Hell's Belle (7 page)

In fact, I was almost eager to see what would come next.

Chapter Four

“Different can be good when it comes to sex, food or company, as long as different doesn’t have its own set of sharp teeth. In that case, discretion would be the better part of valor.”

—M. Delacy

Mynx arrived seconds before me. She was spry for someone who’d lived through the Civil War. The wards shimmered green with earth-magic, except where interspersed with blue, ley-line arches. A tall figure, half-shrouded in darkness, stood beyond the barrier’s glow. As we approached, the figure stepped closer, materializing into a woman. The wards flickered, alternately revealing and shadowing her. At least six inches taller than me, she appeared unarmed.

My heart jumped while my stomach dropped, tightly stretching me in different directions. I’d never really noticed another woman’s sex appeal, but she could sell it by the bushel. Every step closer disclosed more details. Close-fitting pants. Shirt cut into a slight V. Tight, slim muscles devoid of fat. Even with her unarmed and in modern clothing, I had the mental image of an Amazon warrior. And the effect she was having on my rising hormones was most assuredly coming from
her,
not her clothes. Of course, I had about a gallon of Were phers running through my system. An armadillo would look good at this point.

“Will you let me in, or should I pitch a tent?” Her husky, seemingly amused words carried through the night air, unhampered by the magical wall separating us. It was the sort of siren voice that once lured sailors to their deaths with promises of cool sheets, warm beds and dark liquors.

Mynx and I stepped closer. Unexpectedly, my magic surged, and I had to work hard to keep my fire from breaking loose.
That was odd.
Remembering the flames covering my sword, I dismissed them before our visitor could notice.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my pounding heart. “That depends. Are you going to huff and puff and blow the wards down if we don’t?” Hand on my hip, I gave her a cheeky smile, waving my sword for emphasis. I’d always found it best to fight fire with fire. Or in this case, sarcasm with sarcasm. ’Course, Aunt Helena would just say it was arrogant stupidity. And truthfully, I was probably being rude. I couldn’t seem to—or maybe didn’t want to—control myself.
Those damn Weres.
This had to be a result of my crazy, pher-induced hormones.

The Amazon looked briefly confused then smiled, flashing white teeth. “No, I suppose not. Unless, of course, you ask very nicely. Then I’d be obliged to force my way through and give you the pleasure of my company.”

Mynx, standing back and to my right, snorted.

“Jacqueline Slone, at your service, m’lady.” She gave a brief bow, which looked suspiciously unsarcastic.

Despite intentionally keeping my eyes above chest level, I still somehow noticed her high, firm breasts and fought to keep the flush out of my cheeks.

Jacq pulled a hologram badge from thin air, its design and name unmistakable. Fera had advised that there was one Council agent she trusted to help with the case, though she’d neglected to mention that “Jack” wasn’t a he. Jacq had supposedly been on leave from the Council for years. (No one ever really left the Council.) Until now, she’d had no access to the investigation. Meaning, she couldn’t be the one tipping off Nicodemus. Jacq was supposed to provide backup and a link to Fera since meeting with her again would be too suspicious. The badge, however, was not Council but NOLA SCU (Supernatural Crimes Unit). They were boys-in-blue with fangs and claws. This explained why she hadn’t been active with the Council. Big Brother didn’t allow theirs to serve two masters. While working for the police, she would have no knowledge of Council matters.

“Okay, Detective. You’re expected. Although if you’ll give us more warning next time, we’ll bathe before you arrive.” I gestured to our sweaty clothes, or rather, my sweaty clothes. Mynx was as pristine as ever.

I stepped to the nearest blue arch. With a thought,
Sesame,
and a magical push, the green magic inside the arch dissipated. Jacq eyed us before stepping through. With our recent reinforcements, the wards were some of the strongest in the county. But if she wanted, with enough time and effort, Jacq could undoubtedly break an arch and leave. The wards were designed to keep people out, not in, and hadn’t served that purpose since I was a kid. My family had placed the wards far away from the house so I’d have somewhere safe to play. My Grams had always had an inexplicable worry that I’d one day drown in the creek that curved around our property.

