Hell's Belle

by Karen Greco

  "What can I say, Max? It's my family." My laugh was devoid of humor. Cold and distant, just like I felt. I turned my back and headed over to my armoire, pulling out an oversized Dead Kennedys concert t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

  "So now what?" I paused for a moment. Did he mean what do we do about the vampire serial killer? Or did he mean us?

  I yanked the t-shirt over my head and shimmied it down over my towel. After pulling the towel off from under the shirt, I hopped on one foot and then the other to put on the sweats. It was awkward and weird, but it was this or stand around in a towel. A few days ago, I would have been totally good with that option.

  "I go on a witch hunt and stake a vampire," I said. Kicking some ass sounded good right about now. I wanted to stick a stake in Marcello. Badly.

  Max laughed. Did he think I was joking?

  “I’m sorry, Nina.” He smiled gently, trying to ease the tension. “I’ve been…”

  “An asshole?” I offered.

  He laughed again, this one full-on and infectious. I smiled in spite of myself.

  He motioned for me to sit next to him. I gulped down more wine. With the help of liquid courage, I curled into a corner of the sofa. Dog hopped up onto the couch, stretching out between us. I scratched her behind the ears.

  “I just… Well… I’m a cop. We tend to see things in black and white. Good guys and bad guys.” He swirled his wine. We both stared at the whirlpool in his glass, feeling spectacularly awkward.

  “Yeah, well, we exist in the shades of grey,” I broke the silence. “Like Frankie. He is one bad-ass vampire, and he’s killed a lot of innocent people. But, you know, that was before he learned control. Now, he’s one of the good guys. And I am definitely glad he’s on my side.”

  “And Bertrand…” His face went dark.

  “How can we work with a demon?” I finished for him. “I’m not at all happy with this partnership but we don’t have much of a choice. A demon is only in it for the good of the demon. I’ll work with him but I don’t trust him.”

  Max sipped at his wine. He looked thoughtful, like he was actually considering what I said. “Guess I have to learn to live in the grey.”

  “It’s more colorful than you think.” I smiled at my stupid joke, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit.

  “You think?” He shook his head, smiling. “Vampires, demons and witches running around New England with modern technology and stakes. It’s like the bastard version of Grimm’s fairy tales.”

  “Did I mention my best friend is a banshee?” I bit my lip, holding a grin back.

  “No, I don’t think you did.” He chuckled.

  A droplet of water shook loose from my hair, trickled down the side of my neck across the healing puncture wounds and the newly formed pink scar where Marcello tried to slit my throat. Max leaned over Dog, and gently traced the water's path with his finger.

  Dog growled, but scooted off the couch. Traitor.

  My heart raced, and my breath to caught in my chest. He paused at the crook of my neck before pressing his lips gently down and following the scar across my neck with his mouth. I closed my eyes and a small moan escaped my lips.

  I pulled back from him. "What are you doing?"

  He caught me behind the neck and stopped me. "What I should have done weeks ago." Gently, he pressed his lips on mine. His tongue flicked out firmly, sliding my lips open and gently, tentatively exploring my mouth.

  I pulled away again, "But..."

  My protests were smothered by his mouth, now pressing against my lips more urgently. His hand slid from the back of my neck down to my arm, leaving the feeling of sparks against my skin in its wake.

  "Max," I dropped my head down to his neck, and he moaned in pleasure as I pressed my lips into the dip just behind his ear. "Should we do this?"

  "I don't know." He pulled my head back and pressed his lips on mine again, this time with even more urgency.

  He gathered me in his arms, lifted me up, and carried me to the bed. Gently, he placed me onto the soft mattress and his body dropped beside me.

  I pulled his shirt over his head. Pushing him onto his back, I ran my tongue down his defined chest. I paused right above his groin. I reached down and felt his excitement swelling against the fabric of his jeans. I unzipped them and slowly freed him. He began breathing faster, and I moved my mouth to the tip. I slowly took him into my mouth, tasting him, while my hands moved up, feeling the lines of his muscular abs.

  Max moaned, his fingers stroking the back of my hair. I could feel wetness seeping between my legs.

  "Yes?" Max questioned as he pulled at my shirt.

