Hell's Belle (3 page)

“Think…man dead,” he continued. “Bloods get their stealer…not chase runner.” His dark power clashed with my weakening shield, sparking green and black. I would’ve been worried to hear his plans for me, but adrenaline, pain, and magic were all I could feel. I gritted my teeth, focusing more energy into the wards.
Just a few minutes more.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but the Vacancy sign is off. You’ll have to take your stench and bad taste in men’s hair accessories somewhere else.” I’d pitched my taunt, hoping he’d bite, and wasn’t disappointed. But apparently Sarkoph had a quick learning curve, because his words were becoming clearer. Not good. I was sure adapting quickly was listed in
Fighting Evil for Dummies
as a big no-no.

“You are not…my choice. But I…do much…your body.” Definitely a he. The words might be garbled, but the tone was precise. If this thing could form a face, it would’ve sported a big, lecherous grin. I’d now made a half circle and could see where his previous blasts had landed. I’d once seen a comedian burst a watermelon with a sledgehammer. That had been less messy but likely what would’ve happened to my head if he’d hit me as intended. I shuddered, stopping to push more power into my wards. Sensing my fear, Sarkoph pushed back.

We stood like that in the sunshine, battling with will and magic for what felt like forever but was probably only moments. Or rather, I was standing. The darkness was doing an ominous hover that could’ve put the best yenta to shame. In my mind, the spinning wheels ground to a sudden stop as a memory pulled the brake.

The only banishment I knew was a simple charm we witchy-children were taught while others learned nursery rhymes. When I made it out of this, I promised to read the texts Aunt Helena was always trying to force feed me. Okay, well, I’d probably only skim through half of them, but I’d definitely read at least one—whichever one had the most pictures.

More sparks flew as Sarkoph battered my wards in earnest. I clenched my jaw, squared my shoulders against the rising pain, and took another step. “Didn’t your mama teach you how to treat a lady?” I was talking now more out of instinct than anything else. Certain now that the spirit was male, my natural reaction was to treat him like I would any overbearing man who’d stepped on my toes—with a swift kick in the remember-your-manners shins. And the first lesson of reminding a man about proper etiquette was to mention his mama. Though, as his next words came, I thought that lesson might not apply here.

“I ate…the one who birthed me.”

I shivered at its emotionless tone and slowly dragged onward. “
That
was a mental image I could’ve done without.” My hands moved, drawing power from the earth like shimmering, green droplets of water that hung briefly in the air before flowing into my body.

Sarkoph didn’t appear to rotate, but I felt him watching me, his confusion almost palatable. He rumbled, “Worry not small one…I will treat your body…with great care. Give unto me…and your death will
hold little pain.”
He drew the last words out, but I only half-noticed, barely listening as I began the spell. For extra insurance, I pulled more magic from the earth. Streaks of green power flowed like ivy vines over my protections. I called what flames I could. It hurt. I was channeling two magics that shouldn’t have been able to exist side by side. Fire scorched Earth. Earth suffocated Fire. But strangely enough, here I was. It was a unique gift that might just save my life—if it didn’t kill me first.

Soon, there was a massive ball of red fire crisscrossed with bright green lines churning in my hand. The charge of channeling so much magic was exhilarating…and dangerously addictive. In my mind, I saw the image I must present. My bright blue eyes would be glowing. A few raven strands of hair had worked their way free and floated upward in the red and green magical currents now snapping around me. My body felt weightless, only my tiptoes touching the ground. And everything in the room—from the steel shelves, wooden crates, and sawdust-covered floor to the dirty glass windows—everything suddenly seemed brighter, as if the essence of life glowed from within them.

That essence was the truest form of earth-magic. It was akin to the magic of the soul, something white witches were forbidden to harness. I was desperate, but not enough to pay the price such magic required.
Well, almost everything glowed.
My eyesight receded to the mind’s eye, where the universe’s magical planes become visible in all their glory. As this happened, the building and its contents took a depth and range of spectrum that the human eye cannot comprehend. Everything but Sarkoph became brighter, more beautiful. The demon darkened, becoming a black void that cringed from the light.

Soulless.

