Hell's Belle (15 page)

We exchanged formal greetings, Jacq making her introductions. The Weres definitely knew of her, but it was unclear as to whether they’d met before. Finally, we got down to business. “We came to speak with Kyle Thompson,” Jacq said. So my detective had also noticed an absence in our happy little greeting party.

Everyone looked to Grey, who rumbled, “That’s why you’re here. But first, my second has advised me, Miss Delacy, that you will likely be armed.”

Mated pairs were notoriously protective. A pair expecting kits? Even more so. Threats, intended or otherwise, were dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. Luke fidgeted in his seat before stilling. Good, the wolf knew the position he’d placed me in. Just because I understood his obligation to his Alpha didn’t make his stewing in his own guilt any less enjoyable. (I was emotionally sadistic that way.)

I met Grey’s gold eyes. “My apologies, Alpha. I had no idea that I would be meeting yourself or your consort this evening. If it eases your mind,” I said, meaning every word, “I will gladly relinquish what few weapons I have.” No Were would engage in unprovoked violence in the presence of a pregnant female. I wouldn’t need my weapons…as long as Abigail was near.

Grey held my eyes. I didn’t look down, but after a long period I looked to the side. I wasn’t one of his Weres to play dominance games. But neither was I stupid enough to challenge him in his own territory.

“Respect my home,” he said, “and no harm will befall you while in my domain.” There was a significant pause. “At least, for this evening. Even so, you may keep your weapons. Break my good faith,” he spread his arms, “and you will be punished.” A look passed between the two men, “Severely.” It took a moment before I understood their silent communication. Grey had made Luke responsible for my behavior and possible punishment. Oh no, I was so not playing “spank the bad witch” with my ex. I shot daggers at Luke, who wore a completely neutral expression. I held my tongue, setting my shoulders. If they expected me to do something stupid, they were mistaken.

Grey turned to Jacq. “You need no such reassurance, Detective Slone. But I also trust that you will respect the rules of the Alpha’s house.”

“As long as no harm befalls myself or my companion, you have my pledge.” Jacq’s husky tones were solemn, but there was an underlying warning as she added, “For this eventide.” Jeez, these people and their fancy speech. Somebody needed to give them a calendar. They’d obviously forgotten what century we were in.

I was pretty sure they’d just said “We’ll behave for tonight, but tomorrow all bets are off.” Hopefully, Grey’s house rules were similar to mine: “Don’t pee on the carpet. Don’t mess with Grandpa’s ashes. And don’t kill each other before breakfast.” Maybe there was a list tacked up somewhere. I’d hate to inadvertently break a rule and have our safe passage revoked.

“Now that you two have bonded, could you explain where Kyle is?” Despite my exasperation, my tone was respectful. Magical beings always had bigger pissing contests…even if they didn’t have bigger everything else.

Abigail answered with a slight Irish brogue, “Kyle is below. His Beast has been agitated since Isabella was taken. My husband,” she rolled her eyes at Grey, “would not allow him in my presence.”

At that moment, Becca joined us with a tray of café au lait and pastries. Even moon-howlers knew the fine arts of Southern hospitality: food and coffee. She sat the tray down on a low table before serving us. When she was done, she pushed Luke over, squeezing in beside him. I couldn’t help but notice that Luke treated Becca with brotherly affection. However, his seatmate seemed to have a different attitude. I smiled into my coffee cup. Some men were clueless.

“Isn’t it unusual,” I asked, my question muffled as I bit into a delicious chocolate-filled beignet, “for a Were to be unable to control his Beast?”

Becca picked up the tale. “Kyle proposed to Isabella Sunday night. Isabella had asked Kyle not to mention it as she wanted to tell her father herself when she went home this weekend. What is only known to the Pack is that Monday morning, with Isabella’s permission of course, Kyle officially claimed her as mate. They had filed a petition to have her turned.”

“Mated pairs are magically bonded,” Abigail said, picking up the tale. “They’re able to sense each other physically and emotionally. Although Kyle only placed his claim days ago, they have actually been bonded since they were young.” Abigail’s face showed her worry. “Kyle’s been separated from his mate, and she’s in danger. He has the overwhelming urge to go to Isabella…no matter what. If Kyle loses control, his Wolf will lay waste to anything in his way.”

