullocks.” Lucas said, turning to Quinn. “You didn’t say Kristoff helped you.”

“Your dick measuring contest with Kristoff isn’t the point, Lucas. The video of Quinn racing down the freeway was scrubbed off Twitter already, but it’s enough to have tongues wagging. The Halloween Ball is in two nights. Cora didn’t even want to look at me when I caught her at Hot Yoga,” Delilah said. “Then she was…” She looked away from Quinn. “...reminded of Lucas challenging Kristoff’s claim in public. She might appreciate the intel, but the collateral damage is a fucking mess. The Master of Portland is her most visible ally among the unsouled, and you sucker punched his ambassador, Lucas!”

“Michel told her, didn’t he? That bastard will never forget Paris, will he?” Lucas asked.

“Why would he?” Delilah shook her head. “Let’s not quarrel. He has been patient with you, Lucas, at my insistence. He’s not the one you need to worry about yet, unless you keep pissing him off.”

“You can say his name. I know full well he’s your lover,” Quinn said slowly as he sat down. “The warning is received, sire.”

“Oh, don’t be cold, darling. I came here because I cared. You like to stay aloof now, leaving me in the thick of it,” Delilah cajoled. “I’m off to another PR event tonight, trying to drum up support for Cora and keep our family on her good side.”

Quinn raised his eyebrows. “You always liked center stage.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Vampires have been coming in for the Blood Summit since August. Bloodliners and Doves, all agitating in every planning committee. It’s pulling pragmatists like me to the extremes.” Delilah lowered her voice. “Be careful. Cora now knows someone has gone rogue, and she won’t forget that you brought the message, but neither will whoever is turning those minions.”

“I hear you, Delilah.” Quinn crossed his arms.

“Let’s see if you listen.” Delilah pushed her blond hair over her shoulder before standing up. She strutted toward the door without a glance back.

“Do you still wear the necklace that Alaric gave you? The ouroboros?” Quinn asked softly from his desk.

Delilah paused before she looked over her shoulder. “A lady always keeps the jewelry. Much more faithful than the giver.”

“Two of the victims had a snake eating its own tail carved on them.” Quinn said.

“Strike you as familiar?” Lucas crossed his arms.

“You’ll want to keep Juniper 2.0 out of sight, Lucas.” Delilah glanced at Lucas, raising her eyebrow. “The Blood Alliance is what concerns the supreme, not the Brotherhood. Right now, she has precious few allies for her peacenik agenda. Cora will grant sire rights if it suits her.”

The phrase sire rights rang in Red’s ears echoing like a death bell. LA County, land of the fluffy reformed vampires, wasn’t a sanctuary. Not anymore… if it ever had been.

Delilah paused like an actress waiting for her cue before she stepped out the door and closed it behind her.

Red released the breath she was holding. Delilah had soaked up the energy in the room, leaving it spent when she left. Red was happy with the intensity being dialed back down a notch. The silence grew as the three of them found themselves lost in thought as if alone.

The door slammed open minutes later, and Vic strode, bent over his arm of cloth shopping bags. “Din-din, motherfuckers. I have lo mein and cow blood.”

Forcing herself not to jump, Red put her hand on her chest then rushed to take some of the bags off his working arm. “You’re a real mule. How did you even get this out of the car?”

“What? Not hungry?” Vic asked.

Red filled Vic in on Delilah’s visit while Quinn and Lucas retreated to a corner of the office, speaking quietly.

Vic rolled his eyes at Delilah’s warnings, but he held his tongue until the end.

“Well, we knew the case might blow open or, more accurately, up. Didn’t think it was going to be some vans,” Vic said as he put the cartons of takeout and plastic pints of blood on the desk. “Maybe it might spook the rogue master into doing something stupid. Now that Cora is on guard, her people might end up catching him.”

“You’re assuming they’re the same person. If I was a vampire creating a secret army, why would I drop bodies where someone would get curious? Leaving a dead girl at the official nightclub of the Blood Summit isn’t very sneaky,” Red said, feeling like they had a version of the same conversation over and over. “Why wouldn’t this rogue master keep her in a dungeon for a while, learn her secrets? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Point.” Vic sighed, then picked up his takeout and fork before moving to a couch along the wall. He called out to Quinn and Lucas, “Hey, boys, secrets don’t make friends.”

Red joined him with her portion of greasy Chinese food.

“The drive made me think,” Vic said. “The last few entries in Julia’s files were around Club Vltava. She had a photoshoot there with Kristoff and noted some weird tension between Delilah and Kristoff. Said a whole group of vamps were having a powwow in the club including Michel and what seems like all the vampires from Portland. No word on if they looked like hipsters or not. Is it just me or do we have too many suspects?”

“A city full, in fact.” Red didn’t look to Quinn. A poking thorn of suspicion grew in her mind. If half of the vampires in Los Angeles could be suspects, then the other half would protect their friends… or sires.

“The motive could be anything,” Vic said, chewing his noodles. “There are other former members of the Alaric Order in town, dissidents looking to rile up the authority before their big shindig, and what vampire wouldn’t want to eat a model?”

Red began to launch into an idea she had been picking at since she had changed bandages on her neck this morning. “I know. I have an idea on how to narrow it down. There is a fang mold database. We could—”

“You need to get back to the hotel,” Lucas said. “Stay there until my bloody progeny leaves town.”

“Lucas will flank the van en route,” Quinn said.

“Delilah says close the case and run, so we’re supposed to listen to her?” Red set the food carton next to her and crossed her arms. She struck a determined hunter stance, then realized she had a piece of noodle on her face. Wiping the bit of Chinese food off her lip and blushing, she looked away from Lucas. “I’m a hunter. This isn’t my first rodeo with vampires. I signed on to this job, and I intend to finish it.”

“We keep talking about the Blood Summit, but you’re not getting it, kitten. This isn’t just a fucking conference. This is the Blood Alliance putting on a show.” The lean dark-haired vampire glowered protectively, arms folded over his leather jacket. “Every city in North America has sent at least one master vampire. New York sent over a dozen. Souled and unsouled, squabbling over bullshit and serving up cold intrigues to each other. You took on a few long-dead farmers and pig fuckers in Oklahoma City. This is LA, Red!” Lucas looked away. “Don’t be bullheaded.”

Red crossed her arms and lowered her lashes. She opened her mouth, ready to rip him a new one for his condescension, but gritted her teeth and shook her head instead. She wasn’t stupid. They had a mystery killer, a rogue master making minions, and now a pissed off Supreme Master of the City. Kristoff was dangerous, but who wasn’t in this town?

All four of them had managed to attract attention. She was far from the only one in danger. Vic had a broken arm, so putting her in hiding would bench half the team.

Vic looked between Red and Lucas. “Come on. We still have options. Cora is pissed at the situation, but she’ll do some yoga and get over it. She needs someone looking into this. We might even get a double bounty when we catch this bastard—from her and the Brotherhood.”

Lucas said, “You’re already down a working arm. Want to add an intern to the list?”

“Bounties aren’t worth it if your partner ends up turned.” Quinn shook his head.

Vic shared a long look with Quinn before he nodded. “Fine. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“This case has legs. It won’t stop just because we do.” Red let her frustration sharpen her tone. She didn’t care what macho silent agreement had just occurred. This case wasn’t over.

The Blood Summit would wrap up the night after the Halloween Ball, and there were voting, committees, and speeches in between. The big finale would be Cora debuting the results of her Catch and Release policy on the last day. There were two—possibly three—victims, and with days to go until the Summit was officially over, there was plenty of time for more to join the death count.

Red gritted her teeth. Arguing only ate up time. She wasn’t an intern for Quinn Investigations. She was Vic’s intern, so she saved her arguments for him. “Let’s pack it up then.”

Red didn’t say anything to Lucas as she helped Vic pack away the Chinese food and the laptop before going out to the van.

“Hey, I’m sorry for calling you bullheaded,” Lucas said, touching her wrist as she reached for the van passenger door.

Red shook her head. “You meant what you said. Be honest. I’d rather hear the truth, the whole truth.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were going to turn Juniper St. James, but you were stopped by the soulmancer just in time.” Red opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. “If you’re so worried about me, be honest with me.”

Vic coughed from the passenger’s seat. “This is awesome for me as a bystander. If you two are done angsting, I have some chilling Chinese food to eat.”

“Goodbye, Lucas.” Red closed the door.

Lucas stalked away.

She resisted crossing her arms and rolling her eyes like a teenager when she heard the rev of Lucas’s motorcycle behind the Falcon as it rumbled back to the Pandora Hotel. Red gripped the steering wheel tighter. She waited through agonizingly long moments of Vic fiddling with the radio before she asked, “What do you think, Vic?”

“I think this is an official Brotherhood investigation.” Vic leaned back, drumming his fingers on the door. “Delilah, man, she’s always been able to get into Quinn’s head. I don’t think she’s working alone. These are orders from above. Conspiracy, man.”

“I think there’s something very personal about these crimes. You don’t just carve something into a person for no reason.” Red took their exit toward the Hollywood Hills. “I’m split, Vic. Why was Olivia Greene killed? Is Georgia Erickson even one of our victims? There’s too much going on and too many suspects on the list. Julia managed to get dirt on nearly every vampire who counted in LA, down to the addresses of their lairs. Any of them might have wanted her dead.”

Vic glowered out the windshield. “She did something real here in LA. Julia wasn’t just studying werewolf periods like they do in London, sniffing their own farts about how clever they are to be Bards. This is serious recon on how to take down a rogue master vampire. Her father would be proud of the research. Walking away… it feels wrong.”

Red didn’t say anything as she parked the van in their usual underground spot at the Pandora Hotel. She stepped out of the van to face Lucas driving in on his bike.

“Brassed off at me still?” Lucas asked.

“Annoyed, but I have more important things to worry about than your old-fashioned protectiveness. It doesn’t go with the punk look, by the way.” Red closed the van door and stepped away.

She wasn’t stupid. Cora’s laws wouldn’t protect her. In terms of vampire realpolitik, she was an easy trade off. Red didn’t care. If she ran from every big baddie, she never would have become a hunter.

“You need to lay low, even if you’re mad at me about it,” Lucas said. “Let me protect you.”

“You’re not my bodyguard. Even if you were, you still wouldn’t be able to tell me what to do,” Red said over her shoulder. “Good night, Lucas.”

Vic looked down and awkwardly rubbed his neck as he waited for her in the elevator.

“Not a word, Vic,” Red said. “Let’s just check and see if the hotel recovered the hallway footage and then eat.”

The elevator opened, and they stepped into the lobby. The front desk clerk smiled and placed a green envelope on the desk along with a rose and old book of folklore. “Aren’t you lucky? What a thoughtful gift.”

“Yeah, thoughtful.” Red took the flower and put the book under her arm before snagging the envelope. “Thanks.”

She already knew who sent the letter before she opened it in the elevator.

Dear Red,

The book and the rose are an apology for our first meeting. I hope you accept these tokens as the well-intended symbols they are. If you do, I’d like to discuss the book with you at the Halloween Ball as my guest.

Allow me to show you another side of myself. I am not asking for your secrets, only giving you an invitation to learn some of mine.

Kristoff Novak

“You could be our honey trap.” Vic stroked his chin after they left the elevator and entered the hotel suite. “He’s a suspect with both the access and a thing for models. I read about him. He was accepted into the Alaric Order, but he left them back in the day during the August Harvest.”

“You want me to parade in front of all the vampires at their own party?”

“Not when you put it like that.” Vic shook his head and set their cold takeout on the coffee table. He sat down and started slurping his noodles.

Red dug into her own and had more to chew on than lo mein. Telling Vic about Delilah had helped her process, but she still couldn’t shake off the weird glimpse into the Byrnes family dynamics. It was tense, but the three interacted with the fluid comfort of age. If Quinn and Lucas listened to Delilah and did leave the case, they needed a new vampire insider. Kristoff wouldn’t be her first idea for an ally.

“Sending me into the belly of the beast just makes me easier to eat.”

“I’m just saying if he wants to play gentleman vampire, we could use it. I’m not saying how.” Vic pulled out his phone and put it on speaker. “Let’s get the big man on the line.”

Quinn listened to their story without interruption, but Lucas made dry commentary in the background.

Vic held the phone to his mouth, glancing at Red. “The word’s already out that Kristoff claimed a human. Might as well let them get a look so they can avoid you.”

“Even if I trusted Kristoff, I could get pulled into some other kind of drama.” Red rubbed her neck, avoiding the scabbed-over fang marks.

Kristoff had bitten her. Then he had protected her in the parking garage. He had even helped Quinn escape the vampires on motorcycles. Kristoff had made big claims when they last spoke, saying she would beg for his next bite. She might be able to trust he’d be content with courting her until he grew bored with being a gentleman, but the field was thick with plots at the Blood Summit.

“This is a conspiracy that’s going to the top. I bet someone was trying to silence a mole when they killed Julia.” Vic snapped his fingers. “The other girls were pretty and blond. They were probably killed on accident. Mistaken identity, maybe? This isn’t a simple murder case. This is politics, and so is that Halloween Ball. All the vampires will be there that night.”

“Dead men love to tell tales. Bloody gossips, the lot of them.” Lucas’s voice boomed through the cellphone speakers. “They’ll want to see the girl that I kicked Kristoff’s ass for, and some will want to use Red against us.”

Red looked at Vic, furrowing her brow at his smile. “He’s hoping for it, aren’t you?”

“Your idea is solid. The Brotherhood has gotten back with a 3D scan of the victims’ bite prints. If I can crack into Cora’s registry, I can try to match fangs with the molds she has on file.” Vic grinned into the cell phone as he leaned his mouth closer. “If everyone’s watching you three at the Ball, then they aren’t watching me. Or their computers.”

“It would clear through our suspect list,” Quinn said thoughtfully.

“Red, I will swear to a judge that you’re a badass, but you don’t have to prove it,” Lucas said. “And Vic, ditch the hacker fantasy, we can just send Cora a bloody copy.”

“What?” Vic slumped back on the couch, deflated.

“She has enough geeks on the payroll to do the leg work,” Lucas said. “Send Quinn the files tonight, and he can pass them on.”

“I’m going to ignore that dig on my hacker realities, Greg.” Vic scoffed, but then grew serious. “Can we trust Cora to act on the intel?”

Quinn’s voice crackled from the phone. “She wants the murders to stop as much as us.”

“Good. Now, you don’t need to bore yourself at the Halloween Ball,” Lucas said.

“Only the new vampires are in this registry. We might not get a hit on these marks. Everyone who's anyone will be at the Halloween Ball,” Vic argued. “This is our last chance to scope out the suspects before everyone goes home with their souvenir T-shirts for the baby fangers.”

Red looked at Vic. “It’s been a long day. Before I fill my dance card for that evening, I’m going to sleep on it.”

“Good. You’ll wake up knowing Vic’s idea is bonkers,” Lucas said.

“I’m ignoring you, Greg. Whatever, she’s right. This arm is killing me, anyway. Q, you’re in the loop. Let me know when Delilah shows up again.” Vic ended the call, then reached into his pocket and popped a pill. He pulled out his laptop and tapped idly at it between bites of food. He looked over at her, nibbling on the last of his noodles. “It's not a hacker fantasy. I could hack their system, if I wanted too.”

“Totally, bro.” Red mumbled before gulping down her last bite. “Sent the files off?”

Vic nodded and raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re not going to sleep.”

“No, I’m going to do some research before I agree to become Kristoff Novak’s plus one,” Red said. She complained about being pulled into drama, but she was already in it. She didn’t know where the minefields were until she stepped on them. “Lucas isn’t wrong. I don’t like the idea of walking into a ballroom full of vampires with just a purse for protection either.”

“It’s like vampire prom. There will be chaperones.”

“I think there are ways to get intel on Kristoff without me going to a dance with him.”

“It’s new millennium. Women can choose their own dates.” Vic stumbled to his feet. “I already have the research on Kristoff open on my computer. Don’t turn it off when you’re done. Quinn’s file is still uploading.”

Red watched him go to his room before looking at his laptop. She had already read the short summary of the vampire entrepreneur with a flair with photography. That didn’t tell her anything beyond the fact that he was wealthy, well-connected, and rising in the vampire world.

She could already tell that by looking at him. He had been the essence of a cocky vampire, lording over his nightclub with a supermodel on his arm. She knew he wanted more than her blood. Kristoff had extended the olive branch by saving Quinn the night before. That didn’t change the fact that he was a person of interest that she hadn’t finished questioning.

She opened the book that Kristoff gave her to see engravings of fantastical creatures. A note fell out of the book with a single phone number.

Walking out onto the balcony, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and called the number. Red didn’t need to go to vampire prom to question some vaguely European vampire. She brought the phone to her ear. Waiting for an aloof hello of a bored bartender or receptionist, she practiced what she would say in her head. Hi, I’m Red. I need to talk to Kristoff Novak. Yeah, I’ll wait but he’ll want to take this one.

The dubstep ringback tone gave her long enough to question her sanity for calling him. The phone picked up and she blurted out. “Hi, it’s Red.” She forgot the rest she had planned.

“Red.” Kristoff rolled the R gently. “How did you like your gift?”

Red swallowed, not expecting him to answer her directly. Vampires were as secretive about their phone numbers as they were about their lairs. Then again, Kristoff’s lair had an Instagram account. “Hi. Um, yes, that is why I called.” She blanked.

Silence rang on the other end. “And, what is going on in that clever mind?”

Red blushed, then launched into her questions. “I want to know what the deal is. Are you trying to lure me out of the hotel so you can grab me? Is this going to be like vampire prom? You’ve shown that you’re more interested in chatting than torturing me, but what do you want? I really have no idea. That’s what is going on in my clever mind.”

“The deal is, I want you to get to know me. Maybe then you’ll want me to get to know you.” His smirk was practically audible. “You can still investigate me at the Ball.”

Red scoffed. “I don’t have to go on a date with you to question you.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever seen a real dark room? Or developed a picture on your own?”

“What?” Red pouted as she scrambled to keep up with the topic change. “No. I’ve used Polaroids though.”

“Come to the club. My gallery is in the same building. You have questions about my motives. I fully accept that I’m a person of interest and I’m happy to give you full access.”

“Happy, I bet.” Red rolled her eyes.

“I have a new exhibit about muses through history. You’ll want to see one of the portraits. You’ll see what we all keep going on about.”

“So, you can capture me and keep me in your dungeon?” Nonetheless, Red wondered exactly what he would show her. Her heart already knew. Her stomach twisted in knots.

“Bring stakes, crosses, and wrap yourself in silver. Tell everyone on Instagram that you’re coming. Actually, please do, and use the Club Vltava LA hashtag. We’re trying to make it go viral.” He paused. “I want you to see that I’m not someone you should fear.”

“Even if you hadn’t bitten me, vampires always have more than one angle.” She bit her lip, the words “genetic coincidence” looping in her mind.

“I do have a proposal, but it is business. I promise to shoot straight with you.”

Red fell silent before she nodded her head. “This is a bad idea, but I’m on my way. If I’m not back in an hour, you’ll have hunters at your door.”

“I expect nothing less.”

“Text me alibis for the nights of the 24th and 25th. I want to check them out. Your brother doesn’t count as an alibi.” She hung up the phone.

Lifting a hand to her mouth, Red closed her eyes. She was running headlong into the lair of the unsouled vampire who had claimed her. Kristoff was at the top of their list of vampires with access to all the victims before their deaths. Person of interest… That was an understatement. Second to Lucas, she hadn’t thought of any vampire more.

Her phone vibrated. She saw his prompt text message with times and dates of people and places to vouch for him.

Red shook her head at the star-studded name-dropping before she grabbed a black hoodie and strapped on the leather harness attached to a small demon hunting kit to her waist and upper thigh. She hung a hand-sized blessed silver cross on her belt. Red jammed the stake into her hoodie pocket before she left the hotel room with a quick text to Vic, forwarding the message from Kristoff.

She tried to tell herself that she was going to dig deeper into Kristoff, even as all her bubbling questions came back to Juniper St. James.

Chapter Thirteen

October 29th, 2018, Night, Club Vltava, Los Angeles, California

Pulling down the hood on her black zip-up sweater, Red put her hand on the blessed silver cross on her hip as she walked up to Club Vltava. Hiding a small pistol filled with wooden bullets, the leather demon hunting kit strapped to the top of her thigh and belt bounced with her quick steps.

The queue of fashionable clubbers stretched down the sidewalk, even at the early time of half past ten. In old sneakers, faded jeans, and a black tank top, she looked more like a girl about to do laundry than hit the hottest new club on Sunset Strip.

Red lifted her head to walk past the aspiring glamazons and part-time actors. She pushed her loose hair over her shoulder, hand brushing the clean bandage over the scabbed-over bite. The last time she was in this club, she had ended up with holes in her neck.

What was she doing?

She was supposed to be investigating Julia Crispin, not Juniper St. James. Questions dug at her, pricking at her curiosity like thorns. All she had found in LA were questions. Out of all the players in this game, only one wanted to tell her anything: Kristoff. At every turn, she walked into the fight blind, because she didn’t know what her enemy saw—Red or Juniper? She didn’t remember her enemies, but they remembered her.

Kristoff stood at the head of the line beside the large bouncer. Blond hair slicked back and wearing a dark fitted suit without a tie, he held his hands behind his back. His blue eyes studied her approach without a glance at the other women waiting in their mini dresses and heels. He grinned. “I’d offer my arm, but I don’t suppose you would take it.”

“And I thought you didn’t know me.” Red stopped in front of him. “You said you had something to show me.”

“Do you want something to drink first?”

“I’m not up to the dress code.” Red looked down at her outfit, taking her hand off the silver cross on her belt to reveal it. She kept the pistol in her kit. He didn’t need to see all her cards.

“Business it is.” Kristoff nodded and led her into the entrance of his building but instead of taking the elevator up to Club Vltava, he guided her through the glass double doors on the ground floor. The low lights in the open lobby of the gallery were compensated by the ceiling fixtures highlighting the framed photography on the walls.

Glancing around, she turned her focus back to Kristoff. “Everything is on the record and I expect you to be honest.”

“I will tell you the truth as I know it. That is why you are here, isn’t it? The truth?” Kristoff tilted his head, considering her answer.

Red didn’t like the X-Ray vision in his glance. She looked away. “Why did you mention a dark room?”

“A person’s passion is where you see them in their truth.” Kristoff led her past the white walls filled with photography both hyper realistic and surreal, of people from around the globe. Not a single print was of a building or landscape, only humans living out a second of mortal life, captured for eternity.

Red let the silence grow as her mind rattled with what she knew about him, but it was dates and named events like the Sack of Paris. She knew he had been dubbed the Butcher of Cologne after a vampire clan battle. It was listed in all the accounts that she had found, but only Julia noted his gift with photography. “Did the Byrnes chose you because you were a photographer? I read that Delilah demanded each member of her clan to be skilled in an art.”

“She didn’t demand that of her minions.” Kristoff laughed. “I was chosen to shine boots. Much like in business, I am a self-made man in my creativity.”

“You said that you had a proposal for me? Enough with the gallery tour, let’s get to business.”

“My business model is to mix business with pleasure.” Kristoff looked down, leaning closer to her.

Red crossed her arms. “You can explain and flirt at the same time.”

“I need your help.” Kristoff’s smile grew serious as his glibness disappeared. “Julia Crispin’s untimely demise behind my club is raising questions from more than flame-haired hunters. I think it’s a frame up. When the surveillance footage was returned, it was edited, and half my outdoor cameras were broken. I saw the recording of her walking out of the club, going across the street then toward the alley. She didn’t come back the same, much like my tape. I’m guilty of many things but not her.”

“You want me to clear your good name?” Red raised an eyebrow.

“I would pay. I know hunters love their bounties.”

“I can be paid off, but if this is a goose hunt so you can make time with me, I’m out,” Red said automatically before she remembered her newly acquired trust fund. Having Fuck You Money still hadn’t sunk in. She bit her tongue as he began to speak.

“I am an ambassador with the Supreme of Portland, Prince Marek, himself. This Summit isn’t just a meet-and-greet for folks to take back to their districts. Real players are in town. I’m already in hot water since I claimed you so audaciously.” A small smile bloomed on his face.

“You could have the grace to be ashamed.”

“Shame is hard when you don’t have a soul. I would have preferred more of a courtship. But I won’t lie to you. I will never regret choosing you, especially if it keeps you alive. You see my bite as a chain. I see it as a tool for you to use.” Kristoff took her over to a makeshift white portrait backdrop and picked up a camera on a stool. “Interactive exhibit. There will be two pictures left on the reel.”

“You’re not taking my picture.”

“You’re talking mine. It should be worth a thousand words.” Kristoff handed her the camera and strode to the backdrop before turning around. “Now, for the record, I don’t prefer studio setups. I like taking my pictures where the action is.”

Red studied the thick lens and the dials on top of the camera. Part of her wanted to play with the buttons, but she figured it would already have been adjusted for the gallery lighting. “Why did you come to Los Angeles early for the Blood Summit? Couldn’t an underling open a bar?” She lifted the camera up to study the subtle play of surprise on his handsome face through the viewfinder. “What? I’m putting some action in this studio.”

“Action, is it?”

“An interrogation is an action.” She bit her lip to restrain her curving smirk. Her picture-taking finger grew itchy.

“That isn’t a digital camera. You have to choose your shots carefully.” He dipped his head, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“I am.” Red smirked, seeing the distraction on his face through the viewfinder as she put him off balance. “Answer my question.”

Kristoff regained his composure and straightened his shoulders. “I came early because my master wanted eyes on the ground.”

“Like a red-haired vampire who frequents bars in the Valley?”

“You’ve seen Donal then.” Kristoff nodded.

“Did you send him to watch me?” Red asked.

“No. Independent orders. He didn’t even recognize you. He did a video call so I could see the brawl. An early birthday present, to see my sire staked.” Kristoff perked up at the thought before his brow furrowed. “He was sadly wrong, but I spotted you in the background, rushing out the door. It gave me enough warning to take my men to help. When I only found Quinn, I went to see if you made it home. I assume the explosions at Gianni Construction were your work.”

“Someone had to deal with all those minions,” Red said.

“You’re brave,” he said, chin lowered, and his blue gaze met hers. His face had seemed so arrogant earlier, yet for a moment, it lay open and vulnerable.

Red snapped the picture. “Or bullheaded. I’m still working that one out.”

Kristoff narrowed his eyes as a name formed on his lips before he swallowed it and straightened his shoulders. He said instead, “Courage can be mistaken for stubbornness.”

Red looked down at the screen, avoiding his stare. “It’s harder to decide when I find myself playing America’s Next Top Model with a vampire.”

“I might have been called a butcher, but I won’t harm you, Red.”

“Harm means different things to humans and vampires.”

“You’re right,” Kristoff said without being flippant. His expression grew more earnest—if conflicted—as he searched for his next word.

Red didn’t know if he was reaching for a lie or a truth. Maybe he didn’t either. She took another picture. “I think that is all of them.” Lowering the camera, she tilted her head trying to guess his next move. He looked different in the camera’s eye.

“Then let me show you how the magic happens.” Kristoff smiled, oddly innoculous like a shy child showing off his best toy, before he caught himself. Restraining the boyishness, his reserved cool returned as he gestured to an unlabeled door.

“Before I let the dastardly vampire lead me off to a secret room, I want to know why I’m really here. It wasn’t to take your picture, and you could’ve asked for help in your letter. You had something else to show me.” Red lifted her chin, having to raise her face to meet his over six-foot height. “Let’s keep to business.”

