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

by Karen Greco

  Frankie huffed in agreement. But judging from Max's expression, he was downright scandalized. "You just compared your mother to a Nazi medical doctor," he said incredulously.

  "I thought it was an apt comparison," I said. "Gebhardt was a monster. He did horrific experiments on innocent prisoners. You see the similarities, right?"

  Max conceded with a curt nod, but he wasn’t giving up just yet. "So now what," he challenged. "You and your new friend here are just going to walk into the place and free everyone? On what planet does that even constitute a plan?"

  "Trust, Mr. FBI man, we have a plan," Leon said, turning to face Max.

  "Want to fill me in?" he asked.

  Leon glanced at me. "Nah, I don't think so."

  I turned my head towards him. "He's cool, Leon. Grumpy and argumentative, but he's part of the team."

  “You say you trust him?” Leon looked at me, puzzled. I didn’t meet his eyes. How much did I trust Max really? I didn’t trust him enough to tell him that I turned.

  Leon continued. "He'll know exactly what he needs to know to set the plan in motion. Nothing more. Nothing Less."

  Max opened his mouth to object, but Frankie cut in. "Might I point out that we don't even know the plan?" he said, his lips pursed like he sucked on a sour candy. "Is that what you mean by less?"

  "You'll know your part, too," Leon said.

  Frankie sucked on his teeth. "I hope that means we’ll know more than Max, since we're the ones walking into the building."

  "Of course he has to tell us the plan, Frankie," I snapped. His petty jealousy of Leon was grating. "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Ridiculous?" Frankie raised his voice and his eyes lit up like LED Christmas lights. He lisped through the “s” as his fangs stretched into place. "Maybe trusting him is ridiculous, did you consider that?"

  "Shit's about to get real in here," Casper muttered. He stared at his feet and did his forward moonwalk past me to the other side of the bar. He took shelter behind Gramps.

  I crossed my arms and pressed my nails into my skin, forcing myself to calm down before I vamped out in front of Max. Leon wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

  "Let me see the bottle," Gramps said, interrupting the brewing argument. The four of us turned and looked at him.

  "What you need, old man?" Leon asked, holding the bottle closer to his body.

  Gramps pointed at it. "That bottle. It's the devil's shoestring, isn't it?"

  A slow smile spread over Leon's handsome face. "You know the hoodoo?"

  "I know some," he said.

  "You're clever for an old brujo," Leon said. "You know what's in here." Leon shook the bottle.

  "You laying a trick?"

  Leon shook his head. "No sir. But you aren't too far off."

  "What the hell is laying a trick?" Max asked.

  "I think they mean prostitute, mate," Frankie quipped.

  Leon laughed. "Ain't no hookers laying this trick, friend."

  Max pushed himself off the barstool and stood to his full six feet. I was dwarfed by the added bulk of the muscle he’d gained. I shrank back a bit under his shadow. But it wasn't his size that caused unease to rise. His features were masked with a darkness that I didn't think I'd ever see in him. He stalked around the edge of the room, shaking his arms and legs every few steps, like his limbs were falling asleep and he was shaking out the pins and needles.

  Leon's eyes tracked Max. "You all right, man?"

  Max's body twitched. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

  "You just don’t look so good," Leon said, giving Max wide berth as he returned to the bar.

  Max stepped in front of me. "Pour out another, would you?"

  "You sure about that?" I asked. Even though there was a thick slab of wood between us, I instinctively took a step back.

  "It was a rough day," he said, his voice gruff. "Pour out another."

  I picked up the bottle of vodka, but instead of pouring it, I tucked it into my body. "Yeah, what happened today?"

  His face went even darker, something I didn't think possible. "I watched her kill a witch."

  My head spun as I took in what he was saying. "What witch?" I managed to blurt out. I glanced at Casper, who looked green with fear.

  Max shook his head. "Didn't know her. But still."

  "How'd she do it?" Leon asked.

  "It was like an accident," Max said, his hard expression softened. "She was syphoning the magic—"

  "Syphoning magic?" Leon asked. "What does that mean?"