I didn’t even dare think the term. Such creatures were stories, invented to scare witchy children. I had to focus on the physical. The real. Things I could vanquish in the daylight. As it was, this was going to be close.

Just as my wards fell, I threw my fireball, moving quickly backward. For once, my aim was true. The fire landed on the line I’d painstakingly drawn while dragging my boots through the sawdust. Sarkoph released an unholy screech as the magic followed my command, curving to become a circle. Then the swirling flames flowed upward, becoming a half sphere, completely enclosing his dark mass. Fire was energy, and the energy of my circle arched downward through the concrete, forming a half-unseen but no less impenetrable sphere. The magic called, ringing through me, seeping into my bones.

Oh, yes, Sarkoph was good and fucked.

As I chanted, his screeching increased, the pressure of it so fierce that my nose began to bleed. Hands pressed to my ears, I shouted, feeding my words to the fire.
“
As Above, So Below. Darkness to Darkness must go.” Sarkoph’s screams became impossibly louder. I continued, knowing the words flowed out, even if I couldn’t hear them. I made it to the next to last line, “We consecrate this land,” then went blank.
What were the words?
Shit, I couldn’t remember.
Maybe it wouldn’t matter.
Right. When had I ever been that lucky?

Blood dripping down my lips and chin, I repeated the chant three times. As the words ended, the circle began to shrink, slowly at first, then faster, collapsing inward. I released my vision from the mind’s eye. The magic was becoming too painful to view with such clarity. Even with the limitations of normal sight, it was an eyeball-searing visage. Like a collapsing star, Sarkoph’s darkness drew in on itself, the fire pressing him tighter and tighter.

My hands stayed over my ears, but that didn’t keep them from popping as the air shifted. One by one, the warehouse’s windows slammed shut. The fiery sphere began to rotate, slowly then faster and faster, consuming the building’s oxygen as it burned hotter, then hotter still, nearly blazing white. I stumbled backward, gasping for breath. Heat drew the skin on my face tight. There was a low roaring like a train.
This was wrong. So wrong.
I’d never been present at a banishing. Few had. But I’d read enough to know this wasn’t how it worked. The circle should’ve stayed the same size, transporting the spirit simply and quickly to the Otherworld.

I had a sinking feeling that Sarkoph wasn’t the only one who was fucked.

I backed into a steel shelf. Eyes locked on the sphere, I raised my hands, feeling for something sturdy.
There!
I grasped the shelving’s supports. My survival instincts screamed,
Run!
But I stood transfixed.

And within seconds, it was too late.

A new, heavy gravity formed at the sphere’s heart. My feet began sliding as the sawdust was dragged into the flames. The burning sphere’s draw grew exponentially. Bob’s abandoned corpse inched toward the fire.

A sudden gale began as the room’s air was drawn into the sphere. Small whirlwinds whipped my hair and clothes. Despite the circle’s heat, I began to shiver. I attempted to slow my breathing, trying not to hyperventilate in the suddenly oxygen-deprived air. Nails and other bits pinged as they became mini missiles, tossed by the rushing air. There was a flash of pain as something sharp nicked my cheek, passing on its journey to the fiery oblivion. It should’ve hurt more, but everything was beginning to go numb. And that was a very bad thing.

I was going into shock, my limbs weakening with the lack of air. I held on with everything I had. Sarkoph’s earsplitting wails had nearly stopped. But there was the new sound of metal creaking as the heavy shelves bent toward the imploding circle. As if through a dark tunnel, black spots formed on the outer edges of my vision, expanding, coalescing into a whirlpool of darkness with only flames visible at its heart. Knees weak, my sweaty hands bore more and more weight.

Just as Bob’s thousand-dollar shoes slid into the fire, my fingers slipped. I collapsed to the floor, reaching backward. But I was lighter than Bob’s corpse. And within those few seconds, I’d already been pulled several feet. I stared in abject horror at the flaming sphere, now no larger than a beach ball, hovering inches above the ground. That might not sound big enough to eat a man, but that was exactly what it was doing. Inch by inch, it consumed Bob’s body.

And I was dessert.