“So professional.” Kristoff dipped his head and put his hands behind his back.

“We’ve played enough.” Red raised her hands in frustration before resting them on her hips. She echoed old advice that Vic had given her. She wasn’t certain who the statement was really for—him or herself. “Being focused on the job is how a hunter stays alive.”

“You have someone else watching your back now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You say you’re protecting me, but I know it’s to protect your territory. There is a difference.” She’d had a long night and a longer week, wading through vampire shenanigans, and had the bags under her eyes to prove it. Red gestured to herself in slouchy jeans, leather kit on her thigh, and a zip-up hoodie. “If I’m so precious, why show me off at the Ball?”

“I claimed you. I want them all to know.” Kristoff said it with all the emotion of a human declaring they were running to the store to get milk.

“Ugh. Be less gross.” Red made a face. “I’m doing my job and questioning you, but I haven’t forgiven you for biting me.”

“I told you I’d be honest.” Kristoff shrugged.

“And paternalistic.” Red shook her head. “Nothing you’ve said tonight makes me think that you’re content to see me walk out of your life. You’re playing nice so I put down my guard. It doesn’t matter that you’re happy to take it slow. You’re immortal. Any second, you could get bored, and this gentleman act falls away.”

“I’d rather be a knight.” Kristoff held out his hand to take the camera.

“You didn’t address my concerns, Sir Vampire.” Red handed the camera over, frowning.

Kristoff looked down at the camera before he set it aside on the stool by the interactive art exhibit. He turned around, keeping his gaze steady. “I might have claimed you, but I don’t own you. People can’t own someone else. She told me that.”

“How progressive.” Red laughed dryly, crossing her arms, fighting the urge to squirm with curiosity at the reference of Juniper. “Now, I’ll sleep easy.”

“I’m growing fond of you, but I’ve only just swiped right. It's a bit early to chain you up and have you as my concubine, don’t you think? Buy me dinner first.” Kristoff mirrored her posture, crossing his arms, an amused challenge in his smirk. The handsome arrogance, remote yet inviting, returned to his expression.

Rolling her eyes, Red jerked her thumb toward the lobby. She had played enough games. Just like in the nightclub, she was letting herself get close to the charming spider because she was curious about the intricacies of the web. The part of her that told her she was being a dumbass for being alone with him grew louder. “Time’s a-wasting, and if this is a preview of what you have to tell me, I’m ready to bounce.”

“Before you call the cavalry, you’ll want to see this.” He guided her around a white detached wall.

Red followed him through another wing of the gallery. They passed an eclectic collection of photography like Alice B. Toklas in black and white, Eartha Kitt radiating power, and a vibrant life-sized Angelyne in the Muses Exhibit. Red glanced to Kristoff before she stopped.

Jaw dropping, she stared at the sepia portrait on the wall. It pulled her to it like a magnet.

It was her.

Or rather, it looked like her.

Exactly like her.

A foot wide, the antique gilded frame of carved rosettes wrapped around the oval photo. In a dark Medieval bodice, flowing white skirt, and her loose curls tumbling down the cape on her back, the young woman looked like a Victorian dream of Camelot.

Red knew she was the new kid in doppelgänger land, but she didn’t expect it to feel like this to finally face her. It wasn’t like looking at a mirror; it was like looking at another world.

Juniper St. James sat on a high-backed chair, knees facing forward, but turned at the waist to lean her elbow on the armrest. Chin under her knuckles, she stared at the camera. She had been posed before, but this wasn’t one. The photographer had caught a small wistful smile in a secret moment. Her eyes looked up at the photographer and not the camera.

Kristoff’s voice started low when he began. “I thought I was dreaming when I saw you. I had them so often after she died. Dreams where I would call out, but she would always disappear.”

Red couldn’t look away from Juniper and the face that could be hers. There was a sadness in her eyes that her dreamy smile couldn’t reach. Kristoff had captured a moment of… Was it bittersweet longing? “When was this taken?”

“Prague in 1899 before a masquerade ball. I took all the women’s pictures. This was one I snuck of her.”

“1899? That means she died a year later in August.”

Kristoff nodded. “It was the beginning of the end for her. It was the end of the beginning for me.”

“You were both so young.” Red’s voice sounded far away to her own ears as she studied Juniper. This was the woman that they all saw.

“I was made only months before.”

“Did she know that Lucas was going to turn her?”

“Maybe she knew what was to come, but she didn’t accept it. She had a plan.” Keeping his focus on Juniper, Kristoff’s voice grew hoarse. “I didn’t know that things were going to change. When I took that picture, all I knew was that I would follow her into hell. If I had my way then, I would have.”

Red looked away from the raw emotion showing through the cracks in his control. “What was she like?”

“Clever. Her hands were always moving. Fixing clocks, flipping through a book, always stained with ink. I noticed that first about her. It was later I realized her courage. A wildfire that not even a gilded cage could extinguish.” Kristoff grinned and shook his head. “Women weren’t supposed to be interested in science or adventure. She defied convention even as she made use of it.”

“How did she end up with vampires?” Red squinted at Juniper St. James peeking back at her from the frame. The portrait showed a woman who was young, but hard experience lingered in her eyes. Quinn and Kristoff described a capable woman. Where had it gone wrong?

“She kept her secrets well, collecting them like books. I knew she was from America. Juniper had been on the run from a warlock when Lucas found her in England. Maybe that was why she stayed so long with him.” Kristoff stared up at the portrait. “I knew her favorite book, her favorite tea, but I don’t even know if that was her real name.”

Red had been told that Kristoff had a thing for Juniper, but it wasn’t infatuation in his voice; it was devotion. “What was she to you?”

“She was the making of me.” Kristoff met her gaze with intense certainty.

Red felt her heartbeat pick up. Her palms started to sweat. She blurted out. “Was this taken when you started your affair with her?”

“Before. You’d be surprised to know that it was Quinn that opened that door.”

“He said he was a villain in the story.” She avoided his look. “I didn’t know he played matchmaker too.”

“Quinn Byrnes is a vampire whose brutality and cunning was legendary. You wouldn’t know it from how he slouches around now.” Kristoff pursed his lips, then shook his head as if the peculiarities of souled vampires were beyond his pay grade. “A master of mayhem, he liked to set up schemes and pull the strings—especially when he was bored. One day, he decided he wanted to sketch Juniper. The short of it was that I saw more than I should have of my sire’s courtesan.”

“What happened?” Red had held the torn sketch of Juniper in her hands at Quinn’s office. Staring at Juniper filled in the blanks on the scrap of cream-colored sketch paper in her mind’s eye.

“You need to buy me dinner to get the full story.” Kristoff smirked and licked at his bottom lip. He bounced on his heels. “Afterward, I was cocky, as vampires are want to be. She put me in my place. We were friends again after that.”

“Friends?”

“Surprisingly, I am capable of having female friends. Stick around, and you’ll meet a few.” He grinned, but his smile fell. “I think we honestly thought we could be friends. Time changed all that.” Kristoff shook his head. “Is this unsettling for you? Learning about a stranger with your face?”

“You finally figured out we’re different,” Red said.

“I know you are. I hope your fate is different too.” Kristoff raised his hand, his fingers ghosting over her cheek without touching her. He pulled away. “After she died, they lied about her. She was full of light like you. I don’t want to see that snuffed out.”

“Don’t mistake me coming here.” Red shivered, telling herself it was nerves. She stepped back. “You might have claimed me, but that doesn’t make me your girlfriend.”

“I know.” Kristoff smiled down at her. “I won’t bite or undress you until you ask. I know the rules.” He looked over at the portrait, his flirtatious demeanor fading. “It’s trite, but the truth can be. I couldn’t help her at the end, but you might still find me useful. She would want me to help you.”

“I can accept help, but not with strings attached,” Red said. “Unsouled vampires do terrible things to girls like me. Death and nihilism are the family friendly part of it. I can believe that there is some lingering bond between you two that makes you want to help me.” She shook her head. “That better angel might win out before this is all over, but what about your friends?”

Red had more questions she wanted to ask, yet they all crowded her throat, choking her. She took a last look at Juniper. The woman might be reaching out through history to her, but the present beckoned. Red also didn’t know how much more she could learn before her brain exploded. She needed real intel, not backstory. “Who else at this Ball might recognize my face?”

“The supreme wouldn’t, but her second-in-command might. Delilah for sure. A few of my men have seen this portrait, but they’ll be on their best behavior around you.” Kristoff left out the implied or else. “Eight years, Juniper traveled around Europe with the Byrnes. Who knows who she might have met? The August Harvest would have claimed most of them, so we have that on our side.”

“Will you be on your best behavior?”

“Have high expectations for me, Red. I’ll exceed them.” Kristoff tilted his head.

“I’ll keep you to that.” Red raised her chin and tried her best determined face.

Kristoff’s lips twitched in a repressed smile as he put his hands behind his back. “Let’s see how that photo turned out.”

“Changing the topic doesn’t mean the interrogation is over. What are the Bloodliners saying about the murders? That’s what you call the unsouled faction, right?” Red followed him, leaving the woman with her face behind.

“Murders? What should I expect to be charged with?”

“Fewer than you’ve earned, but at least two.” Red glanced at him as they walked through the winding gallery of detached walls and framed faces. “What does a snake eating its tail mean to you, Mr. Novak?”

Kristoff snapped his head to the side to look down at her. “The ouroboros. Infinity to some, wholeness to others. It means the Alaric Order to me.”

“You were inducted into that Order and left. What does it even mean to be inducted? Did you get a sash or something?”

“It was more like the mafia than the Elks Club.” Kristoff’s lips twitched, and his blue eyes twinkled. “You could say that I became a made man in Paris.”

“So, how do you go from working for Lucas to the order?”

“Even vampires have higher authorities. Not long after that picture was taken, I fought in Alaric’s horde as it stormed across Europe. Lucas drank and bitched the whole bloodline war.” Kristoff gritted his teeth, tone growing icy. “You want to know why the Byrnes were the worst of the worst? They came from it. Unsouled vampires are bastards, I’ll give us that. Yet even among the old bloodlines—and I am talking the old and cold—they chilled at the abominations that passed for entertainment in Alaric’s court.”

“Gotcha, they were monsters to monsters.” Red rubbed her upper arm, suddenly feeling cold even in her hoodie.

“You won’t have to dig deep to find out about their massacres. Delilah kept her little clan out of his court, but not forever, not when her master called. I left once I had nothing to keep me.” Kristoff looked down. “The chaos of the August Harvest made it easier to leave.”

They reached the unlabeled door by the white backdrop in silence.

Kristoff took the camera before opening the door. The scent of chemicals and a red light drifted out.

Red reached for her silver cross on her hip to flash it at Kristoff as she walked through the door. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m full of ideas, but I know what you did to those minions in the Valley.” Kristoff put the camera on a worktable.

“Keep that in mind when you start sharing your passion.” Red kept on a deadpan expression even as goosebumps rose on her arms. Her gut told her that he had been honest with her before, but she knew he could choose his words with the best of them when he was concentrating. What would she shake loose when he was distracted by another project?

“I know how to keep it professional.” He gestured at the trays of chemicals on the table and the hanging photos in different stages of development. “I work mainly in digital now, but there’s still something about a dark room.”

“How does it work?” Red asked, letting the cross pinned to her hip go slack as she studied his setup of pristine white surfaces and mysterious devices.

Kristoff led her through unrolling the film to choose the last picture of him. He put the negative carrier into the enlarger to project the photo onto a flat easel.

After a string of questions about the equipment, Red remembered to get back to the case. “Lucas knows you asked me to the vampire prom.” She tried to imagine what the Halloween Ball would look like—the Met Ball or a gothic Anne Rice fever dream?

“How did my sire take the news?” Kristoff asked dryly, staring at the film strip under the magnifying lens of the enlarger.

“Sarcastically and with threats of violence.” Red studied Kristoff as he created the print.

“Sounds like my sire.” Kristoff shrugged a shoulder, concentrating on his work. “I’ve been in town a month. I’m surprised we’ve only had one fist fight.”

“You two pissed off Michel and Cora by fighting over me.” Red leaned against the counter to watch him transfer the blank-looking print to the trays of chemical washes.

“Cora owes me for keeping her peace, and she knows it. Michel on the other hand…” Kristoff shrugged. “I’m surprised we haven’t had a fist fight yet.”

“You’re good at making friends, I can tell. Why would he recognize my face?”

“If there was one thing that Juniper had in spades, it was secrets and names. She disappeared after Prague and made a new life. Instead of living with vampires, she staked them.” Kristoff leaned forward. “You can see why I’m fond of you.”

“Yeah yeah.” Red looked down, biting her bottom lip.

He leaned back on his heels. “I only know that he saw her, but I have my suspicions. It was a clan battle in a railway station. Michel attacked Lucas to let her escape. I don’t know why. I only know because I jumped in to help my sire. Who knows if Michel will remember that rainy day that he saved a damsel in London? For a vampire like him, it might be quite novel.” Kristoff smiled. “For the record, that took place after the affair began.”

“Sure, for the record.” Red put her hand on her hip. The interrogation was slipping from her control. “For the record, what was your affiliation with Julia Crispin, Olivia Greene, and Georgia Erickson?”

“I photographed them all. They were in the marketing campaign for the club opening. Are you saying the other two are dead too?” Kristoff’s brows pressed together.

“Yes, shortly after their shoots with you. Hence why you’re a person of interest.”

“I slept with Olivia. But I didn’t see her again after she started dating a guy from a Netflix show. Check her Instagram.” Kristoff shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Honesty was the policy.”

“You have a way with the ladies, Kristoff. I heard a rumor about some weirdness with Delilah. What's up with that?”

Kristoff laughed. “That’s an older, longer story, and a gentleman never tells. There’s a reason why both Quinn and Lucas don’t like me very much.”

“We have a Casanova on our hands.” Red said dryly, putting her palms up in mockery before asking him more about his relationship with Olivia Greene.

Kristoff answered her dogged questions but sighed at the last one. “Yes, the relationship was over in a week. No, I wasn’t sore about it. It had been a decade since I had been dumped, but technically, I didn’t know we were dating. Check her Instagram. You can see the change in boytoys. Olivia took a selfie every ten minutes.”

Looking up the woman’s Instagram account, she noticed selfies at Club Vltava, but the rest were with a buff bearded hottie. Red clicked on the Club Vltava hashtag and scrolled through a week’s worth of content to see a video posted on the night that the first victim, Olivia Greene, died.

She clicked on it to see an old livestream to the club, showcasing the bartenders mixing drinks for the fashionable. She scrolled through the video to see Kristoff sitting at the bar with one of the Kardashian sisters. Red looked up. “I thought you were fucking with me when you put Khloe Kardashian as an alibi.”

“Khloe has surprisingly good taste in wine.” Kristoff lifted his eyebrows and grinned.

“I bet,” Red said, noting the time stamp on the video.

It was the same time that the coroner listed for Olivia’s death. As far as Red knew, bilocation wasn’t a vampire superpower. He could have hired an underling to kill Olivia, she reminded herself. The connection felt weak. Kristoff was here on business, trying to gain favor with Cora Moon. By every account, from Julia’s notes to word on the street, Kristoff had been toeing the line. If he wanted to really get rid of his ex, he could have just had Olivia taken up north to Portland. Less questions in his home territory.

She frowned, realizing that she didn’t think he had anything to do with Olivia. Playing politics and opening businesses in LA meant blending into the human world. By all accounts, Kristoff had been operating under the radar. Social media aside. Killing an ex-girlfriend with fifty thousand Instagram followers, then letting her be found on the beach, wasn’t blending in.

Red took a screencap of the livestream and texted it to Vic. She lifted her eyebrows and put her phone in her pocket. “So, you and Olivia were done-zo. Now, what about your photoshoot with Julia Crispin?”

Directing the interrogation back to Julia while leaving out the Bard’s investigation, Red peppered him with questions about who was there and why to match up against Julia’s notes later. Filtering through were ones about the technique of making the tester print and bathing it in the chemical washes.

Red bit her cheek as she realized she was leaning over the photo, staring at the developing print, more interested in the dark room than the murder case. She coughed. “This was very fascinating, Kristoff, but this print will take time, and I have a curfew. We need to get back to the case.”

“I’m an open book.” Kristoff leaned closer.

Her hoodie pocket vibrated, and she pulled her phone out with a raised finger at Kristoff. “Hey.” She stepped out of the dark room into the brighter gallery. She took a deep breath, blinking to adjust.

“Red,” Quinn said, wind and static breezing through his phone as if he were cruising down the freeway with his convertible top down. “Another girl was found. She was dumped outside my office, but I found her in time to call an ambulance.”

“Shit, where is she?”

He rattled off the name and address of a hospital. “I tried Vic, but he didn’t pick up.”

“He popped a painkiller. Out like a light.” Red rubbed and stretched her neck. She thought quick. “Another model?”

“I think so. This girl needs guards.” Quinn said.

“I’m there.” Red ended the call and tapped to find her rideshare app. She typed in the address, ignoring Kristoff’s eyes on her. She’d had an unsettling—but not exactly unpleasant—interrogation with Kristoff, but more duty called.

“You don’t need to call a ride,” Kristoff said. “I know the hospital. They have an orderly happy to sell blood bags.”

“Ew.” Red eyed the surge pricing and thirty-minute wait for a ride. “Fine. We need to hurry.” She quickly texted Vic where she was going and with who, then sent a follow-up: DON’T TELL LUCAS.

Kristoff’s blue eyes flicked down at her phone with a smirk. “Your secret is safe with me.” He walked to an elevator, blending in with the white walls.

Red blushed and looked away, following him. “He’s not my keeper.”

“I like an independent woman.”

The elevator took them underground to a small garage.

Kristoff placed a light hand on the small of her back to guide her around a corner to a Mercedes Benz. He lifted his hand to push the remote key control, then opened the passenger side. “Your chariot, my lady.”

“I’m not a lady. I’m a hunter,” Red said as she slid into the passenger side of the luxury car. She shook her head ruefully. Quinn had asked for guards. He didn’t specify how back up should get there. “You’re dropping me off and heading off, Kristoff.”

“It will be the best Uber of your life. Five stars.” Kristoff smiled as he slid into the driver's seat and started the car, engine roaring to life with a purr. “You didn’t say yes to my business proposal, but you’ll see that you’ll want me as a client.”

“Keep your money. I don’t want you as a client.” Red closed the door. “How about I just find whoever killed Julia Crispin and this poor girl? Since you swear it's not you, your name will be clear. Everyone wins.”

“You don’t have to trust me to make use of me.” Kristoff pulled out of the space. The underground parking garage door opened, and he turned onto the street.

Red stared at the car window, she focused on the spot where his should be. Only her own reflection faced her. “I can believe in your better angels, Kristoff, but I’m not going to bet on them yet.”

Chapter Fourteen

October 29th, 2018, 11:31pm, Culver City Hospital, Los Angeles, California

Kristoff looked over at her, hands on the wheel as the Mercedes Benz rolled to a stop outside the Culver City Hospital. The glow of the hospital’s lights filtered through the car’s windshield, leaving his face in partial shadow.

“We’re here.” Even looking out the window, Red was surprised to see the automatic doors of the hospital. Kristoff had been content to play chauffeur and let her zone out. She had been lost in her thoughts once they hit the freeway.

“I told you. Your best Uber ride. I didn’t talk, and you controlled the radio,” Kristoff said.

“It’s a change of pace.” Red chuckled as she checked her phone for Quinn’s text with the room number. She looked over at Kristoff in the driver’s seat as she undid her seat belt and opened the door. After all he had shared with her, she didn’t know what to say. “You shared some painful history with me tonight. It couldn’t have been easy, not with this face staring back at you.”

“It’s a good face.” Kristoff nodded. “You’re more than a doppelgänger. You’re a decent shot.”

Red bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile. “Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Novak.”

Kristoff leaned his head on the head rest and smiled at her. “You can interrogate me anytime.”

“I just might have to.” Red stood up and out of the car before closing the door.

The window rolled down, and Kristoff called out, “What about the Halloween Ball, Red?”

“I’ll let you know if I’m busy that night.” Red waved.

Kristoff grinned and shook his head before putting the car into drive and speeding out of the hospital parking lot.

Red turned around to see Lucas step through the automatic doors. Her heart started racing. “That was him.”

Lucas put his hands in his pockets as his gray eyes followed Kristoff’s car. His brow furrowed and his shoulders slumped. Instead of angry jealousy, Lucas radiated worry. “Find what you were looking for?”

“I saw her.” Red walked toward Lucas. “Kristoff has a picture of her in his gallery.”

“I’d like to see that.” A sad earnestness creeped into his voice. Lucas looked down, then turned and started walking to the door. “Quinn wants all eyes on this girl. I left him upstairs.”

“What? No lecture?” Red asked when she caught up, the sterile hospital air already making her skin crawl.

“You said you can handle yourself.” Lucas took her past a nurse’s station to an elevator. “Didn’t expect you to be hopping out of his car, but a man has to assume you have reasons.”

“I hadn’t finished questioning him. I wasn’t satisfied with walking away from the case.”

“Are you satisfied now?” Lucas lifted his eyebrow, glancing at her.

“I’m satisfied that he didn’t kill Olivia Greene, since he was with a tabloid queen at the same time.” Red held out her phone to show the screencap of the timestamped livestream in the club where Kristoff was in full view at Olivia’s time of death. “Now, I know he didn’t attack whoever Quinn found outside his office. Beyond her body being found at his club, there isn’t any evidence that he had anything to do with Julia Crispin either. Those are facts.” Red put her phone away in her back pocket and dipped her head, biting her lip. “I’m not so naïve to think he’s an ally. I can hear the worry, even if you aren’t saying it.”

A twitch pulsed in Lucas’s jaw as he looked down before taking a unneeded deep breath. “You gave me the business, Red—trust you or don’t. I’m going to trust you. Not him.”

“I’m not asking for that. I learned enough to know that ship has sailed.” Red opened her mouth to continue, but the lights went out, and the elevator car shuddered to a stop. “A blackout? Not now.”

The emergency lights flickered on.

“No such thing as coincidence, Red.” Lucas glanced around at the elevator car. “Quinn is alone up there.”

Red hit the emergency call button. “Fuck, no one’s answering.” She looked up at the small door in the ceiling, thanking her lucky stars for outdated elevators. “Boost me up.”

Stepping onto Lucas’s cupped hands, she opened it before jumping back down. “Okay. Do a vampire thing and get help.”

Lucas jumped straight out of the elevator, landing on the top with a thud. His voice echoed in the empty elevator shaft. “We’re between floors. Give me a mo’ to jump and pry open the door.”

The elevator jerked to a start. Lucas jumped back down into the car, landing in a crouch, black bangs covering his face. He looked up at Red as he stood, head cocked to listen. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. His storm gray eyes narrowed.

“Maybe it was a rolling blackout,” Red said, but the sentence caught in her throat as the elevator door opened to chaos.

Alarms rang as flashing lights strobed on the beige linoleum and a deserted nursing station. A doctor in blue scrubs ran after two cops around the corner.

Red and Lucas ran after them. Lucas shot ahead.

Red followed, leaning on the door threshold as she peeped into the hospital room.

In a pool of blood, a blond woman twitched in a hospital bed surrounded by nurses and doctors.

Red gasped, recognizing the woman. She had been the model that giggled to her about Delilah’s love life before a meeting at DB Models. Her name was Carrie Baldwin, and she’d been so excited about a marketing campaign that she’d just landed that she’d decided to stay with the company. Red shook her head and covered her mouth.

Carrie should have quit.

Red should have told her to.

Quinn appeared behind her. “I lost them.” His brown eyes were haunted with the same failure that Red felt.

The heart monitor beeps went flatline.

“11:48 p.m. She’s gone,” a doctor called out, wiping his arm across his forehead, leaving a smear of blood.

Red turned away and clenched her fists. She had come to LA to stop these murders, not see the bodies pile up around her. Blinking away tears, she watched Quinn speak to the officers without seeing.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lucas said quietly and led her away.

Red stopped processing, numb from the carnage as she followed him. She didn’t speak until she was bundled into the back seat of Quinn’s convertible. “What the hell happened up there, Quinn?”

“I stepped out to speak to an officer then the blackout hit. When I came back, I found the nurse screaming. The woman was going to wake up. Until they cut her throat.”

“Why your place? Why would they dump her there?” Red looked at Quinn’s face in the rearview mirror. “Vic keeps talking conspiracy, but this pattern feels personal. Two of the bodies were left at the lairs of former members of the Order of Alaric. Why would someone want to leave you a drained woman like a cat with a bird?”

“I don’t know. It’s a message, but I don’t know who it’s from.” Quinn’s brown eyes met hers for a moment before focusing back on the road.

“Three girls in a week. That’s a hell of a message.” Lucas cracked his knuckles. “I got one of my own for the sender.”

The short car ride from the hospital ended in the parking lot behind the office strip mall where Quinn Investigations made its home. The breeze carried the scent of curry from the Indian restaurant next door. Red and blue lights from cop cars painted the white building.

Red stepped out onto the asphalt with her eyes on the cops and crime scene techs. Her hope to search the crime scene dissolved. She unzipped her hoodie to let it drape down over her leather kit on her thigh. The outline of her small palm-sized pistol didn’t show through the bulky leather, but habit moved her hand. She followed behind Quinn and Lucas toward the office door.

A dark-skinned detective, badge on the lapel of her navy pantsuit, met them on the sidewalk. Young for her position, she surveyed the crime scene with her arms folded like a commander. The flyaways in her shoulder-length relaxed hair, wrinkled suit, and pressed together lips spoke of a long night without words.

Red pulled back to stand beside Lucas, trying to blend in with the scenery. Her standard operating procedure with cops was to avoid them. Hunters looked a lot like violent drifters if you didn’t know what was behind the Dark Veil.

“Detective Callaway.” Quinn nodded. “You heard?”

“The call came before you did. This is the part where you spill what I need to know about this vampire shit.” Detective Callaway spit out the word vampire with a shudder. She raised her hand. “And if you just say Blood Summit and disappear again like I’m supposed to know what it means, I’m walking away.”

“If I knew who was doing this, they would have been staked by now,” Quinn said.

“Our vic isn’t the only one. I’m finding more drained people than ever.” The detective shook her head. “Brass is keeping it quiet. As usual.”

“It ends after Halloween,” Quinn said softly.

“That’s not good enough.” Callaway raised her palm to stop him from speaking. “I staked a vampire biting a dishwasher on Cienega last week. Souled. Thought you people were the good guys.”

“You shouldn’t have been hun—”

“You know what he told me? He said it was time to choose sides.” Callaway licked her lips. “I don’t care about the bullshit vampire politics. These murders need to end.”

Quinn nodded, broad shoulders seeming small, wrapped in an aura of guilt.

“You’re giving me nothing, Byrnes. You’re not the one who has to lie to this poor murdered girl’s family.” Callaway looked down and hugged herself for a moment before her expression grew remote, and she straightened her arms. “Choose a side.”

Red watched Quinn’s shoulders slump, but when she looked back Detective Callaway was already walking away to her car.

Lucas commented drolly, “The Bloodliners are working hard to get the voters out.”

“What?” Red asked.

“It's no democracy, but the management likes to take the pulse of public opinion,” Lucas said.

“Cora is taking the stage at the Blood Summit after the Halloween Ball to promote her catch and release policy,” Quinn said.

