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

by Karen Greco

  With a frustrated sigh, I snatched the weapon and leveled it at the zombie’s original target, beaning him in the head. He crumpled to the ground.

  "That's how you do it," I snarled at the zombie guard. His dead eyes stared at me, mouth gaped open. He took his baton back when I handed it to him. Mindless warriors. We wanted them, we got them.

  "Tell me about the control panel," Darcy said, returning my attention to the smorgasbord of buttons in front of me. "This one has some serious security. It could take me hours to break in. You're going to have to figure out how to override it."

  "Crap," I said, staring at the computer, a cursor blinking at me from a blank screen. "Can you tell me what I’ll need to do to get in?"

  "Is it asking for a password?"

  "The screen is just blank."

  "Is the computer asleep?"

  Darcy sounded exasperated, like when you call IT support because you forgot to plug in your computer.

  “There's no keyboard to press."

  "So that means no typed password," she muttered. "Dammit. I bet it’s facial recognition, like the doors. Do you see a scanner or a camera?”

  "Negative," I said, seeing nothing but a flat plastic border above it.

  "Maybe it's inlaid in the monitor itself?"

  I leaned my head to the side, trying to look past the dark screen. As I twisted my head, a small, boxlike device under the glass caught my attention. It looked like a camera.

  "I see it, " I said, the coursing adrenaline leaving me a little breathless. "Now what?"

  "Now nothing," she said, her voice flat. "Because your face won’t work."

  I dropped my eyes to the guard I clobbered, still unconscious at my feet. I bent over and shoved my hands under each his armpits.

  "Up you go," I muttered as I pulled the man to a standing position. Propping him up against the panel, I yanked on his hair, angling his head so that it directly faced the camera. “Say cheese.”

  I stood there for a second, waiting. But nothing happened. I dropped the guard's head and it lolled against my shoulder. "Dammit, Darcy. Nothing's happening. What else can I try?"

  The wolves' howling got more frantic, competing with the panicked shouts from the werewolves who were still in human form. Bones cracked all around me as Frankie took out guard after guard. I heard Leon barking commands at our zombie army to hold off the rush of Leila’s guards descending on the room.

  "What did you just do?" she asked.

  "I tried a guard's head."

  "Was it still attached to his body?"

  "Yes,” I said bitterly. They were not going to let Frankie and me live down the last prison break.

  "Crap,” she said, her breath quick. “Okay, it may be retina scanning. Can you pry open one of his eyes?"

  I juggled his flopping limbs, trying to keep him propped up and wedge his eye open.

  A zombie guard pushed against us and we stumbled closer to the monitor. I lurched forward and my hip slammed into the panel. Holding the awkward position, I pried open an eye while the computer beeped its way to life. A red light darted out from the camera embedded into the monitor and scanned the unconscious guard’s eyeball. The orange lights on the panel turned green. I shoved the dead weight of the guard off of me and slapped at all the buttons. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. We were so close to releasing these wolves.

  The door buzzed and the locks slid, and I pushed towards the door through the chaos surrounding me. Our spelled army was relentless, going in for the attack against a group of guards who seemed almost uncomfortable hurting their comrades. The humans tried to subdue the spelled guards with nonlethal force.

  My blood craving surged but I forced myself to stay under control. I could hear the rattle from the snake tattoo and my fingers itched to throw a spell, but my unwieldy magic in such a confined space was asking for trouble. These guards were uncomfortable hurting humans, even these humans trying to bludgeon the non-spelled guards. But they'd have no problem removing my head, or Frankie's, or any supernatural being’s. They shot Mia in the back of the head at close range simply for being a witch. And we were the ones they called monsters.

  Frankie muddled his way through the arms and legs of the fighting guards towards the now unlocked barrier between us and the werewolves. Since I was closer to the door, I beat him to it. He mouthed "wait" at me, but I was sick of him treating me like some Living Dead doll. I itched to get the wolves released so we could keep going and get to Dr. O. Besides, our hoodoo guards were being subdued one by one. We could use some angry werewolves to bolster our thinning ranks.