  "It means exactly that," Frankie said. "She's taking their magic."

  "It's how she killed Babe," I said softly, remembering that awful moment when she plunged a spelled knife into my aunt's stomach. "The blade she used pulled the magic out of the body and into her."

  "So she does mean to kill them," Leon said.

  "Not this time," Max said. "She's trying to take the magic and keep them alive."

  "And how's that working out?" I asked.

  Max slumped his shoulders in response.

  "Why bother?" Leon asked.

  Max pushed his barstool back and stood. "Why bother what?" He began pacing the length of the bar.

  "Hang on, did you just ask why bother keeping people—keeping witches—alive?" I asked, my voice raising with each syllable.

  "If she didn't care about keeping them alive before..." Leon started.

  "Why start now?" Frankie finished for him. "It's the right question to ask. I mean, your mum is off her onion, but I think she has no qualms about slaughtering anyone."

  Max stopped and faced me. "She thinks magic rejuvenates."

  "An endless supply of power," Gramps said, drumming his fingers on the bar. "Damn clever idea. If she can syphon and keep them alive, she'll never run out of it. She'll be able to enhance her power by stealing theirs."

  "I guess she'd run through witches pretty quickly the other way," Leon agreed. He let out a low whistle. "Y’all got some bad juju up in this place."

  "I told Bobby the situation was fucked," I said, tension creeping into my shoulders.

  I poured out a measure of alcohol for Max and walked it to the end of the bar. He took it with a nod of thanks and swallowed the drink in one go.

  "It's not something I want to see again," he said. "She suffered. I'm sure of it." He handed back the shot glass. "So what's in the bottle?" Max asked, changing the subject.

  "Payback," Leon said. His grin turned malicious. "Inside this bottle is payback. And she's a nasty little bitch."

  21

  My back pressed against the cold, damp rocks of the prison wall. I was flanked between Frankie and Leon. We inched towards the front door, stopping every few feet as spotlights made the sweep of the grounds. Dressed in commando blacks, we blended into the shadows cast by the overpowering lights. We were about to take over the prison.

  Leon glanced over at me. "Ready?"

  Frankie gave his yes with a squeeze of my arm. I nodded in the affirmative.

  Leon whispered a few words in Creole French, and the automatic doors slipped open without us standing in front. We hung back at the edge of the building, waiting for someone to notice that something wasn't quite right.

  Darcy's sigh was loud in my ear. "Are you in yet?" she asked over the headset.

  "Not quite," I muttered, keeping my voice low.

  "Don't forget, you need to let me know as soon as you get in there—"

  "We bloody well know the plan," Frankie snapped at her through his comms unit. "We came up with the damn thing."

  I considered shushing him, but decided against it. Both Frankie and I were on edge. We were about to walk into the prison with a New Orleans witch we barely knew. Just the three of us, taking on an unknown — but no doubt large — number of trained guards.

  This was a stupid idea.

  It didn't take long for the guard standing sentry in the first room to wander into the dark. His back to us, he examined the doorframe and pulled on the mechanism, trying to force it closed. Leo
n's knee twisted from his own impatience waiting for the man to come all the way out of the building. Just one more step and Leon's Creole drawl stunned the man. The guard turned and faced the witch, who blew a handful of white powder at the man. The guard dropped to the ground, becoming nothing but a lump in the darkness.

  Frankie pushed on my back, nudging me forward. Leon had already disappeared through the door. I remained still, listening for the sound of boots stomping on the hard floors in the sally port.

  Leon promised he could rally an army to our side once we entered the building. The problem was, our plan relied on Leon's hoodoo magic, and he didn't share exactly what that entailed. That was an awful lot of trust to give one hoodoo priest.

  Leon poked his head around the corner and flashed us a lopsided grin. "You coming or what?"

  I stepped through the door, Frankie close behind, and I felt a soft puff against my back as the door slid closed. Leon raised an arm to keep both of us from stepping all the way into the room.

  He nodded at the floor. "Watch your step." There was a coating of black dust sprinkled all over the cement.