“Let me guess, she isn’t gaining friends with it.” Red looked over at the yellow crime scene tape wrapped around the five parking spaces, then to the entrance to the suite of offices where Quinn Investigations rubbed elbows with a massage therapist and an accountant. “Were you able to search a bit before the cops came?”

Quinn shrugged. “I did a look over the parking lot, but I was too focused on stopping her bleeding and calling the ambulance to pick anything up.”

“Did you see anything that looked like an antique?”

“What are you thinking?” Lucas grinned.

Red pulled out her phone to scroll to a picture in her gallery of the broken locket. “Did you see anything like this? Remember, I found it at Julia Crispin’s murder scene.”

Quinn stared down at the small portrait in the locket and furrowed his brow. “No, but that woman… Lucas, does she look familiar to you?”

Lucas shrugged. “Not ringing any bells.”

“You never remember anyone.” Quinn sighed as if they had bickered about this longer than Red had been alive. They probably had.

Red looked around at the officers getting a witness statement from a waitress by the Indian restaurant and forensic technicians taking pictures of the blood splatters marked with yellow cards. “They’ll pick the scene clean.”

“You should leave. You can’t do anything here.” Quinn nodded to Lucas. “I have business.”

Red blinked and Quinn was gone. Only the rev of the convertible engine from the street hinted where he had gone. “The detective is right. That disappearing stuff is annoying.”

“Let me get you back to Sleeping Beauty at the hotel.” Lucas held up his motorcycle keys.

“You weren’t long after Quinn in finding her. Did you see if she had a mark carved into her?” Red asked instead.

“Yeah, a circle. Or an ouroboros.” Lucas gestured to his left arm. “Just like the rest.”

“Consistent.” Red focused on the patterns even if her head spun from the questions. She realized she had gone silent and coughed to cover it. “You’re going to come back here and case the scene, aren’t you?”

Lucas tensed as if preparing for an argument. “From the roof.”

Red nodded, the trains of thought multiplying as she started walking toward the door to Quinn Investigations. “We’ll need to text Vic whatever we learn.”

“Where are you going, Red?” Lucas asked, lips quirked in amusement.

Red paused. “Um, the roof?”

He tensed as if to argue before he nodded toward the other side of the parking lot. “Ladder is this way.”

Ducking her head, Red smiled and shook her head at herself for assuming he’d stop her before following him.

Two days before Halloween, four murdered women, and more vampires than she could shake a stake at—Red felt beyond back at zero. Her gut told her that Kristoff might be a danger to her, but he wasn’t their murderer. The evidence validated it, even as more questions bubbled up. After a week, she had successfully confirmed at least one vampire had not killed at least one of their victims.

That just left the rest of the vampires in Los Angeles as suspects.

Chapter Fifteen

October 30th, Midnight, Quinn Investigations in Culver City, Los Angeles, California, USA

Feeling only stray burnt kernels at the buttery bottom of the bag, Red frowned before wiping her hands on the napkin. The breeze whipped her hair back. Her dinner of a greasy noodle bowl felt so long ago after Delilah’s warning, questioning Kristoff, and then another victim left behind in the parking lot of Quinn Investigations. She had nearly inhaled the popcorn and would do it again. She looked down in the empty bag. “All gone.”

“Call Guinness, it’s a record. I think it took less time for you to eat it than it did to make it.” Lucas tilted his head, an easy smile on his face.

“Reconnaissance is hungry business,” Red said primly before glancing back at the crime scene in the parking lot. Perched on the edge of the roof, she could see the crime scene technicians bent over evidence tags and blood splatters. The crew was packing up the last of the evidence. She smiled at him. “Thanks for making it.”

“I burnt it.” Lucas shook his head, but a small grin lingered on his lips.

“Is it a vampire thing because you’re not a solids man, or is it you?”

“Personal failing.” Lucas smirked. “I’m told I over-spice too.”

“Huh.” She had read about vampires, met her share, even knew one who made a mean plate of chicken and waffles, but she had never gotten close enough to observe the less lethal vampire quirks. “That’s weird. You’d think with your sense of smell your taste would be enhanced.”

“Food doesn’t taste the same. Can’t even eat much of it.” Lucas raised his beer can. “Thank the bloody lord, drinking is another story.” He took a sip before he looked at her and laughed. “I can see the question, and no, I don’t pee. Whatever magic keeps me walking, that takes care of it.”

Red blushed from him being able to read the juvenile question on her face. It didn’t stop her from asking another. “Can you throw up? I’m imagining something cat-like.”

“Everything with a mouth can ralph. That’s science.” Lucas smirked self-deprecatingly. “I paid more attention in literature class than in biology.”

“I noticed your bookshelf. You had some good books in there mixed with the random crap like your boots and a few old joints in a teacup. You need a real ashtray.”

“If I’d known Quinn was turning the place into an Airbnb, I would’ve tidied up.” Lucas smiled. “You left On the Road by the nightstand.”

“I’ve read it before, but sometimes I like to visit my old friends.” Red ducked her head. “You were a writer before the Byrneses found you?”

“I was a glorified clerk at my father’s shipping business, but yes, I did fancy myself a writer. I scribbled more on my overwrought stories than worked.” Lucas shrugged. “Nepotism got me the position. My father’s death kept me in it.”

“Do you still write?”

“I’ve picked up the pen a time or two, but to Delilah’s chagrin, that literary flair died with me. I was too busy drinking deep from the cup of life in the early days to write about it.”

Red smiled. “What about now? At the very least, you have a memoir in you. A long one.”

Lucas dipped his head. “The truth was that I wrote stories about the lives I wanted to live but didn’t have the stones to.” He drank slowly from his beer. “I was a bored romantic. Then Justine swept into my world in a whirlwind of moonlight and mystery. Of course, I said yes to wherever she would take me.”

Red remembered the small picture of Justine Byrnes from the Bard’s database, the mad vampire with the angelic face and raven hair who had sired Lucas and brought him into the harsh glittering supernatural world.

“I didn’t live until I died.” Lucas raised his beer can to her. “That isn’t a problem you have as a hunter. You’ve seen more adventure in the last week than I saw in my entire human life.”

“The people you meet on the road do liven things up.” Red smiled and looked away. She knew this was the part in the conversation where a normal girl would talk about herself, share something about her family, or talk about college. Red didn’t have normal conversations. There wasn’t enough in her memory for one.

She talked about demons, murders, and the occasional sci-fi show. Lucas had shared so much about himself, but she still couldn’t lay down her cards. Red stood, grabbing the popcorn bag with her. “It looks like they’re leaving. Let’s do a quick sweep.”

Red climbed down first. The ladder was hidden between a fence and the small one-floor strip mall. Putting her hands in her pockets after throwing away the popcorn bag, she walked over to where a strip of yellow police tape draped on the ground.

Lucas circled around the five spaces in the parking lot where the murdered woman, Carrie Baldwin, had been dumped.

Red had taken notes with her phone on the areas where the CSI had marked blood splatters and lingered taking samples and tire prints. She went over the areas, finding only signs of the cops, before crouching down to check under a car.

“Red,” Lucas said with a nod to the opening back door of the Indian restaurant.

She stood and walked away toward the door to Quinn Investigations.

A stream of waiters, cooks, and dishwashers left the restaurant, chattering with varying degrees of excitement, worry, and annoyance as they pointed at the crime scene.

“That was useless. All the real clues are wherever she was drained, not where she was dropped.” Lucas opened the office door for her.

“Dropping her here was a clue.” Red walked into the darkened hallway shared with other offices. “Come on. Until Quinn gets back with the name of the victim, we don’t have much to do besides look over the old files. Whoever is building that little army in the Valley has to have been at it for a while. Those minions might be new, but not that new.”

“Don’t you think you should get some shut-eye?”

“I’d just toss and turn. Might as well get on with it. You two need another set of hands around here.” She needed to keep moving. It was the silence that made her thoughts race too loudly in her ears. This case had gotten to her. She wasn’t ready to psychoanalyze why she saw herself in Julia Crispin, mourned Olivia Greene, or felt guilt over gossipy Carrie Baldwin. Red stepped into Quinn Investigations as Lucas turned on the lights. It looked cleaner than before, but she knew the file cabinets hid chaos.

“Then let me at least make you coffee,” Lucas offered.

“I’d love one, but I gotta ask. Are we on the same page about where I stand on this team? I get that Delilah freaked you both out earlier, but you and Quinn can’t buddy cop your way out of this alone.” Red resisted rolling her eyes.

She knew his protectiveness didn’t come from a bad place. She could forgive it, but she couldn’t forget it when she had a job to do. Playing hot and cold, holding back intel, they couldn’t solve this case unless they worked together.

“I’m still a hunter. Well, like an apprentice, but still. Did you try to keep Vic out of the hunt when he was Quinn’s intern? I highly doubt you play rugged defender for all of your hunter buddies.” She bit her lip, realizing she was rambling. “I get that I look like her, but I’m still me.”

Lucas pulled his hand out of his pocket and ran his fingers through his dark hair as he shook his head tightly. His grey eyes filled with guilt. “I try not to see her when I look at you, but I do.”

“There’s a lot of baggage that comes with this face, but we have a case. You have to focus on what’s good for the case. It's not about me.”

“It is for me.” Lucas sighed and cocked his head at her. “With Kristoff in the picture, I can’t think. I hadn’t wanted to turn her. I kept kicking that can down the road for years. Then it all changed the night she died. I was given a choice: turn her and take her away or… well, it wasn’t much of a choice. It wasn’t me she’d been running from all those years. It was her past. Kept it close to the chest, but it was bad. In my own twisted way, I thought I could keep her safe, so I did what I did. I failed, and she died. Now you know the rest of the story. It’s my business to deal with the fallout. Not see you get consumed by it.” Lucas gritted his teeth and looked away. “That is my rutting problem. Me. It’s not you. I know what you can do.”

“Lucas…”

“How about that coffee?” Lucas put his hands in his pockets and shifted back on his heels. His voice rougher from emotion. “Sugar or no?”

“Sugar.” Watching him disappear into Quinn’s private office to go into the apartment below, she said to herself, “Thanks for being honest.”

Red found file boxes peeking out from behind the front desk. She sat down in the chair and reached into the file box, pulling up files to discover CD-ROMs and floppy disks. The modern computer at the desk didn’t have a floppy drive, naturally, but she popped the first disc into the drive.

Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out to see a text message from Kristoff. She opened it open to see a short video. She unmuted it and turned the volume down low.

Kristoff grinned and panned the camera to show a part of Club Vltava she hadn’t seen before, revealing a stage. Michel and Delilah took the stage with smiles and waves. Kristoff panned back to himself. “Consider this another alibi for tonight.”

The video ended, and Red put the phone back in her pocket. She shook her head. This is what she got for giving a vampire her number. Vampires couldn’t appear in a mirror, but videos and photos were fair game. She’d heard a rumor that it was a vampire who took the first selfie.

Red put away her thoughts to keep sifting through the disks and CDs in the box. Most of the CDs were empty, but a few had files on them. Sipping at the coffee Lucas brought her, she set the non-empty CDs aside in a pile. She was putting another CD in the computer when the door opened.

“You blew up my phone, but you couldn’t wake me?” Vic called out as he stepped into the office. His black mullet lay tufted and tousled on his shoulders. His denim vest lay inside out on his shoulders.

Lucas chuckled. “You needed your beauty rest.”

“Shove it, Greg.” Vic stepped over to the desk and sat down next to the computer. “Is it just me, or has it been a long night?”

“You slept through most of it, but yeah.” Red filled him in on what he’d missed. “There wasn’t much in the parking lot to begin with, but the tech swept it clean, so I figured we might as well look for signs of the rogue master in their old files. You’re at the portion of the evening where I’ve found more of Lucas’s old playlists than evidence.”

“Is that what you have in there?” Vic leaned over to click on a folder. “I wonder if we’ll just find a bunch of Billy Idol and the Sex Pistols, or if he’ll have some real punk like Bad Brains.”

“Just a video.” Red clicked a file. “The last one was of Quinn blinking and dropping the camera.”

The video opened on a familiar curb in the Fashion District downtown. Olivia Greene lay sprawled on the sidewalk. A blonde in a cocktail dress stepped into view. She looked around, showing her classic profile—Delilah. Stepping over to the body, she picked up the dead weight easily before she disappeared with vampire speed. The video ended.

“What the hell?” Vic’s face went through the stages of grief, stopping at confusion. “That was Delilah moving one of our victims. Why does Quinn have this?”

Red looked at Lucas. “Did you know about this?”

“I don’t even know what you’re seeing.” Lucas appeared behind them and leaned over Red’s shoulder to play the video again. “Bugger.”

Vic stepped away, confused horror turning to anger on his face. “He didn’t offer me his couch… Goddamnit!”

Red twirled around in the office chair. “Easy, Vic.”

The office door opened, and Quinn stepped in. His face showed that he had overheard. He raised his hands. “Vic, I can explain.”

“Do tell. I’d like to hear how you’ve been using me to help cover up for your ex-wife. Add some legitimacy by bringing a Bard in, huh? Throw us at some rogue minions and have something to distract Cora with.” Vic paced in front of the desk. “I’m seeing it all clear now. Fucking crystal.”

Lucas stepped behind Vic. “Come on, lads.”

“Delilah didn’t do it. The body was planted on her building’s doorstep. She brought me in to find out who was targeting her. There have been murders of old members of the Alaric Order for years. She was scared.” Quinn sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “She didn’t want anyone to know, but I knew you might see something I couldn’t.”

Red crossed her arms and looked away. Right now, Vic’s aura radiated with enough betrayal that even her busted third eye could see it. She didn’t want to add fuel to Vic’s fire by sharing a skeptical glance.

She had given Vic the cliff notes version of her interrogation with Kristoff Novak in a text message. Her mind echoed with one of his answers. When Kristoff found Julia Crispin dead behind his club, he informed his master in Portland, the Supreme Master of Los Angeles, and the LAPD, in that order. Why didn’t Delilah call Cora, if they were yoga buddies?

“Don’t flatter me, Quinn. And don’t lie to me.” Vic shook his head and folded his arms. “I came when you called, and this is what I get? A fuck it bucket of lies. You’re hiding evidence! How much of this case have you been manipulating? You didn’t tell us about the Alaric symbols on the victims, and now you’re hiding surveillance footage.”

“I didn’t hide any tapes. I didn’t even know there was a tape.”

“A tape? What is this 1995?” Vic barked out a dry laugh. “I can’t believe anything you say. Not when it comes to Delilah.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Never wanted too, Quinn.” Vic gestured around. “I don’t need to know her to guess what she’s up to. She’s playing both sides. She’s building up her street cred with her new boyfriend and the other Bloodliners with a killing spree. Dealing with uppity models trying to leave their contracts was a bonus. She never could go to long without twisting your head up, so why not bring you into the game?” He pointed at Quinn. “Delilah is playing you.”

“Maybe she thinks she’s protecting you.” Red furrowed her brow, trying to keep her voice light to balance out Vic’s booming indignation.

The evidence was there. If Vic wanted to walk out with it, then he needed to play it cool despite the bromance broken heart. She ejected the CD and put it in a sleeve before putting it under her shirt and standing.

“Quinn is her progeny, and Lucas and Kristoff are part of her line. By leaving bodies at each of your lairs, maybe she’s trying to show that you guys are on their side too.”

Vic snapped his fingers. “Exactly. She is showing that the Alaric Order is still around. You’re dancing to her tune.”

“You’re talking about things you don’t know anything about,” Quinn said, clenching his fists before catching himself and crossing his arms.

Vic’s eyes bored into his friend, his voice rising. “I’ve read what the Brotherhood has on you two. Spain, 1700s, you two liked to carve up villagers leaving an ouroboros behind like fucked up graffiti. Delilah’s at it again!”

Red stood up to step between Quinn and Vic. “Everyone relax. Shouting at each other isn’t helping.”

“We won’t find any help here, Red.” Vic shook his head. “Let’s go.”

Red looked at Lucas. “Can you swear to me that you didn’t suspect it was Delilah or that Quinn might cover for her?”

Lucas looked away, hands in his pockets. “I—” He licked his lips and stilled. “I didn’t know.”

“But you’re not surprised.” Red shook her head and followed Vic to the door.

“You were my Batman.” Vic hunched his shoulders and stomped out into the hallway.

The night hadn’t just been long, it had turned the case upside down. If someone had told her that Kristoff would be the only vampire to be honest with her tonight, she would have laughed. She kept thinking that the soulmancer’s spell to give a vampire back its empathy, conscience, and all those elements that made up a human soul made them completely good.

It didn’t. It just gave them the choice to be good.

Humans had souls and could still be tempted into evil by money, greed, revenge, and love. Vampires were no different.

Quinn had been pulled in by love. What about Delilah?

Chapter Sixteen

October 30th, Afternoon, Le Retro Diner, Hollywood, Los Angeles, California

Red poured maple syrup in the shape of a smiley face on the pancakes, then set down the syrup and turned the plate around to face Vic. “Look I’m a brunch zombie, I’m going to eat this face.”

She turned the plate pretending to speak for the pancakes in a squeaky voice. “Save me!”

Red took a bite dramatically.

Staring into the distance, forehead wrinkled in forlorn contemplation, Vic Constantine was head to the world.

Red shot him a deadpan stare. “There is a life on the line, Vic.”

Stirred from zoning out the window, Vic glanced at the ravaged pancakes. “Welcome to the real world, kid.”

She waved at him. “Good morning, sunshine. Thanks for joining me at brunch.”

Loud chatter filtered in around them from the other booths at the diner as quiet pop hits played in the background. The happiness of a late brunch crowded surrounded them. He had been quiet after they left Quinn’s office and catatonic when he woke up. It had taken all her charm to get him out to the diner after noon.

She tried to smile. “Your pancakes are going to get cold.”

“Pancakes.” Vic shoved a forkful from his own plate into his mouth. “Should have gotten waffles.”

“Ugh, say it again, Vic, with less food in your mouth.”

“I’m just questioning all my decisions. I should have gotten waffles. I should have gotten an Impala instead of a van. What if I had decided to take more comp sci classes instead of ditching to play sidekick to Quinn? I could’ve invented Snapchat.”

“That’s a leap.” Red raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right. It would have been a shady cryptocurrency startup.” Vic chewed on his dry pancake sadly.

“At least put some more syrup on it. This is how I know you’re not okay.” Red picked up the syrup and flooded the plate like he usually took his pancakes. “Alright. It's not good, I know. You’ve got serious trust issues with your shadowy mentor. We’re on our own with this case now, but the good news is I think Quinn is doing this out of love. Not malice. I don’t think he’s turned bad.”

“He is a professional Captain Save-A-Ho, and she is the original Ho.” Vic grumbled.

“So? We have proof she had direct contact with the body, that she felt like it was targeted at her, and that she wanted to keep it quiet. Maybe she didn’t kill Olivia.” Red said it with a straight face, pushing her own doubts away.

Vic swallowed his mouthful of pancake in a pained gulp. “Or she got some chump to do it.”

“Obviously, she knows something. We have to make sure we get the right vampire. Remember, the Brotherhood has a truce with Cora so her souled vampires are off limits. Delilah is still one of those.” Red shrugged. “If this is deep state stuff, then Cora will want first crack at Delilah.”

“That Jezebel still has Quinn’s balls in a jar.”

“Ew. Let’s not fixate on Quinn’s balls.” Red looked down at her breakfast sausage and grimaced with distaste, pushing it away with her fork before looking at Vic again. “You’re really hurting over this.”

“Don’t go pop psychologist on me and ask me about my Dad or Henry.”

Red looked away at the mention of Vic’s adopted father. Freud would have had a field day with Vic’s daddy issues, but it wasn’t her place to point out the obvious. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know. The facts are that I trusted Quinn, then I got my arm broken and had my intern claimed by a vampire for my troubles. All while he knows more about the fucking case than I do.”

“Fat Crispin wants to kill the vampire who murdered his daughter. Himself. You have a lot of good reasons to be mad at Quinn, but are you mad enough to stake the love of his unlife without being one hundred percent certain?”

“She not the love of his unlife, Nora Roberts.” Vic mumbled around a mouthful of pancakes. “This isn’t Twilight.”

Red rolled her eyes. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you think Nora Roberts wrote Twilight. I’m just saying, she’s been the love of most of his unlife. We need to be careful.”

“We need to bring her in.”

“We need to see what’s on the rest of the video. Or find out what happened that night. Before we call in the Brotherhood, we need to know more. Our only real ally here is Cora, and we won’t win any favors from her by ruining her big party or killing her bestie.” She pointed her fork at him. “Delilah is a 400-year-old vampire, remember?”

“She is probably the rogue master. We could call in Cora and have a vampire SWAT team to help us collect the bounty.”

“Come on. Stop acting like you’re Paul McCartney and she’s Yoko. You’re eating pancakes. You can’t talk about offing your buddy’s ex-wife over pancakes.”

“Still a free country.” Vic pouted. It looked ridiculous on a man who hunted werewolves and other monsters for a living.

“Not for that,” Red said. “The Halloween Ball is tomorrow. We know Delilah might hide out, but she has to go. Cora is making it mandatory for the LA vampires. I can pull her aside and question her, try to get something out of her. Put a camera on me or something, I don’t know, but give it a day.”

“You’re willing to go to the vampire prom with Kristoff now?” Vic leaned forward. “You hung out with him, and now he’s cool?”

“It’s not about him. We need real intelligence. We can’t count on Quinn or Lucas for that.”

Vic looked down at his broken arm. “You’ll be on your own in a fight. I don’t like it.”

“I know the risks.” Red played with her food. The syrup smile had dripped into a grimace. She tried to perk it up with her fork. “We have evidence that he didn’t kill any of our victims. The other alibis checked out. I’m also pretty sure that part of my appeal is that it pisses off Lucas.”

Vic leaned back in the booth. “It might be a no-no for vampires to kill each other now, but they still obey some of the old rules. Lucas is still Kristoff’s vamp daddy. Sires can reclaim the blood.”

“Lucas is protective. He’s easing up, but Kristoff has to know that Lucas will kill him if given a decent reason.”

“Ugh.” Vic lifted his hand. “I don’t want the details, but I can see that you have a weird thing a-brewing with Greg.”

“Lucas.” Red sipped her coffee, primly.

“Whatever. Okay, so, you get to the prom with Eurofangs, then what? You can only snoop so much by yourself, even if you get Delilah to admit anything to you. You can bet they’ll sweep the place for bugs and confiscate phones from human guests at the door, so putting a camera on you is a stretch.”

“I don’t need to be by myself. You said you have hacker realities. What about their security system? You can peek on all the cameras, be the guy in the cloud. I noticed Club Vltava has beefed up their surveillance and security systems. They won’t confiscate their own equipment, even if they turn the cameras off.”

“I could turn them back on again.”

“The Novak Boys are hip with tech. Everything is digital, but I can’t imagine their Wi-Fi system is that secure.”

“I don’t even have to hack in if you can get me into their system.” Vic pursed his lips before he took a bite of pancake.

“What about sound? It’s a Ball.” Red twirled her finger in the air. “It will be loud.”

“They’ll sweep for bugs, but they aren’t going to do that all day. They have furniture to move, blood to pour, and do whatever vampire caterers do. You have an in with the host. Ask for a tour.”

“I can’t sprinkle mics around like confetti.”

“I’m betting if anyone can get us a bunch of spy equipment on short notice, it’s Smith and Reaper. Maybe they have more in their bank vaults than your inheritance.” Vic leaned over. “We still have to deal with Delilah.”

“I don’t need more than one.” Red smiled. “Let me handle Delilah. We’ll have a chat, just us girls.”

“Like she’ll tell you anything.”

“No, but she might tell someone else right afterward.” Red paused when the waitress came back to freshen up their coffees. She used the time to try and make her vague ideas into a plan.

Vic grinned. “Okay, I’m following you. I like where this is going.”

“This way, we can be sure to hear it from the horse’s mouth.” Red cocked her head. “Or at least have more of an idea of who’s involved.”

“What do you think happens after we find out?” Vic sounded lost. He gazed out the window at the In-N-Out Burger across the street like a man after a breakup hearing their couple song. “You know we’ll have to question her ourselves. 400 years old… that’s a lot of blessed silver.”

“Let’s just find something out first.” Red said delicately before she pulled out her phone and called Kristoff’s number. She still hadn’t put in it her contacts.

The phone went straight to voicemail without a message.

“Hey, it’s Red. I’m in for vampire prom.” She hung up.

“Alright. We’re rolling the dice then.” Vic chewing on a bite of pancakes, glancing down at the nearly empty plate, then giving her a searching look. “You’ve been doing a lot of solo fieldwork this time around. Pun fully intended, these are high stakes. You’ve done good. You put the case before your own feelings. I know you could’ve found a way to stake Novak last night, get rid of the claim, but you did your fucking job. Objectively.”

Red’s smile froze as his words sunk in.

Vic continued, “Maybe I had this all wrong. This is some pop psychology for you. Maybe Quinn wasn’t Batman. Maybe I was my own Batman all along. And you’re my Robin.” He leaned back, putting his hands up and . “That’s kind of deep. Maybe I should put that on a shirt. Like, a men’s empowerment thing. ‘Be Your Own Batman.’”

Vic kept rambling on about his T-shirt idea. Red stopped listening. She hadn’t understood at first what he’d meant when he said she could have killed Kristoff last night. In an open fight, Kristoff would win. Then she thought about it. She had a stake, a cross, a pistol full of wooden bullets, and a vampire distracted all evening.

Red bit her lip and nodded at whatever Vic had said.

The thought of killing Kristoff hadn’t crossed her mind at all.

Chapter Seventeen

October 31th, 10 pm, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California

There was no line stretching from Club Vltava tonight. Red strode up to the two tuxedoed undead bouncers, both bald muscle heads in sunglasses and earpieces, standing at attention at the open doorway.

They turned away a gaggle of Halloween clubbers dressed like the Avengers. Thor flipped them off before the humans strode away.

Red noticed the pooch of the bouncers’ jackets over their hip holsters before she made eye contact. “Hi, I should be listed as Kristoff Novak’s plus one.”

The guards shared a look like twins exchanging a mental message.

“Your purse.”

Handing over her gold clutch purse for inspection, Red watched the other guard wave a metal-detecting wand over the A-line skirt of her green gown. She kept her focus on his face and not on the mics hidden in plain sight.

The wand beeped over the gold charm bracelet on her wrist and the golden brooch attached to the center of her sweetheart cut neckline.

The guard wielding the wand didn’t pause as his eyes flicked over her jewelry, assessing them for danger. “Clear.”

“No phone?” The other guard handed the bag back.

“I was told they’d be confiscated, so I left it in my car.” Red said, trying to strike a balance between cowed by vampires but experienced in their presence, as expected from a claimed human.

The guard jerked his head to the entrance in dismissal. “Go.”

With even, casual steps, Red entered the atrium to the open elevator. She glanced at the glass door to the gallery where her doppelgänger’s portrait was on display… much like Red herself would be at the Halloween Ball. She gripped her stiff-backed purse, fingers curled protectively around it, sensing but not feeling the thin phone lovingly cut and placed into the inner lining of the purse.

The elevator door closed, leaving her alone in the muted light reflecting off the stainless steel walls. Red squared her shoulders, heart beating like a war drum, before pulling the compact mirror out of her clutch.

The gold leaf comb in her hair glimmered in the low light, tucked over her right temple. Her loosely curled locks cascaded over her left shoulder. The hairstyle was engineered to show off Kristoff’s mark by the stylist he had sent.

