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

by Karen Greco

  Casper hunkered down inside me and started a spell that pinned me to the spot. My body attempted to move towards Kittie but his conjuring foiled every attempt. Fighting against Casper's spell sent my body into convulsions.

  "Dammit, Nina," Casper said. "You got the darkness in you now."

  "Hold her down!" my grandfather yelled at Frankie. "I have to expel the ghost."

  "No!" I pleaded, choking on my own vomit. Casper pushed himself further into my psyche. I felt him recoil against the dark magic each time he dug in deeper. He didn't want to live inside my body anymore, but expelling Casper would exorcise him for good. I wasn't ready to lose another person I cared about, ghost or not, and he wasn't keen on letting me go either.

  "You've got to get out," I whispered. "Exorcism is coming."

  But he held steady in my body and both of us fought like hell to keep him there as Gramps started his spell. I screamed again. My grandfather's spell slashed through my body like a knife skinning me from the inside. My temperature still burned hot, and more of that ginger scent spiced the air. I sneezed, and blood exploded from my nose.

  "Stop fighting this," Gramps hissed. He pressed a medallion against my forehead and pain ripped through my skull. "That ghost is killing you."

  "Nina," Casper wheezed. My grandfather's spell was winning. I felt Casper's hold on me weaken with each word my grandfather uttered.

  "Noooo!" I yelled as my form seized before going limp. The acute pain disappeared but a nagging ache still settled into my body. Casper wasn't in there anymore. Tears squeezed their way out of my eyes, which I kept clamped shut. If I looked at my grandfather right now, I'd kill him.

  Frankie's soft voice broke the silence. "Holy. Crap."

  "‘Holy crap’? That's all you can say? Not, ‘Damn, you're a good looking man’?"

  That familiar voice. That intonation. That sass.

  I sat up. My eyes snapped open. Casper stood over me. I reached for him. He was as three-dimensional as me, or Frankie, but my hand sliced through him. He was formed from vapor.

  "Hey, that's getting a little personal," Casper teased, his grin wide. "Check it, I'm here. In the flesh. Sort of. Hey, are you crying? Oh snap. You were crying. For me!"

  "This happened in your head every time he was in there?" Frankie asked. "No wonder you had headaches."

  "You didn't exorcise him?" I said, looking at my grandfather.

  "Why would I do that?" he said. "He's a solid witch, in a manner of speaking." We watched as Casper tried to negotiate a seat on a barstool. His transparent body refused to cooperate. "You'll get the hang of it, kid. Just keep working on it."

  "Are we the only ones who can see him?" Frankie asked.

  "Hell no," Gramps said. "He's visible to anyone."

  "But he's still..." I paused and looked at Casper.

  "Dead?" Gramps finished for me. Casper winced at his indelicacy. "Of course he's still dead. We aren't necromancers. Terrible business, necromancy."

  Kittie snorted at that. I glared at her.

  "So why did my body freak out when Casper was in there?" I asked. Gramps shrugged, but I wasn't buying his feigned ignorance.

  "That dark magic," Casper said. "I was trying to fight it with my own magic but..."

  "But magic wars have cut down many a witch," Gramps finished for him. "There's a long tradition of witch-on-witch violence, on both sides."

  “That damn tattoo pushed the dark magic inside me,” I said. “We gotta figure out how to get it out.”

  “Laser removal?” Frankie suggested.

  "Oh my god! You can’t just laser it off," Kittie exploded, yanking at her bound hands. "You stole my magic. It’s part of you now."

  "You forced me to do it," I argued. “I had no choice.”

  "Please," she said. "You were more than willing to take what was mine. You welcome the darkness."

  "You really want to see me welcome the darkness?" I threatened.

  She sniffed. "You don't have it in you."

  The snake tattoo issued a warning rattle, and a flood of words poured from my mouth. It was like I was possessed, watching someone else cast the spell that caused Kittie's eyes to go wide.

  "Tell me what Leila is doing," I demanded, my spell forcing Kittie to do my will. Her tongue swelled and lolled out of her mouth, and I drew back, repulsed. "What the hell is happening to her?"