  "Yes," I whispered. He pulled me towards him, removing the shirt over my head. He kissed me deeply. I shook with pleasure as his hands ran over my breasts, waist and then hips.

  "You are so beautiful," he said as he slid his body down between my legs. His mouth explored my breasts, my stomach, my thighs.

  Warm waves flowed over me. I couldn't catch my breath.

  I parted my legs and his warm tongue touched me lightly, teasingly. I arched my back with pleasure. His tongue was languid as he probed deeper into me.

  I was so close to rapture. Both our bodies were glistening with sweat.

  He slipped a finger in, moving it deeper, searching for the spot that would bring me to ecstasy. I sucked in when he found it. He massaged me deeply, his mouth still sucking and flicking.

  I couldn't hold it in anymore, and I exploded in pleasure. My back arched at the release. Wetness spilled out of me, and Max pulled himself on top of my body. He pulled back my hair and kissed my neck.

  A raw, carnal moan escaped my lips and my fangs sprung through my gums. Opening my mouth, I scraped my fangs along his neck, the desire to bite intense. In a split second, my lust turned from sex to blood.

  I leapt out of the bed and caught my eyes in the mirror. They were glowing an almost-neon green in the dark. The intensity of my orgasm turned me vampy.

  I walked quickly to the kitchen. Gripping the counter, I breathed deep, trying to keep my vamp-out contained. I opened the fridge and pretended to look for something.

  I had never lost it at orgasm before. It only happened when I was angry. And I had learned how to control them, more or less. But to have it happen right then? That was pretty unnerving. What if I bit him...? I didn't want to think about it.

  My fangs receded almost as quickly as they turned. I poured a glass of cold water and took it to the bed.

  Max was still where I left him, watching me curiously. I held out the water. He took a long drink and placed the glass on the bedside table. He pulled me to him, his muscles tense against mine. He cupped my ass with one hand, and pulled my head down with the other to kiss me long and hard. I felt him grow turgid again, and I ached to feel him inside me.

  "Condoms?" I pulled away from him.

  "No, you?" His hopeful smile made me burst into a fit of laughter.

  I shook my head, disappointed but relieved. I was losing control of my own internal beast, and I was not sure why. Until I figured out what was kept pushing me to the edge, I had to keep my feelings in check.

  "I guess we'll just have to improvise," Max lowered his head to my breasts, and I shuddered again. So much for keeping my lust under control.

  CHAPTER 26

  I had the heebie-jeebies.

  Babe eased the Fiat into a spot across the street from the downtown botanica that I had trailed Max to. In the shadows of the tall buildings, with the cold gray December morning light, the place was forbidding. But even on a bright summer day, the freaky clutter in the dusty front window -- filled with animal skulls, chicken feet, headdresses and other voodoo-like paraphernalia -- would give the best slayer chills.

  Babe nonchalantly reapplied her lipstick. "Hey, if you are going to get hexed, may as well look good for it," she insisted.

  I, on the other hand, still had sleep crust in my eyes and a serious case of bed head. I would have been in my PJs except I went t
o sleep without them. So a pair of baggy jeans, a tank top and a hoodie was my fashion statement. Of course, my silver cross was around my neck and a small 9-millimeter revolver was stuffed in the back of my pants. I wasn't going anywhere without some sort of weapon.

  Babe's 9 AM call was not welcome. It had been a late night to begin with, then Max's unexpected visit, and our, um, unexpected make-up session. I had just fallen asleep when my cell phone started chirping. And Babe was around the corner, so it was a mad dash to get out of the loft. I hadn't even had any coffee.

  "Can't we get coffee first?" I pleaded with my aunt, whose puckered lips were getting a final coat of fire engine red color that looked sensational on her. "They aren't even open yet."

  As if on cue, a short, round, middle-aged woman lifted the security gate. As it rattled up, her unkempt black-and-gray hair fell from the loose knot that kept it on top of her head. She hastily repositioned it, looking up and down the street while stabbing a few bobby pins back in it to keep her hair held. Then she turned and walked back into the building, the heavily painted black front door slamming behind her.

  I leaned back in my seat and groaned. Babe patted my leg maternally. "I'll take you for coffee after."