She reapplied her crimson lipstick with military precision. Catching a glance of her own green eyes accented with winged liner, Red closed the mirror and shoved it back into the purse with the lady’s silk handkerchief. Kristoff had spared no expense or detail from the stylist to the shoes. The purse had probably cost more than a week at the Pandora Hotel.

She breathed deep. Her hands smoothed her chiffon A-line skirt compulsively, feeling the thin stake tied against her thigh, before pulling up the front of the fitted bodice of the hunter green gown. Fluttering fingers patted the four thin chains of her choker necklace and wide gown straps. The dress wasn’t a Halloween costume, but it felt like one.

She jumped as the soft elevator bell rang to announce her floor.

The reflection of her form in the steel doors, split to reveal the spider’s web. Red let her arms fall to her sides and lifted her chin. There was no backing out now. It was time to go to work.

Striding out of the elevator into Club Vltava, Red cursed the LA traffic for being late. The Ball wouldn’t begin for another twenty minutes. She had to hope it was enough time for her to find a computer on their secure Wi-Fi.

Red stepped around the edges of the nightclub. The white lounges and chairs were gone, leaving the floor empty beyond the long bars along two walls. She squinted at the black screens on the counter of the nearest one. Club Vltava had state-of-the-art point of sale systems. The Brothers Novak might have been born in the 1800s, but they did their business in the new millennium.

A shiver ran down her bare arms.

Kristoff appeared at the foot of the stairs. He stopped to stare at her, shy yet delighted like a poor kid handed a present until his expression closed and he walked over to her. “You wore my gifts.” His pleased tone belied his stoicism.

“The stylist you sent saved me the trouble of shopping.” She said, then shrugged and let down her tough girl facade long enough to concede, “It’s a lovely dress.”

“You look like a dream.” Kristoff held out his arm. “I assume you’ll want to get the lay of the land.”

Red studied his offered arm before taking it and pushing her hair over shoulder. “I didn’t get a chance to snoop upstairs.”

His eyes focused on her neck before meeting her gaze. “I remember.”

Red gulped. “Remember, I’m undercover. It doesn’t matter if you’re cooperating. You’re still a person of interest.”

“Or am I just someone you find interesting?” Kristoff smirked.

Red glanced away. “You’re different than I would’ve expected. I’ll give you that. I haven’t met an unsouled vampire quite like you.”

“That’s because there aren’t any.”

“Okay, I have met vampires as arrogant as you.” Red walked with him up the stairs. “Now, aren’t you going to offer a girl a drink?”

Kristoff grinned. “I thought this was another interrogation.”

“Even if I wasn’t about to face a room of vampires, I’d want a drink before a ball. Be honest. How much small talk am I in for?” Red shook her head. “Please tell me I can just hold on to your arm and look pretty.”

Her swell of bravado ebbed as she noticed the vampires setting tablecloths on the dozens of round tables in blurred flutters of cloth.

“You will certainly look beautiful, but you might be surprised. The vampires in this town are real bleeding hearts. Some might want to make a political point to address a human politely.” Kristoff frowned as he led her to the bar along the wall.

“Oh, joy. I get to be the token human.” Her eyes focused on the flat-screen monitors on the cash registers.

“You’ll see a few others.” Kristoff brought her behind the counter and waved away the bartender who tried to assist him. “Stay with me. This is going to be a snooze of a party, but cunning vampires can make weapons out of words.”

“Any enemies I should know about?” Red scoped out the cash register, spotting a small USB port on the bottom. She waited until Kristoff turned away to pull the thin, compact thumb drive from the center of her cleavage. She palmed it and stepped closer to him, leaning back against the register.

Kristoff pulled out a top shelf bottle of white wine. “You made some mischief in the valley with him.” His voice was low, growing serious as he poured a taste of the wine. “As far as I know, I’m the only other vampire who knows that.”

Hand hidden behind her skirts, Red felt for the USB port and plugged in the thumb drive loaded with Vic’s spyware. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”

Kristoff cocked his head and handed her the glass.

“Just some weird saying I picked up somewhere.” Red shook her head, blushing at the weird folksy religious outburst that must have come from Vic. She sipped the wine and handed the glass back. When she had been hyping this plan at the diner, she’d imagined herself suaver. Hopefully Vic wasn’t listening. “More of that, bartender.”

She looked down at the display on the register and saw a dialogue box pop up. She mentally cursed Vic. The program was supposed to just run.

Kristoff opened his mouth to speak, but his suit pocket vibrated. He looked at his phone and handed her a glass.

Red discreetly tapped the screen to load the spyware. If the rest of the program did what it should, Vic would get a bird’s eye view of the action from every camera in the nightclub. She posed with her glass, hoping it was a long text. Waiting for Kristoff to put his phone in his pocket, she remembered to pull out the thumb drive.

“Usually vampires are fashionably late, but not tonight.” Kristoff shrugged, then guided her from behind the bar. “We should head down to the reception.”

Red followed him down the stairs. “I understand now. That’s why you really invited me, so you didn’t have to stand alone shaking hands.”

“What can I say, I’m evil.” Kristoff said as he stepped off the stairs, landing in the transformed lower level of the club. A set of crimson fangs was projected onto the middle of the dance floor. Tall round tables covered in champagne glasses dotted the area. The white lights under the bar had been replaced with red.

Red inched closer to him at the ding of the elevator.

Kristoff put his hand on the small of her back, fingers light on her bodice.

Five black-suited guards strode into the room in triangle formation before breaking off to scout the chamber, revealing the Supreme Master of Los Angeles.

Cora pulled white, heart-shaped sunglasses off and tossed them over her shoulder. “Far out.”

A bodyguard nimbly caught the sunglasses before they fell.

She twirled to take in the nightclub, causing her white kaftan to flare around her legs. Her afro framed the smoky quartz crystals shining on her leather headband. Cora walked over to Kristoff and kissed him on both cheeks. “My fucking lord, you have outdone yourself, Kristoff. I keep asking, but really, when can you move to LA? I need a vamp like you on my team.”

“Cora, you make the sunny days bearable.”

“Flattery… But listen to that intuition, handsome. You know which way is up.” Cora looked over his shoulder at Red lurking behind him. “Kristoff…” She glanced at him, a spark of suspicion blazing in her airy expression before she stepped closer to Red. “You are most welcome, hunter chick. Tell the Bards how groovy this party is, okay?”

Red nodded, wondering if she should curtsy or offer the supreme master a fist bump.

“You’re lovely tonight. And happy to come to my little ball, correct?” The spacey glaze to Cora’s soulful eyes grew focused. “I believe in consent culture, little sister.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. The Brotherhood values our agreement.” Red smiled and put her arm through Kristoff’s. “Plus, he owed me a new dress.”

Cora smiled and turned back to Kristoff. “Now that I see her in designer wear, I see you were restrained in defending your claim.” The serious cast to her face dropped as she turned to study the room. “This room has a good aura, but we need music!” She walked away in a samba shuffle, her bodyguards trailing her like ducklings.

Red gulped the last of her wine and looked at Kristoff. “Political statement.”

“We’re vampires. Everything is.” Kristoff glanced toward the elevator. “Go grab yourself a glass of champagne.”

Red nodded, already guessing who would arrive next.

Kristoff might have owned the club, but the real hosts were Cora and her team. The Blood Summit brought LA under the magnifying glass of vampire society from more than just North America as the signature event of the Blood Alliance.

Red turned and ducked behind one of the towers of champagne glasses. She set her wine glass down and picked up a champagne flute, pouring half of it into another glass.

Spying through the flute stems, she waited for the elevator to open on the vampire pulling the strings with the media—the stick to Cora’s carrot in the land of the fluffy bunny vampires. Souled vampires might have ruled here, but they still had unsouled vampires around to do the dirty work.

The opening notes to California Love by Tupac and Dr. Dre filled the air.

Striding forward in a black tailored suit, Michel studied the room. Even with a white patch over one eye, his withering disdain for the decor was clear. He wrapped an arm around Delilah, hand resting on her hip.

Blond hair in a French twist, Delilah glimmered in a long-sleeved, high-necked, skintight gold gown. A burgundy shawl hung off her elbows. Golden studs glittered on her ears. Her red lips were pulled in an aloof half smile, but her blue eyes darted around. She glanced straight at the champagne glass tower shielding Red before her troubled gaze moved on.

Red didn’t let go of the breath she was holding.

“Kristoff.” Michel paused his stride. He pulled Delilah closer and spared one unimpressed glance. “You cleaned up the Soviet discothèque. It will suffice.”

He didn’t linger or shake hands.

Red stepped back beside Kristoff when she saw the two make a beeline to Cora. “What's the deal with them?”

“Let’s wait until the room fills up before you begin the interrogation.” Kristoff tilted his head. “Until then, I want to hear about you. You’re the only one I actually want to make small talk with.”

“You don’t need to keep flattering me. I’m already here.”

“I promised to be honest. I’m not going to ask you about any lost loves and old feuds, either.” He said dryly.

Red laughed. “Fine. Shoot.”

“Easy question.” Kristoff smiled. “Where are you from?”

“Just outside Eugene.” Red technically was telling the truth. As far as she knew, she had popped out of the earth on the banks of Coyote Creek. Her real origins were still TBD.

“You’re always welcome in Portland whenever you want to return to Oregon.”

“I never stay anywhere long.” Red tried to smile but felt it grow crooked. “Eugene was never home.”

“Where is home?” Kristoff posed the Coca-Cola of questions so commonplace you didn’t even notice it anymore as a traveler.

Red had a rote answer memorized, but the words dissolved on her tongue as she looked at him.

Wearing a curious expression, head cocked. Kristoff wasn’t just asking her to make small talk. He really wanted to know.

“I haven’t found it yet.” The words came out, and Red realized that they were the truth as she knew it. She was spared more questions by the trickle of vampires coming into the nightclub.

The next vampires who came up to Kristoff seemed content to not make the political statement of addressing the human. Especially not the one that, rumor had it, Lucas Crawford had gotten a bloody nose for speaking too.

Keeping a polite smile on her face, Red studied each vampire, ignoring Kristoff’s light touch on her lower back between handshakes. She carefully counted her breaths to keep her heartbeat steady as the predators strode into the ballroom.

The mandatory Halloween Ball brought out all the vampires in the city. Formalwear had been widely interpreted from gowns worthy of the Met Gala to a dusty vampire in buckskin who squinted at the low lights. While the mood in the room seemed light, not everyone came with their party hats. Many leaned up against the walls or perched by the drink tables, looking down at their watches and phones with an aura of killing time.

Red looked to her left, stopping herself just short of jumping in shock to see Quinn standing beside her.

In a tuxedo and an expression that begged to be anywhere else, Quinn turned to face her. “I’m sorry about how things ended last time.”

“Me too.”

“Tell Vic.” Quinn glanced at Kristoff, speculation in his brown eyes, before he turned to disappear into the growing crowd.

“He used to be more fun at parties,” Kristoff commented idly. A smirk twitched at his lips as his eyes scanned the crowd.

Red looked down at her half-filled champagne flute and knew she would need it. “You can send me away when he comes in.”

They both knew who she was talking about.

“I’m fine with him seeing you.”

“With you, you mean.” Red snarked, but the bite to her tone trailed off when she met Lucas’s gaze in the mingling crowd. Her eyes darted between the two vampires.

Kristoff glanced down at her, lips pressed tight, before his focus flicked to Lucas. The repressed smirk bloomed on his face.

Lucas flaunted the formal dress code by wearing black jeans, white shirt, and a leather trench coat. His tousled black hair set off the chiseled pallor of his handsome features. While hatred stretched across his features as his grey eyes met Kristoff’s, it softened when he looked at Red.

Red couldn’t look away from him. She moved in front of Kristoff. She mouthed the word, hey, as her fingers made a quick wave.

Kristoff put his hand on Red’s lower back as he stepped closer beside her.

Lucas tightened his jaw, putting his hands in his pockets, and licked his lips. He said his words slowly. “I fucking hate parties, but it’s worth it to see you all dolled up.” His grin turned boyishly sweet as he looked at Red. “You look beautiful.”

She had so much she wanted to say to him, including “fuck you for not telling me that Quinn was covering up for Delilah,” but also high up on the list was the need to tell him that she wasn’t on a date with Kristoff. It was silly. She had kissed Lucas a couple of times. They weren’t dating. She couldn’t say anything with so many supernatural ears around so instead, she said, “Thank you.”

“She does look beautiful in my… gifts.” Kristoff brushed a stray lock of hair off her shoulder.

Red bit her lip, knowing that he revealed his mark. The two neatly scabbed-over fang wounds in her neck had been covered with foundation, but any vampire would notice. She looked away from Lucas. “Come on. Play nice.”

“Parties end, Novak.” Lucas turned and walked away toward the back tables.

Red looked up at Kristoff’s smirking face. “That was petty.”

“I enjoyed every second.”

“You say that now, but wait until he runs you over in the parking lot.” Red crossed her arms and broke from her cover as his obedient claimed human to step away. She rubbed her forearm before dropping her hands.

“You’re optimistic. My brother is betting that he jumps on me during the speeches.”

“I said you’d be jumped on the way to hear the speeches,” Arno said as he stepped up to them in an expensive-looking black suit. His hair, darker than his brother’s, was slicked back. Tall, he was still a few inches shorter than his brother. Up close, she could see he’d been turned earlier than his brother, possibly in his early twenties. He gawked at Red before covering his curiosity.

“Well, keep on like this, and I’ll join the betting pool on you not getting through the reception,” Red quipped, trying to ignore Arno’s stare.

“I’m on my best behavior.” Kristoff straightened his lapels.

“I sat your sire in the back to ease the temptation.” Arno shook his head. “You owe me for tonight.” He looked at Red. “I’m running the show so he can act like a bigwig to impress you.”

Arno didn’t give her a chance to respond before gesturing for them to go up the stairs. “The reception is over. Try not to piss off your sire before you get to your table.”

Kristoff offered Red his arm, and they went with the rest up to the next level where the tables were set up. She followed Kristoff to one near the front. They passed Donal, the redheaded vampire working with Kristoff, sitting beside a nervous-looking young blond man—the only other human so far. She recognized them both from the bar even in formal wear.

Donal raised a glass to Kristoff and winked at her.

Red let Kristoff pull out a chair for her. She sat, expecting him to do some kind of weird vampire thing like sniff her, but he merely pushed the chair in and sat down next to her. Red glanced around and shrugged. “So, this is vampire prom.” She pointed to the table arrangement of reddish succulents. “Swanky.”

Kristoff’s chuckle rolled over her. “Are you enjoying it?”

She looked over his shoulder with a small smile. Her chair had a bird’s-eye view of Delilah’s golden back, her blond head turned away as she chatted with Michel beside her. “It has promise.”

Chapter Eighteen

October 31st, Night, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California

Leaning against the closed bathroom stall door, Red slipped the phone back into its hiding place in her clutch purse after sending a status update to Vic. The spyware had worked. He was in the system. Now, they were ready for phase two.

Stepping out, she took off the golden charm bracelet and washed her hands for the vampire waiting outside the bathroom to hear. She removed two charms before replacing the bracelet back on her wrist. Red twisted them open, revealing hidden microphones. She tucked one inside her bodice over the valley of her cleavage. Jagged metal teeth around the edges of the tiny microphone clung to the fabric. The other, she palmed.

Red walked out of the bathroom, Kristoff’s silent female minion following behind. When she’d left the table during the first speech, Delilah and Michel had gone to go wait by the makeshift stage. Now, Michel strutted on stage while Delilah watched from the stairs. Her eyes were fixed on him with the fervent focus of a beauty pageant mom.

Michel spoke into the microphone. “We are building a dream in Los Angeles. We invite you to dream it with us.”

Delilah mouthed the words as he said them.

Red waded through the tables to pass by Delilah’s. She brushed her hand against the dark burgundy shawl, feeling the palmed mic catch on the fabric. Her steps quickened when she met Kristoff’s eyes.

She slipped into the chair beside his while her guard took another. She looked over at the empty chairs reserved for Arno and the two Portland vampires who still gaped at her when they thought Kristoff wasn’t looking. “What’d I miss?”

“A blood toast, polite clapping, and now Michel is going over his time slot. My brother must be seething with a clipboard somewhere.” Kristoff replied drolly. “The dance was supposed to start ten minutes ago.”

“Oh god, we’re going to have to dance. Together,” Red said to herself, cringing. She was undercover, after all.

Kristoff glanced at her, amused. “I won’t step on your feet.”

“I might step on yours,” Red said glumly, cursing his super hearing. The type of dancing she did was shaking her booty while doing classic rock karaoke with Vic. She refocused on Michel. It's just a job, she told herself.

The final applause died away, and the stage cleared. Red took Kristoff’s arm automatically. She stumbled over her dress, catching it with her heel, but caught her bodice from slipping down as she staggered.

Kristoff caught her and wrapped her up in his arms until she was stable. “It’s not that bad in my arms, see?”

“Yeah, flirt later,” Red said, biting her lip before pulling back to retake his arm properly. She looked across the room and saw Lucas staring at her. “Let’s get this dance stuff over so I can do some real eavesdropping.”

“Back to business.” Kristoff led her with the crowd down the stairs to the open dance floor.

“Just because I look like a snack doesn’t mean I’m yours,” Red said. “I’m letting you paw at me for tonight only, pal.”

“You technically pawed me back there,” Kristoff said.

“Falling isn’t pawing.” Red noticed the champagne tables had disappeared, leaving only the slow spiraling red lights on the dancefloor. “Is Cora going to have the first dance or something?”

“Cora is too much of a hipster for that kind of ceremony. I think she’s preferring to DJ tonight,” Kristoff said. “Clever woman. The view is better from the DJ Booth.”

Arno strode out of the shadows, red light casting shadows over his face. Jaw tight, he looked around as he put a hand on Kristoff’s arm. “We need privacy.”

Kristoff nodded to the two minions shadowing steps behind them. “Excuse me, Red.”

Arno pulled Kristoff aside.

Red watched them go, wishing she had a mic to spare to have bugged him. She tapped her foot to the Supremes song playing as she crossed her arms. She heard the name Delilah whispered by a passing pair of women in black suits. Red stepped away from the Novak brothers to eavesdrop, walking toward the edge of the dancers.

“I spy an Amazon in our midst.”

Red spun around. “Pardon?”

“If I were to guess, I would say you were a fighting woman. I don’t need to guess,” Michel said, looking down at her. The club’s lights turned his white eye patch red. “Can you claim I am wrong, Amazon?”

“You say that because you’ve forgotten my name.” Red thought fast as she squared her shoulders and struck a confident pose, lifting her chin. She wished she had a glass of champagne to use as a prop. Something to make her fit in and look less like a claimed human waiting for her keeper.

“You see through me so quickly. I’ll admit when I saw you from the stage your name escaped me. It bedeviled me through my own speech until recognition overcame me. You’re the hunter Kristoff claimed. The one they call Red.”

“Word travels fast.”

“When I want it to.” Michel examined her. “Do you know who I am?”

“Who doesn’t, here? The supreme master is lucky to have you at her right hand.”

“Flattery suits you, dear girl. I can already tell that you’re too good for Kristoff.” Michel tilted his head. “You’ve stayed obligingly quiet to your Brotherhood about his bad behavior. Even if I wouldn’t have blamed you in the least, it does serve our cause. We have a cornucopia of problems. I’m glad the Bards aren’t one.”

Nodding, Red stayed quiet despite her curiosity as to how Michel guessed or knew that she hadn’t told the Brotherhood the whole story. A PR man to the core, she knew he would fill the silence if she let him.

“Can I repay your silence with candor?”

“Sure.” Red said, wondering when Kristoff would come rescue her from this small talk. “Shoot.”

“You’ve been claimed by a monster. I say it as someone who is monstrous. The Butcher has crossed lines that even vampires respect. Betrayal is the nature of that man.” Michel said the word as if he meant to say bastard. “Novak isn’t your only concern. Lucas Crawford may charge in on his metal steed like a champion, but he is more like one of the four horsemen.”

“He has a soul.” Red said, even as a chill went down her spine.

“The worst murderers in history had souls, child.” Michel shook his head. “It’s the mind that fuels a vampire’s actions, no matter if there’s an angel or a demon on his shoulder. Those two left chaos in their wake when they were friends. As enemies, they are even more dangerous. Between them, even an Amazon should know fear.”

“Fear is a sign you’re not a moron. I know the score.” Red tried not to look away.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have made yourself look so bewitching and graced us with your presence. You would have run.” The white patch didn’t obscure the pity in his gaze. Michel’s brown eye narrowed, and his lips thinned as his mood shifted to thoughtfulness. “Unless this is part of your plan?”

The silence grew as Red fought her instinct to take his advice and run. But she couldn’t look like prey among the predators, even if it was the truth.

“Michel, Cora has been trying to reach you,” Delilah said as she emerged from the dance floor. She leaned against Michel, shining in her gold dress against the black of his suit, and played with his black ponytail. Her burgundy shawl was missing. “She told me to send you along for a private chat in the DJ booth. Just you.”

Michel kissed her cheek. “The faithful servant is commanded.”

Delilah crossed her arms and waited for Michel to blend into the crowd, staring between Red and her retreating boyfriend. “This is a stupid move.”

Red tensed her shoulders, biting her lip to stop the scathing reply.

“I keep expecting you to be smart because Juniper was, but I’m as much of a fool as they are. You’re not her. You’re a knockoff.” Delilah pursed her lips.

Red’s cheeks heated, and she looked down. Delilah’s words didn’t sting as much as the realization that the shawl wasn’t on her shoulders. Had the vampiress discovered the mic and ditched the burgundy wrap? Or had she left it upstairs on accident? Either way, it was one mic down. Red cursed at herself for wasting one of the two.

Delilah continued, satisfaction in her voice. “My mistake. No, you’re not Juniper St. James. She knew enough about us to pick her battles and get the last laugh.”

“What do you mean?” Red looked up, cocking her head. “How’d she get the last laugh?”

Sighing, Delilah looked away. “Let me get you back to Kristoff.”

“I’m not a pet dog to return.”

“No, dogs are loyal. I like dogs.” Delilah snapped her fingers over her shoulder and started walking toward the edge of the room. “You’re more like a stubborn cat who keeps scratching at the wrong doors.”

“Eventually I find the right one.” Red caught up with her quick stride and tilted her head to make eye contact with Delilah.

“Right for whom?” Delilah sneered, but then grew serious. “Because it won’t be you. I’m not the one for this girl-on-girl empowerment yoni egg bullshit, but here’s a hot tip from a bitch who’s been around: you’re in the deep end, honey, and there’s no lifeguard on duty.”

Red looked away. She already felt the water up to her neck, and she didn’t have a smart retort for that. When they reached Kristoff, he was alone. Arno had already gone.

“You were supposed to stay with me.” Kristoff licked his lips, hands behind his back, as he looked first to Red then Delilah. His expression was as composed as his carefully parted and slicked-back blond hair. Only his blue eyes revealed his worry.

“You were technically the one who stepped away.” Red smiled tightly before looking away with a wince. “I was left to mingle with Michel and Delilah.”

Kristoff’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

“I thought she was stupid, but you take the prize tonight, Kristoff.” Delilah put her hands on her hips.

Kristoff smirked. “Are you the only one who’s allowed to move on?”

“Like this is moving on.” Delilah waved them on, eyes rolling up in disdain. “I can’t yell at you like I want here.”

Kristoff stepped in front of Red. He looked to her as if waiting for her.

She covered her surprise at a vampire looking to a human for consent. Hidden by his bulk, Red pulled the mic out of her cleavage before she stepped forward and put her hand on Delilah’s shoulder to place the mic among the golden studs. “What’s on your mind, girlfriend?” She smiled cheekily.

Delilah rolled her shoulders. “I might not want you dead, but that doesn’t make us girlfriends.” She looked at Kristoff. “You have your office swept for bugs?”

“Tonight? Every thirty minutes,” Kristoff said.

Delilah led them to a door marked private next to the bar and opened it to reveal a grey hallway of bronze sconces and artful mood lighting. She went to the third door on the left, twisting the knob off and dropping it before she jerked her thumb inside.

Red lifted her eyebrows at Kristoff. Delilah certainly knew her way around Club Vltava.

Shrugging in reply, Kristoff walked into his office.

Red followed. She glanced at the bookshelf on the wall, expecting to see business books but instead noted Sun Tzu and Karl Marx alongside a copy of Emma by Jane Austen. The low lighting continued in the office; a bronze plated desk anchored a corner of the office with a small sitting area of plump leather chairs opposite it.

Delilah perched on the desk and crossed her legs. “What the fuck, Kristoff? You don’t have a soul making you act stupid. Your master sent you here to support Cora. You’re a liability right now if any Bloodliner decides to use Little Miss Déjà Vu as leverage against you. You need to get her out of here. Out of the city. Send her up to Portland and act out Fifty Shades of Grey for all I care. She seems silly enough to be won over by a fancy condo and helicopter ride.”

“Haven’t left.” Red pointed to herself.

“And that’s the issue. Keep up, sweetie,” Delilah said. “This is actually me being nice, so appreciate it.”

“This is her being nice.” Kristoff looked at Red and shrugged. He turned to Delilah. “She’s safer if they know she’s mine.”

“She’s safer if no one ever saw her, but that ship has sailed. So, get her on a ship, and set sail.” Delilah stepped up to Kristoff and put a hand on his chest, her snark fading into concern. She straightened his already immaculate lapels. “You can love, and you always could. Death never took that away. But you also kept your sense. Use it. You know you have enemies.”

“Keep this up, and I’ll mistake you for a woman who cares.” Kristoff leaned his head, his even tone coming out a near whisper.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Delilah rolled her eyes, then sighed and put her hand on his cheek. “From the beginning, I saw what you could be- so much promise to fulfill. You’re barely past a hundred. Much is ahead for you. Don’t waste it.”

Kristoff nodded as he laid his hand on hers. Eyes widening, his cool composure slipped, a small genuine smile appeared in the cracks.

Red watched them, rubbing her neck, lips pressed, feeling like an accidental voyeur.

The vibrating in Kristoff’s coat pocket broke the moment. He pulled away from Delilah and stepped back toward Red as he pulled his phone out.

Red looked over his shoulder and saw the first part of the text message from Arno: Cora’s coming to arrest Delilah.

Delilah pulled her phone from her chain purse and put it to her ear, turning away. “Hello darling.”

Kristoff looked at Red. “We have to go. All of us.”

“We don’t want to be there when it happens.” Red only heard whispers from Delilah’s phone conversation as the vampiress retreated farther into the corner of the office, but she knew Delilah could still hear everything they said clearly. Vampire hearing was a bitch. “I can continue the investigation and maybe get some answers afterward.”

“There’s no trial. You can’t get answers if she’s…” Kristoff looked over and straightened. That honed cool melted as he gazed upon Delilah. His brow furrowed. Lucas might have turned Kristoff, but Delilah’s blood ran through them both.

Red knew he wasn’t going to give her up to Cora without trying to help the vampiress. She studied Delilah’s face as the blonde put away the phone.

Delilah raised her fingers to her lips and wrapped her other arm around her waist. Suspicion drew her brows together, even as her blue eyes grew distant.

Red gritted her teeth as Lucas came into her mind. Delilah was the matriarch of his undead family. Vic’s Plan B was better than whatever Cora had waiting for her. She opened her purse to paw for her phone. “Fine. I have a driver waiting. You’d better be able to get something from her.”

“What do you think you’ll get from me?” Delilah asked, coy with a hint of poison in her tone.

“An honest answer.” Red looked up from her text to Vic, warning him that they were coming in hot. “Why does Cora want to arrest you?”

