Bella Flores Urban Fantasy Collection

by R D Martin

  “So? What does that mean? You make it sound like he’ll kill me.” She laughed, sliding back in her chair. The Moab was powerful, to be sure, but killing her? He was practically family.

  Her laughter died when she didn’t get the expected response. The pause in their conversation stretched and, shifting in her seat, she tried to read him, but his shaggy coat made it impossible.

  “You can’t really mean… Kill me? Why? Why would he do that? I’ve known him since I was a child. Gar, you’re too paranoid,” she said, trying to laugh off the sick feeling growing in her stomach.

  “I didn’t want to tell you,” he said with a sadness she’d only heard once in her life, the day her father disappeared. “Your fight last night? The master had been watching them since you lost the artifact, and now he’s lost that lead. He’s upset and he will now have to tell the client he will be even longer recovering it.”

  “But they attacked me!”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “He’s got egg on his face, and you’re the one that caused it.”

  “What does he want me to do? Leave? Go home and cower in a corner?” Heat blossomed in her stomach, burning away her fear. “I won't do that. It was my job to retrieve it, and now he what? Wants me to give up now?”

  “No, he wants you to find it.”

  “Wait, what?” The change in direction almost gave her whiplash. “But just a second ago you said…”

  “I said you embarrassed him, and that’s not something he will stand for. He’s promised to give the client the artifact in three days, and planned to recover it through the thief, but that’s impossible in his current condition. So now he turns to you with a warning. You begged for the job when I said you weren’t ready and now you have to deal with the consequences. Recover it in three days or you will be punished.”

  Eyes wide, she stared at him as she struggled with what he’d said.

  “I’m sorry, Bella. I really am.” And he sounded it, though it was little comfort.

  “So, either I recover it, or he kills me? How’s that fair?”

  “It’s not, but then, nobody ever promised you fair, did they? You knew it could kill you trying to recover artifacts, right? Think of this as just one more of the little dangers you have to face in the line of duty.”

  “Then I quit.”

  Her words echoed throughout the small courtyard, and even the breeze wafting by seemed to stop. It was like they were a trigger and the world held its breath waiting to see what happened next.

  “Don’t say that, please.”

  “Why not? I’m not a slave. I can go work for someone else if I want.”

  “Please, I’m begging. Don’t say that.”

  She could hear the heart-rending emotion in his voice, but the fire in her belly wouldn’t allow her to listen. How dare that worm threaten her life like that?

  “Why? Why not?”

  “Because…”

  “Because, what?”

  “Because…”

  “What? What aren’t you saying?” She was almost shrieking at the hairy giant.

  “Because if you run away or cannot recover the artifact, I…” The way he sagged was like watching air escaping from a balloon. “I’ve already been given my task.”

  “Your task? What task?”

  “It’s, it’s my job to end you if you fail.”

  “End me? You mean kill me, right?” His nod caused the bottom to drop from her stomach. “But I thought you were my friend. How could you? I mean, why would you?”

  “I have less choice than you do. The master orders and I obey, no matter the order. And I do like you, Bella. I do. You’re one of the first humans I’ve considered a friend in more than a thousand years, but I will do as I’m told.”

  “Friend to executioner in one day. Must be a record.”

  The hairy beast stood and, downing the last dregs of his coffee, he placed the cup back on the table with the same easy grace she’d grown accustomed to seeing from the giant.

  “I promise, because we’re friends, I’ll make it quick. You won’t even see me coming. I know you hate me, but you can’t hate me any more than I do myself. Three days. Please, find it.”

  He turned, and she watched him stride around the corner and disappear. As if that too was a signal, the world let out the breath it was holding. The breeze picked up again, playing with strands of her dark hair, and the chirping of insects rose in volume.

  Emotions fought for dominance as she sorted through the conversation. Anger, hatred, fear and betrayal warred with each other. She’d just been handed a death sentence. There was no way she’d be able to find, much less retrieve the artifact in three days. Could she run? And if she did, could she hide?

  “Hey, girl.”

  The voice from behind her scared her out of her torpor and she jerked around, eyes wide.

  “Whoa there,” said Karina, holding up her hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You didn’t come back, and I was worried.” Dropping into the empty seat, the woman closed her eyes and leaned back, relaxing in the afternoon's warmth. “So, I was thinking, there’s a ghost tour later that sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe you and I could go together since you’re probably not meeting your client today, right?”

  Bella nodded, though more because she didn’t trust herself to speak than for any other reason. The thought occurred to her, the ghost tour was apropos since she would become one herself. If she was going to die, might as well have some fun with her friend first, right?

  Letting Karina’s boundless enthusiasm wash over her, she almost jumped again when the phone in her pocket rang. Pulling it out, she almost hung up at the unknown number, but as though someone else controlled her fingers, she swiped to answer.

  “Hello? Hello?” Ray’s voice issued from the tiny speakers. “Bella, you there? I’ve got some good news.”

  12

  Of all the sights and activities offered to tourists in New Orleans, cemetery tours were by far the oddest of the bunch. New Orleans cemeteries differed from any she’d ever visited before, too. Walking along the rows of stone and concrete mausoleums, built in long tracts like miniature gray houses, the droning of the tour guide was a buzz in the background as she kept an eye on Ray.

