Hell's Bell

by Keri Arthur

  I quickly created a spell to force the stranger from him, but didn’t release it. Given the fierceness of Aiden’s grip on the monster, there was every chance the spell would affect them both. The last thing I wanted was to break the current status quo in the stranger’s favor.

  I swore and swung the flashlight around, looking for some nonmagical means of distraction. From just under the edge of the old wrought iron bed came the gleam of metal.

  Aiden’s gun.

  The creature must have torn it from Aiden’s grip, because I doubted he’d have lost it otherwise. I quickly placed the flashlight just inside the door so that it spotlighted the two men, and then dove for the weapon. Aiden must have caught the movement because, even as I twisted around, ready to fire, he bucked hard to unsettle the stranger’s balance and, at the same time, heaved him upright.

  As he released him and fell back, out of the way, I fired. The first one missed. The second one didn’t. It blasted into the stranger’s upper chest, and he howled in response. Again, it was a sound of fury rather than pain, but one that was abruptly cut off as Aiden’s fist smashed into the stranger’s face, flattening his nose and sending blood and gore flying. Another blow followed, and the big man’s head snapped up and back. As he began to topple backward, I released the spell, tore him from Aiden, and flung him out the door. Aiden scrambled upright, grabbed the gun from me, and followed.

  Two more shots echoed, and then silence.

  I ran to the doorway. Aiden stood on the shoulder of the road, his gun raised and body tense. The big man lay facedown on the other side, his outline barely visible through the wall of white between us. I couldn’t see if he was breathing or not, but he certainly was moving. It was little more than a series of jerks and shudders at first, and reminded me somewhat of a broken marionette being slowly brought to life by a determined puppet master. Which, given the situation, was nothing more than the truth.

  “How the fuck is that even possible?” Aiden said, as the big man’s body heaved upright. “He’s been shot six times, including two into his fucking knees. At the very least, he should be rolling around in agony, not climbing to his goddamn feet.”

  “As I keep saying, I’m no expert when it comes to these things.” Nor did I ever want to become one. I swung the pack around and grabbed the silver knife. The thick fog swirled around it, and blue fire flickered briefly along the blade—a reaction that confirmed this fog wasn’t natural. “Stay here while I try to stop this thing from escaping.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.” I hesitated. “If the host attacks, go for a head shot.”

  I had no idea if even that would actually stop the big man, but it should at least make him pause. Which, in turn, should give me enough time to shove the knife into his chest and pin the spirit.

  Which was at least one too many shoulds for my liking.

  I carefully moved forward. Just as I reached the halfway point, the spirit must have sensed me, because, without any sort of warning, the big man was in the air and arrowing straight at me.

  I reacted instinctively and threw myself sideways, out of his way. Gunshots bit across the night, but if they had any effect it wasn’t obvious. I’d barely caught my balance when the big man’s fingers latched on to my sweater and yanked me backward. I slashed wildly with the knife, catching my arm even as I severed two of his digits. Blood spurted over my sleeve as blue fire began to crawl across the remains of his hand, but he didn’t release me. Instead, he gripped the blade with his other hand, wrenched it from my grip, and tossed it away from us both. The agate charm came to life, burning fiercely against the darkness gathering around me. I swore, twisted fully around, and kneed him as hard as I could in the balls. He might be little more than dead flesh controlled by a spirit, but there were some things that remained instinctive.

  The pain of crushed nuts was one of those things.

  As he doubled over, I hit him as hard as I could with both hands, breaking his grip on my arm and forcing him away from me. As he staggered backward, failing for balance and screaming in fury, another shot rang out. The man’s head exploded, showering me in blood, bone, and brain matter. My stomach heaved but I bit my lip, fighting for control as I raced toward the fiery glow of the knife.

  But even as I picked it up, the soul eater fled, and the big man crumbled to a lifeless, bloody pile in the middle of the road.

  Almost immediately, reaction set in. I stumbled over to the nearest tree and was totally and violently ill.

  Aiden appeared beside me a few minutes later. He tucked a couple stray strands of hair away from my face, his fingers so warm against my cheek, and then offered me a bottle of water. Once I’d rinsed out my mouth, he handed me a dampened handkerchief. I wiped the bloody remnants of flesh and bone away from my face, but the feel of them lingered. My stomach heaved again; I swallowed heavily and somehow managed to control it.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  “No, I’m fucking not. You need to get a proper witch here, Aiden, because I can’t do this—” A hiccup cut the rest of my sentence off, and the tears started to flow.

  He didn’t say anything. He just gathered me in his arms and held me tight. And lord, it felt so damn safe, so damn comforting, tender, and right, that it only made the tears flow harder.

  Because no matter what happened between us in the future, it was never going to be “right.”

  Not because of what I was, not because of any lies I might have told or might still tell, but because of what he was.

  I’m not sure how long we stood there in the middle of the road. Long enough for the tears to stop falling. Long enough for his warmth and closeness to be causing all sorts of other problems—the least of which was the desire to remain locked in his embrace. But he had a job to do; staying here like this certainly wasn’t an option.

