Bella Flores Urban Fantasy Collection

by R D Martin

  “No, serious. The only creatures without fear are the dead ones. Everyone else is afraid of something. Master your fear. Control it, don’t let it control you. Use it to spur you on. Everyone fails, but you can’t let it stop you from trying. Besides, if you don’t try, she will die anyway.”

  The struggle in her mind ended as soon as she heard the words. The truth was, Karina was functionally dead even as she lay there. It didn’t matter what machines beeped or liquids they gave her. Her life was being drained drop by drop, no different from the IV in her arm.

  She couldn’t stand back and let Karina die. It would haunt her for the rest of her life if she did. But she didn’t know if she could beat the Baron either.

  A stray thought, something Gar said earlier, snuck up and goosed the back of her mind.

  “Gar, who was the client?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The client. The one paying us to retrieve the artifact. Who was he?”

  “She. The client was a woman. It doesn’t matter now though. She’s dead.”

  “Gar, tell me. I need to know.”

  “If it’s that important to you.” Gar made a fist and stuck his arm out while muttering liquid syllables. The hand disappeared as though cut off at the wrist. There was no blood and he didn’t yell, but the hand was gone. Smiling as she recognized the spell, she waited while he rummaged in his pocket dimension. The Ascunde spell created a tiny pocket dimension. It made storing things you wanted to hide easy, but wasn’t good for much else. She supposed if you didn’t wear clothes, like Gar, the spell would come in handy.

  Pulling his arm back, the hand reappeared intact, clutching a torn bit of parchment. Acting as though he was about to read out Oscar nominations, Gar cleared his throat with a sound of rocks tumbling in an avalanche.

  “Oh, give it here,” she said, snatching the bit of yellowed paper from his grip. Two words written in dark black ink faced her. Two words she recognized. Adelaide Boudreaux. Mama Ade.

  “I’ve,” she started, trying to move the puzzle around in her mind. Had the woman set this up from the start? Was it all coincidence? William’s uncle made the introduction. Was he part of this as well? Was William?

  Her cheeks flushed as she considered the implications. Coincidence happened, even in the magic community, but this just seemed too much. How could everything be related? That meant even working for the Finder was part of some grand scheme against her, didn’t it? The thought of being a pawn, pushed around at the whims of others, enraged her. Her fist crumpled the piece of parchment, hiding the name from view.

  “Did you set this up?”

  “What?”

  “Did you set this up?” Her yell attracted the attention of women at the nurses’ desk who, looking in her direction, decided it was an argument they didn’t want to interrupt.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mama Ade, William’s uncle, everything.” Without thinking, she reached out to slap him. If she’d been taller, or him any shorter, she might have been able to hit his cheek. However, she’d have to settle for his chest.

  “It’s your fault, isn’t it?” she accused, slapping him again. It was like hitting a brick wall covered by a layer of foam padding, and it infuriated her even more when he didn’t even flinch.

  “What are you talking about? And stop hitting me. I said stop.”

  Reaching out, he grabbed her hands, stopping them from pounding his chest. Pulling Bella close, he smothered her in his fur, ignoring her struggles as he looked around. They’d become the center of attention, and he gave an apologetic smile he hoped would keep them at bay. One of the nurses, the one who’d made her interest in him clear, sniffed and turned her back on him.

  Held tight against the furry wall Gar presented, Bella struggled against him as much as she did against everything she’d been through so far. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Her friend wasn’t supposed to be in the hospital. The people she loved weren’t supposed to lie to her, to set her up. This was all wrong.

  Her struggling turned to shaking, then shuddering as the dam holding everything back burst. She wanted to rage, rage against Mama Ade for dying, rage against Gar for not helping. A small part of her even wanted to rage against Karina for coming down here to die.

  It was just so unfair, she thought as tears poured down her face, whisked away by Gar’s soft hair. Life should be an adventure, not a series of horrors. She wasn’t supposed to have to deal with this shit. She’d show them, though. She’d show them she would not be pushed around anymore. She’d… she’d… She didn’t know what she’d do, only that it would be big.

  “Ah, I don’t want to interrupt your moment here,” said Gar with as much of a soothing tone as the giant could manage. “But I just got my hair cleaned so I would really, really appreciate it if you didn’t blow your nose.”

  Didn’t what? She had the sudden picture of using him like a handkerchief and, unable to stop herself, began laughing. For the same reason her tears felt right, so too did the laughter. She must look like a mad woman, she thought, stepping away from Gar’s embrace and looking around.

  There was something going on, she was sure of it. But whatever it was didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was saving Karina. And if that meant killing the Baron, well, pass her the torch and pitchfork. That painted skeleton would be a real one soon enough.

  21

  “Thanks,” she said, handing a wad of cash to the taxi driver without bothering to go through it first. It might be the biggest tip he got that evening, but she wasn’t worried. Either she’d be dead before dawn, in which case money would no longer be an issue, or she’d survive and be reimbursed.

  Striding away from the yellow vehicle, she walked into Lloyd’s Autobody as if she owned the two-car garage, though she was careful to step around the minefield of puddled oil. Ray’s truck was gone, replaced by a long rust covered monstrosity that looked as if it should have been put out of its misery a long time ago. Passing between the vehicles, she made her way to the office in the rear.