  "Oh, ho ho! My daughter’s a wily one. Looks like she didn't trust you, Kittie," Gramps said with a chuckle that told me he was impressed. "She put a silencer spell on you."

  Kittie's eyes went wide as her tongue continued to enlarge, threatening to cut off her air supply.

  "How do we reverse that?" I asked.

  "You really want to?" Gramps asked.

  "Of course I want to," I said. "She's going to die like this."

  "Find it in your little dark heart," he said. His laugh was cold.

  Casper's lips turned down. "You are only as dark as your spells. Stealing another witch's magic. That's some dark shit. It's almost as bad as casting a death spell. But what's in your heart, Nina? The dark shit doesn’t define you. That's not you."

  "So what do I do?" I whispered.

  "Dig deep, girlfriend," he said. "You got this."

  I wanted to give in to this cruel magic. I wanted to enjoy watching Kittie in the throes of an agonizing death. But Casper was right, that wasn't me. Kittie didn't have any magic left to defend herself. I'd stolen her only means of protection against Leila. And against me.

  Kittie gasped as her engorged tongue continued to block her airway. I thought about Babe, about her light, her kindness, her gentle way of magic.

  Taking a breath, I tried a spell. Kittie’s face was turning blue from her lack of oxygen.

  “It’s not working,” I cried out to Casper.

  “The darkness does not define you,” he repeated, surprising me with the strength of his voice. “Do it again, Nina.” I looked at him, my eyes pleading for his help. He looked me in the eyes. “You got this.”

  Under Casper’s encouraging eyes, I unleashed a new torrent of words, an incantation that released Kittie from my dark hold. She collapsed against the pillar, panting.

  Shaking from the adrenaline pushing out of my body, not to mention the relief that the spell worked, I pulled my knees into me and hugged them. "So I'm the wicked witch now?"

  "Nah, not when you do shit like that," Casper said. "Let's just say that you're a little less inhibited with your magic now."

  "There's a compromise," Frankie said. His voice was bright but edged with worry.

  "Oh the darkness, blah blah blah," Gramps mocked. "You're no innocent. You've killed before. You'll kill again. This one notwithstanding." He gave Kittie a little kick.

  "To save lives," I snapped. As my anger rose, my body tingled. "I've killed to save lives."

  "No matter," he said. "Taking a life. That's something you can't turn back from."

  "It was justified," I said. Energy pulsed into my body and the snake tattoo shook its rattle. This time, I welcomed the magic growing in my body, allowing it to feed me. Gramps had pushed me down a road I didn't want to travel. He tricked me into stealing Kittie's magic. He preyed on my novice skills to trick me into practicing a part of the craft I never wanted to welcome into my life. I allowed my rage to envelope me. My fangs dropped.

  I catapulted up from the ground and lunged at my grandfather. My hands gripped him around the arms. I felt the sinew of his muscles, freakishly powerful for a man his age. My fangs snapped as I pulled him into me, laser focused on his jugular, which throbbed faster as adrenaline flooded his body. Fear. I smelled it. It was intoxicating.

  Frankie's own powerful hands grabbed me and pulled me back. "Nina, no," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "You'll regret it."

  What I regretted, what Frankie regretted, was that we didn't see the talon blade sooner. Gramps' movement was lithe, the blade dropping out from under the long sleeve of his Baja hoodie. In one fluid movement, he d
rew the blade across my neck before slamming it into my carotid artery.

  Warm, sticky blood flooded down my neck, soaking my shirt. Frankie pulled me into him, his hand trying to cover the wound, trying to keep me from bleeding out. A low cry was building from his chest as he whispered my name. I gasped, my fingers ripping at him as I struggled for air. Each labored breath was followed by a gurgle as my lungs filled with fluid. Everything went soft focus, except for Frankie, whose face was close to mine. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  I reached a bloody hand to his face, and touched his cheek. I'd never seen him cry before. A red streak trailed my hand as it dropped and my body went limp.

  "Stay with me, Nina," he whispered. "Please stay with me. I love you."

  Then, I died.

  14

  My eyes snapped open. It was pitch black, no crack of light to help my eyes focus. I shifted around and my shoulder bumped into a cushion with something firm behind it. I pushed myself up on my elbows and my head encountered the same barrier. I was enclosed in something.