I nodded, understanding what they weren’t saying. The spell hiding Isabella from scrying would also hide her from the mate-bond. Kyle had no way of connecting to her, of knowing she was safe. He would get progressively worse until Isabella was found…or died. If the bond was severed by death or if it took too long to locate Isabella, Kyle might go mad from heartbreak. It had happened. And when it did, it fell to that Were’s Alpha to provide the Were a quick, merciful death.

Abigail looked to Grey. Deep sadness was evident in his eyes as he said, “I have chosen to authorize Kyle’s request. Though not yet turned, Isabella is now Pack. She is ours to protect. To that end, I have charged my Second and Kyle’s Alpha, Luke, and his Second, Becca, to assist you in your search.”

Grey looked to Becca, and she again spoke. “There have been rumors. Missing students from Tulane. Kyle had informed us of this before Isabella’s disappearance. Luke and I both left the force when he recently became Alpha and I his Second but we still have contacts. The disappearances are all human, so the New Orleans PD didn’t think it was Supernatural related. However, Isabella recently toured the campus. She was transferring back home to be near her father and Kyle.”

That was it. Rebecca Hartford was the name of Luke’s partner on the force in The Burg. We’d never met, but I suspected why she seemed familiar. Time would tell if I was right. My mind hurried to process Becca’s next words.

“Isabella told Kyle that as they moved through several active classes she got a bad feeling, like she was being watched. Her exact word was ‘probed.’ But their group was moving so quickly that she didn’t catch the lecturer’s name. Kyle feels guilty now for not asking for more information, and that guilt makes it that much harder for him to control his Beast.”

“Are the missing students also female?” Jacq questioned. I twisted so I could see her.

“Male.” Luke’s reply was more an angry growl. “Five so far.”

I frowned. It didn’t fit. All our victims were girls with power who’d lived in The Burg, NOLA, and everywhere between. Only Isabella was in college. Nicodemus was new to the area. Was Tulane simply one of many places he picked his targets? And who had scanned Isabella? Nicodemus and his distortion amulet wouldn’t pass too well in public. Most importantly, why did Luke sound like he was chewing on sandpaper?

“How long have they been missing?” I asked. “Have any of the boys or their bodies been found?”

Abigail flinched at the implications. Becca pulled out two folders. “We received this from our people in the PD.” She passed one to each of us.

I looked from the files to the Weres to Jacq. The extra help was a good idea. I had an unsettling feeling that time was running out for Isabella, Kyle, and possibly these five boys.

If the Weres were in for a penny, they were in for a pound. And I could tell from their faces that they weren’t planning on leaving the search to Jacq and me. If that was the case, the Weres needed to know what Nicodemus was capable of before committing themselves—the Council’s directive be damned.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, I had five dead girls whose stories our new allies needed to hear…or rather see. And there was no time like the present.

“I’m going to need a laptop, Internet access, a printer, and about another gallon of that coffee. We’ve got lots to talk about. Then we need to speak with Kyle.” I gestured at Jacq and myself. My demands seemed to shock everyone but Luke, who simply looked amused.

Using Grey’s hardware, I accessed my home network and printed a file similar to the one I’d shown Jacq the night we’d met. We went over their information first. Five missing boys. All human, young, physically fit, and, like Kyle, orphans. The pieces were starting to come together in my mind, but I wasn’t quite ready to share the dark thoughts now surfacing.

Grey was incensed to learn that several of the dead girls had been from his area. But none of the sacrifices had been Were, which could be the Council’s reasoning for not notifying him. Or perhaps it was the leak they were concerned over. Maybe the Council believed a Were could be bought by Nicodemus. But I didn’t. Weres were fiercely loyal to their Pack. One of theirs was in danger. They’d do nothing to jeopardize Isabella’s rescue.

Once a Were gave away his heart, he couldn’t take it back.

* * *

The club’s dance floor was less crowded than when Jacq and I had arrived. Even though it was a few hours before closing, most people had to work come sunup. I’d come downstairs for a moment away. Earlier, this wouldn’t have been the place to go to be alone. But with the reduced numbers, I was confident I could avoid playing a round of “Groping Miss Delacy.” Truthfully, I love to dance but rarely have the opportunity. There was a brief time when Luke and I would go, but always to human establishments. The phers that hung in the air nearly as thickly as the cigarette smoke explained why we’d avoided this and other Were clubs.

