Hell's Belle (11 page)

“Would you like some dinner? I’m just putting together a quick salad. Nothing fancy.” I pointed to the chicken left from lunch. My Grams would rise from her grave and beat me with her cane if I didn’t offer food to a dinnertime guest. Jacq smiled at the offer. She thought I was being solicitous. She had no idea. It was purely self-preservation.

“You’d cook for me?” Her Cajun accent was stronger than usual.

My head tilted slightly. She sounded a bit smug, as if I’d just offered her all my worldly possessions. Maybe I had. Some of the more obscure species had some pretty strange practices.

“Well,
cook
might be an exaggeration. I’m simply reheating the chicken and putting everything in a bowl.” I moved about the kitchen, throwing the chicken and a splash of water on the electric grill before piling the greens in two big bowls, topping them with nuts, berries, feta, and the now steaming chicken, finally drizzling everything with balsamic. I put the bowls down, turning to face her.

“Would you like to watch a movie with me?” Where had that come from? “I mean, we can talk over the case while we eat…” I stammered, unable to meet her eyes. “I’d planned to watch a movie, a dark comedy. Join me?”

Jacq smiled fully, that elusive dimple peeking out. “I’d love to.” Her response was low, husky.

I shivered. It was good that I was done talking, because her smile left me suddenly breathless. I sucked in a much-needed breath, helpless to stop my own smile as we picked up our salads and moved into the other room. What can I say? I was easily pleased and, apparently, so was Jacq.

I was still smiling later as we finished talking business and put on the movie,
Army of Darkness
. Drinks in hand, we sat side by side on the couch, our bare feet propped up on the old trunk and a big bowl of popcorn between us. I’d known this woman for less than twenty-four hours and was now treating her like a long-lost friend. As we laughed at the main character’s cheesy one-liners, I couldn’t help but think that if crazy is as crazy does, then I might better check into an asylum. It wasn’t the fact that I seemed to be going insane that worried me. It was that I really didn’t care to stop.

* * *

Carlisle shivered in the dark. Already dead and coldblooded, it wasn’t from the temperature. He’d never liked these clandestine meetings. He was a politician, not some military type to slither along in the shadows. To add insult, the demon lord’s earthbound contact was always late. Nicodemus, as he called himself, liked to make an entrance. Although an abandoned building probably wasn’t his preferred setting nor Carlisle and a few rodents his preferred audience. Concessions had to be made in the name of secrecy. But that would all end soon.

“Report!”

Carlisle jumped at Nicodemus’s booming voice. He was an Immortal, for pity’s sake, high-ranking in the house of Louisiana’s Vampire King. But Carlisle’s status didn’t matter to Nicodemus. He and his distortion charm always got a sadistic enjoyment out of making everyone in his presence cower. Even with Carlisle’s supernatural eyesight, he could barely discern the shadow passing through an outside streetlamp’s glow. The spell was the best he’d ever seen, even hiding Nicodemus’s body heat. Carlisle whirled to face the shadow, cringing at the two sets of red eyes blinking at him from the darkness.
Hellhounds
. He hated it when Nicodemus brought those beasts with him. Many times larger and more vicious than their Earthen counterparts, the hounds always looked half-starved, making them too hungry to be trusted.

“My spies followed Guild Master Fera to a local bar, where she met an independent runner.” Carlisle sounded cool, collected. He’d had centuries to mask his fear, to connive his way into power. He wouldn’t give it up so easily. “It appears the runner was hired to begin her own investigation. The name’s Cate. My spies managed to get a cloth with her scent.” He held up a bar napkin and large envelope. “The information is all here. The Guild Master appears to have stalled in her investigation, but the runner concerns me.” He’d humor the weak Council’s attempt to appear more mundane in public, but he refused to use the human titles, such as Sheriff, in private. Things would eventually return to the old ways, where the Blood took what and who they wanted. And the change couldn’t happen soon enough for him.

“Good.” Nicodemus came forward, taking the items. “See that the Guild Master’s search continues to meet a dead end. My hounds will take care of the runner.” Lowering the cloth, he let the beasts catch the runner’s scent. Then he turned and disappeared, the hounds following behind. Even so, Nicodemus’s last words hung in the air. “The gate will open soon. My master will come through with his legions. And when we remake this world, your reward will be great.”