  After her ultimatum from Gar, something she still had a hard time processing, Ray’s phone call had been a blessing. He’d found someone who could lead them to the artifact’s buyer, but they’d have to move quick. It was all the encouragement she needed. The fact she didn’t feel the normal twinge of guilt when she lied to Karina about meeting with her imaginary client again was a testament to her desperation.

  A quick Uber ride later and she stood in front of Lloyd’s Autobody, a two-bay garage nestled deep enough in a residential neighborhood. It surprised her the city allowed the shop to stay in business. Walking in, avoiding puddles of motor oil and the cat litter used to soak it up, she called out, hoping she was in the right place. His muffled voice answered, and a moment later, he rose from behind a rusted junker like Hephaestus from behind his forge.

  His hair was pulled back and grease stained both his face and his coveralls, but she couldn’t help admiring the way he looked. She loved her boyfriend and was looking forward to his return home, but she couldn’t deny the warm ball forming in her stomach at the way Ray’s piercing eyes bored into her. She felt a tingle at the nape of her neck and a flush working its way up her cheeks. Shaking off the feeling, she pushed the thought from her mind.

  “Got here quicker than I thought.” His lazy smile spread across his face and, pulling a red cloth from his back pocket, he tried to wipe away the dark brown grease covering his hands. It was an exercise in futility though, as all he did was shift it from one spot to another. “Give me a minute to wash up and change and we’ll go.”

  He motioned to a side door she hadn’t seen, and after a slight pause, she followed him through.

  The only reason she’d have called the room an office was the desk. The mounds of papers, receipts
and order slips covering it were enough to give her concern for anyone bumping into the structure. They’d be buried beneath the mound of paper like a mountain skier beneath an avalanche of snow. Even the swivel chair in front of it contained its own pile of paper.

  Across from the desk was, for lack of a better term, a couch. Though it may have started out as something comfortable, years of abuse left it thin and lumpy. At some point, a blue cover was thrown over it for protection against dirt and grime, but it too suffered from uncounted years of abuse if the holes and threadbare patches in it were any sign. If given the option between taking a seat and standing, she’d prefer standing.

  The sound of running water pulled at her attention and she turned to its source. A brown door stood wide, and from where she stood, she could see him bent over the sink in a small bathroom. He’d taken off his shirt, and the top of his coveralls hung about his waist. Every move he made caused muscles in his back to shift and ripple in a way that reminded her the warm ball in her stomach wasn’t completely gone.

  “So, I thought you worked with computers,” she said, more to fill the uncomfortable silence than anything else.

  “I do. But Lloyd’s an old friend of the family. Can’t do all the heavy lifting he used to.” Reaching out, he groped for something out of her sight. Unable to find it, he stood. In his mirrored reflection, his face was once again clean with water running down both it and his chest in flowing rivulets. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled a green towel into view and patted his face and torso. Seeing her staring at his reflection, he smiled and winked.

  The blush reddened her cheeks before she could stop it and, wide eyed at being caught, she jerked around, turning her back to him. His soft chuckle drifting through the air only caused her embarrassment to burn a little brighter. Hearing the door click shut behind her, she took a steadying breath even as she denied the slight shudder racing through her.

  “Anyway,” he continued, speaking through the closed door. “As long as I help him out when he needs it, he lets me bring in my truck to work on. All I’ve got to pay is for parts.” There was a muffled bump against the door, and a moment later it swung open again. Grease free, he’d changed into clean clothes and stepped from the washroom. He’d undone the band holding back his long hair to let it frame his face. With his new clothes fitting him like they were designed just for him, he could have been the model for a steamy romance. The only thing lacking was a damsel with a ripped bodice.

  “So,” she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “So, where are we going? You didn’t say.”

  “Well, first I thought dinner, then maybe a moonlit stroll,” he started, but broke off laughing at the look he received in return. “Kidding. Actually, we’re going to the cemetery.”

  “What?” she asked, his response more confusing than his failed attempt at flirting. “Why are we going to a cemetery?”

  “I told you, we will meet my contact there.”

  “But in a cemetery? I thought that only happened in bad horror movies. You know, the ones where the dead rise from the ground to grab at unsuspecting victims, tripping some blond bimbo right before she gets dragged into an open grave.”

  “You’ve never seen a New Orleans cemetery. Trust me. No need to worry about the dead digging their way out of the ground. The most you have to worry about is someone trying to sell you fake tickets.”

  “Wait, tickets? Tickets for what?”

  His laughter was the only response she got until they were halfway through the French Quarter. Finding a place to park, they walked a couple of blocks until they stood in front of the gates to the St. Louis Cemetery. Purchasing tickets was something she never would have believed necessary to enter a cemetery, but they just made it into a tour group ready to leave. In moments, they’d passed through the gates and entered the city of the dead where she got his joke about the dead rising from the ground.