  Before Frankie could shout at me to stop, I yanked open the heavy-looking door, although its weight felt quite normal to my vampire strength. I expected a flood of angry werewolves, in both human and wolf form, to storm through the doors, but instead, the doorway was empty. I paused, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end and my vampire senses keyed to high alert. My unease didn't stop me from stepping over the threshold.

  A heavy iron net dropped from the ceiling onto me, sending me to the ground.

  So much for a sixth sense. I didn't even have five. A heavily armed crew of prison guards charged out of the door, stepping over me as I struggled my way out of the tangled mesh.

  "Crap!" I yelled, still trying to make my way out of the net. "It was a ruse, Darcy. A ruse! Let everyone know they moved the wolves."

  "What are you talking about?" Darcy asked, the tone of her voice just south of panic.

  "I’m in the cellblock," I said, grunting as a guard landed a swift kick to my ribs. "It’s a trap. There are no wolves in here. Just guards. I have no magic."

  Three guards pulled the iron mesh around me and I didn't fight them. The tighter they wrapped it, the easier it would be for me to break out through the metal mesh. They were compensating for a strong witch, not a full-on vampire.

  Frankie was barking orders into the headset, but I wasn't paying attention. Instead, I scratched out at one of my attackers, drawing blood from his forearm. A fist flew into the side of my head, but I licked my lips and relished an early meal. My arms strained against the iron. Its jagged edges cut into my skin as I readied my dramatic breakout. I was starving.

  Gramps' voice snapped me out of my cannibalistic thoughts. "Nina, don't let them know you've turned."

  "I can take them," I growled, saliva dripping from my mouth as I stared at the blood leaking from the guard's arm into neat droplets on the cement floor.

  "You have the element of surprise," Gramps warned. "You need that."

  Frankie's howls drowned out whatever Gramps was saying. I turned, twisting in the iron net that rendered my magic null. Four guards had Frankie pinned while a fifth sprayed him with a fire extinguisher. From the burn mark erupting on Frankie's body, the chemicals for putting out fires were swapped with holy water. I started to rip through the iron that bound me but Frankie's weakened voice came through my earpiece.

  "He's right. You have the upper hand. And you're our only way in. Do not vamp out."

  "But—"

  "I'll be fine," he said, and I watched his teeth grit from across the room as they hit him with more of the spray. "Holy water's for amateurs."

  No it wasn't. Amateur vampires probably wouldn't survive the waterboarding Frankie was getting. Amateurs like me. I recoiled from the water puddling on the floor. An acid bath would tip them off faster than a vampire at a blood drive.

  Frankie gave me a quick wink before he stopped thrashing long enough for them to turn the hoses off. His playing possum told me he didn't want me to get splashed by the spray.

  The guards pulled the iron mesh tighter around me while Frankie went limp and slumped against the wall. I cringed at the welts that erupted on his exposed skin. My shock was released in an audible gasp when he turned his blister-covered face towards me.

  "Don't like seeing your bloodsucker boyfriend all beat up?" a guard hissed at me.

  I shuddered as his hot breath brushed against the back of m
y neck. I almost wished for a splash of holy water to burn off the lingering sensation.

  Leon and his zombie army refused to quit, and they ripped through the cellblock, Leon encased in a swirl of dust and spell work. I watched as the small but solid female guard sent her steel toe-booted foot straight into the balls of my captor. He toppled with an ear splitting shriek of pain, releasing his grip on my iron chains so he could shove his hands against his throbbing crotch. I fought with the netting to extricate myself. A second guard rushed to secure me but my zombie savior stepped in with a solid right hook. The cracking sound told me she shattered the man's jaw. A third guard who started forward thought the better of it and raised his hands as he backed away. I whooped in joy until a shot rang out. The mood of the entire room went from manic to subdued in a matter of seconds, and my lady ass-kicker cleared the cobwebs from her head with a shake. When she raised her eyes to me, confusion spread along her face.