Carlisle shivered again…but not from the pleasure the words should have evoked. He questioned, not for the first time, making this deal with the devil.

Chapter Six

“If you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned. And if you play with Hellfire, you’ll keep on burning. But oh the pleasure of the fall.”

—Author Unknown

Day Five

I was in the kitchen cooking up suppression amulets while listening to the sounds of battle coming from the backyard. After yesterday’s search for Isabella, my magic had been too low for even such a simple spell. I didn’t want Jacq to know about my new weakness to the phers, so Mynx was again distracting our guest while I worked. Their sparring would also allow Mynx to evaluate Jacq’s skills. Which would be important when we fought together…or if she ever turned on us. Something in me said the latter would never happen, but my more logical side was in control this morning.

Jacq and I were meeting Kyle at The Blue Moon tonight. Run by the Weres’ leader, Grey Gryphon, it was a favorite hangout for anything that turned furry. With only a few nights to the next full moon, the place would be full of aggressive Weres looking for sex. The phers at Mag’s were nothing compared to what would be circulating at Grey’s. Without these amulets, I’d be a puddle of shivering, aching, gotta-fuck-someone’s-brains-out need before I even made it in the door.

This spell didn’t require a circle, so as I stirred it, I watched Mynx and Jacq spar. They were both dressed in dark workout clothes presumably from Mynx’s closet. I’d never seen Jacq with luggage, and nothing of mine or my even more petite aunt would’ve fit our much taller guest. The black jeans and tank fit Jacq like they’d been made for her. The two moved in a synchronized ballet of swordplay so stunningly beautiful that I almost forgot to add the last ingredient: a drop of liquid Were pheromone. Even after I had set the spell into small wooden discs, I continued to watch.

The women appeared well-matched, but I sensed that one or both were holding back. The aggressive show, helped along by the phers, made my blood surge, but I also found it disheartening. The years of study necessary for this level of expertise would find me merely dust in my grave. While witches were long-lived, we weren’t immortal.

Even now I was probably breathing more heavily than those two, though both were covered with a heavy sheen of sweat. Jacq’s ivory skin glowed softly. I couldn’t help but notice the strong arms that so masterfully parried Mynx’s blade. Those arms had kept me standing yesterday while I’d conducted my searching spell.
If she had let me fall…
That thought stopped as something caught my attention. I narrowed my eyes, frowning as silver runes flashed in the sunlight, glinting off Jacq’s sword. That wasn’t one of ours, practice or otherwise. She hadn’t brought spare clothes, but she’d brought a weapon? I grinned. At least she had her priorities straight.

I tucked the amulets away, taking a moment to think of our guest. Last night after the movie, I’d lingered. I’d been tired. Jacq had been tired. But it’s good to get to know a person if they may someday be fighting at your back. Or at least that was the excuse I gave myself. So, we talked. Jacq was intelligent, charming, and had also been disillusioned with the Council’s machinations for decades. No matter how many hints I dropped, she’d never disclosed her age or species. So it startled me when she shared her motives for leaving the Council.

Originally, she’d been undercover with the PD, working for the Council. After the Genesis, she’d seen an opportunity for the police to learn and had left to help start the first SCU. If she didn’t turn out to be a spy, we might end up friends.

I was about to call a halt to the sparring when I felt the house’s wards shudder. That happens sometimes when the military base’s flyboys create a sonic boom. Sometimes the wards even drop for a millisecond. But the expected
boom
didn’t follow.

There was a second shudder then a discordant sound like a bow pulled across an untuned fiddle.
Shit
. I wiped my dirty hands on a tea towel. That was the alarm, which meant someone was attacking the shield. At that moment Jacq glanced in my direction. Seeing me framed in the window, she mouthed, “Stay there.
”
Then she and Mynx took off, running toward the disturbance.

Like hell I would. Did I look like a dog? If evil knocks on my door, I meet it—pink pajamas, bunny slippers, and all!

Of course, weapons would help. I looked around. I had none. I’d have to lose some time and head to the training room, which was in the wrong direction. I was almost to the kitchen door when a flash of metal caught my eye.

Yes!

For once, being absentminded worked in my favor. My practice sword still leaned against the doorjamb where I’d left it two nights ago. The sword’s blade was dull, but it didn’t have to be sharp to smack someone over the head.

