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

by Karen Greco

  "Shit!" I yelled, adrenaline pumping hard as the engine revved. There was a third guard, one we didn't notice, in the makeshift guard hut. The sound of the bike's loud pipes dragged him out of the glorified shed, waving his Colt CAR-15 carbine.

  Then, he started shooting.

  He was clearly new and not well trained, which made him almost more dangerous. A spray of bullets flew towards us, pinging against the metal frame of my bike and bouncing off the asphalt. Darcy squeezed my midsection tighter and buried her helmet into my back. A feeling of déjà vu ripped through me. I’d taken this ride before, but it was Mia on the back of my bike. That didn’t end so well.

  I doubled down and accelerated, aiming straight for him.

  "What are you doing?!" Between the noise of the bike and the rat-a-tat-tat explosions coming from the gun, Darcy's yell sounded more like a whimper.

  I shook my head and squeezed my thighs tight against the gas tank as the speedometer rose. I wasn’t losing Darcy. No way.

  I aimed the bike right for the guard, playing the ultimate game of chicken. Motorcycle vs. automatic weapon. Even as the distance between us closed rapidly, I felt like I was moving in slow motion. I was close enough to watch his face fall from determined to confused. The "oh shit" expression happened when I was close enough to see the whites of his eyes.

  "Oh my goddess, you're going to hit him!" Darcy screamed.

  "Hang on!" was my response. It was more for me than for Darcy, but she did as she was told and tightened her arms around my waist. I dropped my head and braced myself, ready to absorb the impact of the bike smashing into his body.

  At the last minute, the rent-a-cop jumped out of the path of my bike, rolling into the manicured shrubbery in front of an abandoned faux-Victorian home.

  Darcy and I sped over the state line. A cowboy "yeee haaaaw" made me spare a glance over my shoulder, and I saw Casper chasing behind us. He took this cowboy thing seriously.

  I slowed the bike, giving him a chance to catch up. We moved at a steady pace through the new development. Cookie cutter homes set back from the street by a large expanse of lawn. Unease swept over me again. Suburbia creeped me out.

  After about a half a mile of well-appointed curb appeal, I turned onto the main drag and eased into traffic, the first we'd seen for at least 30 minutes. Casper moved along the curb, dodging streetlights. He wasn't invisible but he was ethereal enough that he could appear as a trick of someone's imagination.

  We traveled for about 15 minutes. The neighborhoods of expensive new developments gave way to older communities whose homes looked a little rough around the edges. Once we passed a housing authority apartment block, a small strip mall came into view. A hand-painted sign, "MOOSE CABIN," was illuminated by spotlights. A Budweiser neon sign blinked through a narrow window. I pulled into the lot and parked my bike in between a rusty pickup truck and a dented minivan.

  Girls’ night out had officially begun.

  18

  "See? Isn't this fun?!" Casper yelled over "Bad to the Bone," which was blaring from the jukebox.

  I expected Moose Cabin to be a crappy dive bar, but it turned out to be a little too “sports bar” for my taste. We managed to commandeer a table in the corner, away from the multicolored lights of the soundless TVs and Keno screens.

  While Casper looked three-dimensional enough to pass for human, he was as ethereal as air. So while I was busy rising from the dead, Casper had practiced sitting on solid objects. By the end of the few days it took me to turn, he was adept at keeping himself from falling through chairs. He beamed when he took his seat. Small victories.

  What he didn’t learn to do was pick up a drink. Still, even if he had been able to lift the glass to his mouth, he couldn't ingest the drink. Instead, it would puddle on the floor. So he ordered a Sidecar, and, once Darcy set it in front of him, he stared at it. Darcy had a gin and tonic. Kentucky Bourbon was my jam.

  "So how about those border guards," Darcy said with a giggle. The adrenaline from the trip gave her pale cheeks a flush. She raised her glass. "Cheers."

  I nodded at her. Since Casper couldn't lift his glass, I didn't want him to feel left out of a toast. "And to Casper, for doing some seriously good spooking."

  The ghost beamed at the praise.

