Steele City Blues: The Third Book in the Hell’s Belle Series (Hell's Belle 3)

by Karen Greco

  My plan was to continue ignoring him. But what I couldn't ignore was the blistering pain that shot through my bones. I curled up in a fetal position, pillow still pressed over my head.

  "Still think I'm full of shit?" Frankie asked.

  I grunted from under the pillow.

  Frankie’s footfalls crossed the room, and I peeked out from my hiding place. He grabbed Leila's stooge by the back of his neck and dragged him across the room. Stopping beside the bed, he pushed the man on his knees then angled his head to expose his throat. "Feed."

  I closed my eyes. "No," I croaked out.

  "Bullocks, Nina," Frankie roared. "Why are you being so bloody difficult about this?

  I raised my head and looked at him. "Because I don't think I can stop myself."

  He softened his expression. "You're worried about losing control? About killing him?"

  I grimaced and dropped my head back to the bed while another wave of pain overtook me. The pain was similar to the migraines, except now it extended through my entire body.

  "Well that's daft," Frankie said, giving the guy a shove. "I brought him up here in case you did kill him. You lose control and we lose him? Not exactly a monumental loss for society."

  "He's a human," I said, cringing at my breathless voice. "Leila's manipulating him."

  "Look at him, Nina," Frankie said. "You think he even cares about that? All he knows is that some woman told him that it was cool to go on a killing rampage and he just shrugged and went along. Is that really a life worth saving?"

  "We are not judges," I said, ignoring the hollow feeling gnawing at my gut. "And we are not executioners."

  "No?" Frankie asked. "Shall I list our body count?"

  "Our body count didn't include innocents."

  "I think we've moved beyond those labels, don't you?"

  My sigh shook my entire body and I pressed my fingers against my eyes. I felt the weight of Frankie's body settle beside me on the mattress. He kept his hand gripped to the back of the prisoner's neck.

  "The pain you feel?" he asked, searching my face. "It's only going to get worse. And you'll snap and feed anyway. When that happens, you won't be in control, you will kill, and you will not discriminate. If you allow it, the guilt will ravage you, and I don't know how to bring you back from that."

  "So what are you saying, you want this guy to be like my practice run?"

  Frankie nodded. "And if you throw a spanner in the works and kill him, not really humanity's loss."

  "You're both freaks," the man spat out. "And I can't wait to put a stake in the two of you."

  Frankie's hand was still on the scruff of the guy's neck and he forced the man down until his stomach was flat on the floor. Frankie's boot took the place of his hand. I could feel the vibrations from the man's heart racing, and the sound of his blood flowed like waves thundering against rocks. My stomach seized from hunger, and a bit of saliva slipped from my open mouth.

  "Did you hear him? He's going to stake us both," he said. With one foot pinning the guy to the ground, Frankie spread out his arms. "Who's the monster now, Nina?"

  I raked my fingers through my hair. I was desperate to feed but was I willing to do it at the expense of my humanity? "How do I do this?"

  Frankie smiled and pushed the man's head to the side. "Can you see the artery? It's throbbing just under the skin."

  The small pulse from the artery wasn't visible to humans, but to my vampire eyes it looked like the ocean surf surging just under the skin. I licked my lips.

  "Without killing him?" I added.

  "One thing at a time," Frankie continued, pointing to the pulse. "You slice in with your teeth just there. And then drink."

  "That's it?"

  "No trick to it. Exactly what it looks like," he said.

  "But how do I know when to stop?" I asked.

  "The beat slows down, gets fainter. You can feel it. That's when you know he's losing too much blood."

  I swallowed, unable to take my eyes off the soft flesh. "You're sure?"

  "Promise."

  I crawled off the bed and sat on the floor beside the man. He squirmed with fear as I inched closer to him, but Frankie held him firm.

  "God, no," the man whispered, as I leaned my head in towards his neck. Hysteria set in and he attempted to rise to his feet, presumably to bolt, but he was no match for Frankie's strength. Just one hand on the neck was all Frankie needed to keep him immobile. Unable to run, the man started yelling, "You sick fucks. You sick fucks!"