  "How can we avoid that?" I asked. The dust was everywhere.

  "You can't," he said. "We wait."

  "Wait for what?" Frankie asked. Based on his tone, my fellow vampire's patience was wearing thin.

  "This," Leon said as eight guards plowed through a set of locked doors. He jerked his head towards the closed-circuit camera.

  "Kill the video, Darce," I said into my mic.

  "Killing in three...two..." Darcy paused for an unnerving moment, probably because I was slow in telling her to end the video. I'd never really witnessed hoodoo magic before, and it was pretty showy and a bit of a distraction. "One. Okay, I have a visual of an empty lobby on loop. Working my way into their security system now."

  I registered what Darcy was saying but I didn't quite take it in. I was too busy watching the eight guards kick up the black dust on the floor as they stomped their way towards us. Each step became less aggressive until they stood in front of a smiling Leon.

  "You are building an army," I whispered when the eight of them raised a hand in salute to Leon like he was their general. "How?"

  Leon swept his arm towards the floor. "Thanks to your beautiful aunt."

  "What was in that bottle?" Frankie asked. He waved his hands in front of the guards' faces. Ignoring him, they stood stoically in full salute. "It's like the goddamn queen's guard."

  "The main ingredient I needed for the foot track magic," Leon said. "Once they step on it, they owe allegiance to me. In other words, I'm the boss."

  "So what now, boss?" I asked.

  "We track more magic," he said with a grin.

  "So we have to get through the next set of doors," I said.

  "I'll send my boys in to dust the place," he said, pulling several bottles of the magic powder out of his backpack. He tossed one to each of the eight guards who had been standing at attention. At Leon's brief command, his soldiers went into the prison, the secure doors opening easily since the facial recognition software recognized their clearance. I caught a quick glance of our new allies sprinkling the powder onto the ground before the doors closed behind them, the lock sliding into place.

  "Hey Darce," I said into my mic. "Get ready to hack into the doors."

  "Got it," Darcy said. I heard the swift clicks of computer keys as Darcy's deft fingers worked on cracking the security system. The lock slid and the door popped open again.

  I shook my head. Our first prison break in would have gone so much smoother this way. Of course, they would have detected the security breech, making this attempt in that much more difficult. Right?

  "Ladies first," Leon said, bowing slightly as I slipped through the door.

  A small giggle at his gallant gesture caught in my throat.

  Frankie snatched my arm and yanked me back towards him. He glared at the rootman. "How about Leon go first, love. Just in case his hoodoo army didn't get the spell right."

  "With pleasure," Leon said with a smirk. He stepped gamely into the interior of the prison and motioned for us to follow. Frankie slipped in behind Leon, his movement more cautious. He stopped just inside the entryway, probably on purpose, leaving me in limbo just outside the door, craning my neck to see around him and Leon.

  I tapped his shoulder. "Come on, Frankie, move."

  "Just making sure it's okay," he said.

  "Are you serious?" I muttered. Now that we were in the thick of a mission, he treated me differently. He treated me like I couldn't be trusted not to give into my bloodlust. Like I was fragile, ready to break down. I gave him a hard shove and, losing his balance, he stumbled through the door.

  I muscled my way through. "Don't do that again."

  "Do what?" He feigned stupidity.

  "You know exactly... Whoa."

  Telling off Frankie was interrupted by the unbelievable sight that greeted us in the prison. Guards flanked the walls of the hallway, all in formation, saluting Leon as he walked past. There had to be a few dozen of them, giving us a medium-sized platoon.

  "That's it for the powder," Leon said, shaking the detritus from an empty container.

  "This is our army?" I asked, my eyes sweeping over the lines, surveying the them. More than a few had potbellies that spilled over the belts of their ill-fitting uniforms. I counted seven pimply boys who looked barely 18.

  "Bit ragtag, don't you think?" Frankie said, tempering the insult.

  "They are fearless," Leon said. "That counts more than skill."