  "Take a sip of mine," Casper said, nodding at his drink. "Tell me if it's good."

  "Nope," Darcy said with a slight shudder. "Cognac is nasty."

  I made a face. "I have to agree with Darcy on that."

  While Casper complained about our lack of supportiveness for his predicament, my nose twitched. I sniffed the air. The pungent smell of wet dog hit my nose. Casper continued his treatise while my eyes swept the joint.

  Maybe the Salem Witch Trials had taught them a thing or two, but Massachusetts didn't seem too concerned about the supernatural entities just on the other side of their gates. Maybe they believed the lie the federal government fed them. But based on the rowdy group of werewolves downing beers at the bar, this state had their own supernats living amongst them, and out in the open. So why wasn't this state in the throws of the apocalypse? I brought up the question with my besties.

  "You think we'll have a problem with them?" Darcy asked.

  "Between the three of us?" Casper said with a snort. "Girl, please. We can take them."

  "That's not the point," I whispered. "I wonder why Massachusetts isn't freaking out and burning their population at the stake."

  "Maybe they don't know?" Casper suggested.

  "Razor wire and border guards just to cross over for a coffee milk? You think they’re buying the official government line of dosed drinking water?"

  Casper considered it. "I'd crawl through razor wire for that." I shot him a dirty look. "What? That shit's delicious."

  I sipped my bourbon. "Point missed, again."

  "Maybe we should ask," Darcy said. She lifted her chin towards the group of werewolves.

  "You don't think that's asking for a fight?"

  "Well, Casper’s right, we can take them," she said. "Now that you're dead—" She watched my face fall and laid a gentle hand on my arm. "Sorry, honey, but you are, there's no sugarcoating that one. Anyway, now that you're dead, I can take them all out with one wail, and I don't have to worry about that killing you."

  "You can wail on command?" Casper asked, eyes wide. "Amazing."

  "She cannot wail on command," I said. "Can you?"

  "Maybe? I’ve been working on it," she said. "But if one of them hits me hard enough, I’ll definitely wail."

  "Listen to us," I said. "We sound ridiculous."

  "This is supposed to be our down time, our night out," Casper said. "No talking about work." An awkward silence spread amongst us. Chatty Casper broke it. "So what's the deal with you and Frankie?"

  Even. More. Awkward.

  I crossed my arms and stared at my drink. "That's none of your business."

  "Come on," Casper coaxed. "You have to tell us."

  "She doesn't have to," Darcy corrected him before she turned to me. "Really you don't have to. But if you want to, we're all ears."

  I slumped down in my chair. "There's nothing to tell, really."

  "That's a lie!" Casper got so excited he slipped through his seat. He righted himself before anyone noticed. "Frankie came out of that room shirtless and sulky. And he's pretty easy on the eyes without the shirt."

  "It's no secret the guy is crazy about you," Darcy added, dunking the lime slice in her drink with her swizzle stick. "Did you at least let him down easy?"

  I slumped further into my chair, as if I could become part of the furniture. "I don't want to talk about this."

  Casper pursed his lips. "Did he turn you down?" His posture stiffened. "Oh my god, he turned you down!"

  Darcy spit her drink back into the glass. "What?"

  "You made a play for Frankie and he... Did he? No!" Casper was buoyant from excitement.

  "Sit down, you're hovering. Like literally," I said, my voice low, eyes da
rting around the bar. Everyone's eyes were on the screens.

  "This is so exciting!" he squealed.

  I glared at him. "What's so exciting about that scenario?"

  He rolled his eyes. "It's romantic. He wanted to wait until you were...well, more yourself."

  "I don't know how to be more myself," I said. I sipped my drink, the bourbon burning a warm path down my throat.

  "You're still you," Darcy said. "Just without a pulse."

  "And a taste for blood," Casper added.

  "She always had that," Darcy said, flipping her platinum tresses over her shoulder. "Ultra rare steaks and burgers that were pretty bloody. Now she's just off of the solids."

  I let out a massive sigh, thinking about how I'd never eat a burger again. "But I liked the solids. A lot."

