Hell's Belle

by Marie Castle

  Aunt Helena was not going to be happy.

  Telling me she was certain she’d been followed, Fera barely touched her food, rushing to explain what they knew, which wasn’t much. All the victims were Supernatural, but none were on the public list. And all disappeared weeks before their deaths.

  There was one other detail. The Council had intel that a local occult group, led by Nicodemus, a rumored sorcerer, was believed to be behind the deaths. But Nicodemus was very careful. Every operative sent to infiltrate his group had disappeared, and after each sacrifice, the group left town. They’d been in the NOLA area, then the Gulf Coast, and were thought to be headed for The Burg, which was why the case had been given to Fera. The last girl had been killed in Gulfport only hours before I’d tracked Bob Rainey’s demon-possessed corpse to that area. That removed any doubt. Her Nicodemus and mine had to be one and the same. I told Fera about my mystery man and Sarkoph’s overheard conversation.

  It didn’t take much to open a gate, but the power needed to keep it open and tied to the right location was immense. Enough magic had been gathered for that, yet no gates had been opened. My guardian powers were still weak, but I’d have felt one open close by. And Fera’s people were certain one hadn’t been opened in NOLA or on the coast. So Nicodemus was building up to something. This much magic wasn’t simply to bring one or two lower-level demons across. No, whatever he was up to could bring a city to its knees. The question was: Which one? There were gates in most major cities and a few, like my hometown, that were not so major.

  We hammered out a few technical details, Fera always with one eye on the windows. Finally, she stepped from the booth, and I broke down. I’d almost decided not to ask about my mother, thinking it just a slip. But I couldn’t not ask, not if there was the slimmest possibility that Fera might know something. My words practically spilled out.

  “Sheriff, you said you ‘trust Evie Delacy,’ not ‘trusted’.” Fera’s expression turned serious. “Do you have reason to believe my mother might be alive?” It was my turn to rush, not wanting to ask anything of anyone from the Council. They’d proved unhelpful, uncaring and untrustworthy in the past. But as we’d talked, I’d gained a measure of respect for Fera. When she wasn’t all business, she’d been flirtatious and outrageous. The traits, at odds in most, worked for her. She was a person who took her responsibilities seriously, caring deeply for her friends. And it was apparent that my mother had been a friend.

  Fera shook her head sadly. “There hasn’t been any new information.” She looked away briefly. “And I know the higher-ups conducted a search.” She waved a hand, dismissing my next question. “I don’t know why they didn’t want you to know, maybe because Evie was retired. The policy is not to get involved if an agent isn’t active or on assignment.” Fera pushed back her multicolored mane. “I said ‘trust’ because my gut believes your mom is still alive. But don’t let it get your hopes up, kid.” Her expression became distant. “Because my heart thinks differently.”

  I was too busy trying not to choke on the lump in my throat to speak. Poised between staying and leaving, Fera hesitated, finally adding, “I can tell you this.” Her eyes blazed. “She wasn’t working for us when she vanished. I made sure of that.” She turned to walk away then hesitated, adding softly, “Speak with Helena. Maybe knowing more about the months your mother was missing before you were born would help. Evie never talked about them, but if anyone knows anything, your aunt would.”

  The hand I’d raised to wave goodbye hung frozen in the air, her last words echoing in my ears.

  My family had never mentioned a previous disappearance. How could they keep something like that from me? Part of me wanted to jump up, floor the gas home and confront my aunt, but I kept my butt plastered to the vinyl seat. They’d obviously had their reasons, which meant Aunt Helena wouldn’t give up the details easily. This would take some planning. A frontal assault was suicide. My aunt could keep a secret better than a Capitol Hill call girl.

  I’d have to ensure she didn’t see it coming, which wouldn’t be easy. It was always hard planning an ambush when the target generally knew you better than you knew yourself.

  * * *

  “Hey!” Puffing for breath, I ducked the sword that swung at my head, raising my own to block the next strike. “Watch it, I’m still convalescing.” I’d made it home just in time to change clothes and join Mynx outside for our usual sparring session.

  “You want to stop?” Mynx took a step back, lowering her sword, not even flushed.

  We sparred several nights a week. Sometimes, when she was home, Aunt Helena would join us. But tonight my aunt was sorting through dusty books in an equally dusty NOLA library, probably as much to cool down as to research something, which was a good thing. My shoulder still ached from Sunday’s bout with Sarkoph. Aunt Helena would’ve made me skip practice again.

  “No.” I gritted my teeth. “We’ve already missed one because of that last damn run. Let’s just go a bit slower until I work the stiffness out.”