  The scent of fear poured off of him, sending my adrenaline into overdrive. His hysteria pressed every one of my vampire buttons, and I gripped his arms, driving my nails into his flesh. I was losing control over my hunger.

  "Do it, Nina," Frankie said, his eyes vibrant. The man's fear got under Frankie's skin, too. But Frankie had several hundred years on me, so his bloodlust was tempered.

  My bloodlust, however, was in full-on go mode and I sank my sharp canines into the man's doughy flesh. Blood touched the tip of my tongue on impact and my body responded immediately, the sharp aches that plagued me for hours dulled with just one swallow of the viscous stuff. I wondered what the guy had for lunch. The usual metallic taste had spicy undertones with a hint of garlic. I pulled harder with my mouth and it was like I opened a spigot. Between my pulling and his now-racing heartbeat, a steady stream of warm blood flowed out.

  As my strength grew, Frankie relaxed his grip on the guy's neck. I slipped my hand under his, replacing it. The cervical vertebrae felt delicate under my firm fingers. The more the man thrashed under my grip, the faster the blood flowed, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I could swallow it fast enough. But I kept up. The nourishment coursed through my body, and my excitement rose as my strength and power built.

  The thrashing ceased and the man slumped forward. His pulse began to slow and along with it the steady flow. I pulled him closer to me and sucked harder, desperate to swallow every drop of the tangy fluid.

  Frankie gave my shoulder a nudge. "Nina?"

  Intent of finishing my meal, I ignored him.

  "Nina," he repeated, louder.

  This time he got a short shake of my head and a grunt.

  Frankie tugged on my arm, and I worked my mouth faster, desperate to pull out the last drops. The man shuddered, his lungs rattling as he struggled for breath. Frankie grabbed me by the forehead and pried me off. A chunk of flesh flew off the man's neck when I yanked my teeth out. He flopped to the floor.

  "Whoops," I whispered. The man's lifeless eyes stared at me. His death mask expressed his sheer terror.

  "That went well," Frankie said, his sardonic tone conveying the "I told you so" that he didn't utter. A twinge of guilt gnawed at me. "Did you feel the heartbeat slow?"

  I turned away from the dead body. "I guess."

  "You remember, that's your cue to stop. Right?"

  I stretched, catlike. For the first time since Gramps stuck a knife in me, my body felt like itself. Only this time it ran on high octane. "Like you said, no great loss to humanity."

  My words — and the coldness, the calculation — felt foreign even as I said them. I glanced down at the dead man. Did he have a family? A partner that would miss him? Or was he really just a vessel for hatred, anyone's hatred, not only Leila's?

  I sighed. "Frankie, this runs counter to everything I believe — or believed — not even 10 minutes ago."

  His voice was gentle. "You've turned, love."

  "I turned, what, days ago?" I said, raising my eyes from the limp body at my feet.

  "Two days,” Frankie said. “But now you'll live, in a manner of speaking." He looked at my confused expression and sighed. He sat at the edge of the bed and stared at his long, elegant fingers. "I didn't think we'd be having this conversation for at least another 50 or 60 years. You died—"

  "Was killed," I corrected him.

  He nodded. "Right, you were killed. Vampire DNA takes over, you're brought back to life. But you need to feed or
you'll waste. Blood bags will get you only so far. You need the nutrients of fresh blood."

  "I got that part of it covered," I said, tapping my foot.

  Frankie raised his eyebrows. "Right, impatience noted," he said, grabbing my leg to still it. "Anyway, that period of time you spent between rising from the dead and eating this git, you still had a conscience."

  "Wait a second," I said. "Are you saying vampires don't have a conscience?"

  "You're like a toddler again, Nina, but in an adult body. Some things you have to relearn."

  "So why didn't my conscience go the minute I turned?"

  "The wasting makes you weak. Almost like you're in a sort of limbo. Taking the blood from a living human bolsters your strength, but your humanity wanes."

  "And now?” I asked.

  "You'll never question eating again."

  I opened my mouth to tell him off but a familiar rise of power churned through my body, my hair lifting slightly as small electric volts jumped around my skin. I touched my tattoo, the snake's rattle beginning to stir.