  "I can't eat solids either," Casper said, giving me conspiratorial sad face. "I miss my mother's carne asada."

  I snarled. "So we should start our own 12-step program?"

  "Okay, what's with you?" Darcy asked. "You're like PMS on steroids."

  "What do you think it is?" I said, my edginess evident in my voice. "I'm a goddamn vampire."

  "You were always a vampire," Darcy pointed out.

  "No, I was never dead. So technically not a vampire."

  "You gotta make your peace with that," Casper said. "That shit will tear you up inside."

  "What do you know about it?"

  "Hellooooo! Ghost. I had to learn to live with that," Casper said.

  One of my newly formed fangs pressed into my lower lip while I took in his astute point. I always knew that someday I'd go full-on Dracula. But what 18-year-old kid thinks he's going to spend the rest of eternity Swayzed out?

  Casper puffed his chest out with pride. "And look at me now."

  "And every bit as handsome," Darcy said. She raised her glass and winked at him.

  Casper blushed. "So back to Frankie."

  I shrugged. "Maybe he's just not that into me."

  "Frankie not that into you?" Darcy snorted. "That's not even possible."

  "Maybe he was into me before the turn, but after? Dead people are not that appealing."

  Casper yelled "hey" while Darcy cleared her throat. "In case you didn't notice, I find a vampire hot."

  "But that's different," I said.

  "You're prejudiced!" Casper said. He clapped his hands together — or rather tried to.

  "I am not."

  Darcy sipped her gin and tonic through the tiny straw. "Honey, you are going to have to come to terms with this predicament."

  "Seriously, no one likes self-loathing. Unless you're going to go all out gothic vamp, maybe then you can get away with that," Casper said.

  The image of a gothed-out me hit us all at the same time and we burst out laughing. Between being in a state that wasn't gunning for supernatural creatures, the Kentucky bourbon and time with my two best friends, the stiffness in my body waned. For the first time in days, I relaxed.

  Darcy studied the change in my posture. "So. You ready to dish now?"

  I looked back and forth between them. Both of them had bright eyes, like kids anxious for a bedtime story. "Yes, we almost hooked up. And yes, he stopped it before anything serious happened."

  "By serious, you mean...?" Casper prodded.

  "Exactly," I said with a nod.

  Darcy released the breath that she held. "Wow. I cannot believe you and Frankie almost. And that he didn't!"

  I tapped my pinky nail against my glass. "What do you think it means?" I asked. Relief flooded into me as I unburdened myself to Casper and Darcy. My self-esteem had taken a serious hit when Frankie turned me down.

  "He respects you," she said. "Definitely."

  Casper nodded his agreement. "He wants to make sure you're ready. That it's not your vampire talking."

  Darcy sat back in her chair, a big smile spreading across her face. "He loves you."

  "Hang on a sec," I said. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I mean, we haven't even had a date."

  Casper's face lit up. "That's a fabulous idea!"

  I rolled my eyes. "How the hell can anyone go on a date? Things being the way they are."

  "Leave it to me," Casper said. "I'll figure something out."

  "Maybe you guys can cross the border," Darcy suggested. She glanced around the bar. "This place isn't half-bad."

  "I'm not sure I'm completely comfortable with the element," I said, jerking my head towards the guys at the bar. A few drinks in and the tension in the place ratcheted up a notch.

  "The werewolves?" Casper asked.

  "Yup," I said, trying not to stare at them. Whatever happened in that bar was not my problem. Unless they had a territorial beef with us, which they shouldn’t. With Blood Ops in disarray, the country's supernatural problems were no longer mine. No matter what Mary Jane thought.

  Darcy lowered her voice. "Why do you think they’re out in the open?"

  "Maybe they're passing for human," I said. Werewolves, like witches, blended easily into the human community. Werewolves were the outdoorsy types, the ones that loved camping, hiking and lake swimming. You generally didn’t find them in urban areas.

  Darkness spread over Casper's face. "Maybe Massholes don’t have a problem their supernatural folks."

  "When you think about tourism dollars," I said, "Salem is a cash cow. Could be like New Orleans."