  We stood at the back garden’s center. The night was quiet, the sounds of crickets and frogs muted by the wards that surrounded the house, front lawn and gardens. I’d always had more difficulty with my powers than was expected for a guardian. My grandparents had built me this area in Gram’s garden. Generations past had trained inside, but with the Genesis, the term the Council used for their announcement of our existence, we were free to wield magic in the open. A wonderful but necessary gift, the outdoor, stone and earthen space was mostly fireproof. Plus, there was the added benefit of being more connected to my earth-magic while in the garden, which was large and naturally fenced for privacy with tall purple shrubs. There was earth, plants, water and wind chimes in abundance. What more could a witch want? My lonely heart had a suggestion, but it was just another thing I chose to ignore.

  “All right.” Mynx raised her sword. As her feet moved across the practice pad’s cool outer square of gray weathered stones, the inner black ones glowed with glyphs of protection and power. Some were chiseled into the stone while others, like the rune for peace, shone from inside the hewn rock’s heart. More symbols slowly lit as I followed, assuming the proper form.

  We bowed and began again. Though I was hurting and slower than normal, I put my all into our match, only grunting occasionally as our blades connected, sending their aching vibrations into my sore muscles. Despite the pain, I desperately needed this. After Fera’s departure, I’d stayed at the bar playing pool with the Weres, who’d turned out to be soldiers on leave from the local military base. I’d been upset, needing to blow off some steam…needing time to focus my mind away from Fera’s last words. I’d purposefully subjected myself to the Weres’ phers, not realizing how severe my reaction would be. I blushed, remembering. Hopefully, Mynx would attribute my flushed cheeks to the strain of deflecting her continuous lunges and strikes. Either way, she’d find out soon enough. Mynx would say I told you so…once she stopped laughing.

  Forcing the memory aside, I tried to read Mynx’s moves before they came—a nearly impossible task. The brunette had trained for centuries, first learning from then teaching generations of Delacys. Even though my hormones were through the roof, I didn’t feel a twitch of attraction. Mynx had always been there, watching me grow. She was my sister of the heart. Not to belittle her attractiveness. Mynx, who was upping the ante by drawing green magic down her blade, was the definition of sex kitten. With long, wavy chocolate-brown hair and green eyes flashing in the moonlight, Mynx had the type of body women would sell their souls for. In fact, said body’s former owner had probably done just that.

  My eyes were dilated, my breath coming a little too quickly, so I wasn’t surprised when Mynx stopped us for a breather. “Are you okay?” She eyed me with concern.

  “I’m fine.” I wiped my sweaty brow. “I spent a few hours playing pool with some horny Weres from Camp Shelby. Their call was especially…potent.” I called my own magic to my blade, letting my fire demonstr
ate my good health.

  “Did you?” She arched one perfectly sculpted brow.

  “No.” Teeth clenched, I growled the word. We’d had this discussion before. Mynx and I had different views on sex. I thought she had too much. She thought I had too little. “The worst of it will be gone in a few hours.” Hopefully. I quickly changed subjects. “You know, oh wise one…” Mynx snorted, choking on a sip of water. I ignored her. “It’s about time you started taking more runs on your own. For someone so old, you certainly know every new gadget.” Her outraged cry at the word “old” was also ignored. “You should take the new infidelity case. Plus, I have something else that calls for your unique skills. Tell me: Have you ever met the Council’s local sheriff, Josephine Fera?”

  Mynx thought for a moment then shook her head. I gave her the details, including what I knew of Fera and my impression of her. I’d wondered more than once why Mynx wasn’t a Council operative. She had more training and know-how than a hundred spooks. And she didn’t have my distrust of the Council. But for some reason she was afraid to commit, which was why it had taken me years to get her to agree to a full partnership in the Darkmirror.

  Explanation finished, we began again, coating our blades once more with magic, causing them to throw red and green sparks every time our magics crossed. Over the sound of clashing steel, I explained what Fera had said, only leaving out the bit about my mother’s previous disappearance. As usual, Mynx had few comments. She always thought over things before speaking. That was why I trusted her opinion over anyone else’s.

  We grew quiet as we began to spar in earnest. We danced, our feet gliding over the now bright glyphs. Each symbol resonated, seeming to rise, hovering inches above the black and gray stones. Our movements became hypnotic, calming my mind and spirit, making my body’s desires only a dull throb. I’d finally gotten my flames to stay where directed without conscious effort when the house wards shuddered. Having been on a magical lockdown for days, the wards were impassible to anyone but family. The wave vibrating through them was the equivalent of a unfamiliar Sup ringing the energy like a doorbell.

  Since turning Bob’s body over to the Kin and then Luke’s call with Jupiter’s warning, we’d only seen clients during daytime hours. Aunt Helena wouldn’t need to buzz the wards, and we weren’t expecting anyone else. Of course, the big bad probably wouldn’t ring the bell.

  Before Mynx could stop me, I turned, sword still flaming, and raced from the circle. Then again, I’d agreed to work for the Council, been hired by the notoriously in-house Kin, and been attacked by a toupee-wearing bean counter possessed by a demon that wasn’t supposed to be on this side of the gates. It seemed to be a week for unlikely happenings.

  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. Bu
t 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.