  My fingernails clawed at the cushioned wall above me. Fabric and polyester padding pulled away, revealing a pine surface. I slapped my palm against the bare wood.

  "Hello?" I called, my voice horse, my throat sore. I was met with silence from the other side.

  I continued to claw at the wood. Splinters embedded under my nails as my fingers worked. My eyes and nose itched from the sawdust that coated my face.

  My stomach growled. It wasn't the usual "I skipped lunch" growl. It was full-on, rabid, ravenous, and then some.

  Tucking my knees up to my chest, I pressed the soles of my feet and palms of my hands against the lid and pushed. It didn't budge. I put more force behind it, which was hard to do in such an awkward position. Nothing.

  I pulled my arm back and sent a forward jab straight up into the spot of exposed pine. A loud crack and then shards of wood rained down on me. Just enough florescent light spilled in through the hole that I was able to see what entombed me.

  A coffin. Someone put me in a goddamn coffin.

  While I digested that, I heard footsteps above me, then the sounds of someone descending a staircase. I wrinkled my nose. The air that flooded into the coffin carried a slight stench of mold. Voices, muffled at first, became clearer as the footsteps moved closer.

  "She's awake," Frankie said.

  "Not possible," my grandfather said. "It takes days to turn."

  "We don't have days, remember? Not while Mary Jane’s running the countdown clock," Frankie said, the irritation in his voice rising. "You didn't consider that, did you?"

  "I considered everything," Gramps retorted.

  My grandfather? My grandfather. Memories from how long ago? A day? Two? More? They slipped into my mind, and I pressed my hand along my neck. A large raised scar remained where the blade had punctured my neck. I died. I was dead.

  Holy crap. I was undead.

  My mind raced and I tried to remember how fast vampiric dead became not so much anymore. And whose idea was it to put me in the damn coffin? I punched another hole in the wood. I had no strength. I wasn't even as strong as I was when I was human. I wasn't healing fast enough. My empty stomach roiled. I wasn't fully turned yet. But damn I was hungry.

  Something landed on the top of the coffin with a thud. Sharp teeth made their way around the hole I punched in the coffin's lid and ripped away at the wood. A heavy paw dropped through the enlarged opening, and pressed against my chest. Dog was digging me out.

  "Good girl," I whispered, my vocal chords still frayed from the knife. She whined in response and continued to work her way through the wood and poly-foam material, shredding the faux silk interior. It was pink. Was this coffin Frankie's idea of a laugh?

  Once Dog chewed through an opening just large enough for me to fit through, I pulled myself up to a seated position. Dog laid down on the foot end of the coffin, panting. I scratched her ears and recognized the damp stone walls that surrounded me. I was in the very back of the bar's basement, a near-forgotten part that was too damp and too isolated to be used for much of anything. Except storing a coffin, apparently.

  Footfalls continued to echo through the low ceilinged keg room as they made their way towards me. The old wooden door creaked open on its rusty hinges. Frankie and Gramps stood in the doorway, both bathed in an eerie blue hue from the florescent overhead lights.

  The memory of my grandfather slamming a talon blade into my neck jarred me out of my stupor. His skin undulated from the blood that circulated through his body at five quarts per minute. I licked my dry lips. My fangs, which now replaced my canine teeth, grew longer.

  "Nina," Frankie said, his voice cautious as he stepped into the room.

  My movements were fluid and fast. Before Dog could jump off the casket, I was past Frankie. With my indescribable hunger growing, I gripped my grandfather by the shoulders and sunk my sharp teeth into his neck. Blood — salty with that hint of cinnamon — flooded into my mouth. It poured down my throat and into my stomach. But the hunger wasn't abating, so I sucked harder, pulling more nourishment into me.

  Frankie's strong fingers gripped me around the mouth and pried me off of my grandfather. Gramps staggered backwards, holding onto his bloodied neck, mumbling, "Sanguinem copia fatiscunt aut quae stirpibus exit corpus meum."