  I pulled back and hastily wiped away the lingering tears. “I think I’ve utterly soaked your poor sweater.”

  “It’s not wool, so it’s in no danger of shrinking.” He half smiled, though it didn’t reach as far as his eyes. “I need to call in the troops. Why don’t we get you back to the truck—there’s an old sweater and a pair of track pants in the back. They’ll swim on you, but it’s still a better option than remaining in your current clothes until I can get someone to take you home.”

  I crossed my arms and tried not to think about the goop. “Meaning you’re not entrusting me with your truck a second time?”

  “It’s not a reflection on your driving skills but rather a necessity. I need it to block off the road.”

  Of course he did—especially with the big man’s body still in the middle of it. I glanced past him and studied the small cottage. With the soul eater gone, the fog was quickly dissipating, taking with it the lingering remnants of evil.

  But not the feel of death.

  I started to rub my arms, but stopped abruptly when I felt wetness. I swallowed heavily and said, “I need to look at the body of the woman inside.”

  He hesitated, and then nodded. “Wait for me to get back with the truck, and we’ll go in together.”

  As he jogged back to his vehicle, I walked around the body of the big man to retrieve my knife, and then went back to my pack and secured the blade. The last thing I wanted to risk was one of the other rangers confiscating it. By the time Aiden returned, the fog had completely cleared. The red and blue emergency lights at the front and rear of his truck washed across the darkness, casting grotesque shadows around the body on the road.

  Aiden pressed a hand against my spine and lightly guided me inside. “What are you hoping to see?”

  “Whether she died the same way as Aron.”

  I stopped and crossed my arms against the chill in the air. Unlike Aron, there was no hint of peacefulness in her expression, but rather shock and growing horror. Whether that meant we’d interrupted the soul eater before he’d fully consumed her soul, I couldn’t say. Belle could have told me, but I was loath to reach out
to her.

  Except I’m awake because I had to pee, she said. What do you need?

  Can you merge with me briefly, and tell me what you see?

  Hang on while I move across to the sofa. There was a brief pause. Right. You might want to warn Aiden first though.

  I glanced at him. “I’ve just asked Belle to mind merge with me, so that she can see the victim and tell us what happened.”

  He blinked. “She’s taking you over?”

  “No, it’s more—” I hesitated. “It’s hard to explain, but she’ll see what I can’t, so if you’ve any questions, she can answer them through me.”

  “It’s not a body swap thing, is it?”

  I smiled and touched his arm. “No. Our souls are staying right where they belong. Ready?”

  He hesitated, and then nodded. I closed my eyes and reached psychically for Belle. Her mind closed around mine and the two fused—not so deeply that she became a part of me, but deep enough that she could use her talents while seeing through my eyes.

  A shudder went through her—through me.

  “Her soul was only half torn from her body,” she said. “She’s dead, and yet not.”

  Aiden’s confusion echoed my own. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning the soul eater consumed enough of her soul to kill her flesh, but left enough behind that her awareness lingers within the boundaries of this place.”

  “I can’t feel a ghost, Belle,” I commented.

  “You wouldn’t,” she replied. “Because what remains isn’t really a ghost. It’s merely a shade—a remnant of what she was. Shades have neither consciousness nor any true ability to interact with this world.”

  “Have you any idea why her expression is so different to Aron’s?” I asked. “He looked as if he’d been asleep when it happened. This woman looks as if she was in the middle of sex.”

  “She was,” Aiden said. “The scent of arousal and desire lingers in the air, but not completion.”

  “Then perhaps your arrival on the scene is the difference,” Belle said. “Maybe our soul eater normally only dines after its victims have fallen into a contented sleep. You might have forced it to do otherwise.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought a soul eater would care one way or another about whether its victims were aware or not,” Aiden said.

  “There’s plenty of spirits who feed on souls during the act of sex,” I said. “But maybe this one has learned that the best way to avoid detection is to make it look like nothing untoward happened.”

  “After all,” Belle added, “would you be considering either of these deaths murder if we hadn’t said anything?”

  “Probably not.” His voice was grim. “And the council still mightn’t.”

  “Then the fucking council are fools,” Belle said.

  “No,” he bit back. “They’re merely cautious, and rightly so, given up until now we’ve had no confirmation that these murders are a result of supernatural interference.”

  “It’s a shame we didn’t think to record what happened out on the road, because that would certainly prove someone beyond the norm is happening here proof.”

  “I did record it—that’s why I turned the truck around to face the cottage. Whether anything will be visible through the fog is another matter.”

  “And if the council decides there’s not enough proof?” I asked. “What then? How many more people have to die before someone will pick up the phone and call the RWA in? Or do we have to do it?”

  “That’s the one thing you shouldn’t be doing—your position here is tenuous enough.”

  “Meaning what?” I said, my voice sharp.

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I’ve another murder scene to lock down.” His expression was grim. “But I promise you this, if the council doesn’t make a decision, I’ll call in the RWA myself.”

  “Good,” Belle said. “Do you need anything else? Because if not, I’m off back to bed.”

  “No,” Aiden said, even as I added, “Thanks, Belle.”