  Frankie dropped the flippant attitude. "Looks like you needed the vampire healthy for the witch to emerge."

  "You think I can spell?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The magic coursed through my body, and my heightened vampire senses felt it blazing through my blood like fire.

  "Try it," Frankie suggested. "Try to spell."

  I hesitated. Before Leila, I'd never heard of vampire magic and witch magic sharing the same body. But the snake tattoo said both were living inside of me. Ironic that both forces of magic lived while my body was technically dead.

  My magic was always strongest when it was tied to the elements, and I wanted to channel my focus outside of the window, no small task since I couldn't draw back the shades because of the sunlight. I scrunched up my face, staring at a bit of yellow sun peeking in from behind the heavy black curtains. Focused on the light, I conjured a quick spell and watched as the darkness encroached on the sun. I didn't dare release my focus until the room went completely black. Then, with a snap of my fingers, the fragment of sunlight came back again.

  Frankie's eyes darted from the shimmer of sunlight on the floor back to my face. "Did you just conjure an eclipse?"

  "I think so," I said, listening as yells of surprise carried up from the kitchen. "So I can still—"

  "Be witchy? That's pretty amazing," Frankie said, reaching for my hands, which were shaking. "Do you realize what this means?"

  My elation leaked out of me as I considered what this meant. "It's means I'm dangerous."

  "You were always dangerous, Nina. Especially with that wild magic shooting all over god's green earth," Frankie said with a chuckle before sobering. "But this does mean that you have to keep a measure of control."

  I nodded and twisted my fingers around his hand. Without a conscience, I'd have a hard enough time keeping control of my vampire abilities, never mind my magic. "Frankie," I said, hesitation danced along the edge of my voice. "You have a conscience. How did you end up with it?"

  "Like I said, there are things you have to relearn, including empathy and all the other things that go with having a conscience. Vampirism alters your brain functions, we can all agree with that, yes?" I nodded. "So welcome to the one percent, Nina. You are now officially a sociopath."

  I scowled. "Do you think my grandfather knew this?"

  "Of course he knew," Frankie said. "And he probably thinks it easier to be a bit mad for what we need to do."

  17

  I killed the engine about a half a mile from the Massachusetts border — and the headlights a mile before that — so we rolled through the dark suburban streets as stealthily as possible. I dropped my feet and dragged them on the pavement until we came to a complete stop in between a raised ranch and a recently renovated cape. Just like the rest of the neighborhood, both homes were dark. Judging from the kid's Schwinn bikes and Razor scooters haphazardly strewn in the driveways, like lumps of forgotten detritus, the entire community bailed in a hurry.

  Darcy dismounted, pulled off her helmet and rubbed her lower back. She hated riding. Casper flew, literally, beside us the entire way. The spring air still held onto the biting edge of winter, giving his ghost-pale cheeks a bit of a flush, although it could have been from his mounting excitement. He was about to haunt a few unsuspecting guards stationed at the border.

  Casper decided we needed a girl's night out, so to speak. He was the only one enthusiastic about it.

  A night on the town wasn't an easy prospect. There were no safe places in Rhode Island where we could let our hair down and relax, so Casper suggested skipping over the state line into Massachusetts. Easier said than done.

  True to her word, Mary Jane had secured with state boarders with a razor wire fence. MPs walked between checkpoints to make sure no one scaled or cut through the barrier.

  "So are we doing this?" Darcy asked, pacing in the shadows cast by the streetlights. "Or do you want to go back?" She sounded hopeful at that last part.

  Darcy spent a better part of an hour whining about leaving Matty for the night, but Casper convinced her that a night off would do us all a world of good. The way she kept eyeing me as we went over the plan to get around the guard post made me suspect her apprehension about leaving Matty had more to do with my newly formed vampiric nature than with my spoiled cousin. She was afraid I'd eat her.