  "What if she tries to kill us? I don't know how effective I'll be in a fight without coffee." I pleaded.

  Babe gave me a look and opened the car door. "It looked like I could take her. Let's get this over with, alright?"

  She was across the street before my butt even lifted out of the car seat. I sighed and followed her. There was no arguing with Babe. When she had a plan, you couldn’t diverge from it. Even for coffee. Yeah, she was pretty inflexible.

  The door to the botanica jingled when it opened, and the pungent combination of mold and Frankincense assaulted my nose.

  "Hi, I'm Eva!" a cheery, nasal voice called out, and the rotund woman came barreling down a narrow path that cut between all the clutter of the shop. "What can I help you with today? Looking for a little luck in love?"

  She held up a hideous pink candle of a man and a woman facing each other, genitals touching. The sight of it made Babe howl with laughter. "The Face-to-Face Lovers candle," she giggled. "I haven't seen that since I was a teenager!"

  Eva's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Were you brought up in The Craft?"

  "The Craft?" Babe looked puzzled for a minute. "Oh yes, The Craft, of course." She collapsed into another fit of giggles and mouthed "fake" at me.

  "But you don't need this, do ya, honey?" Eva held up the X-rated candle and winked at me. "I bet you're lucky in love."

  I felt my face grow hot and I turned, pretending to examine a group of Orisha statues in the far corner.

  "Well come in, come in!" Eva motioned us towards the back of the store. "I have my cards set out if either of you lovely ladies would like a reading!"

  Babe and I shuffled after her, zig-zagging around overflowing tables haphazardly placed. I could see a card table set up by the cash register, a deck of tarot cards dramatically overturned around several lit candles. This place was one fire code violation away from shutting down.

  "I'd love one!" Babe gushed. "How much?"

  Babe turned to me and winked. She was clearly enjoying conning the con artist.

  "Fifty dollars." Eva beamed.

  "Oh, dear, that's quite a bit of a financial commitment." Babe's movements towards the table slowed.

  Seeing Babe's waning enthusiasm, Eva went all in. "I sense some tragedy you are trying to come to terms with, and the cards will show you how to overcome this hardship. They will show you direction, and guide you to peace."

  "I don't know..." Babe fingered a bar of African Black Soap.

  "And prosperity!" Eva hastily added. "And since I think this is important to your inner peace, I will drop my usual rate to 30 dollars."

  "Oh why not," Babe said, slipping into the chair with a smile. "For 30 bucks? I could use some...guidance." She erupted into more giggles. God, she was going to blow it. Undercover work wasn't her strong suit.

  Eva interpreted Babe’s laughing as a fit of nerves. She sat down across from Babe and patted her lightly on the hand. With a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin, Eva picked up the Tarot deck and began shuffling. Babe gave me a quick nod and eyebrow raise. With Eva otherwise engaged, it was time for me to take a good look around.

  I poked my through the cluttered counter by the register. It was the usual cheesy crap found in Wiccan shops and botanicas -- love potions, jinx-removing spell kits, a pretty hilarious Big Money candle. There was a jewelry case underneath, a few Orisha bracelets, and some Saint medallions were carelessly tossed inside.

  Turning back towards the entrance, I shuffled to the left to examine another glass case against the far wall, where a glint of silver caught my eye. I tripped over a stack of cast-iron cauldrons, swearing under my breath at the pain shooting up my shin.

  I gingerly inched my way to the case. It was locked. The top shelf was filled with glass vial necklaces, and the sign beside them advertised them as "fairy dust." The contents looked like glitter. I snickered. Good for the club kids. The middle shelf was overstuffed with all manner of crystals -- crystal balls, crystals cut into hearts, fluorite and amethyst worry stones, crystals cut into pyramids. I caught sight of some nice looking rune sets among the mess.

  Squatting down, I had to crane my neck a bit to look into the bottom shelf of the glass case. Jackpot! Tossed haphazardly among other athames were several replicas of my blade. I slipped my knife out of my boot, and compared the embellished hilts. They were a close match. Mine was well-worn and iron-forged. These were shiny-new, and definitely not even sterling silver. Not with a $14.95 price tag.

