Hell's Bell

by Keri Arthur

  He raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t it almost a rite of passage that young adults fight back against the restrictions of their parents? Didn’t you?”

  My smile held an all too familiar edge of bitterness. “Not really.” I’d simply run away rather than keep uselessly flinging myself at walls that would never come down, and accusations that would never cease. My parents might have had three children, but my sister had been their golden child—and my brother came in a close second. As my parents had told me multiple times, either were worth a trillion of me. “But if it was only a teenager who’d threatened the alpha, why was the threat taken so seriously?”

  “Because the woman in question was twenty-three, and the somewhat troubled daughter of a lower-rank pack member.”

  I frowned. “I still don’t get why it was taken seriously enough to banish her.”

  “Larissa has a string of minor and major assaults behind her, stretching back to when she was barely twelve.” He grimaced. “Her behavior of late has been escalating.”

  “But still—”

  “She’s a werewolf.” His voice was blunt. “And a strong one. She might never have beaten Rocco, but there’s no doubt in my mind that she’d hold her own against Aron.”

  “Except he wasn’t physically attacked.”

  “On first appearances, that appears to be the case. But until the autopsy is done and we get the tox results back, nothing is certain.”

  Including my claim that evil had dined on his soul, I suspected. It would only be the lack of any other cause that would allow him and the other rangers to actually contemplate the impossible. “So why did she threaten the pack’s alphas?”

  “Because Karla Marin refused permission for her to marry Garrett, their youngest son.”

  I blinked. “Do alphas often go about doing things like that?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated. “It’s often necessary, as many within his pack are blood-related.”

  “But wouldn’t that be a problem for all three packs here? The reservation certainly isn’t the largest.”

  “Again, yes, which is why we long ago started an exchange program—with packs both here in Australia and overseas—that allows those seeking mates to investigate options elsewhere.”

  “So Larissa is related to Garrett?”

  He nodded. “A second cousin.”

  I frowned. “It is legal for second cousins to marry in Australia.”

  “Yes, but it’s a practice that’s banned on most reservations, except under exceptional circumstances. As I said, the bloodlines are too close, especially when it comes to smaller packs such as the Marins, or even the O’Connors.”

  “Which is a problem the witch families share.”

  It was also why half-breed witches were supposed to be registered. It might be rare for such children to hold any true witch powers, but if they did, then it could add fresh blood into the older lines.

  He nodded. “But I suspect that in this case, it wasn’t the only factor. There’s also a five-year age difference—Garrett’s only eighteen—and the fact she’s from an omega-class family.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t realize wolves were so rank conscious.”

  “I think it was more a reflection of their dislike for her family than their actual ranking within the pack.” He raised an eyebrow. “But aren’t the royal witch houses just as picky?”

  “Yes, and for many of the same reasons.” I wrinkled my nose. “Which is why the rather medieval practice of arranged marriages is still somewhat prevalent, despite it being outlawed.”

  He blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Totally.” I ignored the questions I could see in his eyes. “Is Karla’s refusal the reason you believed this was a retaliatory attack?”

  “And the reason why the council won’t allow us to contact the RWA until we get the autopsy results back.” He finished his coffee, then crossed his arms on the table—an action that brought him slightly closer, and allowed his warm, somewhat smoky musk scent to tease every breath. “But if Aron’s soul was stolen, it couldn’t have been Larissa.”

  “That’s not exactly true, Ranger.” Belle deposited a huge plate of steak and vegetables in front of me, and then sat down on the chair opposite. “A strong enough witch can certainly call and command such spirits, and if Larissa or her parents had enough cash, then the witch world is their oyster.”

  He frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought calling on an evil spirit to destroy another was within the rules of the witch creed.”

  I picked up my cutlery. “It’s not, but not all witches are vetted, and there are those who walk grayer paths and don’t really care about the rules or the creed.”

  “Have either of you sensed that sort of magic being performed in the last few days?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean anything given we’d only sense it if the spell was being cast nearby.” I tucked into my meal. “And I would have told you if we had, Aiden.”

  It was a rebuke, even if gently said, and he smiled somewhat ruefully. “I know, but the question nevertheless had to be asked.”

  “Have you notified the RWA about the kill?” Belle asked.

  “No. As I said, the council wants to wait until the autopsy results come back.”

  “Because they don’t want any more damn witches on the reservation?” I couldn’t help the tartness in my tone as I echoed Ciara’s words.

  “In part.” He grimaced. “But it’s more that they don’t want to be seen acting hastily.”

  “I hardly think warning the RWA you might have a soul eater on the reservation is hasty,” Belle retorted. “It’s more a precautionary measure, given we’re not equipped to deal with something like this.”

  “And no one’s expecting you to. In fact, while I’d appreciate your advice, I’d really prefer it if you keep your noses out of the physical hunt for whoever—whatever—is behind this murder.”

  “Consider our noses out.” Belle picked up his empty plate and rose. “Just don’t blame us if things go to hell in a handbasket.”

  Aiden’s eyebrows rose as she walked away. “She doesn’t look or sound happy.”