  Pressing through the door, she stopped short. Instead of Ray, she was greeted by an old, skinny man with a beard long enough he could use it as a napkin.

  “You must be Bella,” the man said, holding his stained and calloused hand out. “Ray said you’d be along. Told me to let you know he’d be here soon.”

  Shaking his hand, she almost jumped at the strength of his grip. For a geriatric, it felt as though his hand were made of iron. Looking him in the eye, she saw a twinkle of mischief and understood why Ray enjoyed working with the old man.

  “Did he say how long he’d be?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he replied. Bending over, he lifted an engine part and dropped it on the pile of papers covering his desk. “Just said soon. Do me a favor, hand me that piece right there.” Without turning, he pointed to a small steel part covered in a thick layer of oil and grime. A truck horn blaring outside saved her from touching it.

  “That’d be the boy. Go on. And tell him I need him tomorrow. I gotta pull out the block from the new arrival.”

  “Oh, ah, okay. Nice to meet you,” she said, pushing through the office door.

  The only reply she heard was a clang of metal on metal and a curse cut off as the door closed behind her.

  Walking through the bay, she watched Ray slide out of his truck and move to join her. Under the fluorescent lights, he looked a little worse for wear. His hair, normally well kept, hung loose and his eyes had the sunk in look of someone coming down off a weekend drunk. His clothes were clean though, and his easy smile hadn’t shifted since the last time she saw him.

  “You okay?” she asked. She needed his help, but if he couldn’t do it, she’d have to find another way.

  “What? Oh, yeah,” he said, mouth opening wide in a terrific yawn. “Late night working on the new websites for Cousin Frank. So, you said you needed something? Sounded frantic over the phone. I thought you were going to have a heart attack.”
<
br />   “Sorry about that. Did you bring it though?”

  He turned and she followed, exiting the garage and walking around the back of his truck. Dropping the tailgate with a creak and thunk, he pulled back a blue tarp to reveal a half dozen sacks about the size of pillowcases sacked in the truck bed. With a grunt, he pulled the closest to him and undid the top. A fine red dust poured out, pooling on the ground below.

  “These are all I could get my hands on tonight. I can get more tomorrow, but it’ll have to wait until the afternoon.”

  She shook her head. “No. We need to do this tonight.”

  “Do what exactly? You still haven’t told me.”

  “Oh. Well, we’re going to kill the Baron.”

  She said it with such a deadpan expression, he stared at her for a moment as if trying to figure out her joke. As it dawned on him she wasn’t kidding, his expression turned from puzzlement to worry, most likely for her sanity.

  “We’re what? Are you nuts? That man could turn you inside out with a thought. And how do you propose we kill him? Beat him to death with these bags? Mama Ade and the Queens have been trying to get rid of him for more than a hundred years and you think you can just walk up and end him? You must be nuts.”

  “No. Listen to me. None of this was an accident. Mama Ade’s the reason I’m down here in the first place.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  It took her a while to tell him her theory, but before reaching its end, she had him nodding along.

  “Okay, let’s say you’re right. I agree, it sounds like Mama Ade brought you down here for that. She always seemed to know what would happen before it did, but still. This is the Baron we’re talking about. How are you going to kill a man stronger than all the Queens in New Orleans?”

  “Well, first thing, we’re going to trap him. That’s what the brick dust’s for.”

  He shook his shaggy mane. “Won’t Work. Gotta believe in the magic you don’t.”

  “No, but you do. And so does he. That’s part of the beauty of the plan. We make his own belief work against him.”

  “Okay, so you trap him. Then what?”

  “Then we kill him.”

  “How? What will kill a man more than a century old?”

  “I’ve got a couple ideas about that, but it doesn’t matter. Once he’s in the circle, we’ll have all the time we need to do the job.”

  “You hope.”

  Her eyes shone with determination and, pulling her shoulders back, he could see she would not be dissuaded from this.

  “This is suicide, you know. He’s going to kill you, then probably me.”

  “Does this mean you don’t want to help?”

  He hesitated. “No. No, I want to help. He shouldn’t just get away with what he’s done.”

  “Great. So, how do we find him?” That was the first hurdle in her plan. The Baron had the habit of appearing and disappearing like a puff of smoke. Then once they found him, they had to trap him. And if she was wrong in how to capture him, more than their lives hung in the balance.

  A pang of guilt squeezed her chest as she thought about Karina lying in the hospital. Gar promised to look after her as best he could, but there was still very little he could do.

  “Oh, that’s going to be easy. I can tell you where he’s going to be.”

  “What? Where?” Her heart thudded in her chest. How could he know?

  “Past two nights he’s been showing up at Mama Ade’s house, banging away at her spell, trying to get in. Most of her things have been moved out already, but I bet he’ll be back tonight.”

  “You think?”

  “Pretty sure. Let me make a few phone calls first, but then we should head out to her place.” Turning, he made his way between the cars to the office. Halfway there he stopped and looked back at her. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can always go home, you know. He’s been our problem from the start, and we take care of our own.”

