Hell's Bell

by Keri Arthur

  “And I’ll see you then.”

  With that, he left. I crossed my arms again, this time trying to contain the warmth of his body more than anything else, and watched until he’d disappeared around the corner. Then went back inside, a silly grin on my lips and anticipation singing through my veins.

  I ran upstairs to get some essentials packed, and heard Belle come in about ten minutes later. Even without connecting to her thoughts, I could feel her buzz of contented happiness. Hopefully, it was a happiness I’d share in another couple of hours.

  I zipped up the bag, shoved my coat over the top of it, and then walked over to the stairs and leaned over the railing as she started up. “My, don’t you just look like the cat who got the cream.”

  “And good cream it was,” she replied, with a happy sigh.

  “So much for having no energy to do anything other than eat.”

  “It’s truly amazing just how invigorating a good steak and a good man can be.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “It would seem I’m not the only one in this outfit who’s buzzing with happiness. Did Aiden pop by while I was out?”

  “Sort of. Do you want a tea or coffee?”

  “No, and don’t change the subject.”

  I grinned and pushed away from the railing. “We were going to go out for coffee, but he got a last-minute call from his sister. He had to go see her about the autopsy results.”

  “This calamity does not explain the happiness.” She paused. “I take it he’s coming back?”

  “Yes.” I filled the kettle and flicked it on. “We’re going to go back to his place in Argyle. Apparently, he decided he couldn’t wait for our first official date—which was Sunday night, by the way.”

  “The man must have masochistic tendencies if he was intending to wait that long.”

  “I think he took my comment about a little pursuit never going astray a little too much to heart.”

  She snorted softly. “Given he was more than ready to take you out last night, I doubt that. He probably just got better odds for the Sunday.”

  I grinned as the kettle began to whistle softly. “That is also possibly true.”

  She shook her head, a smile on her lips. “Tuesdays are usually pretty slow here, so if you want to stay a bit longer with him, feel free.”

  I squeezed her arm in appreciation. “Thanks, but I’m not going to shirk my duty here just because hot sex is in the offering.”

  “I certainly would if my sex life had been as sparse as yours over the last few months.”

  She wouldn’t, and we both knew it. I made myself a strong coffee in the vague effort to stave off the tiredness that would undoubtedly hit the longer I had to wait for Aiden, and then said, “I’m just hoping that sparseness is remedied rather than being sidetracked yet again.”

  She frowned. “Meaning your witch radar is sending you vibes?”

  “No, not really. It might be just pessimism.”

  “But you don’t think it is?”

  “Who knows? It’s not like we’ve found a whole lot information on soul eaters.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be in Gran’s books somewhere—we just need to find the right one.”

  That we did. “Anyway, forget me and my pessimism, and go get some sleep. One of us needs to be reasonably intelligent tomorrow during service.”

  “I’m not sure why that task always falls to me.” Her amusement faded. “If those vibes do turn into something, you’ll call me, won’t you?”

  I gave her the look—the one that said “don’t be daft.” She scowled in response and added, “You can’t handle that thing alone.”

  “I know that, and I have no intention of doing so. But I also know it’s going take both of us at full strength to deal with this thing—and right now, you’re not.”

  “That doesn’t answer the point of you rushing off alone if the eater appears tonight.”

  “I won’t be—”

  “Aiden hardly counts given bullets don’t harm spirits.”

  I hesitated. “What about a compromise, then? I’ll head downstairs now and pin a containment spell to your silver knife, so that it’s ready if the vibes do become reality. If I can trap this spirit in whatever body it’s using, then I’ll call you in so we can jointly figure out a way to banish it.”

  “Deal,” she said immediately. “But in all honesty, let’s hope it doesn’t get to that. Let’s hope the goddamn council get their act together and calls in a proper witch to deal with the thing.”

  “Amen to that,” I muttered, then gave her a quick hug. “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Replete with satisfaction, hopefully.”