Before our arrival, the Weres had given Kyle something to help him rest. His reaction had been stronger than expected, and he was out cold. Our talk would have to wait until the morning, meaning Jacq and I had been invited, persuasively, to stay. Soon enough I’d be worrying about what the sleeping arrangements were. But for now, I was alone. The music was fast. And the temptation was too great.

So I threw myself to the wolves, literally, joining the undulating bodies on the floor. Twisting, turning, gliding through an endless rush of faces, arms and legs. All sweat-slicked, glowing with a hundred different shades of blue cast by the ceiling’s laser moon. For a fraction of a second, faces and limbs would pop into the light then blend back into the shadows. The crowd was mainly Weres, but there were humans and other magical creatures mixed in. Some danced together, while others like myself just roamed. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know the song. The quick pounding rhythm was the essence of life.

This time, the dance’s effect was much stronger—maybe from the phers and heat, which my body was glorying in, like bathing in a rich sensual river of warm chocolate. From above, I saw my body moving through the others as I too lived that moment, feeling and seeing with new eyes. I was there within myself and without. Two spirits. One body. A body which was graceful again, barely brushing the swarming flesh as other dancers rolled through the room, rising with the rhythm. There was an unspoken boundary as that physical part of me moved through their wake. As we moved, even my brain let go, shutting down all but the most basic understandings. One made two. The heart, lost to the pulsating drum. The mind, tied by a thin thread.

Separate and together.

The music slowed, beginning the tumultuous strains of Texas’s “The Hush.” I was still two, feeling below and seeing from above. Warm hands encircled her/me from behind, settling on her/my hips as an elusive, musky scent came to our nose. And just like that, we were again one.

“Cate,” Jacq said, her breath moist on my neck.

A ripple went through me. Part anticipation. Part dismay. When we had entered the club, I’d thought briefly about what it would feel like to be in Jacq’s arms on the dance floor. It had been a dangerously appealing dream. Thankfully, we’d had a meeting to get to. Now my fantasy was being brought to life, and there was nowhere to run. We rocked gently, oblivious to the other dancers as her heat engulfed us.

The skin below my ear tingled, kissed by air so recently filling her lungs. My neck arched, unconsciously begging for even the briefest caress of lips, but no more words were spoken. Jacq pressed us tighter, so close that I felt all of her. Hardened nipples rubbed at my back, while the friction of silk trousers tormented my backside.

I relaxed into her body. It was safe to indulge this need. Nothing serious could happen while we were guests in another’s house. My magic began to rise. Again my innate fire had been called forth without conscious effort or control. But I didn’t push it away, tired of hiding from Jacq. She’d already saved my life twice. I could trust her with this much. I closed my eyes and opened my mind.

Hot magical fingers gently ran over her. Did they follow my desire or their own? I wasn’t certain, and I no longer cared. A whisper of fire memorized a sharp cheekbone. Another tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Yet another cupped a round buttock.

“What is this?” Jacq murmured in my ear. The music and dancers were still there, but it felt like we were alone in the dark—her words so clear that I could hear her breath hitch…feel her heart’s solid thump against my back.

“I don’t know. I’ve never…” I was breathless as her magic began its own exploration, a tingling, velvety soft tongue stroking down, journeying from my ear to the pulse at my neck. I leaned my head back on her shoulder, giving silent permission. This was different, yet the same as the healing—a slower burn but no less intense for its gradual ascent into ecstasy.

Jacq’s hands, hot at my waist, guided us through the other dancers to the outer fringes. A magical mouth began to suck at my pulse point, and those fiery hands clenched, pulling me hard against her body. One large palm splayed across my bare belly, slightly tugging the golden phoenix in my navel. Jacq murmured what sounded like a plea for mercy against my neck, and magic shot from her fingertips, pulling something lower. I cried out, on the verge of an unexpected climax.

Then, suddenly, it all came crashing down.

For a moment I didn’t realize that the hard grip on my right wrist—the same wrist which had been physically fisted at my side and magically running down my dance partner’s back seconds before—was not that of said partner.