Jacq wore simple black shoes, gray trousers and a white, long-sleeved T. Her deep auburn hair fell just shy of her shoulders. Add in the gray eyes that missed nothing, and you had a poster child for lethal elegance. I, on the other hand, was a hot mess with flushed skin, damp cotton workout clothes that felt tight against my suddenly itchy skin, and sweat-drenched hair plastered to my neck. My self-effacing humor kicked in. It could be worse. I could’ve tripped and landed on my head at her feet.

“Please call me Jacq or Jacqueline. I’m not here in any official capacity. In fact, ‘officially’ I’m on vacation.” Her husky voice was even more powerful without the wards’ barrier. I shivered, blaming my damp clothes.

Fera had said “Jack” was a highly skilled operative—someone to be trusted. I wasn’t so sure about trusting anyone from the Council. But the sheriff hadn’t budged. Jacqueline Slone and the case were a package deal. I wasn’t so naïve to believe that Fera couldn’t find someone more qualified for this job. Her real reasons in choosing me were still unclear, but we three Delacys currently in residence were certain of one thing: Council operatives, past or present, always had ulterior motives. This woman was no exception. In the South we had a saying, “Keep your enemies close enough to spit at.” I wouldn’t be swapping spit with her, but I’d definitely be keeping Jacqueline Slone close.

And the more we knew about her, the better. As the woman in question brushed by, I breathed in her slightly musky sage and sandalwood scent. There was no earthy witch smell. No spring Fae smell. It wasn’t quite like the Weres’ animal musk. She stepped past Mynx, who shook her head. Even Mynx’s more sensitive nose couldn’t identify what manner of beast this woman was.

Mynx headed to bed while I led Jacq into the kitchen. Normally, I’d discuss business in the agency’s offices, but they were beyond the wards. And after sunset I was staying within their protection, if possible.

There was something out there, in the dark, stalking me. I felt it. Waiting. For what, I didn’t know, but I’d thought I’d seen red eyes peering at me from the dark woods the night before. Maybe that had been my imagination, but this feeling wasn’t. I’d never had clear premonitions, but listening to my gut had saved my life more than once. And my gut said the smart thing to do was lock the doors, turn on the lights, and hide under the covers.

Never one to do the smart thing, I’d managed only one out of three.

The kitchen lights were dimmed, but moonlight shone through the windows, giving the room a warm glow. I offered Jacq a chair and busied myself with heating water for tea. Between my sweaty clothes and the A/C, I had goose bumps. While I worked, I turned my back, hiding my peaked nipples, uncomfortable with how attractive I found the other woman. The phers’ effects would ease in a few hours. Until then, I’d deal with it.

Using a window’s mirrored reflection, I watched Jacq stretch out long legs and lean back in a chair that allowed her to view the door, windows…and me. Thumbs tucked into her pockets, she stared boldly at my back. There were dark circles under her eyes. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who’d been having trouble sleeping. The possible similarity intrigued me.

“Will your partner be joining us?” Jacq asked quietly, her expression almost brooding.

I raised an eyebrow, wasting the look on the teakettle. Few knew that Mynx had finally accepted a full partnership in the business. And I’d never mentioned her during my meeting with Fera.

“No, but she’ll help out if we run into more than we can handle.” Jacq’s eyebrows drew down, a frown forming at the corners of her mouth. Should I be offended or amused? I went with the latter, lightly saying, “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can handle ourselves.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Jacq smiled, laughing softly.

Something twisted in my gut, and I looked away, pulling down mugs, assembling a tea tray.
Damn phers.

Her amusement disappeared. “But your partner may be our only help. I meant it when I said I wasn’t here officially. I owe Jo a favor, and she’s collecting.” As I twisted, looking over my shoulder, my confusion evident, Jacq explained, “Guild Master Josephine Fera. Sheriff?” I nodded, understanding. “Neither of us, you and I, is officially on this case, because there is no case, or at least none on record. The Council wishes to keep this from the police and media. If we need help, it won’t come from them.”

I bit back a sarcastic comment. I knew the Council wouldn’t bail me out. Why should it surprise me that they’d leave their own to flounder? Jacq seemed nice enough. No matter how tempting, I wasn’t going to take my frustration out on her. Besides, we needed to focus on what we
could
do
and not what we couldn’t. It was late. We had details to discuss. Then I had a Council operative to shoo out the door. Before I could get us to the night’s business, Jacq surprised me.