  “So do I,” she said, stiffening at his words.

  Muttering beneath his breath, something about everyone dying, he slipped through the rest of the garage and into the office. As the door opened, she caught a brief flash of Lloyd still sitting in his seat and playing with the engine part. It must be nice, she thought as the door closed, to only have to worry about getting a beat-up old car running. Lately it seemed her entire life had become one near death experience after another, if not for her then for her friends.

  The still small voice in the back of her head agreed she could run away, and she admitted it tempted her. For about two seconds anyway. Karina was family as much as anyone, and she would never leave family behind.

  Shuffling her feet in the gravel drive, she ran through her plan again and again, considering every angle. There were a lot of holes and too many things could go wrong, but what choice did she have? Either he died or Karina did.

  “All right.” Ray’s voice punctured her thoughts as he stepped out of the office a while later. “Everyone’s keeping an eye out and will let us know if they see anything.” He’d even taken the time to comb his hair, tying it back and out of his face.

  The two slid into his truck, Ray turned the key, and the engine roared to life. The truck idled for a moment before Ray turned to her.

  “You really got this? I mean, really? If you’re wrong at all, we’re both dead.”

  She stared at him less than a second before nodding, hoping she looked more certain than she felt.

  Eyeing her like a fisherman trying to size up a catch, he came to his own decision and put the truck in drive. Spinning out, wheels throwing up a screen of gravel behind them, the truck pulled into the street and sped down the asphalt.

  It wasn’t a long trip to Mama Ade’s house, but for her it felt as though every second was one too many.

  The truck pulled into the dirt drive of Mama Ade’s house and Bella’s stomach tightened as she felt them pass through something. It was like walking through a very fine net of cobwebs. Not enough to do more than notice, but the feeling still clung to her, making her skin tingle and her heart race faster. Looking at Ray, she could see he had felt nothing.

  As the truck came to a stop, they stared at the house for a moment before moving, Ray turning to unload the truck while she walked toward the house.

  The front door swung open with the slightest touch, though with the way her skin crawled, she was a little disappointed it didn’t creak like an old haunted house. Looking down, she noticed the line of brick dust across the threshold had been broken by someone either coming or going. Shuffling the dust, she reconnected the broken ends.

  The home’s character differed completely from just a few days ago. The family had made a considerable dent in removing everything belonging to the late Voodoo Queen. Pictures lining the walls were gone, leaving nothing behind but shadows of their outlines. With everything gone, emptiness replaced tidiness, making the building feel less like a home and more like a wooden structure waiting to become one someday.

  Standing in the center of a living room devoid of furniture, she closed her eyes and opened her sight to the world of magic. Though she was doing this so often it was becoming a habit, she never tired of the bright colors of magic’s swirling mists. She basked in its glow for a second, burning the memory into her mind as though it would be the last time she’d ever see it, before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

  If the Baron had been desperate enough to attack the house full of guests, there must be something driving him to do it. Staring through the verdant mists, she couldn’t see any signs of magic or spells in the living room. Moving into the kitchen, she scanned the room but came up empty as well. Striding into the hall, she looked back and forth before continuing to the bedroom.

  The one room she hadn’t seen on her last visit. Either the family hadn’t had time to clear it out yet, or they were too afraid to enter.

  The bed occupying the center of the small room was, to her surprise, exactly what she ex
pected of the matriarch of the family. A thin mattress on a solid brass frame, the bed was made and covered with multiple sheets and blankets. On either side of the bed sat a mismatched pair of battered nightstands. The one on the left held an old-fashioned lamp with a green glass shade. A basket sat on the table to the right.

  Peering over the lip of the basket, she saw it filled with a variety of handsewn dolls. Her heart felt as though someone gave it a squeeze. The first time she’d met the old woman, apart from being tortured anyway, she was offered one of these, saying her granddaughter, Lucy, made them. The dolls were rough, some with patches missing so their stuffing protruded in places, while others were so badly made they looked more animal than human. Keeping the basket of Lucy’s creations in her room had to be a sign of love.

  Putting the basket down, she was about to turn when something caught her eye. One doll, a patchwork bit of rough brown cloth, just didn’t seem to fit in with the rest. Picking it up, she turned it over in her hands, giving it a better look. She couldn’t quite pin down why it didn’t fit in with the others. Opening her inner sight again, she focused on the doll and saw… nothing.

  Dropping the doll like it had burned her, she jumped back, heart pounding in her chest. As it fell, it parted the mists around it like the bow of a ship parts waves. It was as though magic itself was trying to avoid contact with it. Landing on the bed, it gave one meager bounce before lying still.

  It was a full minute of staring at the thing before she shook herself for being stupid. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected it to do. Though, she thought as she chastised herself, if this were a horror movie, the doll would probably get up and dance.

  Picking up the patchwork caricature, she looked at it through the mists, trying to find out why it was the only thing in the room, or the whole house for that matter, magic wasn’t touching. Sending a thread of her own power in to examine it, she watched it snake forward and come to a sudden stop at the same spot as where the mists moved around it. But unlike the mists, it felt as though the thread ran into something.