  Her thoughts disconnected from mine and tiredness washed through me. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and then said, “Do you know who the victim is?”

  “Yes.” He caught my elbow and gently—but firmly—led me out of the cottage, grabbing my backpack on the way through. “Her name is Teresa White. She works part-time at the bakery up near the ranger station.”

  “And the monster of a man?”

  “I’m not sure, but he does have the coloring of the Schmidt pack, who hark from South Australia.”

  I frowned. “What’s he doing here, then?”

  Aiden shrugged. “He could have come here under the exchange program I mentioned earlier. It would explain why he was here with Teresa.”

  “Were they an item?”

  “I have no idea. They might have simply come here to relieve tensions. These old cottages are often used by those who don’t as yet have a place of their own but who want to escape the prying eyes of the pack. If Schmidt was here under an exchange, he’d have usage rights.”

  “If that’s the case, then maybe revenge isn’t the primary motivation behind these attacks, given Schmidt isn’t in any way related to Aron.”

  “Possibly. Right now, we’re not discounting any theory.”

  I glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “Meaning there are other theories?”

  “Yes, but Larissa remains our number-one suspect.” He opened the truck door and helped me up onto the seat. “She might not be directly responsible for these murders, but I can’t discount the possibility that she hired a witch to bring this evil into the reservation.”

  “When are you meeting with the council?”

  “Tomorrow morning.” He paused. “Ciara got Aron’s tox results back. There were no drugs or alcohol in his system, and no conclusive means of death.”

  “Good.” When he raised his eyebrow, I added, “It means the council doesn’t just have to rely on your word or even mine. They now have an inconclusive autopsy result and whatever the dash cam might have caught tonight. Surely that will be enough.”

  “I would think so. They’re not fools, no matter what you and Belle think.” He lightly squeezed my leg, and then stepped back. The warmth of his touch lingered, chasing away much of the chill that still rolled through me. “There’s a blanket in the back if you need it. It shouldn’t be too long before someone gets here to drive you back.”

  “Thanks.” I hesitated, but couldn’t help adding, “This is so not how I’d envisaged spending the midnight hour.”

  “Me neither.” He grimaced. “Fate does seem intent on keeping us apart right now.”

  She certainly did. “We’ll just have to make a more determined effort tomorrow night.”

  His smile crinkled the corners of his bright eyes. “Indeed we will.”

  He slammed the door shut, got his kit out of the back of the truck, and then headed back to the cottage. I twisted around, grabbed the shirt and pants he’d mentioned, and swiftly changed. They did indeed swim on me but I didn’t really care. Not when they filled my nostrils with his musky, smoky wood scent.

  I settled down in the seat and must have slept, because the next thing I knew, the door opened and an altogether too cheery voice said, “Right, Ms. Grace, let’s get you back home.”

  “Please, call me Lizzie,” I muttered, as I pushed upright and scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Close to one,” the woman at the door replied. It took me a moment to realize it was Jaz. “Do you need a hand out of the truck?”

  I shook my head, gathered my discarded clothes, and jumped out. She led me across to one of the green-and-white SUVs the rangers generally used, opened the door, and offered me a hand up.

  I stepped away from her reach and said, with some amusement, “I’m not an invalid.”

  “The boss said to look after you,” she replied equably. “So look after you I will. There’s a hot chocolate sitting in the center console with your name on it.”


  I climbed in, and then picked up the chocolate and peeled off the lid. Steam rose, suggesting it had only recently been made. “Where did you get hot chocolate at this hour of the night?”

  Her cheeks dimpled as she started up the car and pulled away from the cottage. “My man is a barista. I booted him out of bed to make them for us while I got ready.”

  I grinned. “I’m sure he was happy about that.”

  “Oh, totally.” Her laugh was bright and warm. “But we haven’t been married for long, and we’re still in that honeymoon phase of trying our best to please each other.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning you don’t expect it to last?”

  “The honeymoon phase? Hell, no.” Her grin flashed. “The Marins have a reputation for being a little more staid when it comes to traditional roles than most other packs.”

  “I take it you’re not a Marin, then?”

  “Nah, I’m one of the Rankin mob, out of New South Wales.” She grabbed her chocolate and took a sip. “It was his skill with hot chocolate that first attracted me to him.”

  “He does make a good chocolate.”

  Her cheeks dimpled again. “It’s one of his many talents, I’ve since discovered.”

  We chatted on, and by the time we’d reached Castle Rock and the café, it really felt like we were old friends rather than two people who’d only just met. I drained the last of my chocolate, placed the cup back, and gathered my bundle of clothes.

  “Thanks for the lift and the hot chocolate, Jaz.” Cold air whipped in the minute I opened the door, eliciting a shiver from both of us. “If you and Levi are in the area, drop by. We may not be able to match the hot chocolate, but we do have some pretty awesome cakes.”

  “So I’ve heard,” she said. “See you soon, then.”

  I slammed the door shut and headed into the café. I didn’t bother putting my clothes into the wash basket—I just dumped them straight into the bin. I doubted I’d be able to wear them again without memory rising.