Jaw dropping, Delilah blinked once before her cool composure returned, brittle as new ice. “She wouldn’t, but…”

“Tell us on the way to the parking lot.” Kristoff shook his head and gestured at the door. “Let’s get you out. Maybe you can find a ship.”

Red nodded before walking out of the office, avoiding his gaze. Kristoff might have thought he was saving Delilah from the Blood Alliance and Cora, but he was only leading her to Vic, waiting in the van with a chain sheet of blessed silver.

Chapter Nineteen

October 31st, Halloween Ball at Night, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California

Jogging to keep up with the vampires down the employee hallway of Club Vltava, Red hiked up her skirt. The night was going to shit, but at least she’d worn flats. Kristoff had guessed correctly when he had sent the stylist.

She’d hoped for minimal small talk and some recon to keep Vic from rushing in to slay Delilah. Now, she was fleeing with Kristoff and Delilah down to the parking garage to give Delilah a head start from Cora’s justice.

Red was bringing the vampiress to Vic down in the parking garage and asking him to what, help Delilah? Stake her? Hand her over to Cora?

Delilah probably killed those women. She deserved what was coming to her and then some. But it still wasn’t adding up. Why leave the bodies so conspicuously? Why the ouroboros? Was it just to fit in with the Bloodliners? Or was it a bigger conspiracy like Vic suspected? The case should have been open and shut, yet she could hear the rusty hinges creaking.

Red didn’t even know what she should do, but Kristoff was right. If Delilah went into Cora’s custody, she wasn’t coming out. Any answers died with her.

Kristoff raced ahead to an unmarked door and tapped a code into a keypad above the knob. “Ladies.” He pulled open the door. “Let’s get Delilah into something sporty.”

Red shook her head, ready to argue that Delilah would be going with her before she saw Lucas out of the corner of her eye.

Lucas stopped short from a blurred sprint, leather trench coat flaring around him. He nodded to Red with a tense smile. “Now, where’s the afterparty kids?”

“Lucas, you have the worst timing as always,” Delilah drawled.

“We don’t have time for this.” Red crossed her arms and blew a stray curl out of her face.

“Oi, tell me.” Lucas put his hand on her arm and tilted her chin up.

“Cora is coming to arrest Delilah,” Red said, relaxing into his touch.

“Bloody hell.” Lucas glanced over at Kristoff. “Is that why that brother of yours is looking for you? All the Portland vamps are in a tizzy.”

“Fuck.” Kristoff pulled his phone from his jacket. “The Prince has already called twice.” He gave Red a sideways glance and nodded to the door he held. “Just get her out of here. I’ll stall as much as I can.”

“Already gone.” Red turned around, pulling away from Lucas to take the door to hold for Delilah. Head tipping up, she tried not to react at how close Kristoff was and how much he was not moving. Her heartbeat picked up.

“You can’t, Red.” Lucas said the words to her, but his eyes were on his progeny.

“Tell me where you take Delilah.” Kristoff leaned in, ghosting his hand over her styled hair to linger over his claim mark before dropping to the side. A wistful smile lit up his blue eyes. “You looked beautiful tonight, Red.”

He didn’t touch her skin, yet she felt the goosebumps raise where his fingertips hovered. Red opened her lips, but she had no idea what to say.

“She’s putting my ass in an Uber to LAX.” Delilah walked between them, glowering at Kristoff.

“Yup!” Jerking her head in a nod, Red stepped back through the doorway, ignoring the dryness in her mouth, decidedly not looking at Kristoff. “I’m not playing hero.”

“Good.” The two vampires said at the same time before glaring at the other.

Her eyes darted between Lucas and Kristoff before she turned to Lucas. She swallowed, preparing herself to lie to him. Before Cora got her answers from Delilah, Vic and Red would try to get theirs. “I’m getting out of this city. So, should you. If they’re going after Delilah, you two are probably next.”

“I’ll stall as long as I can,” Kristoff said.

“And I’ll actually do something.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“Do what you can do.” There was never time for goodbyes on a job. Red had more to say, mostly orders not to kill each other, but she only nodded and closed the door.

Once they were out of sight, Red ceased to think of the two vampires she had left. There was only one vampire in her line of sight. This one more dangerous than either. She followed Delilah down the steps to the small parking garage under Club Vltava. “They care about you. Didn’t even ask why the Supreme Master of Los Angeles would want you. I’m certainly curious.”

Red reached the landing of the metal industrial stairs to see the stretch of shiny Mercedes Benzes and Ferraris lined up in the parking garage. The Millennium Falcon, the rusty black van she called home, stuck out like a goth at a Texas beauty pageant at the mouth of the garage. Vic and a mess of blessed silver hid inside. “Aren’t you and Cora supposed to be besties?”

“So, you know about me. Big deal.” Delilah looked at her, red lips pressed together. "None of my boys will tell me anything about you.”

“I’m just a hunter.”

Delilah crossed her arms. “What I can gather from them is you're working with Quinn. I’m not a fool, gaping at the freak of DNA with a nostalgia boner. You're working with Cora and the Brotherhood. Playing each side from the beginning. Is that how you ended up with that corner suite at the Pandora instead the usual fleabag motels that hunters drift through? Must have been a damn good bounty.”

Red stepped aside, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

Delilah’s red lips twisted into a snarl. “Hand over your keys, and be grateful I’m only taking your car."

"It's a stick shift."

"Honey, I fucked Henry Ford in the first Model T. Give over the keys."

"Don't have them." Red opened her purse. “Like I said, I have a driver.”

Delilah cocked her head. "How many hunters did you invite to the party?"

"Enough." Instinct rolled through her. Red turned and ran for the Falcon. “Vic!”

Delilah narrowed her eyes. "Maybe there’s a bit of Juniper in you after all." She rushed Red, her nails feeling like claws as they dug into Red’s soft vulnerable neck, blood already pooling under her fingertips.

Red squeaked, trying to summon some energy, channel any element, but she only managed to blow a lock free from Delilah's French twist. So much for her theory that her magic responded to mortal danger. Red tried another angle. "You have a soul!"

"This is a mercy, darling. You won’t feel a thing." Delilah reared back, fangs out to strike. A red dot appeared on her forehead before two more targeted her chest. Delilah looked down at the laser lights dotting her like chicken pox.

Cora sprinted up in a blur. Heart-shaped white sunglasses perched above her quartz headband and forehead like a crown. She put her hands on her white kaftan-covered hips. “And this is a warning to drop that girl, Delilah.” She snapped her fingers before barking an order in a French creole patois.

Five vampire security guards in suits stepped out from between the cars in the parking garage

Delilah pushed Red away and flicked the blood on her fingers off onto the cement. “I was going to release her after I caught her.”

“My intuition says bullshit.” Cora lifted a finger. “We ain’t getting into the fact that she’s a claimed human and a fucking hunter in the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes, Delilah. The very ones I so painstakingly negotiated a very groovy truce with to get them to stop killing our kind. No, that would be bad vibes for any day.” Cora balled her fists and slammed her hands on her hips. The spaced-out hippie vibe curdled. “You betrayed me. How long do we go back? You helped me get on this throne. How long have you been trying to push me off it?”

“What?” Delilah lifted her eyes as the red sniper dots traveled up her face to cluster on her forehead. “I don’t understand. When did I get on the hit list? I hosted your census rally not two nights ago!”

“And I thought I had a friend until two nights ago. It wasn’t until Michel brought the molds out on stage... You helped me set up the registry and never gave one. In twenty fucking years!” Cora cocked her head. “That's enough time to raise a crop of minions, isn’t it? I was impressed with you before. Badass, centuries old, and running the best modeling agency in LA, all while balancing a soul. Now, I know you did all that while raising dozens as a single mother too.”

“Wait a minute. I haven’t been turning anyone. I have enough progeny problems to deal with without adding some shitty millennials.”

“Girl, you must be operating under the mistaken assumption that I’m stupid.” Cora shook her head. “I have the LAPD around my fucking finger. If fangs are involved, I have a man on the inside giving me the skinny in 3D of every corpse in town. We ran your bite mold after the rally.”

Delilah crossed her arms. “That’s bullshit. Check them again.”

“You can’t pull that ‘I want to talk to your manager’ act with me. I’m the manager!” Cora’s lips jutted out as if caught in mid-fury before she shook her head, flaring her nostrils. She looked to her guards as if she couldn’t stand to look at Delilah anymore. “Take her, and make sure she talks. I want to know where all her little bastards are.”

Michel sped up to the scene. He held his hands out. “Mademoiselles. Let’s speak like civilized vampires. Whatever Delilah may be accused of—”

“Pick a side, Michel,” Cora said. “I’ve been betrayed and you’re already looking like an accomplice to a rogue master.” She said something more in French, too quick for Red to follow.

“Mon dieu.”

Red, backed up against a pillar and scanned the garage, searching for the most expedient and discreet route to the van. She could duck behind the cars while the vampires were distracted, but to where? Her train of thought was derailed when Quinn appeared beside her, stepping from behind an SUV.

He shook his head and handed her a piece of plastic.

Red looked down to see a grey top set of realistic teeth and fangs.

“A copy of the real ones.” Quinn stepped forward, pulling a small rounded tray the size of a hockey puck out of his jacket. “Take care of Vic. Tell him…” He shook his head. “Just get him out.”

Red put the plastic fangs in her purse.

Quinn stepped out from between the cars. “Cora, I have evidence of Delilah’s marks that will exonerate her. She’s innocent.”

Cora huffed a laugh. “Innocent? None of us are. I know you wouldn’t help her kill so many people. Don’t fall for that big-eyed blonde act.” Cora leveled her gaze on him, all traces of humor vanishing. “Lock him up until he sees sense.”

A vampire bodyguard slipped a noose of thickly braided silver around Delilah’s neck.

Delilah hissed, eyes rolling up in pain, and balled her fists. “I didn’t betray you, Cora!”

Quinn glared at but didn’t fight the guard who dropped a silver noose over his head. The sizzle of the silver hitting his flesh was audible. He stepped out on a silver leash, following the guard to wait beside Delilah.

Cora raised her hands and rubbed her forehead. “I need to find my center. Just take them upstairs.” She glanced to Michel, her doe eyes turning feral. “Have something to say?”

Red’s eyes darted between the supreme master and her number two as she backed away.

“I await your orders.” Michel bowed without a look to Delilah.

“Get the hunter in her car safely, then report back. You have work to do.” Cora turned on her heel.

“Reminds me of Prague,” Quinn commented as the vampires led him away.

Delilah rolled her eyes, chuckling darkly. “You hated Prague.”

“I don’t think I’ll like this either.”

Michel held out his arm to Red.

Red put her hand on his arm, watching Delilah and Quinn with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She should have been happy that the killer was caught, and that Quinn would get out of this alive. Hadn’t the case been solved?

Chapter Twenty

November 1st, After Midnight, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California

Red shook her head, trying to clear out the fog, until Michel’s words made sense to her. She pointed out the van at the mouth of the parking garage. Her mind was still on Delilah and Quinn being led away by Cora’s security force. She wanted to text Vic, but she didn’t dare pull out her phone. The underground parking garage was small, but the walk felt long with silent Michel by her side.

She waited until they were in hearing distance of the Falcon before she said loudly, “Michel, this is mine. I’ll just be going now.”

“There’s a human in that van.” Michel frowned. “Something’s wrong. The heartbeat is too slow. There’s blood.”

Red’s heart skipped as her feet staggered. She sped up even as time seemed to slow down. “Vic!”

Michel rushed forward, getting there first, and threw open van’s back doors.

Vic lay sprawled out amongst the bean bags. The colorful fabric framed the mottled bruises on his face. His back twisted in the unnatural rest as his blackened eyes lay closed. Fang marks bled on his neck.

The gasp caught in her ribs as Red ran forward, cursing her human slowness. Her mentor only looked worse with each step.

Michel backed up. Before Red could fully comprehend what she was seeing, he was barking into his phone. “We need an ambulance at Club Vltava. Parking garage.”

Red climbed into the van and grabbed a blanket to press against Vic’s neck.

He had his holster on under his hoodie but hadn’t even gotten a chance to pull out his gun. Blood gushed from the messy fang marks marring his too-pale throat. His arm sling was askew, and blood slicked his mullet up at his temple.

“Vic, hold on!”

Vic coughed, his eyelids fluttering.

“That’s it. Clear those smoker’s lungs.” Red said roughly, visually examining his wounds, being careful to not move his head or back as she tried to slow the bleeding. They had been in rough spots, but it was usually Vic who pulled them out. She was the one that ended up with their ass kicked during a fight. She didn’t know what to do when the tables turned.

“Sir?” A security guard dressed in sniper gear sprinted out of the gloom.

“Tell Cora that she might have problems with the Brotherhood. This had to have been Delilah.” Michel waved the guard off.

Red jerked her gaze from Vic’s bloody face, staring at Michel with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“She told me she’d been bugged at the Ball before she left me to my own devices after my speech.” Michel gestured to Vic’s spare laptop showing footage of Club Vltava inside the van. “I suppose she found the source.”

Red looked down at Vic. She had left him wide open by leaving the mic so carelessly on Delilah’s shawl. Tears slid down her face. She pressed the blood-soaked blanket tighter against his wound. “Vic!”

Sirens echoed in the distance.

“Little Amazon, until we meet again.” Michel stepped aside as an ambulance turned into the parking garage, its flashing strobing against the concrete.

Red moved aside as three EMTs jumped out of the ambulance. One ran over to the Falcon while the others pulled a stretcher out of the back.

She looked down at her bloody hands and pristine gown, holding them up. The ridiculous image of a corsage on her bloody wrist popped into her mind. Vampire prom had ended the only way a vampire prom could—in blood and mayhem.

Pulling herself out of the daze, she hiked up her skirts and hopped into the ambulance. She barely noticed the EMT pulling the back door closed as she focused on the one bandaging Vic’s neck before slipping a neck brace on him.

One of the EMTs went up front to sit beside the driver while the other turned his back to pull out an IV bag.

Leaning back, she opened her purse to pull out her phone. She sent a quick text to Lucas, hoping he hadn't been caught. Then she noticed the plastic fangs in her purse.

Red leaned forward to hold Vic’s hand, but as she turned it over, she noticed a bite mark on his wrist. It was clearer than the messy one on his neck. The fangs were widespread. She glanced into her open purse again. The marks on Vic’s wrist were far larger than the daintier plastic copy of Delilah’s fangs. She looked into the rearview mirror of the ambulance.

The driver’s nervous profile focused on the road. She knew the pimpled nerd even if she couldn’t see him in the rearview mirror.

She looked away, eyes roving, and spotted a backpack with pins covering it, including a fleur-de-lys. Red studied the EMT in the back with her, finally noticing his pallor, and pulled Vic’s gun from his holster.

At such close range, it was hard to miss. Blood and brain matter splattered against the side of the ambulance. Her hand didn’t pause between rounds. Ears ringing, she aimed and pulled the trigger on the vampire already spinning around to leap from the passenger seat.

His chest exploded in a wave of red before his bones dropped.

The ambulance swerved, and Red threw out a hand to stabilize Vic. Her eardrums throbbed from the reverberation of the gun fired in an enclosed space. She groped her way forward and pressed the barrel of the gun against the side of the ambulance driver’s head. “I keep running into you. I should know your name.”

“Oh shit, oh shit!”

“Name.”

“Francis! Please don’t kill me.”

“Were you going to kill me?”

“I hadn’t gotten that part of the plan yet,” Francis said, his voice a reedy whine.

“What about my friend?”

“Oh, him? Yeah. We weren’t going to take you to a hospital, so I guess he was probably toast.” Francis gulped.

“You’re taking me to the nearest hospital. Now.” Red cocked the gun. “Drive safely.”

“Seriously though, please don’t kill me.”

“You’ll be lucky if I do it and not your sire. You failed big time, Francis. What’s this like the third time? You’re like the kiss of death to diabolical plans.”

“Hey, he knows I did my job. And you’re right, you’re a lot less scary.” Francis tried to sound tough, but his eyes darted around like a cornered rabbit’s.

He? Red pressed the gun harder against his temple. “So, Delilah’s a patsy. Fabulous. But he can’t keep it up. He’s gotten sloppy.” Red went through the list of important male vampires in her head as she tried to stay in control of this shitstorm in an ambulance hurtling down the nighttime streets of LA.

“They have the video and the bite marks.”

“The break in- you were dropping something off, not stealing it. What about the bite molds? You tampered with them?” Red pressed the barrel to his head. “Well, now, they don’t need them once they pull her actual fangs out and check.”

“Too late. Michel already has everything he needs to take over the city. You’ll want to be on his good side!”

“Michel?” Catching herself pulling back, Red leaned closer to Francis. The name pounded in her ears. He already had the media under his thumb, now with the Blood Summit, he must have been able to play politics to find Bloodliners eager to take a souled vampire master off her throne. Michel had lost a city, now he was taking one.  “You know that Cora will stop him. If you flip now, she might use that soul of her and take pity on you.”

“Do you think so?”

“Turn right,” Red said when she saw a sign for a hospital. “You say you only know what he tells you, that you don’t know the next step of the plan?”

“I swear. He turned me, but it's not like he tells me stuff. I swear!” He stopped in front of the hospital and put the ambulance in park.

“I believe you.” Red flicked the safety on and de-cocked the gun.

“You do?”

Red slammed the butt of her gun against his temple, feeling the bones crush.

Francis slumped forward over the wheel, dazed.

Red pulled the stake from the band around her thigh and staked him. She wiped her hands on his shirt before climbing into the back again. Gazing down at Vic, she knew she had to get out of there. Three skeletons and one unconscious man with a woman in bloody formal wear? That raised the wrong kind of questions. She grabbed her purse and settled its strap on her shoulder.

The back doors swung open.

Chapter Twenty-One

November 1st, After Midnight, Southern California Hospital at Hollywood

Two women dressed in climbed into the back of the ambulance and immediately began barking questions.

“Where are the EMTs?”

“Why wasn’t this phoned in?”

“Honey, breathe deep. What’s your name?”

Red trembled as she stared at Vic. She had just killed three vampires, but if Michel won, she’d have a wave of the undead coming for them. They would have been uber fucked even if Vic had two working arms and consciousness. The Millennium Falcon and all their weapons were out of reach. The Pandora Hotel would be watched once Michel’s minions didn’t report in, if it hadn’t been already. The only vampires in her corner were either captured or probably fighting for their lives.

One of the medics, a tall pock-marked black woman tiptoed around the broken skeleton on the other side of the stretcher. “What on God’s green earth?”

Red looked up. “It wasn’t God.” She didn’t have it in her to think up a lie. “They had fangs, and their eyes turned amber when they attacked us.” Red shook her head, trying to clear it. She had to focus, but the ringing in her ears overshadowed their voices. They were fucked. She tried to tell herself that they’d been in tight spots before. But they’d had each other then. Now, Red was on her own. She squinted as she tried to think through the fog of panic. “Get Detective Callaway. She’ll know what to do.”

“We know her.” The older, bleached-blonde medic glanced knowingly at her coworker, then put a hand on Red’s shoulder. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you out of here. We need room to maneuver.”

She led Red to a waiting orderly who wore a freaked-out expression. “Juan, get her inside, call security, and come back. We have three skeletons and an unconscious man with severe neck trauma. Bites.”

“Another one?” Juan crossed himself before holding out a hand to Red.

Curiosity broke through the swirling fog of panic. Furrowing her brow, Red hopped down with Juan’s help. Her blood-streaked green gown fluttered around her legs. She matched Juan’s quick pace, walking with him into the hospital. “How many others?”

“Let’s just say I don’t take home enough.” Juan took her to the front desk and called for security. “It didn’t used to be like this.” He stepped away.

Moments later, the medics came charging through with Vic. The older blonde stopped to whisper to the blue-uniformed security guard before she went back to the stretcher.

Red followed, eyes on Vic, hands clutching her skirt.

The security guard stepped forward. His name tag, reading Earl, was at eye level.

She looked up to see a plain olive-skinned face, craggy from the sun and age. Leaning over, she peered around the unusually tall man in time to see Vic disappear behind double doors leading deeper into the hospital. “That’s my friend. I need to make sure he’s alright.”

“I understand, ma’am, but we need to get you checked out and ready for when the police come.”

“What? I’m fine.” Red rubbed at her ears which were still ringing from the gunshot blast.

“You need your neck bandaged.” Earl put his hand on her shoulder.

Red put her hand to her neck. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her necklace and golden hair comb. Dried blood caked her skin from the wounds caused by Delilah’s sharp nails. Her skin was tender to the touch, and she could imagine the bruising.

He led her to an examination room down a different hallway, to the left of the front desk, and left her alone.

Sitting on the examination table she let her head hang down and fished her phone out of her purse to call Lucas. The phone rang once, then went to a full voicemail message. She tried Kristoff’s and found it disconnected. “Fuck.”

She sent off a quick text message to Lucas to beware of Michel. Then she scrolled through her phone contacts, but she didn’t have Fat Crispin’s direct line. The icing on the cake? Her data had run out again.

In the whole rush of investigating dead models and rogue vampire building a minion army, she hadn’t hit up the store to upgrade from her rinky-dink burner phone. She couldn’t even email the one human who might be able to get the Brotherhood to warn Cora and let out Delilah or Quinn. She scrolled through her phone some more, finding the numbers of hunters who might float her message through the grapevine, but it wouldn’t reach England until it was old news. She tried to connect to the hospital’s Wi-Fi only to find it on the fritz.

“Fucking hell.”

She shivered in bloody formal wear under the fluorescent lights in the cold sterile room. Her brain bounced between plans and freak-outs. When a nurse came in to bandage her up and bring her a change of clothes—leopard print leggings and a knock off pink Nike jersey with three swooshes on the front—she didn’t speak beyond saying she didn’t need a hospital bed. She changed her clothes, plotting as she did. Each fantasy of grabbing Vic and escaping LA seemed crazier than the last.

When the security guard took her purse, Red roused herself. “Come on, Earl. I need my phone.”

“I have orders from above.” Earl frowned. “It’s not what I want to do.”

Red looked away as he left the room and bit her tongue. Where was that order coming from? News traveled fast in this town… straight to Michel.

The night was still young for vampires. Michel had thought of everything from file tampering to fake ambulances. Red glanced around the hospital room, feeling the walls close in, wondering if his tentacles were wrapping tighter as she waited in borrowed pants.

Red leaned forward, putting her head between her knees as she struggled for breath. Her vision blurred, and she put her hand over her heart, trying to calm herself. The panic rose up. Her chest felt like it was seizing. She sucked in a harsh breath. Her thoughts spiraled in a loop—Vic could be dying. What would she do without him? She tried to pull herself together, tell herself that she couldn’t freak out now, but all she could do was rock back and forth.

The door swung open.

Red looked up, wiping her eyes, and swallowed to try and clear the lump in her throat. "Detective Callaway."

The detective strode inside in a dark pantsuit with a holster on her hip and a bump under her suit jacket. Her dark eyes were wary as she glanced behind her and closed the door. Circles from lack of sleep lingered under her brown eyes. Her black hair was swept back in a careless ponytail. "You're the one that asked for me? Didn't I see you with Quinn? Where is he? I’ve called both his cell and office phone."

"You won’t get ahold of him." Red coughed and tried to not think about the curls of smoke that had risen from the silver noose around Quinn's neck. "He was captured. I don't even know if he’s still alive."

"The fuck? By who?" Callaway tipped her head up and rubbed her eyes. She cursed again.

Red’s words came out in a panicked spurt. "I know which vampire is responsible for all these murders. The problem is, he's already taking over the city." She couldn’t stop her rambling rush as her voice pitched higher. "Michel manipulated the supreme master... if she’s still the supreme master... I don't know. It's all happening so fast. Quinn is locked up. Lucas is probably next." She put her head in her hands. "I tried to call him, but they took my phone. And my partner... He was bitten, and now I don't know what’s going on."

"Slow down. I'm not following." Callaway held up her hand. "What do you mean master of the city?"

Red took a deep hiccupping breath before launching into a fast, panicked ramble. "Every city has a vampire who controls it all. The big head honcho. LA is run by a souled vampire named Cora Moon, and her right hand is a guy named Michel who has a serious grudge against Lucas for some reason. I don't know how deep it goes, but he must have clout because he was able to get a fake ambulance and managed to make a lot of new minions. Cora was the one who tried to make this a more ‘care, share, and grow’ kind of city. Only she’s losing control. You might have even seen her—beautiful, black, teaches a yoga class in Inglewood?"

"Oh shit. She’s the hippie who runs a drop-in space, right?"

"Yup, and now we have a mutiny on our hands."

"Is that how you got the marks on your neck?"

"No, that was another vampire. The one that all those murders were pinned on."

Callaway nodded. "I knew shit was going down. I’m getting orders that don't make sense."

"Michel runs media relations for the vamps. I wouldn't be surprised if he has connections in the LAPD. Cora bragged that she has men on the inside. Who knows how many have turned coat?"

Callaway sighed. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. "Fuck it. They might take my badge for this but..." She pulled Red's clutch purse out of her jacket. "I got the rundown from the nurse. Your friend’s in a coma. They think he has spinal damage, but they aren’t sure how much.”

“He’s paralyzed.” Red said the bald truth just to stop Callaway from dancing around it. She looked down and stared at the blood still on her hands.

Vic’s blood. Vic who loved IPAs, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and baby Jesus. He played the roughneck, but he got up every day to save lives and still tried to get to church on Sundays. He pushed away the comfort of being a Bard in their ivory tower to get his hands dirty with the hunters. He never forgot the mission. He had given her a home when she had nothing, not even a name. Now, he was in a coma with a busted spine. And that was if  he recovered, and Michel didn’t kill him first…

Red leaned her forehead against the wall, hunching forward as the sobs shook her body. Her breath caught in her throat. Mascara dripped into her eyes. She slapped her hand against the wall. “Vic.”

“Hey.” Callaway turned her around and handed her a tissue. Her voice trembled as she stared at Red. “I know what you’re going through. It’s some fucked up shit, but I have orders to detain you."

“Fucking fabulous. I’m glad I called you. This is why people like firemen more!” She grabbed the tissue and blotted her eyes. Anger took the edge off her grief.

“But I’m not.” Callaway held out Red’s purse. “Take this.”

Red blinked at Callaway. All her mind could do was reverberate with the understanding that Vic was in a coma. She barely recognized her own purse. "What’re you doing?"

"I’m letting you go. Find Quinn, and get him out. If they have men in my department, I’m going to need a dead man of my own. He’s the only one I can trust."

"What can I do?" Red dug out Kristoff’s fancy silk handkerchief. She blew her nose and then tossed her hands up. Raw and ragged, her voice cut like a knife even to her own ears.

"I don't know. Aren't you like a goblin or a fairy or something mystical like that?"

"If I was, do you think my partner would be lying in a hospital bed right now?” Red said through gritted teeth. She couldn’t even light a candle with her magic. “What part of my story says that I can do shit?"

"Listen to me. You're freaking out now, but this is the real shit going down. I have to hold it down here and try to catch the fallout. I need someone ready to take them on and get our guy out."

"It's hopeless." Red glanced away, failure dragging her neck down, her eyes hot from frustrated tears.