  Not that it wasn't a rational fear. Frankie spent the better part of the day teaching me how to control my cravings. But anyone who's ever tried to kick sugar or caffeine knows controlling cravings is no easy feat. Like being on a diet, the trick was never to let yourself get gnaw-your-arm-off hungry. Also like being on a diet, there was always the danger of "emotional eating." In the case of the vampire, "emotional eating" was a 'roided up version of "hangry." Controlling the urge while on a full-on vamp out took epic will power. The older the vampire, the easier it was to control the urges. I was a newbie, and thus a blood-sucking time bomb.

  "Remember, I'll give the signal once I get them far enough away," he said, floating above us.

  "You're really going to yell 'Geronimo'?" I asked. Casper had recently discovered old Hollywood westerns.

  "When will I ever have the opportunity to yell that again?" he asked. He was practically glowing.

  "Let's just do this," Darcy said through her clenched jaw.

  "It'll be fun, you'll see," I said, my own teeth gritted into a bad facsimile of a smile while I watched Casper float towards the heavily armed guards. I didn't see any stakes in their arsenal.

  Darcy yanked her helmet back on her head and climbed behind me, ready for Casper's signal. I had my heel set for a fast kick-start as soon as he shrieked the magic word.

  "This is so stupid," Darcy said, her voice muffled by the helmet.

  "We can't exactly do this in Rhode Island. What choice do we have?"

  "We have a choice not to do this at all, in any state," she said. "I mean, girls night out? Now? While the Department of Defense has missiles pointed directly at us?"

  "That was exactly what I thought when Casper suggested this. But he insists we need to get out of dodge for a few hours. And maybe he's right," I added. “It’s not like they’re going to blow us up tomorrow. We have a few days.”

  "This is suicide," she continued, this time pointing at the guard tower. "Well, not for you. Or Casper. You're both already dead. But I'm not."

  "They start shooting, you start wailing," I said, squeezing my hands against the handlebars so hard they threatened to crack.

  "I'd rather not," she replied. I twisted to get a look at her face, but all I saw was the bug shape that the helmet made out of her head. "I don't like killing innocent people."

  "Innocent isn't the word I'd use," I said, pushing the lesson that Frankie taught me earlier in the day out of my mind.

  We watched the guards shine their flashlights into a cluster of pine trees. Casper was rustling the branches.

  "People are scared," D
arcy said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "What do you do when it turns out that the monster under the bed is real?"

  "You don't blindly follow a psychopath."

  Darcy shifted her weight so I had to put my right foot on the pavement to keep the bike balanced. My eyes tracked the guards' movements. Their lights now moved up and down the fence behind them.

  "No?" she asked. "Leila promised to protect them from people like—"

  "Like me?" I finished for her.

  "Like us," Darcy said. "I'm a monster too." I loosened my grip on the throttle. "And I'm not saying that they’re right. I'm saying what they did is understandable."

  "And if they just got to know us, they wouldn't be afraid of us? They'd love us for who we are?"

  "Something like that," she said.

  "You were always a glass half-full kind of girl."

  I heard a hard sigh and she rested her hands lightly on my waist. She probably fogged up the helmet. "No, I just refuse to believe that people are inherently bad."

  "Which is why you don't want to kill them."

  "And that's wrong how?"

  "They'd stake me in a heartbeat. Frankie, too. Matty..." I said, raising my voice. The guards looked sharp in our direction, but Casper pulled their focus again.

  "Matty's harmless."

  "Most spiders are harmless. You see what people do to those," I challenged.

  She stayed quiet.

  "Look, Darce, I get it. And I love that you have so much optimism, particularly about humankind. But they burned Babe at a goddamn stake, right in front of me. And what they were doing in Steele City," I said, with a shudder. "I can't share your same faith in humanity."

  "They were under Leila's spell—" she started but Casper's cry of “Geronimo" echoed down the desolate suburban street, cutting her off.

  I twisted the throttle twice and dropped my foot on the starter. The bike rumbled to life. I pressed the clutch, kicked it into gear. The back wheel screamed against the pavement, spinning. Darcy grabbed my waist as the bike lurched forward and we raced towards the abandoned checkpoint.

  I took a second to appreciate the purr of the Triumph's motor vibrating through me. The Bonneville was customized by Frankie. Black-on-black, low to the ground and stripped of all unessential hardware, the bike was built for stealth. I loved it.