  The supernatural was such a financial boon to New Orleans that they protected them like humans, preferring to deal with their rogue elements in their own way. It was the one city where Blood Ops was forbidden to operate.

  "We ever get a call in Mass?" Darcy asked. The way her face was screwed up told me that she was doing a mental rundown of the various states we had been deployed over the years.

  "I think once, we were sent to Springfield, maybe?" I said. "Basketball Hall of Fame?"

  Darcy snickered. "Haunted basketballs."

  Casper looked between us. "Basketballs cannot be haunted."

  "Nothing was haunted," I said. "Turned out to be a prank."

  "Then we were never called into the state for an authentic supernatural incident."

  "Still, surprised we didn't know Mass was off-limits," I said. Casper's annoyed expression told me that he felt left out from our Blood Ops shorthand. I explained. "It wasn't a secret that we were not allowed to operate in New Orleans. In fact, it was drilled into us that if we harmed any supernatural being within city limits, we would be charged as if we harmed a human."

  Darcy sipped her drink. "But worse. There was a hidden law in the books that said that the voodoo clans would dispense their own justice."

  "So maybe it’s the same here," Casper said, slipping in his seat again. “Should we mull a move to Mass?”

  "Damn," Darcy whispered, glancing towards the bar. "I think they noticed that." She nodded at Casper, who was righting himself.

  "What makes you say that?" I asked.

  "I don't know," she quipped. "Maybe because they're staring?"

  The werewolves’ rowdy conversation also ceased. The other conversations around us hummed along until they also realized that the loud mouths were quiet.

  My fingernails tapped out a rhythm against my glass of bourbon. I heard the men slam their pint glasses against the wood of the bar, then footfalls made their way over. Their hulking presence loomed above us before they uttered a word.

  "You three lost?" one asked. He looked like a former high school linebacker who stopped his daily exercise 10 years ago but hadn't adjusted his snacking habits. He ran his hand through his overgrown sandy hair and then across his scruffy beard while he waited for our answer.

  "Just came in for a drink," Darcy said, shooting all of them a 1000-watt smile. In addition to being deadly, banshees were sexy as hell. Think about that combination.

  The tall skinny one with pockmarked cheeks sniffed the air. "You're welcome here," he said, leering in Darcy's direction. "You two, however..." His lips lifted in a snarl as his eyes skimmed ov
er me and Casper.

  "Not natural," the one with slick backed, silver hair muttered. He nodded at Casper. "You're definitely not natural."

  My fangs itched and my stomach growled, and I wondered what werewolf tasted like. Darcy kicked me under the table. My attention refocused from snacking on the werewolves to diffusing the situation.

  "Like my friend said," I said, talking around my fangs, "we're just stopping in for a quiet drink. Not interested in anything else tonight."

  Former football player sniffed the air over me. "Bloodsucker?"

  "Now that's just rude," Casper said, his peevish expression matching his voice.

  "Agreed," the silver-haired one said. "That was rude. You apologize."

  The beefy guy muttered a half-assed “I'm sorry,” which elicited a rough shove from the elder werewolf, who I assumed was the alpha. The alpha dropped into the empty seat at our table. "Just trying to look out for our own. You can appreciate that."

  I gave him a short nod. "I can."

  "So, considering that, what are you doing over the border?"

  "Just needed a place to relax," I said, not an untruth. “We want no trouble.”

  He cocked his head. "They don't have bars where you’re from?"

  I shook my head. "Not when there’s a curfew in effect."

  "Ah, Rhode Island,” he said. “How’s the state detox program going?” He barked out a laugh. They knew the cover story was bullshit.

  Darcy glanced around, her patience out. "Why aren't you guys running for the hills?"

  “Keep to ourselves. No need to run."

  "The state just lets you guys be?" she asked, her tone hinting at her disbelief.

  He shrugged. "We all work together."

  "Meaning?"

  "The vampires compel the humans when necessary, the werewolves are security, the witches lay down protection for all of us."

  Casper looked impressed. "Y'all work together like that?"

  "Always," the man said. "Have to. If we didn't, we'd be like Rhode Island." That made him guffaw.