"Quitting on me? What part of this night says quitting is an option?” Callaway put her hand on her hip. “They already have you. They have your partner. Are you going to just wait for this Michel guy to kill you? For him to eat up this city?” Callaway studied her, then softened her voice. “Listen, I’m not risking my badge because this is going to be easy. I’m doing this because it needs to be done. I already know we have vampires tugging the strings, and I’m ready for it.” She walked closer to Red and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not because there’s hope but because we have a city full of people who have no idea, and they are gonna be bled dry. We’ve had murders, we’ve had drainings, but it’s been kicked up for the last few months. If that’s because this guy is making his move, then we need to stop him. I can't do it alone."

Red hated the hot tears that rolled down her cheeks. "But my partner... I’ve only been hunting them a year. I can't do it alone. Vic could be dying up there."

Callaway squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, I’ve had a partner die on me. Antonio Diaz was the one who taught me what this freaky shit was. I found him drained in his own apartment, and the only witness was a crackhead who only could say that a fucking pirate did it. I had nothing and no one, but I kept going. Quinn did me some favors, and now I’m doing him one. If Quinn is your friend… If your partner was awake, what would he do? What would he say?"

Red stared at Callaway. "He'd tell me to suck it up, buttercup and tell me to keep fighting because there were people on the line."

"Well, buttercup, what are you going to do?"

Red took her purse and opened it. A stake lay next to her phone and the gray bite mold. She pulled out the stake and put it in her waistline. "Keep fighting."

“That’s it, girl. One foot in front of the other. It’s the only way.”

Taking the bite mold of out the purse, she handed it to Callaway. “Take this. It’s Delilah’s real bite mold. Michel must have switched up her file. For a guy with one working eye, he’s seen to everything.”

“One eye?” Callaway furrowed her brow.

“Yeah, he has an eyepatch…” Red trailed off and looked up. “Your partner.”

“Michel is the bastard’s name?” A hard gleam flashed in Callaway’s eyes. “Get your phone out.”

Red nodded, wanting to take a step back from the growing anger radiating from Callaway, but she only took out her phone.

Callaway rattled off her phone number for Red to type into her phone. "Tell me when you have Quinn out. I'll try to protect your friend."

Red shook her head. "They can send someone to get him." She scrolled through her phone and hit the last number in her book. "I know what you want to do, but you need to get out of here. If Michel is going to take over the city, he’ll need more minions. We need people at the morgues in case he has minions rising tonight."

Callaway looked away. The determination turned her pretty young features old and grim.

Red held the warning lingering on her tongue. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t have the same look if Vic died. She waited for the phone to ring.

"Sheila Jones, Reaper and Smith."

"Sheila, I don't know if this is in your wheelhouse, but I have my partner at the Hollywood Hospital. He’s listed under Vic Constantine. He needs to be moved somewhere secure, private, and guarded."

"I can have medics in position to move him in ten minutes. The code is pineapple."

"That’ll do." Red hung up. "There should be people from Reaper and Smith coming to get him."

Callaway raised her eyebrows. "Reaper and Smith? Maybe you don't have powers, but you must have deep pockets."

"It's a recent thing." Red shrugged self-consciously.

"Get out of here before I change my mind. Your friend is in 2208." Detective Callaway frowned at her and pulled a ponytail holder from her pocket and tossed it at Red. "Do something with your hair and look less shady."

Red followed her out of the room, putting her hair up, and turned down the hallway behind the dark-skinned detective. While Callaway distracted the nurses at the desk, Red slunk past them through the double doors Vic had been wheeled through earlier.

Red trotted down the hallway and took an elevator up. There was no way she could leave without seeing Vic. She didn't know if she would ever see him again. She needed to know if the medics would come. Again, she couldn't believe that the freaky bank could do this, but Sheila had bragged that they put the special in special accounts. Vic said they specialized in paranormal accounts, but she could only hope they were neutral when it came to vampire conflicts.

Red got out of the elevator. The hallway buzzed with activity. Another stretcher with a woman bleeding from the neck passed by, nurses and doctors shouting orders with the same pensive look on all their faces.

Red slipped into room 2208 and found it dark. Only the glow of the heart monitor illuminated Vic’s face. She put her hand on his and squeezed. "I don't know if I’ll see you again, but you'll get out of here. If I can, I'll try to save your Batman, Vic."

She hung her head. Tears in her eyes, she sniffed, feeling the weight of her uselessness. She tried to summon up that well of energy inside of her. That warmth of energy and magic that sparked within her like a neon sign on the fritz. But she felt nothing but fear. The shaman in Nevada had said that she had power. Red felt powerlessness.

There was a knock on the door, and Detective Callaway popped her head in. "Those medics are here. Reaper and Smith. You're rolling in deep, girl, let's hope you can get yourself out."

"I’m trying my best."

"Your best is getting the fuck out of here." The Detective’s words were harsh, but her tone held the compassion of one who had known loss.

Red nodded and left the room. She passed by two medics in matching blue windbreakers. "Reaper and Smith?"

One nodded. "Pineapple."

"2208. Get him..." Red looked over the nurses’ station to see two pale men in police uniforms. They were too handsome to be regular cops and too serious to be strippers. She’d seen them before outside Moon Enterprises. Neither were breathing, but the East Asian-looking one had a tinge of worry in his brown eyes when he looked over at his blonde partner.

Red felt her earlier panic drain away as the mission took over her focus. She finally had something to do. "Don't trust any cops."

"Never do," the dark-skinned medic said. "Coming with? We’re at the back entrance."

"I'll meet you." Red stopped walking and leaned against the wall, trying to find a way to get past the vampires in police clothing.

They seemed ready to block off the hallway.

"Go. I’ll clear the way for you." Once the medics passed her, she stepped forward to meet the eye of the undead blond cop.

He checked her over, thin lips disappearing into a line. The merciless eyes of a demon stared back at her. He nodded to his partner.

Red ducked into a stairwell and started trotting down the steps, her purse bouncing against her side. She felt the eyes on her back. She heard the steps behind her, and started to run down the stairs, pulling the stake out of her waistband.

"Stop! Police." The voice echoed in the stairwell. His tone was lazy with a gleeful note in it. He sounded hopeful that she would run. There was no soul behind that voice.

Red felt the motion behind her and turned with her stake raised.

"A hunter. It's been a while since I’ve tangled with one of you." The blond vampire smiled as he tipped his police hat up. He wasn't afraid of her or her stake. "Let's dance then before Chang spoils my fun."

Red saw his green eyes on the stake. "How long have you been working against Cora?"

"What?" The shock took the arrogance off his face.

She smiled before head-butting him. Her head rang, but her hand rocketed to his chest, impaling him on the stake. She pushed him over the rail.

The vampire dropped over the edge with a shout.

Red ran back up the stairs to a door into a quiet hallway and ducked into an open elevator. Fuck, she was off her game. She had missed the heart and probably only hit a lung. She rubbed her aching forehead between floors. That was going to bruise.

Rushing from the opening doors, she slowed to a normal pace before asking a passing orderly where the exit was. She slunk out of the hospital and around the back.

The unmarked ambulance waited, back door open with Vic laying inside, still and silent.

The medics looked up before the dark-skinned one hopped out. His partner closed the door. "Come on!"

Red saw the vampires sprinting toward her. Time slowed for a moment as she realized this was the end.

But it didn’t need to be the end for both of them.

Vic had saved her life more than once. Gave her one. It was time for her to return the favor.

She hit the back of the ambulance. "Go now!" She slapped the back door again, and it sped away.

The vampires in uniform raised their guns.

Chang said, "You're coming with us."

Red raised her hands. "Aren't you going to read me my rights, officer?"

"You have the right to die when Cora says you do." The blond said as he came toward her with the gun raised.

Chang sprinted to pull her hands behind her back. His hands were gentle even as he handcuffed her. “We’ll get this sorted out. Just cooperate and you’ll be fine.”

Gulping, Red licked her lips. None of this was fine. This was the end.

Callaway should have found another hunter to rely on.

Her shoulders sagged. She let herself be led to the waiting unmarked white sedan parked illegally on the red-painted curb next to the hospital back entrance. She tilted her head to show off Kristoff’s bite. Human laws didn’t apply, but she could hope that vampire laws still did. “So, when do I get my phone call? I got to check in with Kristoff Novak. Claimed human and all that.”

“Shut up.” The blonde vampire said as he pushed her head down to force her into the back seat. “You have no rights for me to read.”

Chang sent a inscrutable side eyed glance at his partner as he broke the chain of her purse delicately and removed it from her shoulder, then closed the door. He climbed into the passenger’s side.

Red watched the two vampires, noticing that that neither had a reflection in the darkened rearview mirror.

“Let’s get her back to headquarters in Inglewood quick,” Chang said as he pulled out his phone to send a quick text. “Cora will want to make sure the Bards know their hunter is secure.”

“The little bitch staked me. I say we—”

“Walk it off, man. We have a job to do.” Chang fiddled with the radio until he landed on a techno song.

“Put on something good. Let’s get some AC/DC.”

“Get with the now, Fuchs. Listen to something from this century.”

“This century sucks.”

Red could feel Fuchs’s gaze on her, even if she couldn’t see his stare in the rearview mirror. The two vampires worked together with the familiarity of old colleagues, but the silence curdled like old milk. She tested the handcuffs uselessly as she stared out the window, wondering if the streets of Los Angeles would be the last thing she saw. She knew Vic was out there somewhere, and Lucas too. Would they ever know what happened to her?

Looking straight ahead, she focused on studying the vampires in the front.

Unseen, two masters pulled the strings in the car. Whose power would win out?

Callaway had said quitting wasn’t an option. From where Red was sitting, defeat certainly was. Ever since Vic had found her unconscious on the banks of Coyote Creek, she knew she had been running on borrowed time.

Time was up.

Chapter Twenty-Two

November 1st, Around 2AM, Moon Enterprises, Inglewood near UCLA

Fall had finally come to Los Angeles. Red felt it through her borrowed leopard print leggings. Or maybe it was just the chill of death whispering in her ear.

Fuchs yanked her out of the sedan.

She looked over at the parking lot catty-corner to Moon Enterprises, but it was empty of human life. The tall building loomed over her like a gravestone.

No one would see her enter. Would anyone see her leave?

“Park the car. I’ll get her into a cell.” Chang took her arm from his partner.

Fuchs nodded. A silent compromise had been made between the two vampires.

Chang led her into the side utility door of the vampire headquarters, past the main entrance where the people of Inglewood could get free vegan breakfast and sunrise yoga.

Waiting until they were inside the sterile linoleum-floored hallway, she looked up at Chang. The golden tint to his pale skin was clearer in the dimmed fluorescent light, but that hint of worry she thought she saw in the hospital had disappeared. Maybe she had just imagined it. It might have been vain hope that made her think he might have a soul.

She had one last card to play and she had already played it. Red fought the cringe at her own desperation. Taking herself out of Chang’s hands only put into another’s. “Can you let Kristoff Novak know I’m here? He’ll want to know.”

“I’d keep quiet until Cora summons you,” Chang said, voice hushed and neutral. “She’ll hand you over to him soon enough.”

Red's hope deflated, and she felt stupid. Kristoff would’ve packed up his brother and his minions by now. He had certainly already ditched his phone. His claiming mark could be a tool, he’d told her. It wasn’t a very useful one now, not to her anyway. Had he had left her to die just as Lucas said he did to Jupiter? Red had thought the only she had in common with Juniper was their face, but now she was going to share the fate of dying young.

She tried to concentrate on Chang, pulling at the magic that was supposed to be in her, but she couldn’t even mess his hair up with a breeze, let alone light it on fire.

Only her steps echoed in the hallway. Chang’s were supernaturally light, and if not for the pressure of his hand on her elbow, she could have sworn she was alone. In the truest sense, she was.

She hoped, for Vic’s sake, that she wouldn’t see him again. Praying to the God that he believed in, she asked that he get himself out of LA as soon as possible.

The building seemed more like a maze than a skyscraper as the vampire cop guided her through bare hallways and up stairwells before taking her to a service elevator.

The doors opened. Chang put his thumb against a scanner.

Red looked up at the mounted camera in the high corner, wondering what was on the other side. The elevator doors closed.

Chang pushed an unmarked button, eight buttons up from the bottom, before looking around the elevator as if something was missing. He raised his dark eyebrows under his police cap.

“What?”

“There isn’t any music. Cora insists that an elevator isn’t one without a tune.” Chang glared at her as if he’d said too much, and it was her fault.

Red shivered and wondered who was controlling the playlist now. The elevator rose with the quiet of a funeral. Red tried to look out with her third eye, visually impaired as it was, but she couldn’t see even a misty sign of an aura. It felt more like something was suppressing her senses. Cora had put thought into defending her headquarters from magic use. Red hoped she had a backup plan for a renegade second-in-command.

Chang took his hand off her arm and stepped out of the elevator first, looking around. Unlike the sparse utility of the previous hallways, this hall was decked out to impress with discrete low lights built into the ceiling, shining down on gray granite lined walls.

Red waited a moment before she asked, “What’s this hallway supposed to sound like?”

“Ha,” Chang said dryly and gestured her forward. He brought her to a black door and opened it to reveal a small toilet, the porcelain lid missing from the tank, and a dusty sink with a soap dispenser hanging next to it. “I’m going to uncuff you, and you’d better not make me regret it.”

“Thank God.” Red turned around to let him free her hands.

“God isn’t the one letting you take a wiz.” He left the door cracked open, his benevolent deed only going so far.

She peed quickly and washed her hands and arms up to the elbow, trying to get the funk of the hospital off her. She scrubbed as hard as she could at the traces of Vic’s blood still in her nail beds. When she finished, Red pushed the door open and held her hands out.

Chang twirled his finger to have her turn around and cuffed her again.

She followed him through another door. The room would have looked like it was a conference room in a fancy bank if not for the cells. Instead of a long conference table, the silver-plated bars of four empty cells rose up along the opposite wall. Small embedded LED lights along the ceiling reflected off the silver bars and cast thin shadows on the polished dark cement floor.

He opened the cell in the middle, which had a long metal bench against the wall, and nodded inside. “Get in.”

Red sat on the bench, trying to imagine how to find a comfortable position with her arms cuffed behind her back. Her left hand had already fallen asleep. She leaned back against the wall and shifted position, looking up at Chang and the closing cell bars.

He shifted his gaze away and left in a blur, door shutting behind him.

Closing her eyes, Red tried to quiet her mind and breathe deep. She needed to keep a cool head on the unlikely chance that Cora actually did summon her and on the very likely chance that Michel would. The door opened after what couldn’t have been more than five minutes and Chang came back in.

A peeved expression on his face, he had an energy drink tucked in the crook of his arm and a banana in his hand. “It’s the best I can do.” He opened the cell door and put the can and fruit on the bench next to her, then put his hands on his hips and stared down. Muttering to himself, he reached for her before saying louder. “I’ll break this arm if you try anything funny.”

“No funny business from me.” Red twisted around to give him better access to unlock the cuffs.

“If anyone asks, this was on Cora’s orders.”

“That's the story and I’m sticking to it.”

“Ration the liquids.” Chang shook his head. “I can’t promise that Cora will be quick about seeing you.”

“Thank you, Chang.” She rubbed her right wrist with her left hand. “I’m Red, by the way.”

“I know who you are.” Chang called over his shoulder as he slammed the cell door. “Pipe down.”

Red’s stomach rumbled, and she devoured the banana before setting the peel and the can out of view under the bench to hide the slip in Chang’s stern jailor demeanor. Curling up, she closed her eyes and rested her head on her arm.

The dream of woodsmoke and burning flesh evaporated as soon as she opened her eyes at the turn of the doorknob. She rubbed her eyes, mouth dry, and shook her head to clear the fuzzy fatigue.

In the windowless room, she couldn’t tell if she had been asleep for hours or minutes. Her neck creaked as she looked over at the opening door. Instinct pleaded for her to hide in the corner, but grim logic told her that vampires could sniff her out even in the shadows of the dark room. Red tilted her knees toward the door and put her hands behind her back, trying to appear as docile a prisoner as possible in case it wasn’t Chang.

The door slammed open and long shadows appeared across the threshold.

Red barely recognized Quinn’s bruised and bloody face as Fuchs pushed him into the room. The silver noose on his neck and the silver cuffs on his wrists steamed. His tuxedo jacket was missing, and his shirt was streaked with blood. He stumbled, but his proud bearing still hung on his broad shoulders.

Fuchs tugged the silver leash and shoved Quinn into the open cell next to Red’s. “Get in there, Byrnes.”

Chang followed behind with Delilah thrown over his shoulder. He tossed her against the wall in the cell on the other side of Quinn’s like a sack of potatoes.

Delilah grunted on impact.

After locking them in, the two vampires in police uniforms left as suddenly as they came.

Popping her head up, bloody lip and bruised eyes illuminated by the small ceiling lights, Delilah glanced over at Red. “Christ, can’t get rid of you, can we?”

“Like a bad penny.” Red stood and put her hands on the bars to look at Quinn. “How’re you holding up?”

“Just peachy. It’s like we got back from a day spa,” Delilah said waspishly. “The facial was fine, but the seaweed wrap was too tight.” Her head fell forward, and her loose golden hair, streaked with blood, covered her face. The silver chain around her neck reflected the low lights. She moaned.

“Rest, darling. The sun will be up soon.” Quinn murmured, crouching down to reach through the bars, silver sizzling on him, before he looked over at Red. “How did they catch you? Is Vic here?”

Red shook her head.

“Good.” Quinn stood.

“God, you don’t know.” Red bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes in an instant. “He’s in rough shape, Quinn. He’s in a coma. I don’t know if it was Michel or one of his minions.” Red whispered the story of the ambulance ride from hell and how she had only just managed to get Vic out of the hospital. “I couldn’t get ahold of Lucas, but Callaway knows what’s up—for all the good it does us.”

Quinn didn’t speak a word during her story. He clenched his fists, knuckles cracking in the still room as he looked away. The fury on his face ignited before he composed his features. The fire still flashed in his eyes.

In that moment, Red could finally see the demon under the surface that had given rise to all the stories about Bloody Quinn Byrnes, the Black Libertine.

Noticing her shock, Quinn composed himself. He straightened his ripped formal shirt with his cuffed hands and sat on the bench against the wall.

Red followed suit, perching on the edge of her own bench. Only the silver bars separated them.

Quinn leaned his head against the wall. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took an unnecessary breath. “Cora still rules.”

“Not everyone. Fuchs is one of Michel’s.”

“Michel should win an Oscar for the performance he gave in pleading for her life.” Quinn looked over at Delilah. Even through the bruises, his concern shone in his brown eyes. “It’s going to break her heart.”

Following his line of sight, Red could see that Delilah had slipped into unconsciousness. The vampiress had gotten more of the attention from the torturers than Quinn. Blood soaked through her torn, golden tight evening dress. The studs on her shoulders remained. Red frowned, wondering if they had pulled the mic off her. “He’s been planning this a long time.”

“Since 1899.”

“That was the year he lost Paris.” Red remembered from Julia Crispin’s notes. “He’s been looking for a city for a while, then. Now that I know, he’s not going to let me walk out of here.”

“No, it suits his purposes to have Delilah be the villainess.”

“I’m trying to wrap my head around this. I can see why getting two of Cora’s most powerful allies out of the way helps him. Plant some bodies, fake a mutiny, distract the supreme master, gain a city. It makes sense. But why aren’t you two dead yet?”

“He asked Cora to spare us until a full investigation could be done. Walking the line between lover and loyal servant.” Quinn chuckled. “A part of me can’t help but be impressed. What a tangled web he’s woven. Back in the day, I would’ve applauded such subtle treachery—if I wasn’t on the wrong end of it.”

“If he was smart, he’d kill us now. Then the city would be his.”

“The city isn’t the point.”

Red took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. She’d had enough with the one sentence answers. “Okay, old, wise, cryptic master, what is the point?”

“Revenge.”

Red sighed. “Then he’s having it served up cold like froyo. Still, why not kill you two? It was Alaric that took his city. You two are the next best thing.”

“Alaric only took it because my family helped him. Revenge wouldn’t be as sweet without me watching her suffer.” Quinn tried to rub his knuckles against his shirt, an old habit prevented by his handcuffs.

“He hates you that much?”

“Oh, I’m high up the list, but I don’t flatter myself. Neither of us is the entrée. There is one he hates even more,” Quinn said. “I don’t even know if displacing Cora is the coup de grâce.”

“How can Los Angeles just be the cherry on top?” Red shook her head, confused.

“That locket you found. I have a photographic memory for faces, but I had only seen her from afar. Even if I engineered her downfall. I didn’t recognize her when you showed it to me.”

“Who was she?”

“Penelope. His childe, his lost love. I should have guessed when I saw the locket.” Quinn’s voice gained a gentle Irish lilt of an accent long suppressed, brought forth in the rhythm of telling a story. “Callaway said her evidence from the Crispin murder scene was stolen. The locker it was in was ransacked. My sources said that Michel himself had taken an interest in the case. He even sent minions to waste management to check the dumpster that had been in the alley. He must have been looking for it. It was probably the last memento that he had of her.” Quinn looked over at her. “Nostalgia is as much of a vice for us as drinking blood.”

Red tried to remember more from her research on Michel. “She was murdered, wasn’t she?”

“On her initiation day. Back in the bloodline days, that meant more than it does now.”

“Fucking hell. So, the Bloody Byrneses killed his lover, and none of you considered that, gee, maybe the mysterious bodies might be from the guy you all screwed over?"

"I've made more enemies in my time than I can keep track of. All of us have."

"Fucking vampires and their secrets.” Red punched the silver bar between them. Jumping up and shaking her now aching hand, she paced the length of the cell. “Vic could be dying or may have died, for all I know, and I’ll be next. You brought us into this shitstorm. How many people have died because of this centuries-old blowback? Do you know how much Vic idolizes you? He thinks you’re his Batman! You nearly got your Robin killed. They think he’s paralyzed. Even if he lives, he can’t walk, can’t hunt, can’t provide for himself. You did this to the chump that thought of you as his hero.” Red rubbed her eyes, feeling the mascara burn. “And I’m the bigger chump, because I could’ve gotten us out of here when I smelled bullshit. Which I did from the beginning!”

Quinn watched her without a word.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“You’re right.”

Red’s shoulders slumped. She wanted indignance, a refusal, something. Not this stoic acceptance of his failure. “So, this is it then?”

“No. He won’t kill any of us until he gets what he really wants.”

Red rolled her wrist, gesturing him to continued. “And that is?”

“Lucas.”

“What? Why him? Wasn’t he was drunk during that bloodline war?”

“Because Lucas was the one who didn’t just help capture Penelope. He drank her blood.”

“Huh? Vampires don’t eat vampires. They’re amber-eyed people eaters. That’s an—”

“It’s an abomination. But the Alaric Order celebrated abomination. Unholy communion most profane.” Quinn stared straight ahead. “Lucas didn’t speak of it to me. Didn’t tell anyone, but I found out from Justine when she had a vision. Penelope was his initiation. Maybe if she had just been staked, Michel might have mourned and moved on, but that wasn’t what happened. Alaric gave her blood to Lucas as a reward for sacking the city.”

Red slumped back down on the bench. “Then I guess that’s why I haven’t heard from him. He’s probably already gotten Lucas and is waiting to spring his final revenge.”

“Lucas is slippery. He was always a survivor. He is still out there. Michel won’t stop until he has settled all the old scores.”

“Then we’re even more fucked than I thought.” Red put her head in her hands. “The funny thing is, between me and Vic, I’m an optimist. But it's hard to see the sunny side of things when you’re in a cage. I should’ve told Vic that we should go.”

“I was the one who ask you two to come.”

Red tilted her head, eyeing him. “You’re right. It’s your fault.” A hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat. “Oh God, I wish I was the praying type. Vic was. He’d go to church and I’d watch TV in the van.” She wiped her eyes, feeling his blood even on her clean hands. “He’s like the brother I’ll never know if I had. I’ll can’t tell him that now.”

Quinn looked away while composed herself, then asked, “Why did you stay?”

“Because I had a clue about where I came from. I thought I might find out who my family was, but instead I just damned the only one who felt like family.” She lifted her head and sighed, swiping the running makeup under her eyes, staring at the smears of mascara and foundation on her fingertips. “I guess it’ll stop hurting once I’m dead, and I dunno, maybe my life will flash before my eyes, and I’ll get some answers. At least Vic has a chance.” She shrugged. “Unless Michel finds him. Hell, even if Cora wins, she might just kill us all too.”

“No. Cora is angry, but despite all the torture, she is better for the city. She won’t do anything to Vic.”

“The phrase snowball’s chance in hell comes to mind.”

“We have one, if Cora can hold on long enough to stop Michel.”

“Yay, go Team Vampire!” Red raised her fist and sneered. “Y'all are just a bunch of tools.”

“Michel hasn’t won yet. Cora has allies.” Quinn reached through the bars to put his hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t the beginning of the end.”

Red looked at Quinn as his words sunk in. They jolted her memory. Over his shoulder, she noticed something in the corner of the room: a camera. The shadows almost hid it, but her eyes had finally adjusted enough to see it. She bit her lip. Cora wasn’t the only one with allies. “It’s the end of the beginning.”

She stood and walked to the edge of her cell to look at the other corners of the room. Cameras. Where there were cameras, there were microphones. Cora’s playlist might not be playing in the elevators, but she still had some loyal followers. Someone with a soul had to have been listening.

She started waving her arms at the camera and yelled out, “Chang, I know you can hear me! Get Novak!”

“What are you doing?” Quinn hissed at her. “Michel has more than enough reason to hate Kristoff. He was beside Lucas every step of the way, taking Paris. He did enough damage that Alaric brought him into the Order. I doubt Michel has forgotten.”

“Lucas is probably dodging Michel’s men right now, if he hasn’t already been captured.” Red planted her hands on her hips. “Do you have any other vampires to call on?”

“If Kristoff can get you out, can you get away from him?”

“One problem at a time.” Red looked back at him. “Goonies never say die.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Let’s conjure up some allies.” Red waved her arms again to speak to the camera. She played her last card again. Hoping the third time was a charm. “I’m a claimed human of the ambassador of Portland. You heard what he did to Lucas Crawford- his sire. If you want to keep Cora happy, you know you have to keep Novak happy!”

Chapter Twenty-Three

November 1st, Morning, Moon Enterprises, Inglewood near UCLA, Los Angeles, California

Staring at the ceiling of her cell with her arms behind her head, Red counted to ten as she breathed in and held the deep breath before letting it out. Turned out that playing a bad hand over and didn’t magically make it a good hand. Some tool, Kristoff. Red guessed that the vampire was less important than his stock portfolio made him out to be. She had been awake for hours, mulling over her decisions like montage of bloopers and pratfalls.

Quinn had let her know it was daybreak before he fell into a slumber. She tried not to look at either him or Delilah.

They had the stillness of corpses. It only made her feel more alone.

Red had let herself cry, rage, and even fought through a panic attack. Now, there was nothing but silence and stillness. And the uncomfortable press of her bladder.

Red peeked her head up when the door opened.

Chang walked in with a single look at Quinn and Delilah before he padded to Red’s cell. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at her but didn’t meet her eyes. “Get up. Bathroom break.”

Standing, Red raised her hands and stepped forward. She waited until the cell door opened and followed him to the bathroom in the hallway. With the door cracked, she used the toilet before splashing water on her face. Staring at her reflection, she wondered when she would see it again. She wiped the old foundation and blush off her cheeks and forehead. She pulled off the dirty bandage. Delilah’s nail marks on her neck had darkened even more, giving her a grisly looking necklace of bruises and scabs. Her stomach rumbled. She brought a handful of water to her dry mouth.