  "How about ability?" I asked, hands on hips. I caught the eye of a diminutive woman—the sole female—at the end of the line. She didn't have much height but her body was thick with muscle. She probably wasn't agile, but her brute strength would get us through a few doors. Plus she had a warrior's face. I was betting on her. "She leads."

  "Good choice," Leon said, ordering a Creole command. The line of guards turned and faced the long hallway, ready to move out.

  "Still getting the werewolves first?" Leon asked.

  I nodded. "The ones that are strong enough will be assets if they join us."

  "That's a big if," Frankie said.

  “Worth the risk,” I said.

  "Which way?" Leon asked.

  "Left," I said.

  Leon barked a command and we followed the formation of the guards barreling their way down the hall.

  "Darcy, get ready to open the werewolf cellblock," I said.

  "No problem," she said. I heard her crack her knuckles.

  The hallway was long, but I worried that we'd be stuck at the end, boxed in, waiting for the locks to pop. Leon's hoodoo army moved fast for the majority of out-of-shape guards that filled its ranks.

  "How's it coming, Darce?" I asked, my tone tepid. I didn't want to put pressure on her but we had less than a football field to go before we hit the locked doors.

  "Easy-peasy," she said.

  She muttered to someone else, her hand over the microphone so I couldn't make out what she said.

  Gramps’ gruff voice came over my headset. "Anyone see Max?"

  "He's getting the box truck," I said.

  "You sure about that?"

  Frankie glared at enormous iron doors that loomed in front of us. "Bloody hell, just tell us what's going on. We're about to get in the thick of this shit. Better we know now if we need to change our exit plans."

  "Don’t get your knickers in a knot, English,” Gramps complained. “We got a call from your werewolf friends in Massachusetts. They said Max never showed to meet them at the truck."

  “Have Al drive the damn truck," I said, distracted. The formation of guards was slowing to a stop. We reached the end of the line and the door was still bolted.

  "He won't get through the checkpoint at the guard house with the truck. They don't know him."

  The three of us had scaled the barbed wire fence to get to the building, but a box truck couldn't be that stealthy. In a pinch, Al could just
plow the vehicle through the front gates, but we were relying heavily on the element of surprise for this mission. A box truck barreling through the front gates of a prison wasn't subtle.

  “What about the spell you gave me and Frankie?" I pressed my hand against the damp stone wall, using the natural rock under my hand to ground me. As my frustration rose, so did my hunger. Our hoodoo army started to look yummy.

  "No time for transformation. We don't have a picture of a guard to transform him into."

  "Transform him into Max," Frankie suggested.

  "What if he's—"

  "Just bloody well deal with it!" Frankie snapped.

  I glanced at Frankie. His hair was wild and his eyes glowed green. I knew he was ready to rage. Only his advanced age kept his bloodlust from taking control. His lithe body held its tension, every muscle at the ready. I licked my lips. Frankie had never looked sexier.

  The sound of the locks shifting inside the massive iron doors echoed against the hard stone surface of the hallway. Darcy got through the firewall. Her exclamation about the hack being like taking blood from a Beta-Vamp drowned out Gramps' protests.

  "Spell Al to look like Max and give Darcy back her headset. We need to communicate with her now," I said, my focus on Leon hustling to the front of his platoon, ready to give the command for his troops to charge in.

  At Frankie's short nod, he ordered four men to pull open the heavy doors. Once the opening was wide enough, a stream of grey uniforms flooded into the anteroom of the werewolf holding pen.

  We followed the mass of zombified humans into the cellblock. Batons out, they were beating the un-spelled guards, who were in shock, into submission. Human shouts mixed with the already turned werewolves—some barked with excitement and others whimpered. But behind the bulletproof glass that looked into the block, the cells looked empty. I imagined the weres cowering in their cells in fear.

  I shoved my way to the control booth while the guards attacked each other, pressing on various buttons to try to open the doors to the cells. The computer just chirped out sounds of failure. "Can you hack into the control panel?" I yelled into the mic, over the noise of the melee happening all around me. I ducked a baton that one of the zombie guards wielded as he missed his actual target.