  I sprung up when I heard Babe yelp. With a lot less care, I stumbled back through the clutter, kicking several cauldron stacks out of the way to get to her. She was standing, her eyes wide, staring at Eva who was convulsing in her seat. Instinct took over, and I went to grab her. Babe's arm shot out, stopping me.

  "Let her go," Babe shook her head. "She's having a psychic vision, and pulling her out of it could have consequences."

  "Psychic vision? I thought she was a fraud."

  Eva slid down to the floor, her open eyes covered with some sort of white film. Yeah, she looked freaky.

  "She thought she was a fraud too." Babe shook her head slowly. "But there's a witch in there. The seizures are a sign of a novice. She doesn't know how to handle the visions. She probably just thinks she's epileptic."

  The convulsing slowed and then stopped, and Babe knelt on the floor beside her. She shook Eva’s shoulder lightly, "Eva? Eva? You still with us, honey?"

  Eva's filmy eyes cleared and she sat up. "Oh God. Did I have a seizure?"

  Babe nodded. "What did you see, Eva?"

  "What do you mean?" Eva looked at Babe in confusion.

  "You had a vision," Babe said. Her voice was soothing, but her eyes were intense. "What did you see?"

  "What are you talking about? I had another epileptic seizure." Eva looked spooked. "I need my medication, that's all."

  Unsteadily, she used the chair to get off the floor. Straightening, she looked at me, and gasped. "You!"

  I eyed her warily. I didn't quite trust Babe's judgment on this woman. I shifted my messenger bag, pulling it, and my wallet, closer to my body. "Yes?"

  "I saw you!" Eva looked down, her voice was almost a whisper.

  "Saw me what?" I shifted my weight back and forth. She was making me nervous.

  "You...you were dead," Eva said slowly. A tear slipped down her cheek.

  "That's just great!" I slammed my fist down hard on the counter by the cash register. The force of the impact caused the glass to crack. My fangs pushed through so quickly that I barely registered the usual pain. Eva stepped away from me, her eyes wide.

  I advanced towards Eva, my nostrils picking up the scent of her fear. I could hear Babe in the background, but couldn't make out what she was saying. I was hyper-focused, stalking my prey. She was ju
st inches from me, her racing pulse visibly pounding under the turtleneck sweater. I reached to grab her when a familiar cold ooze dropped straight into my body.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Casper's voice echoed in my head. "Abstare lamia."

  His voice ricocheted through my brain, and my skull wanted to split in two. My witch half waged war with my vampire nature, trying to bring it back into check. Dropping to my knees, I forced myself to take steady, calming breaths until I felt my fangs retract. The pain in my head eased slightly, but Casper was still cursing up a storm. I winced with pain at every expletive.

  That was close. The internal war that waged between my formerly dormant witch genetics and my vampire genetics was making me completely unstable. The witch gene let ghosts drop into my body for a chat. And apparently the witch gene meant I could create all sorts of meteorological phenomena by sheer will. That I couldn’t control this stuff was really no surprise. I had been a witch for like 72 hours.

  But I had never lost control of my vampire instincts before. Calling this troubling was an understatement. Eva somehow pushed the right vampire buttons that sent me direct to fangville. If Casper hadn't popped into my body and yanked me out of my trance, Eva would have been dead or bound to me. Since I was turning into a rampaging hybrid, dead was more likely.

  "What do you want from me?" Eva was full-on wailing now. She had moved behind the cash register and was pounding blindly on the keys.

  I shook my head. Now that Casper had settled down, the throbbing was reduced to a dull ache. "Eva, we aren't going to hurt you." I grimaced as I said it. I wasn't entirely sure I could make that promise.

  "That's what the other one said." She laughed bitterly and pulled at the collar of her sweater. Her neck, exposed for the first time, was covered with puncture wounds. "Where they hell did you people come from? Some weirdo cult?"

  "Oh shit," I blurted. Babe stared at me, wide-eyed.

  Eva finally got the register open. Grabbing a wad of cash, she thrust it at Babe. She was keeping a good six-foot distance from me.

  "Who did that to you?" Babe held up her hand, declining the return of the money.