  According to the tour guide, since the city of New Orleans was built below ocean level, flooding used to happen regularly. Because of that, it would push bodies buried underground out of the dirt and they needed to be reburied. To keep this from happening every time there was a heavy rain, the city entombed people aboveground in small mausoleums. These were family affairs where there might be three or four generations spending their afterlife together.

  Though she tried to monitor him, it still startled her when Ray tapped her on the shoulder, and she gave a little jump. The moment their guide turned his back, they slipped between two structures and left the group behind.

  She trusted he knew where he was going, or at least hoped he did, because after just a few twists and turns, she was completely lost. Everything around her looked like variations on the same theme, with the major differences being the age of some tombs. Though a good number looked well cared for, there were still some brick structures looking as if they were only held together with the moss growing off them.

  Stopping in front of one small tomb, she couldn’t help noticing the accumulation of trash in front of it. Ray just shook his head when she asked about the garbage and said it was offerings to the lady. Hurrying to follow him, she caught sight of hundreds of triple-X’s scrawled into the side of the tomb and shook her head. Vandalism was rampant everywhere, it seemed.

  It took another ten minutes before Ray found whatever he was looking for.

  “Okay, now we wait.”

  “Wait for what? Are you going to tell me who we’re meeting? You said it was your contact, but if he is your friend, why are we meeting him here?”

  “Don’t like surprises, do you?” He chuckled.

  “No, not really.”

  “And I never said he was my friend. Anyway, he chose the spot, not me.”

  “So why here, of all places?”

  “Mostly,” said a voice behind them, “so I could make sure you came alone.”

  Whirling, she watched as the voice’s owner stepped from behind a nearby tomb. A lanky man with thin hair hugging his head in a bad comb over, he wore a Hawaiian shirt so garish she almost felt the need to cover her eyes.

  “Hello, Robbie,” Ray said, giving him a short wave.

  “Shh. Don’t say my name. Even the dead have ears here.”

  “Whatever makes you happy. So, you have the information?”

  “Remy said you was willing to pay…” The man let the words hang in the air as he held out a dirty palm.

  “Robbie, I’ve known you for near twenty years. Do you think I’m dumb enough to give you money first? You’ll jackrabbit out of here quicker than shit and I’ll have nothing to show for it. Give me the info and if it pans out, I’ll make sure you get your money. What are you doing here, anyway? You’re too cheap to pay for a ticket just to get in.”

  The mumbled reply was too low for either of them to make out.

  “What? Say again.”

  “I said, I’m working here now. Part time at least.”

  She could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

  “Figures,” said Ray. “Let me guess, you’re on your lunch break too, right?”

  “Am not,” came the reply, though the words rang hollow and put the lie to them. “And if you’re going to insult me like that, I’ll just leave you to yourself. No skin off my nose.”

  “All right, all right. I’m sorry.” His apology sounded no more sincere than Robbie’s lie. “I’m sure you’re providing a valuable service. Now, the information, if you please.”

  There was a pause before their contact’s feelings were either assuaged or greed overcame them.

  “So, according to my sources—"

  “Your brother Danny or your cousin Clifford?”

  “You don’t need to know and stop interrupting. Anyway, according to my sources,” he said, putting emphasis on the last word. “There was a fight last night behind the Candlewick Bar. One guy in the hospital, one in jail and another got away.”

  “We know, Robbie. She was the one who fought them,” Ray said, jerking his thumb
at Bella.

  “What, her?” He didn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

  “Yes, me. Now, you know anything new or are we just wasting our time with you?” She glared at him until his head turned. When he said nothing, she looked up at Ray, who motioned for her to back off.

  “Okay, Robbie. So you were saying about the fight?”

  “Y-yeah. Anyway, the one in the clink is friends with my cou… uh, source. They drink together from time to time. So my source says he lives out in the bayou.”

  “The bayou’s a big place. You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

  The weaselly man stood a little straighter and fished a crumpled bit of paper out of his pocket.

  “That’s what makes this so valuable. See, my source—"

  “Cousin.”

  “Source. My source gave me directions to get straight to the guy’s home.” Ignoring the crooked teeth, the smile on his face was still bright. He knew he had something valuable.

  “Sorry, Robbie. If that’s all you got, it isn’t enough.”

  “What?” The smile left his face and his forehead wrinkled in a way that reminded her of a kicked puppy as she watched his hopes of a payday disappear.

  “We’re looking for something stolen. We’re not looking for the guy that jumped her. If that’s all you got, it’s worth nothing.”

  Turning to Bella, he motioned her to follow him.

  “Wait,” said Robbie, not bothering to hide the desperation underpinning his cry. “That’s not all. I got more.”

  “What is it then? Tell me now or stop wasting our time.”

  The steel in his voice was enough to make her glance at him and, for the first time since meeting him, wonder if the lazy southern boy act was cover for something much darker.

  “Well, my source… All right, fine. Clifford. Clifford said he’d been drinking with the guy before he got his ass kicked and the guy let spill that their buyer would not be picking up what they took until the night after tomorrow, on Fat Tuesday.” With his last card played, the man shifted his gaze between her and Ray as the silence stretched. “Well, that’s worth something, right?”