  “It’s hard to be either when your spirit guides keep emphasizing just how dangerous this thing is.” I mixed some veggies into the mashed potatoes and then scooped up a forkful. “Especially when this thing appears able to hide from them.”

  He scrubbed a hand across his chin. “Look, I’m not doubting you, but—”

  “But you’re nevertheless finding it hard to believe in spirits, let alone soul eaters.” I shrugged. “I get it. But I still think it’s a fool’s move to wait. You should at least contact the RWA, explain the situation, and ask for their advice.”

  “If Ciara hasn’t got an answer in twenty-four hours, I will.” He paused. “Can I ask why you were out in the gardens at that time of night?”

  “Because the ringing of a church bell woke me up, and then my instincts kicked in and discovered evil.” I met his gaze evenly. “Trust me, I’d rather have been partying or otherwise enjoying myself than following that thing’s foul trail and finding a body at the end of it.”

  “I can imagine.” He paused again. “Can I also ask if you’ve changed your mind about going out with me?”

  “No.” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “But I thought you might have.”

  The smile that teased his lips was decidedly sexy. “And why would you think that when I’ve been in this café nearly every single day since you got out of the hospital?”

  “Well, we do have the most amazing brownies that you seem to have developed a strong addiction to.”

  His smile became full-blown, and it swept his features from ordinary to extraordinary in a heartbeat. “The brownies, as amazing as they are, do not hold half the appeal of a certain crimson-haired witch.”

  “Ah,” I said, with a silly grin. “Good. But why would you think I’d changed my mind about our date?”

  “Because in the many weeks that
I’ve been coming here, you made no mention of it.”

  Told you, Belle said. He was waiting for you to make the next move. He’s a patient man, this wolf of yours.

  I glanced up with a smile of thanks as Penny, our waitress, deposited a pot of tea and a cup in front of me. Like most of the items in the café, we’d salvaged them from various secondhand stores, and they all had a history and a presence the sensitive could feel. While most people wouldn’t believe something as simple as a cup could make any sort of difference to a person’s mood, I knew from experience the wrong choice could swiftly change a situation from good to bad. In this particular case, however, Belle’s cup of choice was a Christmas one decorated with mistletoe—a not-so-subtle hint to the ranger that he should just get on with kissing me.

  I poured my tea and then said, “That’s because I was waiting for you to say something.”

  “Why? I took the initial step. You’re supposed to take the next one.”

  I grinned. “Except I’m an old-fashioned type of girl.”

  “Meaning a little pursuit never goes astray?”

  “Indeed. A girl likes to be sure there is true interest, especially when the man in question has an acknowledged hate of witches.”

  “One that seems to have dissipated rather quickly since your arrival on the reservation.” He caught my hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. It was little more than a tease—a brief brush of lips across my palm—and yet it promised so much. He almost immediately released me, but the heat of it lingered.

  “Well then,” he said, “let the hunt begin.”

  I licked my lips—an action his gaze followed rather avidly—and said, “When?”

  “Tonight? I’m feeling the desire to make up for wasted time.”

  A desire I could totally get behind. “What time?”

  “I’m rostered on until eight, so around nine? There’s a lovely bar in—” He hesitated, his gaze moving past me. “Can I ask why Belle is currently grinning like a Cheshire cat?”

  “Because,” I said, without even looking at her, “she was saying only last night that men sometimes needed to be clubbed over the head with the obvious. I think she’s feeling vindicated.”

  “Ah.” His watch beeped, and he glanced down at it. “I’ve got a meeting I have to get to. Will you be able to come to the station sometime this afternoon and make an official statement?”

  “I can once we close here.”

  “Thanks. Tala will be around to take it if I’m not there.”

  Tala was from the Sinclair pack, and his second-in-command. She was also a woman unafraid of being forthright with an opinion, and one I suspected you wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of.

  But then, that could be said of most werewolves.

  Not to mention quite a few witches, Belle said. You and I just happen to be extraordinary exceptions.

  My parents might disagree with that.

  Belle didn’t comment, but then, it was hard to be snarky against an undeniable truth—and one that Belle had, in many ways, paid a deeper price for than me. After all, she’d had to drop all contact with her own family when we’d run from mine. She hadn’t talked to or seen her mom and her five siblings in over twelve years now, and I knew that hurt her, even if she never said anything.

  I picked up the teapot and poured the hot liquid into my cup. Orange teased the air, a scent designed to arouse and attract—Belle was still playing games. Aiden’s nostrils flared, but there was no immediate indication the warm rich aroma had any effect.

  Which wasn’t surprising when werewolves were generally very good at keeping their emotions in check.

  Only in certain situations, Belle said. You just haven’t found this one’s right situation.

  I restrained my grin, and watched as he rose.

  “I’ll see you tonight, then.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, then simply nodded and walked away.

  My gaze followed him; like most wolves, he moved with the lithe grace of a predator. Unlike most, his shoulders were nicely wide, and his arms had just the right amount of muscle. My gaze slipped down his spine... and he did look particularly fine in a pair of jeans.