  "Crap," I muttered twisting my head around. The shot that rang out snapped our zombie army out of their stupor. Before I even looked at Leon, I knew the reason why. So I wasn't surprised when I turned to see a trickle of blood slip from the corner of his mouth, his eyes staring into the void, he crumpled to the floor. When the witch dies, the magic dies with him.

  With the hot foot spell toothless, the guards came out of their zombie stupor. Blank expressions turned confused then horrified as they took in the mayhem surrounding them. The cellblock went eerily quiet as the moaning zombies returned to human.

  They shook their heads, unable to make sense of the carnage soaked into their uniforms, splayed across their face and lodged underneath their fingernails.

  The female guard yanked her gun from its holster and leveled it at Frankie. She blasted him with a barrage of bullets, and Frankie's body jerked against the wall from the force of their torques. I almost snickered at her stupidity — bullets didn't kill vamps — until I saw Frankie fall to the floor into convulsions.

  I clawed at the iron net. "What the hell did you do to him?"

  "Hollow point bullets filled with ash," a guard said, trying to pin my arms down.

  I fought against his grip, careful to keep my strength in check so as not to give me away. "Ash?"

  "Like the kind you get at church during Ash Wednesday," the female guard chirped, eyeing me intently. She brought her gun up, and I swallowed. Did she figure me out? I braced myself for the hail of palm ash-filled bullets but instead she brought the butt of the gun down into the side of my head.

  Starbursts filled my line of vision, and then the room spun. I felt my body thud to the hard cement floor before everything went black.

  22

  Ice cold water soaked my front while strange voices muttered unintelligibly around me. My eyes blinked open, adjusting to the stark light. I was in the cellblock with the witches, sitting in a chair with iron shackles binding my wrists and ankles. The bright light left me in near blindness, but my ears picked up the quick breathing patterns that came only with fear. Tension edged along my body and mixed with relief. At least some of the witches were still alive.

  "The witch is awake," a gruff voice said from my left. I glared in his direction, my adrenaline pumping through my body, lengthened fangs hidden behind my lips, which pressed into a thin line. I squeezed my fingers into fists, struggling to keep my inner vampire hidden. But it was itching for release and my control was waning.

  "Where's Frankie?" I managed to get out through gritted teeth.

  There was a snicker. "She wants to know where her vampire is," said the deep voice that went along with it.

  "The vampire is alive, if that answers your question," Leila's voice thrilled through the air. I suppressed a shiver.

  "Where is he?" I repeated. Ash-filled bullets were no joke and the holy waterboarding weakened him substantially. But I was also fairly certain that Leila was the only other vamp in the facility besides me and Frankie. The witches were contained by their iron cells. The werewolves were chained up with them. As usual, the humans underestimated us.

  "A trade," Leila responded, her cool voice sending chills into me. "Where's my daughter?"

  "I'm right here, Mom," I spat out, my lip raised into a snarl.

  "I mean the one I like," she said. "Kittie."

  Hurt stabbed into me for a split second while I absorbed her words. Of course she didn't think of me as a daughter. She killed my father, faked her own death for decades and came back just in time to murder the woman that raised me. The only thing Leila and I shared was commingled witch and vampire DNA. But I was born into my vampire. Leila was bitten.

  "Little sis was neutered," I said, unable to keep a measure of gloat out of my voice. I willed the snake tattoo to rattle, and even underneath all of the iron binding my powers, it gave off a little shake, strong enough for me to feel a surge of power dance through my body.

  "How did you do that?" Leila hissed, suddenly in my face with vampire speed. She reached towards the tattoo peeking out from my shirt, retracting her hand as the snake rattled again. "You stole her magic? How?"

  "I had a good teacher," I said, refusing to look away from my mother's piercing glare. Predators sensed weakness.

  Leila eyed the iron binding me before turning away. Fists clenched, she began to pace, her human guards shrinking back each time she passed by them. I watched her irritation build with each silent step. Was Leila afraid? Of me?

  She turned to face me again, her face contorted in rage. "You ruined everything. Again."

  Her fangs were visible as she curled her lips in anger.

  My adrenaline kicked in. I pressed my lips against each other, keeping my mouth shut, my own fangs itching with anticipation. My self-control was waning.