  Frankie's arms wrapped around my waist as I doubled over from a crushing pain in my belly. Gagging, the contents of my stomach emptied on the cold cement floor. I dropped to my knees, taking Frankie down with me. I leaned back, exhausted, against his hard chest.

  "Good on you. You missed his artery," Frankie said, although slight disappointment tinged his voice.

  "What's happening to me?" I whispered.

  "You're in the middle of the turn," he said. "You need more rest."

  "Don't put me back in that thing," I begged.

  "It was just temporary. Until we got a room set up. It's all sorted now."

  He hoisted me up. Cradled in his arms, Frankie carried me out of the room and away from the shredded coffin. Dog tapped along behind, her nails the only sound in the basement.

  My grandfather leaned against the wall, hand still pressed to his neck. Blood from the open wound on his neck oozed between his fingers. My grandfather's eyes followed me.

  "You could have killed me, girl," he said.

  "And you did kill me, old man," I said. "Eye for an eye. Right?"

  Dog whimpered from around Frankie's legs while my grandfather and I exchanged glares of mistrust.

  "Leave it," Frankie said, drawing me closer into him. "Your body needs time, needs rest."

  I lost consciousness before I could argue with him.

  15

  When I woke up again, I was screaming for air. Frankie rubbed my back while I gasped for it. But my lungs had collapsed in on themselves. The futility of breathing only made me more desperate to fill them. How was I alive?

  My ears burned from the voices on the other side of the wall. Living. Human. I could feel the heat coming off of their bodies even through several feet of wall plaster. I sniffed a heady mix of witch and human scents, and was struck with a ravenous ache in my belly.

  Food.

  I shoved Frankie off of me with so much force that he flew across the room, slamming against the far wall, leaving a body-sized dent. I tripped over myself in my rush to get to the door. I flung it open, and sunlight poured into the dark room, blinding me. I screamed when it hit my skin, blisters erupting from the white hot light. Frankie crashed into me, pushing me out of the sun. He slammed the door shut before my arm burst into flames.

  "That's not a good idea," he said. He lifted me up and carried me back to the bed. My body hit the mattress and I doubled over in pain. My stomach churned with hunger.

  Frankie handed me a glass. I sniffed the contents. Metallic and stale. I wrinkled my nose.

  "It's unsatisfying leftovers, but it'll take the ache away," he said, tipping the glass to my lips. I shivered against his body
while I choked down the foul contents of the glass. Old blood with the taste of antique silver numbed my tongue. But it was the aftertaste — like meat left on the counter too long on a hot day — that coated my mouth. It was disgusting, but quelled the agonizing pain in my gut.

  I shivered. "Why is it so cold?" My voice was hoarse, my throat still strained from the stab wound.

  "You'll get used to it," Frankie said, placing the glass on the bedside table. He pulled a quilt up over me and tucked me in, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I gave into my body's tremors as I tried to get warm. "What happened to me?"

  "You died, love," he said, resting his arm across my body. "You're turning."

  "Still?" I repeated. I tilted my head towards him, his face clear even in the dark room. He wasn't in shadow. Vampire vision. "How long?"

  "Everyone's different," he said. "You more so. Witch and all."

  "Doesn't the vampire negate that?" I pulled closer into him, the cold so overwhelming and uncomfortable. I curled my arm over my stolen snake tattoo, unnerved by its stillness. The witch died along with the human.

  "Your grandfather said—"

  My eyes narrowed. "You mean he's not dead yet?"

  Frankie played with my hair. "No, I didn't kill him." I glanced at him. "And neither did you."

  I knocked his hand away. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

  His smile was rueful. "We need him right now, love."

  "For what?"

  "For making sure you don't die twice. The witch and vampire warred in your body. Now they have to find harmony."

  "The witch is dead."

  Frankie shook his head. "It lived in your mother after she turned. Why couldn't it live in you?"

  I cursed the witch the minute deranged vampire Marcello sliced me with that spelled knife and ignited dormant powers I didn't know I had. For months, I wore the witch like an ill-fitting suit, unable to find myself through all the spell work. But now, without the magic vibrating in my body, I felt foreign, like I had a missing appendage. Like a phantom limb, imagined magic would tickle my nose or dance through my finger tips, but when I touched the source, the magic disappeared.