I could feel her eyes on my skin as she asked, “How did you hurt your arm?”

I looked down at the white bandage covering my nearly healed stitches. “A dead accountant with a hellish curve ball didn’t want to go home to his mommy.” I received another puzzled look. The old adage was correct—truth really was stranger than fiction. We had several minutes while the tea was steeping. “I need to run upstairs for a few.” Pointing up, I turned around and leaned against the counter, facing her. The steaming kettle had warmed me, but it wasn’t the reason for the flush in my cheeks. I still felt too grungy for entertaining guests. But more, I needed a minute alone.

Jacq gave me a slow smile, her eyes sweeping my body. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was checking me out. My shivers returned. I resisted the urge to hug myself.

“Don’t worry. I won’t steal the silver.” Her mouth joked, but her gray eyes said different. She’d seen my distrust.

Brushing aside the strange sadness that realization evoked, I laughed, passing her on my way out. As I headed through the archway, I tossed over my shoulder, “Oh, I know, Detective. Though I believe you’ve forgotten where you are. Here the tea service is iron, the cutlery is steel, and the money is green. The only silver you’re likely to find will be catfish scales.” The echo of her soft laughter was still ringing in my ears as I bounded up the stairs, unsure if I was in more of a hurry to leave or to return.

As the shower heated, I used the bathroom’s full-length mirror to look at my body. Had it truly been years since I’d taken more than a cursory glance? I’d been so busy—and if I was being honest, so numb to my own needs—that, with the exception of a few scattered dates, I hadn’t cared about what I might present to the outside world. Oh, I cared about how people saw me when it related to my work. I’d dressed for battle, to intimidate, or to appear professional. But I hadn’t wondered if someone found me attractive unless it was necessary for a run. Then I’d intentionally set out to do what needed to be done, promptly reverting back to simply being Cate once the mission was over. That sexy and beautiful woman who’d gone undercover had never been me but an artifice created through makeup, magic and the right clothes. I’d never presented my real face and body. And over the last few years, I’d never wondered if anyone found the real me as tempting as the illusion. Was it the phers or the woman downstairs that made tonight different?

Well, the real Cate Delacy was staring back at me. No artifice. No magic. Completely nude and unhidden from my prying eyes. I watched as the woman in the mirror ran her hands down her body. It wasn’t a bad physique. Lean, but rounded at the butt and hips. Her breasts, cupped by slightly darker hands, were firm. Light blue eyes stared out of a face that seemed almost too sharp. Hands moved down to trace scars. One across a belly that was nearly too flat. Another that zigzagged across the left upper thigh. The pristine white bandage, contrasting so nicely with the darker skin, hid another scar soon to be added to the total. The reflected woman was in great shape, but she needed the few pounds lost during the last three years.

Was this the same face I’d had downstairs? Her cheeks were flushed, her nipples sharp from arousal. Was this brooding, hungry look present in her eyes when clothes covered her curves? Part of it could be the phers. Part of it could be the strange and novel attraction to a woman. But if I was honest with myself, I’d been like this—hungry—for a long time. Tonight’s events hadn’t started the fire. They’d merely fanned the flames. Maybe Mynx was right. Maybe I should’ve given in to my body’s needs long ago.

The woman in the mirror shook her head, lips curving into an amused smile. We were in agreement. I’d never been able to separate intimacy, sex and love. It was too late to start now.

I looked again at that woman who was me but no longer recognizable. Her arms were toned from martial arts, sword drills, and occasionally kayaking the local creeks. The same was true for her legs. Each scar, a badge of honor. Her loose black hair began to curl wildly in the shower’s humidity. I was happy with this body. She was strong, capable. Sexy, if she chose, which was good. This was my body for the next hundred and twenty years or so, assuming I lived to be a ripe old witch. But even with all those years to come, I didn’t have time for this tonight.

Her hands again moved, traveling between her breasts, barely grazing her cleavage, moving over the tight abdomen, then along the inner edges of her thighs. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately), I was in control tonight. The hands stopped, just short of their destination. The woman disappeared as the mirror fogged over, and I turned to enter the shower.