  There was a buzz followed by the click of metal locks and the door to the cellblock opened. My eyes, still blinded by the spotlight in my face, made out a large muscular shadow moving towards me. I braced myself as it came closer, stepping in front of the aggressive brightness. My eyes blinked rapidly as they adjusted to the dimmer light. Max loomed over me, shoulders back, fists balled. He flashed me a tight smile and I stiffened.

  Max was a rogue operator. He blew off the box truck pickup, the one that was supposed to drive the werewolves, witches, Dr. O and the rest of us away from this supernatural death camp. He couldn’t be trusted. I tracked his movements, his body taut under his jeans, biceps bulging around his t-shirt.

  "Max," Leila purred. "Any other intruders found on the sweep?"

  "It was just the three," he said, turning his head towards me to share a fast wink. "Two now. The witch is dead."

  "Dingdong, as the song goes," I muttered.

  The back of Leila's hand met my cheek, and I made a show of pain, my head lolling to the side.

  "He was not a local witch. Where did you find him?" she asked.

  When I didn't respond, she slapped me again. There was more force behind it, stabbing my left fang into my cheek. I spit out a gob of blood then worked my jaw to make sure it wasn't broken.

  "Not local," Max said. "Driver's license said Louisiana. Some town I'd never heard of."

  "A backwater bayou witch?" Leila turned to me, gloating. "You are getting desperate."

  I twisted my wrists in the bindings. I masked it as a nervous tick, but each subtle twist loosened the bolts from the wood chair. I was careful not to pop free. "He got us in, didn't he? Not so backwater. Now where is Frankie?" My glare rested on Max this time.

  "Yes, where is Frankie?" Leila repeated, her question framed more as a threat.

  "He got away," Max said.

  Relief flooded me, but I stilled at Max's matter-of-fact tone. Leila's minions cowered in fear. Max didn't even break a sweat.

  Leila bared her fangs. "What do you mean he got away?"

  "We took him out of the cellblock and he bolted," he said, taking a step back from her and her sharp incisors. "It's just as well. The prison's not equipped to hold vamps."

  "Not yet," she said pointedly.

/>   "I thought you only needed her," Max said, nodding at me like I was some specimen under glass, not someone he sort-of-kind-of had a thing with. His refusal to say my name rankled, and I gave the bindings a violent twist.

  Leila pressed her hands to her temples, her frustration clear, dangerously so. She raised her head and flashed him an icy smile. "Yes, I only need her and the old man. But I don't trust that vampire won't do anything stupid."

  "He was soaked in holy water and riddled with palm ash bullets," Max said. "He's hurting."

  "He was well enough to get away."

  "I think he wasn't well enough to stay and fight. He'd never abandon her." Again, he nodded at me and refused to say my name.

  "No?" Leila snorted. "What is this, true love?"

  "Yup," Max said, pursing his lips. "That vampire would die for her."

  "But you wouldn't?" Leila's cackle coated me with ice. I gave an involuntary shiver.

  "Let's just say she wasn't my type."

  I scowled. Sure, I was stupid for thinking I could date someone who was human...well, human at the time. But even after he was turned Berserker by Bertrand, his unease with our kind was palpable. But hearing an ex say it out loud—even a one-date-only ex—that still stung.

  "If that vampire would die for her, he should have stuck around," Leila said, dripping cruelty with every word. "After all, look at what your daddy did for me."

  My rage roiled inside me. "Where's Dr. O?"

  "Oh? You miss your daddy figure, too?" she taunted, not missing a beat. She snapped her fingers and I heard footsteps shuffle behind me. The sharp smell of stale blood flowed into my nostrils, and a bit of saliva leaked out of the corner of my mouth at the pungent scent. I willed myself to tame my hunger. The sound of feet dragging along the floor followed. Her goons tossed a limp and bloodied Dr. O on the floor in front of me.

  "What did you do?" I gasped at the sight of his bruised face, arms marked with all manner of glyphs and needle marks. He raised his head at the sound of my voice and relief flooded into me. He was still alive. Weak, but he was still alive.