  “Amen to that, too.”

  She laughed and disappeared into her bedroom. I grabbed my coffee and headed downstairs to make good on my promise. It took nearly an hour to create and place the spell on Belle’s knife, and I had no idea if it would actually work. In theory, it should. In theory, the spell would activate the moment the knife was lodged in flesh, and thereby trap the dark spirit. Trouble was, I’d never actually done anything like this before.

  Hell, the only reason I even knew about the spell’s existence was thanks to the abuse—to put it mildly—that my parents had flung my way over not trying a very similar spell in the tumultuous nights that had followed my failed attempt to save my sister’s life. Never mind the fact that, as a sixteen-year-old, I’d only just started learning about the higher-level spells such as sorcerer immobilizations and dark spirit containment, and certainly hadn’t gotten as far as practicing them yet.

  I’d made damn sure I’d learned about them afterwards, of course; it might have been altogether too late to save Catherine’s life, but I wasn’t about to risk the life of the only other person who’d meant anything to me—Belle. Especially since we had no idea—either then or now—if the dark sorcerer who’d killed Cat was actually dead. Given the amount of blood and the lack of a body, it had been presumed that the dark spirits he’d used had literally come to claim their pound of flesh, but no one could say with absolute certainty that he’d died.

  In the darkest of my dreams, I saw him coming for me. But whether that was simply the lingering fear of the teenager I’d been, or a premonition of a future event, I couldn’t really say.

  I frowned and placed the knife securely into a backpack, then gathered a few other potions and magical items, including two of the strongest charms we had on hand. They were both made of tawny agate, which was the strongest of the protective agates. We’d magically enhanced its natural ability to drive away spirits, protect from psychic attack, and stop most minor magics, and had then encased them in a cage made of two old iron nails, which also had protective qualities. We’d created them a few days after the vampire’s death, even as we’d vaguely hoped they wouldn’t be necessary. But with a large wellspring still unprotected, that was always going to be unlikely.

  With everything done, I walked back upstairs to replace my half-drunk and very cold coffee, and then headed over to the sofa to pick up the book I’d been reading earlier. Ten pages in, I found the first true mention of soul eaters—and a handwritten note on the side of the page indicating what book to grab to uncover more. According to the text, there were several German legends about the Nachzehrer, a soul-consuming monster who rose from the grave to devour his or her own kin. It was also believed that anyone hearing the ringing a church bell at midnight would be subsequently doomed to die under the Nachzehrer’s hand.

  Not something I really wanted to know.

  But it wasn’t like the rest of it exactly applied to our situation, given none of our victims were in any way related—unless, of course, “related” also meant lovers and friends. Still, it was a start, and maybe once I read the book the note mentioned, we’d find out more.

  I kept reading, but there was nothing else about soul eaters. It was just a whole lot of random information about other evil spirit types I could only hope never found their way here. I bookmarked the page so I c
ould find the reference once Belle was awake, and then rose to grab another coffee.

  And that’s when I heard it—the church bell, ringing three times before falling into a silence filled with evil and death.

  Which, if the last time was anything to go by, meant the soul eater was not only out there in the darkness, but about to take another life.

  If I wanted to stop it, I needed to be fast. As I rattled down the old wooden steps and headed for the reading room, I dug my phone out of my pocket and called Aiden.

  He answered on the second ring. “Impatience. I like it.”

  “I really wish that was the reason I’m ringing.” I opened the storage locker and grabbed the pack. “Our soul eater is out hunting.”

  He swore. “Can you track it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be there in five.” He hung up.

  I grabbed the backpack, shoved on my coat and checked the keys were still in its pocket, and then headed out. The night air was icy and still, and other than the rumble of an approaching truck, there was little in the way of noise. It was almost as if the regular sounds of the night had been silenced by the thread of evil creeping like a thief through the darkness.

  It was a thief that was hungry.