The only question was who to hit first: Our uninvited guest trying to breach the wards or the high-handed guest about to defend them?

As I ran toward the front door, another longer louder shudder hit. Jacq and Mynx had to go around, giving me a chance to get there first. Though it would’ve been better if I weren’t wearing slippers. Floppy ears and soft, no-traction bottoms were not sprinter-friendly. But of course if my aunt were to ask later, I’d state that I walked through the house with ladylike decorum. I’d claim I did not run with a sword (which, though dull for practice, is probably deemed more dangerous than scissors). I did not step on Hex’s tail. And there was no need for me to curse a blue streak as my slippers did not slide on the hardwood floor. This did not cause me to bump into the buffet table holding Aunt Helen’s favorite (now broken…possibly by the cat? At least, that’s my story.) vase.

My ladylike stroll ended with me reaching the wards seconds before the others. Jacq scowled when she saw me, but perhaps her sense of self-preservation had finally kicked in because she didn’t comment. We stood on the grass directly in front of our drive. As the alarm’s cause became apparent, I was very glad to have parked Susie on this side of the swirling blue and green barrier. Three hellhounds were separated from us only by the magical wall. Two were hurling themselves against the wards like kamikaze battering rams. A much larger, third hound was sniffing around my old Silverado.

My jaw dropped, metaphorically. In reality, my teeth were clenched tightly together. Hellhounds were rare, usually staying in, well, Hell. Or rather they lived in the Otherworld, but Hell was much easier to say. A hound there served the same purpose as a hound here. The Demon Elite bred them for hunting. Only the Otherworld’s game usually looked like prehistoric horrors. Consider the type of dogs necessary to take on something from the Mesozoic Era, and you would have a picture of Hell’s hounds. Larger than the largest Great Dane with a pit bull’s locking jaws and the magical ability to track their prey through any plane of existence, they would never be mistaken for anything from Earth. Did I mention their eyes glow an eerie, cliché red? Well, they did. No matter the hound or the location, one thing was always the same: Blood sport wasn’t much fun when it was your blood they aimed to spill.

“Bad puppy!” I yelled as the hound sniffing my Chevy lifted a leg. It was nearly the size of a small pony. Knowing my luck, the flood of demonic pee about to erupt would do something weird—like melt rubber. This was a serious matter. I couldn’t afford new tires right now, but Mynx and Jacq, both laughing loudly behind my back, obviously didn’t see it that way.

I hopped on one foot then the other, removing my slippers. Noticing my footwear, the two laughed louder. I spared Mynx, who knew better, one glare. Then I gave her a wicked smile, immediately strangling her glee. Jacq, unsuspecting, continued to chuckle, the rich sound flowing free. If I had been in a better mood, I might’ve enjoyed how it made her eyes sparkle.

I again faced the hounds, hearing Mynx’s, “Uh-oh,” just as my magic whipped out.
Sesame
. One of the larger ley-line areas dropped, and I hurled one bunny slipper after another at the urinating mutt. It’s a scientific fact: Bunny slippers make excellent distractions. Plus, the slippers would have to be thrown out anyway. For some unimaginable reason, they had little vase bits embedded in their bottoms.

“A little warning next time,” Jacq complained as she and Mynx stepped forward to face the two hounds now barreling toward my opened door. Auburn hair glowing in the sunshine, Jacq eyed my sword then moved to stand between me and the wards. I didn’t know if it was her natural protective instincts, if she saw my dull blade as insufficient, or if she simply doubted my battle skills. Whatever her reasoning, it only served to further piss me off.

“Certainly. The next time the big bad comes a knockin’ and I decide to let them in, I’ll be sure and send out a memo first.”

I grew up in a house with four mother figures. My innocent act was flawless, but with sarcasm, there was always room for improvement.

Mynx only gave a Cheshire grin, happy to have the legendary Delacy temper directed at someone other than herself. But my glare must’ve needed work, because the harder I scowled, the more amused Jacq became.

I watched as each woman took a hound. Mine was still happily chewing Mr. Bunny’s ears, so I raised the wards. It could stay on that side until we were ready for it. Although my dull sword might’ve been more effective at tripping the hounds than cutting them, I joined the fight.