Chang opened the bathroom door, gun barrel raised at her face. “You’re done. Come.”

Even after having guns pulled on her all night, goosebumps rose on her skin. She nodded, mouth dry again. “What time is it?”

“What part of piping down confused you, hunter?” Chang took her back into the cell room. He frowned and paused, shoulders slumped.

“Working early then? Or late?”

Chang grunted, shoving her back in the cell. He looked over his shoulder at the camera.

“You’re looking tired. Have you been on guard duty this whole time, listening in?”

“It’s a job.”

“The part where Cora was supposed to see me. When is that happening?” Red watched the subtle play of emotion on the undead cop’s face.

Chang tried to hide it, but the worry was back.

“You can’t get ahold of her.” Red guessed.

He tensed. “She is a busy woman.”

“You floated this up the hierarchy and got radio silence.” Red shrugged, then looked slyly at her captor. “I guess she needs to prepare for the presentation on her catch and release policy, huh?”

Chang frowned.

“Is that where your partner is? Guarding the Blood Summit? Or is he watching?” Red had a feeling Chang wouldn’t have been so chatty if Fuchs was listening in.

“We aren’t joined at the hip.”

“No, but you’re supposed to stick together. One souled and one unsouled, another symbol of that vampire unity. How’s that going?”

“You’re talking about things you don’t understand. I don’t care what Quinn has told you.”

“Oh for Fuchs’ sake, He doesn’t need to tell me anything. Your partner is off the reservation. He’s working with Michel.” Red pointed at Delilah. “You two saw what they did to Delilah and Quinn, but their story isn’t changing. She’s a patsy. Cora has a mutiny on her hands, but it’s not Delilah. I can prove it.”

“You have no evidence. Just whispers from her childe. Byrnes would do anything to save her.” Chang raised his voice at the end and turned on his heel. “Just as I would do for my sire.”

“Your gut isn’t lying to you. Neither am I.”

“She acted against Cora. Face it before they drag you down, hunter.” He paused in the doorway, then slammed it as he left.

Sighing, Red tipped her head back and rubbed her cheeks with both hands. Perfect.

She went back to her bench and put her head in her hands. Her breath hitched as she tried to think about what Vic would do. He was a Bard; duty was his second nature. What was hers?

She put her hand on her heart to feel the beat and reminded herself she was still alive. Looking up at the camera, she said, “You know something isn’t right, Chang. You’re loyal to Cora. You know at the very least that she needs Kristoff and the Portland vampires to support her. Kristoff was willing to fight his sire for me. Then the deal with the Bards. Do you really think either agreement will survive if I end up moldering in this cell?”

Only silence answered her.

She cursed herself, wondering why she bothered. Chang might not have been on Michel’s payroll but how much would he put himself on the line for a supreme master who was going to fall?

Red folded her arms and let her eyes fall closed. She still had most of the energy drink left, but she knew she was a long way from the Pandora Hotel. There was no room service in a cell, and who knew when her next potty break would be.

Hours passed between sips of the energy drink. Nervousness kept hunger at bay, but thirst wasn’t so easy to settle. The sticky warm beverage had lost its carbonation, but it might as well have been a fine wine to her parched mouth. It didn’t sit well on her empty stomach—or maybe it was just nerves making her stomach churn. Finally, the sugar rush forced her to pace in the cell.

“It’s past sunset.” Quinn sat up, chained cuffs rattling.

She jumped. The transition of dead to awake startled her as much as his words. “Damn. You need a bell.”

“I’ll work on that.” He looked at the door.

“They’re coming.” Delilah stood up with a hobble, even if her expression was haughty as ever. The bruises had partially healed on her face.

Red straightened her shoulders and took a step back.

Fuchs walked in with Chang and two other vampires in ripped denim and leather biker jackets behind them. He bared his fangs at her before he pointed to Quinn and Delilah. “Take them.”

The vampires raised guns and shot metal darts into Quinn and Delilah’s torsos.

“Fucking hell,” Delilah rasped and staggered forward. Her body dropped on the floor in time with Quinn’s.

The rough-looking vampires unlocked the cell to pull the Byrneses out. One threw Delilah over his shoulder while the other dragged Quinn out by his feet.

Chang nodded to Red and unhooked the keyring from his belt. “Are we handing this one over to Novak?”

“All those Portland vamps fled already.” Fuchs stepped closer to the cell, mindful of the blessed silver. “Did you hear that, bitch? Novak left you behind. I guess you’re not that special.”

Red stood her ground.

“You put a hole in me. I can make a few in you.” Fuchs cracked his knuckles.

Chang stepped forward. “Novak wants his human back. We can’t keep her here.”

“Who the fuck cares what Novak wants?” Fuchs’s hand drifted toward the black police baton on his hip.

“Cora does.” Chang glared at Fuchs. “She wanted the hunter safe too.”

“Cora doesn’t always get what she wants.” Fuchs smirked. “Just like that stupid catch and release policy of hers.”

“How long, Fuchs?” Chang asked quietly as he raised his police baton and shook it to release a stake from the tip.

“Want to try me, soul boy?” Fuchs raised his own baton stake. He rushed Chang and pressed his partner against the silver bars to wrestle the baton out of Chang’s hand.

“Don’t make me do this, Fuchs!” The back of Chang’s neck sizzled. Elbowing his partner with one arm, he reached down with the other and unclipped the key ring from his belt. It fell inside the cell.

Fuchs laughed. ”I was hoping you’d resist arrest. Finally give me a reason to shut that sanctimonious mouth.”

Chang punched Fuchs in the side of his head and pulled a stake from his utility belt. “You prick! Cora is going to have your hide.”

Fuchs fell back and shook his head. “Michel will take care of her and her beatnik bullshit soon enough.” He slapped the stake from Chang’s hand. It clattered noisily to the floor.

Chang roared and tackled Fuchs. The two vampires rolled on the ground, cursing and growling at each other.

“I fucking hate House music!” Fuchs yelled.

“Journey sucks!” Chang answered as years of grievances over the radio bubbled up.

Red picked up the key ring and began jamming keys into the cell’s keyhole, fumbling until she found the right one. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, then dipped down to pick up the dropped stake.

Fuchs rolled Chang over to straddle him. “You’re weak. That soul taints you.”

Red ran forward and jumped on Fuchs, burying the stake in his back. She didn’t miss this time.

Fuchs hissed and reared back before his flesh decayed rapidly and his bones tumbled onto the floor, covering Chang in his dusty remains.

“Get Club Vltava on the line.” Red panted as she pulled the stake back.

Chang climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. “Already tried. I got a voicemail. We need to get Cora. I lost track of her.”

Red cursed. If Cora had already fallened, if Michel had already made his last chess move, they were better off fleeing town. She tried to tell herself that Cora was cunning, Michel would strike until he was sure. Making Quinn and Delilah disappear could be hidden, staking the supreme master brought his plan into the open. Cora had to still be here somewhere. “You need to even the odds. Those bikers weren’t riding for Cora. They were Michel’s.”

“What about you?”

Red swallowed. “I can warn Cora.”

Chang’s head jerked back. “That’s suicide.”

“Michel won’t kill me yet. He has other plans for me. Somehow, I don’t think he cares that much about one of Cora’s pet cops either.” Red gestured to him.

Chang nodded. “He wants to hurt Lucas Crawford, huh?”

“You were listening.” Red looked up at the camera. “Who else was?”

“The security room is empty.” Chang punched his palm. “Turncoats. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. It wasn’t until I saw that it was only unsouled vampires guarding the building that I realized you were onto something. Then to see the presentations on catch and release moved to before sunset and the last committees cancelled… I knew Cora wasn’t running the show anymore.”

“It’s okay. When did you last see her?”

“I tried to talk to her after she finished her proposal on catch and release, but Fuchs kept calling me back to watch the cell camera feeds.” Chang’s fangs popped out as he gritted his teeth. “I’ll round up the other souled vampires. I can at least warn them before they’re turned on.”

“Get a hold of Detective Callaway too, Chang. She has Delilah’s real bite mold and already has her feelers out on the morgues, keeping an eye out for new minions. That’s proof Michel is ready to strike, and he’s not going to stop.” Red nodded to the door. “Where can I find Cora?”

“If Michel is holding her, she’ll be in her penthouse on the top floor. You can take the elevator, or you'll see the stairwell on the left to get to her quarters.”

Red nodded before twirling the stake in her hands. “Well, let’s get to work.”

Chang led her out of the cell room. “You’re on your own until I get back. Wherever the Byrneses are… they aren’t coming back.”

“Every hunter is alone in the end.” Red shrugged. It was something Vic told her, but it wasn’t until now that she felt the truth in her bones.

Chang nodded, then ran down the hallway too fast for her human eyes to track. Only the slamming door of the stairwell showed where he went.

Red steeled herself. This was it. Vic had given her a year and enough training to go out with a bang.

They said that everyone in LA had their ten seconds of fame. If she did her job right, she’d give these vampires something to talk about for a century.

Chapter Twenty-Four

November 1st, Past Sunset, Moon Enterprises, Inglewood near UCLA

She stared at the open elevator but even without the sensor stopping her, she hesitated. There had been a conference in this building, but it felt like she was the last person left on Earth. No music played in the elevator. She noticed the telltale red pinpoint light on the ceiling camera was dark.

The revolution would not be televised.

Red took the stairs. She didn’t want to risk being trapped without an escape route in case of attack, yet the building felt as still as a vampire’s chest. The stairwell up to the top floor seemed endless, even though Red knew it was only four stories up. Each step, she wondered where the guards were.

Red knew that she was taking a lot on faith. Faith that Cora would be better for LA, faith that Michel could be stopped, and faith that she could make any kind of impact. It was better than the alternative. She had no doubts about what would happen if Michel won.

Stepping out of the stairwell, she entered a hallway decorated in teal and gold paint with macramé wall hangings and a creamy white marble floor. Something told her it hadn’t been redecorated since the Manson Family roamed LA.

Barking orders into a cell phone, Cora paced down the hallway with her bodyguards lining the walls. “The sensors tell me the guest rooms are empty. Get the last of these ingrates out of the lobby for the party at Club Vltava now. The Blood Alliance might want to bump up my agenda, but we can roll with it. Act like everything is normal. Put on my playlist. You have the key to the liquor stocks even if the Novak Boys are gone.”

She still had the bearing of a queen. There was no trace of defeat on her proud face. Despite the white caftan dress and crystal necklaces, she looked less like a hippie with a scowl worthy of Churchill in the war room on her face. Just like Chang, she obviously hadn’t gone to bed after the Halloween Ball.

Eyebrow arched, she noticed Red immediately and hung up the phone. “Little hunter chick, shouldn’t you have run off with Novak, or did he send you to plead for Delilah too?”

Red furrowed her brow. “Um, what? I spent the night in a cell. I came to—” She looked around at the bodyguards, realizing that each one of the five had tensed at the sight of her. “See if you were ok.” She finished lamely, trying to find the right words. Red shook her head, realizing that being subtle wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “Michel didn’t tell you that he had held me along with Delilah and Quinn? He had some biker dudes take them away.”

“Is it fuck-with-me day?” Cora looked around and her fangs jutted out. “Bring Michel, since he won’t pick up his phone.”

Her bodyguards reached into their pockets, their hands gloved, and pulled out chains of blessed silver. Their stoic expressions didn’t change, even though their loyalties had.

“Fuck it. I’ll get him myself.” Cora leapt straight up over their heads. Hands and knees on the high ceiling of the hallway, she hissed and ripped out the chandelier, dropping it on her traitorous guards.

They staggered as the golden chandelier hit but managed to avoid the direct impact.

Cora dropped down on the first guard. Her hands burned as she grabbed at the blessed silver he held. Using both hands, she pulled it up and yanked it through his neck, sending his head tumbling back.

A bare skull joined his bones on the floor.

Red pulled out her stake, slabbing it into the gut of a second guard and angling it up to pierce his heart. He fell back and decayed into a skeleton.

Another bodyguard pulled her into his arms and put a gun to her head. “Cora! I’ll spray her brains all over the wall.”

The other two bodyguards circled Cora. “Michel says you can leave LA with your life if you don’t fight.”

“He also lied to me so I would have my best friend tortured. His word is worth as much as his depth perception.” Cora jumped up and bounced off the wall, her skirt flaring around her legs as she drop-kicked the vampire who held Red. Her foot whooshed by Red’s ear as Cora knocked his head back at an awkward angle.

Red pushed away from the twitching vampire and pressed herself against the wall behind Cora.

The elevator door opened. Lucas and Kristoff burst out of it and charged the other two bodyguards.

Red grinned at them. “You’re late.”

Lucas punched his opponent before jamming a stake into the center of his chest.

Kristoff punched his hand clean through the other vampire’s chest and pulled out a heart that crumbled to dust in his hand. He looked at Cora and bowed. “My lady, forgive the intrusion.”

Lucas rushed to Red and cupped her chin. “Kitten, we have to get you out of here.”

Kristoff glared out of the corner of his eye at Lucas, turning to face him.

Red nodded to Lucas trying to ignore Kristoff’s glower.

Cora held up the last surviving guard, his legs dangling uselessly as he gaped at her. “You have some explaining to do.” She gritted her teeth. “What, can’t talk? Then you’re more than a traitor. You’re useless to me.”

Lucas tossed a stake to Cora.

Cora staked the vampire and kicked at the bones that remained. “The cavalry isn’t much, but it’ll do.”

“Chang’s out there trying to round up the souled vampires,” Red said.

Cora nodded. “Good. My childe will hold it down.”

Lucas gritted his teeth, the amber reflection of a predator in his eyes as he looked around. “What dungeon are you keeping Quinn and Delilah in?”

Red frowned. “Michel had some bikers take them.”

Lucas closed his eyes. “They can’t be far. I can still sense them.”

“You have a helipad on the roof, right?” Kristoff asked as he wiped blood off his hand with a handkerchief. “I can call a helicopter and get us to safer ground.”

Cora nodded before lifting her phone to make a call. “Chang, there’s still some life in the mission. Michel isn’t taking my city. The lower floors have been taken over. Bring who you can find- souls only. I’ll be leaving from the roof to rally the rest in a second wave. We have a fight to finish.” She led the group to the elevator.

Red stood between Lucas and Kristoff and looked them over. She hadn’t ever been so happy to see vampires in her life. She grinned, hand on her hip. “Took you two long enough.”

“I wouldn’t leave you.” They said at the same time.

Lucas glared at Kristoff.

The sire and childe sized each other up.

Cora sighed. “Stop the competition vibes. I know Kristoff is the only reason you got out of Club Vltava, Lucas. There is still some love, my dudes.”

Lucas looked away at Red’s curious glance.

Kristoff licked his lips. “Let’s not sing kumbaya yet.”

Cora snapped her fingers and pointed at Kristoff. "No. I need you two to kill some rogue minions, then we can have the drum circle.”

Red smirked as Kristoff and Lucas stepped in front of her to shield her when the elevator door opened but only managed to jostle each other.

Then everything happened too fast for her to even scream.

Red heard the ping of a silencer, but she didn’t see who it hit until it was too late.

Cora dropped to the floor.

Lucas and Kristoff fell after her.

Thick metal tranquilizer darts dotted their chests. Cora had three sticking out of her torso, while the male vampires had only one each.

Red looked up. “Sh—”

“Thank you, Little Amazon. I knew you would prove essential in bringing both Crawford and Novak out of hiding.” Michel smiled, hands behind his back, standing under a vine-covered trellis between two raised flower beds. His black hair blew loose in the Santa Ana winds over his suit-jacket-clad shoulders. His white eyepatch seemed stained orange by the smog-filtered lights of the city. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

A dozen vampires dressed in black SWAT gear stepped out from behind him, looking like demons invading a rooftop Garden of Eden.

Beyond Michel’s smug face, Quinn and Delilah, gagged and bound, struggled against silver chaining them to the cement floor beside a gazebo. Two pairs of chains lay empty across from them.

Michel spared a glance at Cora with his good eye. “Pity she decided to resist. It would have been smarter to flee and fight again another day like I did. Chain the men and get her secure for the next step. She’s already so helpfully evacuated the building.”

Red backed up in the elevator, but there was nowhere to go. She could only watch.

Two of the vampires in tactical gear wrapped Cora up in a blessed silver net and lifted her up. Lucas and Kristoff were dragged out next to be chained on the opposite side of the gazebo from Quinn and Delilah.

Her fists curled up. Red knew she was next, but she swore she’d fight even without a stake.

“I have a modest proposal for you. I think you’ll be most interested, since I know you want this most of all.”

“What is that?” Red lifted her chin, knowing that if she could summon her magic she would have set the undead Frenchman on fire.

“To know where you came from.” Michel stepped up to the elevator and held his hand out to Red.

Without conscious thought, Red put her hand in his.

He was right.

Chapter Twenty-Five

November 1st, Night, Moon Enterprises, Inglewood near UCLA

Michel took Red’s hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow before leading her from the elevator onto the rooftop.

The top of Moon Enterprises was an urban oasis in the center of Inglewood. Leafy green grape vines curled around the trellis-covered path lined with raised beds of flowers, tomatoes, and leafy greens. Potted palms, hoes, and a bucket of trowels lay nearby. A wooden crate of yoga mats cast a shadow on the concrete from the lights of the city. Beyond the garden, a helipad lay empty on the other side of the rooftop.

Quinn struggled against the chains that held him as they passed.

Delilah stood stock still to stare at Michel, blue eyes narrowed, before she turned away to hide the hurt in her gaze. Wisps of smoke wafted off the blessed silver chaining her hands and feet.

A small glimmer of gold on the shoulder of Delilah’s ruined dress caught Red's eye. Was it the hidden mic? The recording might still be beaming into the cloud database that Vic had shared with Fat Crispin and the Bards.

Red hoped so.

The vampires in tactical gear chained the unconscious Lucas and Kristoff. One of the guards handed Michel the key.

“It looks unseemly, but if you knew the full story, you would be begging me for their blood. This treatment is too good for the likes of them.” Michel gestured to a wicker chair at the table and released his grip on Red’s hand. “Little Amazon, you’ve lost some of your edge through ignorance. I imagine that this has been quite startling for you. I’m here to bring clarity to your confusion.”

Red gulped, looking at the Byrneses, then her stomach dropped as she stared at Lucas’s slack pale face. “How are you planning on killing them?”

“That depends on you,” Michel said.

“Why? I don’t get it. You used me to get Lucas and Kristoff here. You have everything you want. The city is yours. Vengeance is yours. I’m surprised I’m even alive, unless you’re trying to keep the Bards off your back.”

“I have a longer history with the Bards than you realize. I’m the only reason Cora was able to make her truce. I hold them in no ill will, even if few had the vision that my old friend Jack Constantine had.”

“Are you taking about Vic’s adopted father? His name was Henry.”

“Iron Jack is an older apple from that tree.” Michel sighed. “Alas, all truces must end. The natural order will be restored, but they’ll be given a boon. I have exactly what the Crispin Clan wants: blood for poor Julia.”

“That was you, wasn’t it?”

Michel waved his hand. “Semantics. Jake Crispin will be more than satisfied with taking Delilah’s head. I’ll throw in Quinn for revenge for that old massacre of Bards in Scotland. They’ll see it as the bargain it is.”

“You killed those women—Georgina, Olivia, Julia, Carrie—and planted them to cast blame on the Byrneses and Kristoff.”

“Not Georgina. But Delilah didn’t kill her either. She was just happy to see the ungrateful wench gone after leaving the agency.” Michel mock yawned before smirking at Delilah. “I had to listen to her harping about it for ages.”

Red nodded, knowing that she had to keep him talking. “That was quite the plan, to turn the Bards and the Blood Alliance against Cora while setting Delilah up for the fall. You must’ve been planning this for a while.”

“Over a hundred years, but who's counting?”

“Still, I don’t see why you’re waiting. You have everything.”

“What do you give the man who has everything? The thing that is impossible to give.” Sadness infused Michel’s expression. “I thought I did have everything, you see, but then you made me realize what could be.”

“I’m just a hunter.”

“Oh, my Little Amazon, you are far more. It's written on your pretty face.”

“My face might be a rerun, but beyond being a creepy reminder of Lucas’ ex-girlfriend, I really have nothing else to offer. You already have them.”

“No. I don’t have her—Penelope.” Michel pulled out a broken golden locket from his pocket and looked down as his thumb ran over the picture. “I had to break into your hotel room again to find it, but my gift has always been to enter uninvited.”

Red looked down. “Quinn told me what Lucas did.”

“Then you know they’re monsters among monsters. Don’t let the souls fool you.” Michel glared at Kristoff and Lucas’s prone bodies. “But you can right that wrong.”

“How? I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

“You have everything to do with it, Red. I need to know how you did it!”

“Did what?”

“How you managed to come back!” Michel stood in a bolt of frantic energy, his hands lifting. “Tell me how the witch Juniper St. James managed to be reborn into the modern age, and I will tell you where you come from. That is the deal. Not only that, I’ll tell you exactly where you can find Juniper’s greatest enemy—the warlock Maxwell Baldacci.”

“Whoa, whoa, I have no idea who this Matthew Bald-whatever is. I certainly didn’t know who Juniper St. James was before I came here.”

“Don’t play coy, little Amazon.” Michel raised an eyebrow before his snarling mouth softened into thoughtfulness. “Ah, perhaps this is a part of the spell. What do you know about the witch who shared your face?”

“She was Lucas’s kept woman at the turn of the last century.”

“Is that what they want you to believe? She was a mere lady of leisure?” Michel scoffed. “Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age, until the warlock brought her low. Even regaining only a fraction of her magic, she was able to rip a swath through London. She infiltrated the Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes. She destroyed the most dangerous vampires in the White Lady’s cadre. I saw the shell of a burnt mansion in Essex where she massacred dozens with a zombie horde, turning them against their master. She was no kept woman!”

The sounds of the city seemed to slow as the breeze shifted through the grape vines.

Red tried to fixate on the little details to calm the heart beating loudly in her ears. Murder, necromancy, and betraying the Brotherhood—both Kristoff and Lucas had left out those points when they had waxed poetically about Juniper St. James. Was that why the Brotherhood had sealed up their records of what had happened at the Stonetree Monastery? Lucas had said that Juniper was killed by hunters. Now, Red knew why.

“She was evil,” Red said.

“Vengeful, to be precise. No more than would be expected after dealing with these brutish Byrneses.” Michel smiled and sat down to pat her hand in a quick burst of stiff comfort. “I saw you, and I knew she’d brought herself back to find her magic. I need to know how she did it!”

“I don’t know.” Red shook her head. “I can barely float a stake. I’m not the witch you think I am. Maybe a creepy doppelgänger, but…” Red gulped.

She wore the face of a dark witch. Red put her hand on her face, wanting to pull it off. She had spent the last year fighting dark beings. It made her skin crawl to look like one. They had said that Juniper was a survivor. They never said what she had done to survive.

Red gritted her teeth. She wasn’t more than a doppelgänger; she couldn’t be the second coming of the wicked witch of the west. “If I was a badass dark witch, I would’ve figured it out by now.”

“You sought the truth in Nevada and Oklahoma, didn’t you? You unseated the most powerful master supreme in the Midwest to find it.” Michel chuckled at her surprise. “My tentacles stretch farther than LA county, dear witch.”

“There are gaps in my memory, but I know who I am.”

“Oh, Red, you don’t lie as well as she did.”

Red didn’t answer.

Michel broke the silence first. “I can help you! You don’t know where you came from, but I know. You can regain what’s yours, destroy your old enemy, and restore your magic, but I need your word that you’ll help me get my Penelope back.”

Red bit her lip and pushed away an existential crisis again caused by Juniper St. James. She tilted her head, trying to keep him talking. “You still love her so much.”

Michel laughed. “Why the shock?”

“I just didn’t think that an unsouled vampire would care so much.” Red leaned forward over the patio table between them. “She was more than just progeny to you.”

“Penelope was my everything.”

“Even without a soul, you could love her?”

“Love doesn’t come from the soul. It's in the blood.” Michel sighed. “I had been so cold, so empty, even after a century of ruling Paris. I longed for the open seas of my human years when I roamed between Jamaica, New Orleans, and Martinique.”

“So, you were a pirate!” Red gestured with her finger up.

Michel laughed. “Penelope said much the same thing. She had been a simple country girl when I found her by the cold shore in Brittany, but she had eyes like the warm Caribbean waters. An innkeeper’s daughter, she had a face worth preserving for eternity and the quick wit to make the time pass quickly. I proposed marriage in a fortnight, and—like Eros with Psyche—I kept her safe in my estate outside the city. She wanted to join me in my court, but I couldn’t bear to expose her to the politics of an urban clan.”

“You kept her alive and away from other vampires?”

Michel glared at Lucas’s still unconscious body in chains. “Unlike this barbarian, I didn’t force my delicate human companions to suffer vampire society, but mon dieu, my court was never the savage nest of brutality that Alaric’s Order reveled in. Eventually, the sweating sickness pushed my hand. I turned her on Christmas Day in 1899. She thought it was a gift, but she was the gift.”

Red put her hand to her mouth as she calculated. “She was barely months in death when…”

“Oui.” Michel curled his gloved fist closed, fangs appearing over his pale lips. “The horde of Alaric ran over my borders. I had them closed up in the catacombs. The siege was ready to crumble when Lucas and his butcher boy broke all the rules of vampire war. Yes, little Amazon, vampires have rules even if one bloodline could make Satan hang his head in shame. The fiends stormed my mansion during the initiation ceremony, and they took her.”

“How did you find out? How did you find any of this out?”

“Vengeance kept me going after my city was lost, then it was honed like a blade in the August Harvest after these dogs brought the curse of the soul upon us!” Michel’s English dissolved into a rapid outburst of angry French before he adjusted his suit shirt collar and composed himself.

Red waited, noticing Lucas and Kristoff rousing from the tranquilizer darts.

“One of Alaric’s minions, souled and wretched, confessed during torture what had happened to her. But it was only half-truth. I thought Alaric had drank her blood, so for years I tried to destroy him. I worked with the Blood Alliance to crush the bloodline system and rout out relics like Alaric, but he was too established. It was only when he perished that I discovered he hadn’t just drank her blood in one of his unholy communions, he had offered her blood to his best hounds.” Michel pointed at Kristoff.

Red’s mouth opened before she caught the slip, eyes darting between Kristoff and Lucas. When Lucas implied that they had been friends, he didn’t mention that it was a friendship bonded in shared blood- they had killed Penelope together.

“Didn’t know? Guess it never came up.” Kristoff brushed the dust off his suit jacket as he stood. The casual motion was betrayed by the angry shake to his fingers. He shared a glance with Lucas who had also risen.

Michel hissed at him. “This one had been only a minion with the stink of the grave around him, and still that monster offered a jewel to him. My jewel!"

Red tried to get Michel’s amber glare off the chained vampires. "What does it mean for a vampire to drink another? Why do it if it's forbidden?"

"To gain power. My ancient blood flowed through her veins. And it pains me like a thousand suns to know that it flows through them." Michel shook his head and grimaced from the taste of his own words. "Having to touch Delilah was torture, but every day in her bed, I told myself I was getting closer to my goal. Alaric met his end at the hands of another, but I could still know that he would be rolling in hell at the idea of his precious Delilah killed, his bastards destroyed, and the last of his line snuffed out.” His fangs popped out in his fervor. Michel snapped them back with a twitch of lip.

Rubbing her arms, Red couldn’t look away from his wide stare. Chills tickled at the back of her neck. “Mission accomplished then.”