  Very hungry.

  I shivered and moved across to the curb as twin beams of light swept into Mostyn Street and raced toward me. Once Aiden’s truck had stopped, I climbed inside.

  “Where to?” he asked, even as he pulled away from the curb.

  I shoved the pack at my feet and wound down the window; the icy air slapped my face and drew a soft gasp from my lips, but I ignored the discomfort and reached with that psychic bit of me able to sense these things. “Straight ahead, and then left.”

  Tires squealed as we took the corner at speed. I held onto the handgrip to steady myself, and tried to concentrate on the tenuous thread that pulsed through the night.

  “Turn right at the next road.”

  “That’s the Pyrenees Highway.” His voice was grim. “Looks like we’re heading to Maldoon and the Marin reservation.”

  “It can’t just be about the Marins,” I said, “because Marlinda wasn’t a werewolf, let alone a Marin, was she?”

  “No, but she did have a rather long relationship with Luc Marin, Aron’s older brother, so there is a connection.”

  “Meaning this still could still be about revenge.” I paused as the thread tugged sideways. “Right at the next road.”

  “We’re definitely heading back to Maldoon.” He slowed just enough to take the corner safely, and then accelerated away again.

  I didn’t say anything. I simply concentrated on the steadily strengthening thread of evil. This thing wasn’t in Maldoon.

  But it wasn’t the pulsing that told me that.

  It was the faint wisps of fog that were beginning to sidle across the road. It was the same sort of fog that had been present with the first murder. Now, as then, the patches gradually got thicker, until both the road and the land beyond either shoulder were nothing more a wasteland of white.

  The soul eater was here somewhere.

  “Slow down,” I said.

  He immediately did so. “There’s nothing out here but scrub.”

  “Maybe.” And maybe not. I flexed my fingers, but it did little to ease the growing tension. Ahead, at the very edge of the headlight’s reach, was a vague and rather squat outline. “What’s that?”

  “It’s one of the old brick cottages that are scattered all around this area. Many of them belong to—or are leased by—the Marin pack, even though they’re outside pack ground.”

  “We need to check it out.” The evil I was sensing might not be coming from within that cottage, but it was very close to it. I dragged up my backpack and quickly undid it.

  “I’ll continue on and turn around at the next farm gate. That way, we’ll hopefully allay the suspicions of anyone who might be in that building.”

  He turned off the headlights once we were past the cottage and, at the next farm gate, turned around and then stopped. We were near enough that the cottage was visible despite the fog, but hopefully not so close that whoever was inside would have taken much notice of the truck’s engine.

  I pulled the charms from the backpack and handed him one. Aiden slipped it over his neck without comment and tucked it out of sight under his sweater. I couldn’t help the smile that touched my lips despite the seriousness of the situation.

  “What?” he immediately said.

  “I was just thinking how much things have changed. A month ago you would have distrusted anything to do with witches and witchcraft.”

  “That still lingers. I just happen to trust you.” He paused. “I’m gathering the stone offers protection against the soul eater or whatever other kind of evil spirit we might be dealing with?”

  “Yes.” I slipped the second charm over my head and let it rest beside the minor warding charm I wore every day. “Though how much protection it’ll provide, I can’t say, because it’s a general charm rather than one aimed at a specific spirit.”

  “And therefore not as strong?” When I nodded, he added, “Then I’d best get my gun.”

  I smiled. “A gun won’t kill a spirit.”

  “But it will kill the flesh it’s wearing, right?”

  “In this case, we need to restrain the spirit within the body before we do anything like that, and then find a way to completely banish or destroy it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you’ll be given time to construct a pentagram.”

  “No, and they’re not something I can make on the fly anyway.”

  “Then how are you going to deal with it?”

  “I shouldn’t have to be dealing with it,” I bit back somewhat testily, and then took a deep breath to calm the tension. “I’ve pinned a restraint spell to a silver knife. The combination should work.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then pray like fuck the charms work.”