  They all do, came Belle’s comment. You just happen to be hooked on this one’s pheromones more than the others.

  That is an undeniable truth.

  I finished my meal and cup of tea, then got up and dumped the dishes in the kitchen for Frank—our dish hand—to wash. For the next couple of hours, I helped Belle and Penny in the café and tried to ignore my gathering excitement over the evening’s possibilities.

  Once we’d finished cleaning up and everyone else had gone home, Belle said, “You’d better go make that statement. I’ll head upstairs and do some research.”

  Though I hadn’t thought much about the soul eater since Aiden had left, uneasiness stirred once again—and I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was intuition or simply fear. I really didn’t want to be dealing with this thing, and yet I couldn’t escape the notion that we would be.

  “I don’t suppose the spirits have been able to come up with anything useful since last night?”

  “Only that this thing has not finished.” She paused, her gaze remote as she listened to her guides. “They said they’re keeping an eye out for any unusual activity, but they’re not sensing anything as yet.”

  “Would they normally sense it?”

  “Depending on the spirit involved, yes. But there are many who can not only hide their form, but also their presence.”

  “Last night suggests we’re dealing with one of those.”

  “They tend to agree.”

  “Then I’ll keep my fingers crossed it doesn’t take a second victim tonight.” I grabbed my keys. “I won’t be long.”

  I locked the door behind me and then headed right. The ranger station was located near the corner of Hargraves and Templeton Streets, and was one of those grand old colonial buildings that spoke of majesty and money—the total opposite of what you’d expect of a ranger or police station.

  I went through the rather ornate wooden door and into the main reception area. Maggie, the dark-haired receptionist and ranger in training, glanced up as I entered. Her expression was polite, which was something of an improvement from the last time I’d talked to her.

  “Hello, Ms. Grace,” she said. “How may I help you?”

  “I’ve come to make my statement on last night’s events.”

  “Ah yes, Aiden mentioned you might be here. I’ll go get Tala.”

  I leaned on the counter and briefly wondered if Aiden’s meeting had anything to do with wherever he was last night. Instinct suggested it was, but that didn’t mean it was right.

  Or that I had the right to ponder such things.

  I frowned and looked around. As had been the case the last time I’d come here, there was no one else in the station’s main room, and the half dozen desks and multiple filing units didn’t go anywhere near to filling the huge space. A large whiteboard dominated one wall, and beside it was a smaller one on which there was a roster with seven names—the total number of rangers on the reservation. Aiden was one of four on patrol duties, and one had the day off.

  After a few moments, Maggie returned. Behind her was a woman with silver-shot, black hair, and skin that was the same rich ebony as Belle’s.

  “Maggie, could you please buzz Ms. Grace in?”

  The younger woman did so, and Tala led me across to her desk in the corner of the room. Unlike some of the other desks, hers was incredibly neat. She sat down, opened up her laptop, and then glanced at me. “Right, just tell me everything that happened last night. No detail is too small.”

  My statement was recorded and then printed. Once I’d checked and signed it, Tala slipped it into a folder, and then said, “Do you honestly believe we’re dealing with a soul eater?”

  “Yes. And I think delaying calling in the RWA is a bad move.”

  “Off the record, I tend to agree, but w
e are bound by the council’s ruling.”

  There was an edge in her voice that had my eyebrows rising. “Did you know the victim?”

  “We all knew the victim. He was, after all, the son of a pack alpha.” She rose. “Thank you for coming in so promptly. And if those psychic talents of yours happen to—”

  “The talents you don’t believe in?” I cut in mildly.

  “The same,” she replied, without even the hint of a wry smile. “If they do happen to send you on another midnight chase, it might be wise to call one of us in on the action beforehand.”

  “Why? Bullets and teeth don’t work against spirits.”

  “No, but having a ranger present to witness events means we have a greater chance of motivating the council into immediate action.”

  Which again suggested they mightn’t ask for help if Ciara’s report came back inconclusive. “I’m actually hoping not to be visited by any more premonitions, but I will call if I am.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  I was let out of the office area, but as I trotted down the steps and swung right, an odd sense of being watched stirred.

  I paused and looked around, but couldn’t see anyone who appeared to be taking undue notice of me. I frowned and kept walking, but the sensation grew rather than eased. I flexed my fingers, trying to ease both the gathering tension and the urge to prepare another repelling spell.

  Then, from out of the vague shadows that clustered around a small lane dividing an art supply shop from the nearby real estate agency, stepped a man.

  A man who had pale skin, pale hair, and eyes that were a weird milky white. He wasn’t human and he wasn’t a werewolf. He was something else altogether.

  Something that was—according to the books I’d been reading since our paths had crossed with not one vampire, but two—commonly known as either a thrall or a drudge. Basically, they were human ghouls—neither fully one nor the other—who both protected and ran errands for their masters during the daylight hours.

  This particular thrall belonged to Maelle Defour, the vampire who owned the recently opened Émigré nightclub. And while the council was fully aware of her presence here in the reservation, Aiden and his rangers were not.