He leaned forward, cracks forming under his fingertips as he gripped the table. “No, it changed when I saw you, I knew that Penelope might yet still have the taste of immortality she deserved. I only need your word that you’ll share your secret."

"How do I know you won’t turn on me like you did Cora? Obviously, you’re cunning enough. I still don't know how you managed to fool the Blood Alliance into believing Delilah was the mutineer."

"Switching her bite mold with mine and having it entered into the database was child's play." Michel smiled at the chained and gagged Quinn and Delilah.

Quinn glared over his gag, even as Delilah turned away.

“You mangy prick.” Lucas raised his chained hand to Michel flip off.

“Clever,” Kristoff muttered.

Red nodded, ignoring them all as she tried to process. Fury grew inside her. She felt it boil, but underneath it something else stirred—magic. "You framed Delilah, then killed Julia Crispin. It sounds like you’ve been picking off members of the order of Alaric for years, turning minions behind Cora’s back. Tell me why I should trust you."

"Because I can get you the memories you seek. In my quest to destroy Alaric, I know exactly where you come from and how that damnable warlock—”

“I have no idea who that guy is. He’s probably long dead too. Why should I care?” Red crossed her arms. “How do you even know about Juniper St. James and her supposed enemy, anyway?”

“Because I was working with the head Bard, Jack Constantine, when she was his bodyguard,” Michel said.

Red furrowed her brow. Vic had mentioned that his adopted father, Henry had come from a long line of Bards. Iron Jack Constantine had been the one that Henry had idolized the most. Juniper had betrayed him. “She was a double agent. Probably lied all the time.”

“She was a survivor.” Michel gestured absently, as if it was no matter. “She was also curious like you. You can feel that coiling up like a viper within, even if you don’t like the truths I tell.” He leaned forward. "I’ll help you get all you desire, because then I will get my most fervent dream. The true question is, how do I trust you? You have but a simple task before I can trust you. This is one you may even enjoy. You must show me you have no allegiance to the Byrneses."

"How?" Red stared at the chained vampires, already chilled by the implications in his voice.

"Delilah and Quinn have been claimed by the Bards for execution, but the others…." Michel held out a stake. "Choose which one will know the mercy of the stake—Lucas or Kristoff. Understand that it is a mercy, for the one who survives will suffer torment that even Alaric will feel in hell.”

Red looked between Lucas and Kristoff. “Is this a trick?”

“No, it’s a choice. Something I doubt either of them will give you.” Michel stood, twirling a roughly-hewn stake in his hand. He strode to Lucas.

Lucas growled at him. “You bleeding bastard.”

“You could choose the one with a soul who did more to torment your past self than nearly any other. The one who is still selfish enough to want to claim you again and incompetent enough to fail.”

“Oi!”

Michel gave Lucas a dismissive glance before striding over to Kristoff. “Or you could choose Novak, the one who wants to do everything Lucas Crawford did—and then some—with all the imagination and frustrated purpose of an unchained demon with a century to dream up nightmares.”

Red stood.

He smiled. “Which monster will you show compassion?”

Red held her hand out for the stake. He handed it over, and she gripped it before rushing forward to strike at Michel.

Michel caught her with the ease of a giant swatting a knight. He turned her around, pulling her close to his chest, a sigh of disappointment rattling in his dead lungs. “Oh, my little Amazon, that was the wrong choice.” His hand tightened on her wrist, and the stake dropped. “I had so hoped you would be an ally, but I can make do. You showed me the possibility, but you aren’t the only way. Perhaps this is best. Draining you will show them what it felt like when I lost Penelope.”

“Whatever secrets that Juniper St. James had, you won’t ever find them,” Red said.

“Neither will you.” Michel brushed her hair off her neck before dragging her forward to stand between Kristoff and Lucas.

“The difference is that I could care less. You’ll never get Penelope back.” Red closed her eyes.

The spark of magic within her, tiny as it may have been, still burned bright. The ward against magic ended at the rooftop. She surrendered to the magic. Not pushing it or commanding it, she released her desire for her origins or even the hope that Chang or Detective Callaway had had enough time to rally the troops. She reached for that magic inside with a single fevered hope for the soul of the City of Angels.

A rustle of wind blew her hair back. The whizz of the stake tore through the air.

Michel released her wrist to pluck the stake from the air. “Is that all the mighty Juniper St. James has? Barely controlling the air? I thought you had more fire in you!”

Red looked up, the spark tingling her fingers. Finally.

Kristoff grinned.

Lucas’s mouth dropped open.

Red spun, hand raised, ghostly blue flame growing in her palm as she slapped Michel. “Maybe I do.”

He bellowed, jumping back. His eye patch smoldered, and flames caught his black suit jacket. He tossed it down.

Red kicked the jacket, keys rattling in the pocket, toward Lucas before she turned around. She shook her hand, but no more magic fire appeared. “Shit.” She looked over at the raised garden bed by Kristoff and ran behind him.

“I’m glad the warlock stole your magic!” Michel snarled, running after her.

Kristoff swung the silver chain connected to his arm out as he tripped Michel with his leg.

Red picked up a garden hoe by the raised garden bed and swung it as Michel fell, hitting him in the head. “I’m not Juniper St. James.”

Michel fell to the side, blood gushing from the side of his head, his ear a mangled mess.

Red lifted the hoe up again and swung it in a brutal arc to catch Michel on the back of the head. The metal blade dug into his skull. “My name is Red.”

Lucas freed himself from his chains using the keys and sprinted forward. He tossed the keys to Kristoff before picking up the stake on the ground. Raising it, he jumped on Michel’s twitching back.

The thump of boots sounded from the stairwell as black-clad vampires, fangs out and guns raised, stormed out. They filled the garden with their numbers, weapons pointed over the tomato vines toward the fight by the gazebo.

The leader called out, “Halt!”

Kristoff, unchained and fangs out, stood in front of Red. “Fuck no.”

“We have you surrounded.”

“I think we have you surrounded.” Red looked up at the sound of helicopter blades as a spotlight shone down. Her borrowed pink jersey flapped in the wind created by the helicopter.

Illuminated in the bright light, sound cancelling headphones on her ears, Detective Callaway stuck her head out of the open door of the helicopter. A speaker crackled to life. “LAPD.”

Face bruised up and police hat missing, Chang appeared out of a nearby stairwell with a silver-burned Cora beside him. They led a dozen vampires in civilian clothes ranging from surfer board shorts to mini dresses.

Chang raised his gun, “I think we have you surrounded, traitors.”

The vampires in tactical gear looked at each other.

Cora stepped forward and raised her fist, the net pattern on her face and arms red and grisly in the spotlight. “This is still my motherfucking city. Stand down before I tell my people in the ‘copter to mow you the fuck down.”

Lucas pulled Michel up, using a stake jammed into the bleeding vampire’s side as leverage, and smiled, revealing his fangs. “I’ll kill him before a single bullet is fired.”

Kristoff grabbed Michel’s arm. “I’ll take an arm as a souvenir.”

The leader of the tactical squad lowered his weapon.

Red released the breath that she was holding.

“Fuck it,” one of the rebelling vampires said and took aim at Red. He pulled the trigger of the semi-automatic weapon.

Red lifted her hands, hearing the pop of the gun, even if she couldn’t see the bullets, and felt the fire sizzling the air as it left her fingertips. The flames blinded her as she fell back.

The bullets melted in the air, the metal dropping down like rain on the concrete.

Falling to the ground, she watched as Michel’s rogue vampires were hit with the magical fire.

Screaming, they went up like torches before their charred bones fell into a heap, leaving only their Kevlar vests behind.

Red laid her head down on her arms, panting and fighting the urge to barf. Blinking, all she saw was Lucas and Kristoff rush toward her.

They knelt on the ground beside her. Their words were lost in the chopping of the helicopter blades.

Eyes, grey and blue, blurred in her vision. Through their legs, she saw Cora run to Delilah. Blinking again, she felt herself being lifted. Through the spots in her vision, she saw the helicopter land.

“We saved the city,” she murmured, shaking from exhaustion, before she closed her eyes, and her head dipped back onto the cold firm arms that held her.

Chapter Twenty-Six

November 5th, Sunset, Somewhere in Los Angeles, California

Red coughed as she woke, trying to sit up but only managing to lift her head. Blinking, the fuzzy image of a white room sharpened into focus.

A hospital. Great. The thoughts felt as heavy as her head.

“Red!”

She looked over to see Vic propped up in the bed beside her own. “I slayed the dragon, Vic.”

“You sure did, kid.” Vic chuckled, but his image swam in her vision.

Consciousness left her as soon as it had come.

She didn’t wake again until three days later.

The sun was already setting when she finally bullied the nurses in the private hospital room to let her dress. They couldn’t tell her where Vic had gone.

He had checked himself out the day before but said he would be back when she woke up.

Red wasn’t going to wait for him. Someone had brought her duffle bag and her collection of black shirts and jeans. The clothes were the same, but she felt different. Her conversation with Michel in the gazebo under the smoggy LA sky had rattled around in her head as soon as consciousness gripped her.

Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age…

She avoided her reflection in the mirror, not wanting to see Juniper’s face staring back at her.

She was sitting up on the bed tying her shoes when Chang walked in.

Chang took off his police hat as he entered the room. “Cora wants to give you her thanks personally. Your friends will be there.”

“Then take me away, officer.” Red followed him out confidently but was dozing in the car before they reached the highway. She woke when they arrived in front of Moon Enterprises.

Red followed him through the empty lobby to the elevator. The lobby had been cleaned up, but signs of a struggle still showed in the rips in the carpet and the bullet holes in the murals. She guessed it would be a while until the yoga classes and soup kitchen opened again. “You guys did some damage.”

“The battle for LA showed those unsouled bastards that we came to win.” Chang grunted as he put his thumb on the scanner in the elevator.

The ride felt short, as the strains of an instrumental version of California Love pumped through the speakers. Red watched the lights of the elevator buttons turn red one after another, until they were on the rooftop.

Red walked through the garden, her eyes finding the burns and the tiny spots of melted bullets on the cement. She still didn’t know how she had conjured up that flame. She had tried again when she woke, but that woozy flu feeling of using too much magic had been her only answer. Vic would be impressed to know she had finally tapped into two of the elements. Hopefully someone had bragged to him about it.

Two dozen vampires stood at attention in a semi-circle around the helipad half of the rooftop. Cora stood with her hands on her hips, dressed in a black bodysuit, facing them. The lights of the city glinted on her afro and onyx covered headband.

Kristoff stood in the back, wearing an immaculate suit with his blond hair slicked back. He turned his head and spotted Red first. He winked at her.

Delilah rolled her eyes at Red when she noticed her, crossing her arms over her red dress.

Lucas turned around from his place beside Quinn and Vic. He put his hands in his leather jacket pockets and rocked back on his heels as he grinned at her.

Vic looked pale but determined in his wheelchair. His black mullet blew back in the breeze above his denim vest.

Red walked to stand beside Vic and put a hand on his shoulder.

Cora nodded to Red. “You’ve heard from the Bard, you’ve listened to the audio recording, and you’ve seen with your own eyes how Michel not only betrayed his supreme master but also put the Dark Veil in jeopardy. His treachery over the course of a century led to countless murders of our fellow vampires. Due to his arrogance and incompetence, over ten unregistered fledglings rose this week in the city’s morgues, and even more rogues were staked. His rebellion failed. The final death is his sentence.”

Michel stared ahead, black hair loose on his shoulders, his hands and feet bound by blessed silver. He had the dignity of a nobleman before the guillotine. His wounds had healed, but his left ear was gone. Without his eyepatch, his face looked no less haughty, even despite the cross-shaped scar on his sewn-shut eye socket. His one brown eye found Red.

Chang came forward with a curved sword.

Cora took it and smiled before raising the sword above her head.

Michel opened his mouth. “I would have shown you who you really are.”

Red knew his words were for her alone

Cora swung the sword across her chest. The lights of Inglewood reflected off the blade as it swept up in a steel arc.

Michel’s head tumbled off in a clean blow, and his body decayed to dust.

Even the vampires seemed to exhale as the Santa Ana winds blew Michel De Grammont away. Then the chant began.

“Cora. Cora. CORA!”

Vic looked up at Red before turning his motorized wheelchair around. “Let them have their rah-rahs.” He smiled wanly as they left the vampires to return to the elevator. Vic waited until the doors closed behind them to ask, “What did he mean by that?”

Red shrugged, even though she knew she would never forget the look in Michel’s eye. “It doesn’t matter.”

November 9th, Sunset, Culver City in Los Angeles, California, USA

The next few days were spent on the couch of their new apartment, watching reruns of sitcoms with only food deliveries and the arrival of Vic’s quiet nurse to break the television marathon. Takeout boxes and cans of IPA collected on the coffee table, then a pile gathered on the floor by the large sectional couch. The pop-up question on the Netflix interface seemed more and more desperate as it asked them if they were still watching.

Red didn’t say much, and Vic didn’t ask. They might have stayed in sight of each other, but they licked their wounds separately. At first, the strain of doing magic had made her want to stay inside, then the looping panic and self-analysis kept her there.

The apartment had three bedrooms, but she hadn’t slept in her own bed yet. One look at the large mirror in the room was enough. Curling up on the couch and passing out to old episodes of Parks and Recreation felt safer than facing her own reflection. All the laugh tracks in the world couldn’t cover up the one thought that circled in her mind.

Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age…

Red had read over Vic’s emailed report to Fat Crispin. She had nothing to add. The Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes might have hoarded knowledge, but she didn’t need to tell them everything. Who knew what the mic on Delilah had picked up anyway?

She was happy to leave her conversation with Michel behind in the rooftop gazebo of Moon Enterprises. Doppelgänger, secret heiress, and possible reincarnation of an evil witch… she had wanted to know who she was. Now, the possibilities crushed her. What if the vampire who had bitten her and left her to die along Coyote Creek had been trying to do the world a favor?

The knock on the door startled Red, but she only pulled the blanket higher on her shoulders.

A key scraped in the lock, and a pensive Filipino man in nursing scrubs walked in. His nose wrinkled as he looked around the darkened living room.

Vic sighed in his wheelchair, head hanging low, and rubbed his face. He looked over at Red.

Red turned over on the couch. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe everyone would ignore her. It had worked so far.

“Hey Hiram, I think I’ll take you up on that shower,” Vic murmured.

“Can I open the window or the balcony door too?” Hiram’s voice was as quiet as his steps on the wooden floor.

“Whatever blows your skirt up.” Vic’s electric wheelchair whizzed behind the couch toward the bedrooms.

The balcony door whooshed open to let in light and the sounds of Culver City.

Red rolled onto her back, releasing a breath when the door closed. She looked over at the messy coffee table, seeing it in natural light. She wished she hadn’t. Her inner neat freak rebelled, but the self-loathing didn’t care.

Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age…

Only her bladder made her get up. She passed by her phone, charging for way too long on the kitchen counter. She ignored the red blinking light in the corner that told her she had notifications.

She went into the bathroom. Flushing, she washed her hands quickly and turned to lean against the counter. How long could she wait in here? There were enough crumbs in her sports bra to live on, she mused bitterly. She tried to meditate, but only managed to zone out until she heard the front door close.

“Red, get your ass here.”

“Yeah, boss.” Red ran a hand through her greasy hair and sighed. She opened the door to see Vic sitting in his wheelchair in clean jeans and a Metallica shirt.

The takeout boxes were gone, and the apartment lights were on. The TV was off.

She frowned at Vic’s determined expression.

“No sass. Get out of your pajamas and into your street clothes.” He lifted his finger. “Actually, shower first and then dress. We need to get out of here.”

“But I like here. We’re comfortable here, and if we don’t order something from Old Shanghai soon, they might worry.”

“I think they’re already worried about the creepy stinky hermits who keep ordering Lo Mein.”

“Touché.” Red crossed her arms.

“Now, hop to, intern.”

“Where are we going?”

Vic just grunted and waved his hand before turning his wheelchair around.

Red rubbed her eyes before turning back to the bathroom, shedding her clothes, and walking into the shower with all the enthusiasm of a cat. The water felt nice, but she still shampooed and conditioned like a robot. The couch beckoned her. Brushing her teeth before wrapping herself in a towel, she stepped out into the living room.

The sun was setting.

“Your purse is packed with your phone already, so get dressed. I even tossed a stake and a tampon in there. You got everything you need.” Vic called out, his phone wedged between ear and shoulder as he resumed his phone conversation. “Oh, get over it. Its natural….” He paused, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. I doubt you'll remember my order. It's fine.”

Red sighed and stared longingly at the couch. She didn’t know what non-TV watching bee had gotten into his bonnet, but she didn’t like it. Dressing in her room, she avoided the mirror and put her wet red hair up into a ponytail before coming out again, hoping Vic had returned to his senses. They still had five more episodes left of Parks and Recreation.

“Now that we’re so fresh and clean.” Vic waited for her to finish the line from the OutKast song and say, “so fresh and so clean clean,” but she didn’t. He shook his head. “Okay, now I get that it's serious. I know why I’m depressed. I’m Lieutenant Fucking Dan. You should be fine, Forrest.”

Red rubbed her arm and looked away. “Eh. I can’t complain.”

“But you want to. You remembered how to dress. Let’s see if you remember how to drive.” He held up the Millennium Falcon’s keys with the familiar alien keychain they’d picked up in Roswell. He tossed them to her.

Red caught them before staring at the new remote dangling off it. She followed him out into the hallway and locked the door behind her.

Vic zoomed down the hall to the elevator.

She rushed after him, feeling more and more annoyed to be leaving the cozy den of their apartment. Arranged by Reaper and Smith, and paid for by her mysterious trust fund, it might have been funded by human trafficking for all she knew. She only had so much guilt left in the tank.

“I want a burger. I hope it's there when we arrive.”

“Where are we going?”

“You used to ask less questions.” Vic glared at her without malice as the elevator door opened on the parking garage.

Red chuckled for the first time in days. “No, I didn’t.”

Vic wheeled ahead before stopping by the Millennium Falcon. “Oh, I missed her.”

“Did she get a facelift?” Red studied the washed black van and the modified side door.

Vic shrugged. “A gift from Cora. You’re not the only rich chick I know. Use the clicker, will you?”

Red pressed the unlock button before noticing another one. She pressed it. The side door opened, and a wheelchair lift creaked out. The interior of the van still had Tibetan prayer flags, but the bean bags were missing.

Vic sighed and rolled up onto the platform, strapping the wheels in place. “Let’s get this show on the road. We have gridlock traffic to suffer through.”

Getting into the driver’s side, Red clicked her seat belt before clicking the remote to close the side door and waiting for the ramp to fold into place.

“So much for quick getaways.”

Red didn’t reply to Vic as she pulled out of the small underground parking lot. Classic rock piped through the speakers when she turned on the radio.

“At least they didn’t fiddle with my tunes,” Vic said before giving terse directions.

Snails moved quicker than the rush hour traffic in Los Angeles as they made their way past billboards advertising new movies and strip malls. The sky darkened on the autumn evening, casting shadows on the handicap parking placard on the rearview mirror. Something about being on the road in the Falcon calmed the rotation of shit in her head. She bobbed her head to the first strands of Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down as she noticed the small smile on Vic’s face in the rearview mirror.

A question appeared in his eyes, but he let her get through half the song before he spoke. “What happened on that rooftop, Red? You went all Firestarter, which you should be happy about. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Red turned down the song, not wanting to taint Tom Petty, before she answered. “I found out some shit that I didn’t want to.”

Vic rolled his hand. “And?”

“Juniper St. James was one of the most powerful dark witches of her age.” Red repeated Michel’s words. Goosebumps rose on her arms to say it out loud.

“So?”

Clenching her teeth, Red breathed through her nose. Fury rose up in her. He didn’t get it. “So? Is that all you have to say about the Victorian hooker who copyrighted my face? So?” She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. "Damn it, my biggest clue to my mystical amnesia is that I am a carbon copy of an evil chick and all your sorry ass has to say is ‘so?’"

“Turn right.”

Flicking on the blinker, Red turned without even noticing the street name. “I can’t believe you just said that! My life, what I have of one, has been turned upside down ever since I found out who she was. She had my face, and I have her fucking baggage. She was a dark witch who was killed by hunters. Ripped through London like a hurricane. Even turned on your great-great-great-grandpa Iron Jack Constantine. And all you have to say is ‘so?’”

“You ain’t her, Red. I don’t care what bullshit Frenchie told you.”

Red deflated in her seat and peeked at Vic. “Quinn told you?”

“No, you just did.” Vic crossed his arms.

“Fuck.”

“That’s been the cloud over your head? You’re worried you’ll be like her?” The rough tone disappeared from Vic’s voice. “Evil or something?”

“Well, yeah.” Her voice sounded too small even in her own ears. She avoided the rearview mirror and brushed the tears from her eyes.

“You’re not.” Vic sighed. “We don’t know the pub trivia info of your life, but I know you, Red. You’ve been the best intern a Bard could ask for, and you’ve done more good in a year than most people do in their lives. How many people have you saved? How many times could you have bailed out and said fuck this hunter shit, I’m going to live like a normie and poop out some babies?”

“Ew, Vic, that’s not where they come out.” Red giggled and hiccupped through the tears.

“Eh, whatever. You get my point. You’re good! Sure, you’re a doppelgänger with terrible taste in Gregs, but you’re a good person.” Vic leaned forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “Believe me. I’m full of bullshit, but I know people. What I know is that I’m the Batman and you’re my Robin, kid.”

“Damn it, Vic, you’re making me cry.”

“Mop yourself up before I do.” Vic sniffed. “Okay, let's stop this emotion train because we’re almost there. Another right.”

Looking around, Red noticed the block of offices, nail spas, and an Indian restaurant. She turned onto a side street and took a quick left into the parking lot behind it. “Are you ready for this?”

“Eh, at least we can get the best parking spot.” Vic shrugged. “I got a new job for us.”

Red parked and hit the clicker to open the side door and let out the wheelchair lift. She got out of the van on shaking legs to stare at the window to Quinn Investigations.

Vic rolled ahead of her and pressed the button on the stand of the building's automatic door opener.

Quinn was already in the doorway of his office before they reached his end of the hallway.

“Out of my way before I run you over, Q.” Vic grumped as his chair went to the door.

Forcing herself to look Quinn in the eyes, Red couldn’t help but think about how he had heard everything Michel had said to her. “Hey,” she said shortly.

“Red. Vic.” Quinn nodded and stepped aside.

Red felt Lucas there before she met his eyes. The tension in her shoulders drained a bit. She waved at him with one hand and rubbed her upper arm with the other, dipping her head.

In an instant, Lucas pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “There she is.”

Vic coughed. “I’m reporting this as a hostile work environment.”

Laughing, Red pulled away and looked down at Vic. "Leave Greg alone."

“Oi, it's your first day.”

“Is this the job, Vic?” Red put her hand on her hip and gestured around the office.

“You know these losers need our help.”

Lucas squeezed Red’s shoulder before turning to Vic. “Again, I say ‘Oi!”

Quinn leaned against his desk, a small smile on his face. He gestured to the unopened In-N-Out Burger on the coffee table. “You’re just in time.”

“We got a tip from an Ice Dwarf that some primordial boogie-boo is rising off of Santa Monica pier soon,” Lucas said.

Quinn added, “We need some research done before we hit the streets.”

“How much saving does one city need?” Red wondered aloud.

“It never ends in LA.” Vic rolled his wheelchair to the fast food bag and pulled out a burger. He started chewing before he looked up at Quinn. "Animal Style. You remembered my order."

Quinn nodded. "Always."

Red grinned at the male bonding.

Vic coughed before pointing his burger at Lucas. “There's always another baddie looking for their five minutes of fame. It's why I hate this town.”

“Everyone hates this town,” Lucas said as he flopped down on the couch. His storm-gray eyes shone as he looked at Red.

“That’s why they need us.” Quinn walked around his desk to sit down.

Red shook her head as she looked over the small cluttered office. “Then let’s get to work. Tell me we have something more than Lucas’s filing to go on.”

She sat down next to Lucas and reached into the bag for some fries. She chewed and let the banter roll over her.

Red had thought that Los Angeles would just be another job when she drove in from Reno. Julia Crispin had called it Hell-A, and she wasn’t wrong. This city had twisted Red inside out and made her face more than just murder and mayhem.

They had saved the city, taken down a rogue master, and took more hits than she thought possible. The answers she found here brought up more questions. A part of her still wanted to be in her pajamas, but with another case in her hands, Red knew this was home. Not the city itself, but that feeling of doing good. That was where she belonged. That was home.

The door opened with a knock.

“Hiya, this is Quinn Investigations, right? All these buildings look the same.” A blue-skinned dwarf in a jogging suit and backpack stepped in with a tourist map in his hand. “There you are. Anyway, I came back because I forgot to tell you something.” The bearded dwarf stopped and looked at Red. “You’re her!”

Red tensed.

Lucas put his hand on her shoulder.

Vic swallowed his bite of burger, sauce on his lips as he glared at the newcomer.

“I can’t believe we stayed at the same hotel!” The dwarf grinned as he stepped closer, shaking his finger. “Remember, I sat next to you at the bar? I wasn’t in my gym clothes, so you might not recognize me.” More than blue, the short humanoid was oblivious to the tension in the room as he put his hands on his hips and chuckled. “Who would have thought, my first night in town, I’d rub elbows with you! Word on the street is you’re the hunter who took down that big-time vamp. You’re the witch they call Red!”

Red smiled and ducked her head. “That’s me.”

THE RED WITCH CHRONICLES CONTINUES IN LONG WITCH NIGHT.

Lights, Camera, Poltergeist. A Hollywood dream becomes a nightmare.

Called to a movie set, Red investigates a haunting that threatens to turn a Christmas flick into a slasher film. Allied with a soulmancer, she has to save the Hollywood A-Listers from a phantom that wants souls instead of autographs.

Busting ghosts is easier than laying her own personal demons to rest. With a paralyzed mentor, a sexy vampire playing hard to get, and petrifying anxiety about her own mysterious origins, Red is struggling to find the holiday spirit.

Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame in Los Angeles, Red has to find out who is willing to kill for it.

…Before the poltergeist takes her out first.

Long Witch Night is the second book of the Red Witch Chronicles.

Preorder Long Witch Night here.

Author’s Note

I very much appreciate that you read my book and *fingers crossed* have enjoyed my writing. Let me know what you thought and give a review. This is my first published novel. After a brief soul-crushing stint in a university creative writing program, I stopped writing for years. Now, I am making up for the lost time.

Who am I? I am an urban fantasy writer who grew up in the desert, raised on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Anne Rice, and the Lost Boys. Add some Game of Thrones, Wheel of Time, and a bit of Christopher Pike's crazy 90s teen thrillers then stir vigorously to get my wacky brain. You get free reads, updates on my new books, and the skinny on the latest hot Urban Fantasy/Paranormal titles by subscribing to my newsletter at SamiValentine.com. Click here to sign up!

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A witch on a bounty. A werewolf out for revenge. Their clash will wake the dead across Oklahoma.

When the supernatural comes sweepin' down the plains...

Red thought the money was good until she learned the details. Then she wished she'd asked for more.

Armed with sarcasm and silver bullets, Red has 72 hours to hunt down a homicidal werewolf.

Down and Out Witch is a prequel novelette of the Red Witch Chronicles, an urban fantasy series containing magic, paranormal adventure, and vampire mayhem along with swearing, violence, and adult situations. You get it by subscribing to my newsletter at SamiValentine.com. Click here to sign up!

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Author’s Note

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Author’s Note