I forgot to breathe. Not that there was much air. My mind dimly registered the warm leather wrapped around my arm. It was such a habit to retrieve and wrap the whip around my forearm after use that I didn’t even remember pulling it from Bob’s corpse. Exhausted limbs fumbled, throwing it at anything that would hold. The braid caught on something behind me, tugging at my grip. I wrapped the leather around my wrist just as it snapped tight. My body jerked forward, yanking my arm painfully over my head. My scream was drowned out by the fire’s roar and the crash of metal falling from all sides. The heat scorching through my boots was almost as unbearable as the force that threatened to pull my shoulder from its socket. My pants came fast and shallow. My vision went dark, and I fought to stay conscious.

As I hung there, body nearly lifted from the ground by the unrelenting suction, I was certain that, like Grendel, my muscles would tear, ripping my arm free, leaving my body to be consumed by Sarkoph’s blazing sphere. My eyes closed, giving in to the fatigue that suffused my body. Then, like a candle suddenly snuffed out, it ended.

The magic in the room shifted. I cracked my eyes. The sphere was…I wasn’t quite sure what description fit. Devoured, sucked in, collapsed, consumed? Within the few seconds that I’d looked away, the fire and Sarkoph’s darkness had shrunk to the size of a quarter. Like an eerie, demonic eye, a flaming red dot with a fathomless black pupil hovered in the air.

Then it winked out of existence.

Without warning, the vacuum vanished. Air rushed into the building. “Uff,” I rasped, my body hitting the ground. Objects flying toward the black hole’s maw dropped with the unmistakable
clang
of metal hitting concrete. On autopilot, my boots dug into the hard floor, now bare of sawdust. I slid up enough to release my bruised wrist from its braided noose and gasped as blood flowed into my numb hand, shooting pain throughout the limb. I closed my eyes, gulping air before finally releasing a large breath of relief. Little spots flickered against my lids, a reminder of the sphere’s brightness. Ears buzzing, my panting sounded overly loud in the sudden silence.

The smell of burned flesh was stifling, but I lay there, too exhausted to move. I may have lost consciousness, or maybe I simply dozed for a time. Perhaps it was my imagination or a dream, but I saw myself briefly as a man in a far-off land, standing in a tower watching a dark, desert sky as a black ball coated in fire flashed across the horizon.

When I finally got to my feet, I stood dumbstruck. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but definitely not a mini black hole. Had I just cast him into the shadowed void between worlds? Mother of the Moon, that was some messed-up shit.

“Somebody’s got some ’splaining to do.” My best Ricky Ricardo impression echoed in the now quiet room as I dried the sweat and dust off my face with my shirt. I’d learned that spell when I was four. Who in the hell would teach a spell like that to kids?

If I had learned only one thing from this mess, it was that my kids would stick to reading
Mother Goose
. No witchy texts for the Delacy brats. Not until they were middle-aged, and maybe not even then. Although, if my future children were destined to be half the little hellion my mother had said I was, I would not be popping any out.

My adrenaline was long gone, and though my mind and body had shut down for a time, I wasn’t rested. But at least I felt more human. I looked at what was left of Bob and this time I did vomit. Everything below his upper thighs was missing. There weren’t even ashes where his legs had been. Hands on my knees, I took several deep breaths, pushing from my mind the realization of what could have been if something had gone differently.

Muscles protesting, I stood tall, wiping the bile from my lips before taking inventory. All that was left of our battle was the scent of sulfur, three-fourths of a dead body, a wrecked building, an injured witch, a crater in the floor, and, somewhere soon, some very angry vampires. The last was just a guess. I’d checked Bob’s poorly parked car on the way in for the money. And there wasn’t room in his suit for a giant wad of cash. No, Bob’s embezzled funds were most certainly in the distorted man’s briefcase.

Speaking of dead men, I was so
not
touching that body. Bad enough that his unique odor du jour was never going to come out of my nostrils. I stomped out to my truck for work gloves, a tarp, a first-aid kit, and a bottle of water. Today was too damn hot for this.

On the way out, I passed the forklifts. My gaze moved from the machinery to the dead man and back again. Bob, even missing part of his legs, was hefty. On a good day, with a little magical help, I could handle that. But right now, I was beyond tired. Of course I’d never driven one of these things. But there was a first time for everything. There was nothing funny about this situation, but as I returned and began pulling the lift’s levers, I found myself smiling.