  “Right.” He hesitated, his gaze sweeping me. “Ready?”

  Not really, I wanted to say, even as I climbed out of the truck. I slung the pack over my shoulder and then caught the door with my fingertips to ease it close. Aiden grabbed a gun and a flashlight from the locked box in the back of his truck, and handed the latter to me. I didn’t bother turning it on. The fog was a wall of white, and it was unlikely the flashlight’s beam would do much more than reveal our presence to whatever waited ahead.

  We walked back down the road, keeping to the bitumen rather than the road’s stony shoulders in an effort to cut down our noise—or rather, my noise. He was as silent as a ghost. But given how little we knew about soul eaters, it was totally possible that it would sense our approach in much the same manner as vampires could, only via our life forces or souls rather than the pulse of our blood.

  The old building began to loom out of the fog. It was small and rectangular, with a wooden door facing the road and two single-sash windows on either side of this. The roof was tin, and some sort of creeper climbed over the gable end closest to us. A chimney rose from the other end, but despite the chill of the night, no smoke rose

  The closer we got to the building, the greater the pulse of evil became, until its force was so strong my skin crawled.

  Then I felt it—the specter of death, approaching fast. It wasn’t coming for Aiden or me, but rather whoever was inside the building.

  I fought the desire to run and instead silently began a repelling incantation, letting it gather around my fingers in readiness. I had no idea what might wait inside that building, but I’d yet to come across an entity that could not be forced away by such a spell.

  And I hoped, even as the thought crossed my mind, that it wouldn’t change tonight.

  Aiden slowed as we approached the end of the building. He motioned me to the far side of the door, but I shook my head, stepped closer, and whispered, “Magic before gun.”

  He hesitated and then nodded. “On three, then.”
>
  We crept forward in single file, ducked under the first small window, and stopped either side of the door.

  He reached for the handle and tested it. It turned. His gaze rose to mine and he silently began the countdown.

  He didn’t get to one. He barely got to two.

  From inside the cottage came a bloodcurdling scream that abruptly cut off.

  Death had just claimed her prize.

  Chapter Seven

  Aiden immediately thrust the door open. I threw the spell into the cottage, spread it as wide as I could, and then directed to our right, as far away from the door and us as possible. Something heavy hit the chimney end of the cottage and then screamed. This time, it was a sound of anger, not agony, and male rather than female.

  The air rushed out the cottage, as if it couldn’t wait to escape in the presence of the thing inside. It was filled with a thick mix of anger, evil, and death, and the force of it so strong that for several seconds, I couldn’t even breathe. Whoever—whatever—the stranger might have once been, he was now little more than flesh controlled by the spirit who had both ended his life and was now extending it.

  And that spirit was foul.

  Aiden stepped into the cottage, his gun aimed at the utter darkness to the right, and his stance wary. “Keep your hands up and don’t move, or I will shoot.”

  Another scream was the only reply, and a heartbeat later, Aiden followed through with his threat. Two shots rang out, the sound echoing harshly across the silence. Then he swore and leaped sideways, away from the door and me. A flash of pale skin followed his movement and the smack of flesh against flesh and heavy grunts began to punctuate the air.

  Aiden’s grunts, not the creature’s.

  I flicked the flashlight on, desperate to see what was going on. The powerful beam banished the darkness and revealed Aiden fighting a monster of a man. It also revealed a woman lying naked on the double bed that rested against gable end wall to my left, a look of horror frozen on her face.

  My gaze flicked back to the two men. Aiden’s teeth were bared and his arms thrust out straight as he battled to keep the stranger away from his throat. Though his sweater hid the charm I’d given him, its force burned across my senses, a clean, bright energy that was barely keeping the darkness at bay. The fact that the charm was active suggested the stranger wasn’t only punching Aiden in an effort to break the lock of his grip, but also reaching for Aiden’s soul.