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

by Karen Greco

  Besides, look at Casper. Sometimes the dead come back to haunt us.

  23

  I shoved Darcy's tangled mess of chords and electrical equipment onto the floor to give Frankie a place to lay out Dr. O. Gramps hovered behind both of us, cracking his knuckles, impatient to do the spell. Dog slipped under the table and growled when he got close.

  "We can't do the spell yet," I muttered, wishing Gramps would cool his jets someplace else while we waited. The spell relied on timing, and we had to get it just right.

  "I don't like this," Frankie said, his body a blur as he rushed into the apartment. He slid Dr. O onto the hard wood of the table. Dog nuzzled the old Druid's hand as it hung off the table. "This spell will kill you, Nina."

  "We have the entire plan mapped out," I said, feigning confidence in my voice. "All I have to do is get from the kitchen into the hallway. Piece of cake."

  "Not when the sunlight is streaming in," he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at me.

  The spell that Gramps said would help Dr. O survive needed two witches and a dose of sunlight for it to work.

  "Darcy and Matty are taking care of it," I said, adding a bright smile to take the edge off.

  Darcy and Matty were tacking blackout paper on all the windows in the hallway. Then they were going to install a makeshift heavy drape over the door that theoretically would keep the sunlight out of the hallway when I busted through.

  There was a soft knock at the door and I wondered where the hell Darcy and Matty fucked off to. They were supposed to be making sure the hallway didn't leak sunlight, but they probably were hunkered down in Matty's sunlight sealed lair. They couldn't keep their hands off each other, end-of-the-world be damned. My eyeball twitched as I slipped past Frankie to get to the door. Dog padded down the hall behind me.

  Father Dougherty stood on the other side of the threshold, shifting on his feet. He glanced down the stairs at his left, moaning sounds coming up from the darkness at bottom, confirming my suspicions. His glance moved to Dog, who sat on her haunches beside me, her soulful eyes watching him. He tugged at his priest's collar and continued to move his weight from foot to foot. The decision between walking past a hellhound or listening to sex between a banshee and a Beta-Vamp played out on his face.

  "Sorry," I said, opening the door wider to let him in, my face hot. He paused once more to look between the basement and my sullen hound before giving me a curt nod and crossing the threshold. Once he slipped past me and Dog, I poked my head into the hallway and looked towards the front door. At least they got the blackout paper up. All that was left to install was the draping, which was stored in the basement. Getting the thick dark cloth out clearly led to their unsanctioned work break.

  I closed the door, leaving it unlocked so the two lovebirds could let themselves in when they were finished. Ambling back into the kitchen, Dog at my heels, I gaped at the sight of Father Dougherty standing over his old friend and administering last rights.

  "What are you doing?" I asked, barreling between him and Dr. O, the cross in his hand burning my skin when my arm hit it.

  Frankie grabbed me from behind, keeping me away from the priest. "Dr. O wants it done, Nina. He requested it."

  "He's awake?" I asked, touching the old man's craggy face. He looked every bit his age now, his pale visage nearly translucent.

  "He was," Frankie said. "Just enough to tell Dougherty to do it."

  Tears stabbed at my eyes and I slumped into the oversized couch, grateful that the open loft allowed me full view of Dr. O from anywhere in the oversized room. I glanced at the heavy curtains on the windows, willing the sun to rise faster. Once it did, we'd do the spell, open the curtains and, with a little luck and vampire speed, Dr. O would live and I wouldn't be burnt to a crisp.

  "Where are you going?" I asked Frankie, my voice sharp as I caught him heading toward the door.

  "To get you a blood bag," he said. "You need food in you to outrun the sun."

  I relaxed my shoulders and settled back into the couch cushions, closing my eyes. I heard Dog grunt into a prone position at my feet and a small smile quaked at my lips. Frankie would have to go into Matty's room to borrow a blood bag. "You may want to knock before entering."

  "Having a go again?" Frankie muttered, his footsteps heavy with annoyance as he clumped down the hall. "Those two are bloody rabbits." Frankie slammed the door behind him, and his voice slipped through the heavy steel as he shouted a warning for the lovebirds to get dressed.

  Father Dougherty picked up last rites again, and my jaw clenched as his words of faith echoed through the apartment. I wanted to blame recoiling from the prayer on my vampire, but I knew it was because I was losing someone else. Someone I loved. Someone who loved me. Dr. O took on my weirdness and molded me into a human first, monster second.

  I sighed, willing myself to remember that point when the vampire in me threatened to wipe out my conscience. My stomach clenched again, and I squeezed my eyes tighter as my mind wandered to Frankie and the blood bag. Did we have enough time for me to go out and get some real food instead of the microwave dinner he was bringing up from the basement? The stress was making me hungry, which meant hangry loomed close behind.

  The cushion beside me shifted as Gramps joined me on the couch. I popped opened one eye and looked at him, not entirely trusting that he wouldn't toss a spell at me while I was trying to keep myself from losing it. "What do you want?"

  "I'm sorry about the old man," he said, rising his chin towards Dr. O. "But you need to know there's a good chance the spell won't work."

  "But there's still a chance that it will."

  He sighed. "I don't think that we should risk your exposure to sunlight."

  Sitting up, I opened my other eye and leaned towards him, opening my mouth to show my fangs as I shifted closer. "Says the man who drove a knife into my jugular and watched me bleed out."

  "There was a reason why I did that," he said, leaning in towards me in a show of bravery. Or stupidity, since my hunger was beginning to gnaw at me. "Besides, you aren't truly dead."

  "No, now I'm undead," I said, clicking my fangs against my teeth. Where the hell was Frankie with that bag? I needed to take the edge off.

  "But not dead dead," he said, leaning back and folding his arms into a self-satisfied posture.

  My reflexes took over, and in a swift movement, I had him pinned to his end of the couch. I opened my mouth, scenting him with both my nose and taste buds. "I wonder," I said, my voice low, "if I drained a witch, would I get your power too?"

  "You can only hold the power from my blood until you metabolize it," he said, his voice steady. A light sheen of sweat broke out over his forehead. It was the only evidence of his fear.

  Father Dougherty cleared his throat. "Nina?" His voice cracked when he said my name. When I looked up at him, he stepped around the table, putting the solid wood between us. "Lachlan is asking for you."

  I retreated to the other side of the couch, averting my eyes when I saw that Dr. O was watching me through his rheumy blue ones. After a final nasty look in my grandfather's direction, I stood and walked to Dr. O's makeshift hospital bed, eyes lowered.

  "I'm here, Dr. O," I said, my voice low.

  The dying Druid reached for my hand and squeezed. A jolt of magic shot up my arm. My body responded with a small jump at the shock. Dr. O chuckled.

  "So you can feel my magic now," he said. "That's good. That's good."

  "Is it?" I asked, biting my lip. The snake writhed under my skin as it took in Dr. O's power, and I squirmed under the sensation. Feeling magic didn't feel terribly good.

  Dr. O took a large breath, as if taking in my apprehension. "Your body has been battling two kinds of magic since you were stuck with that infernal knife. Your survival depended on turning."

  Gramps' harrumph from the couch served as an "I-told-you-so."

  "I had hoped, however," Dr. O continued, his weak voice growing louder and more resonant, "that you would not turn quite so soo
n. Learning to control both newly acquired witch magic and vampire power is going to be a difficult task."

  "Some would say impossible," Father Dougherty interrupted. Though his face was kind, his voice carried a hint of disapproval.

  "Stop being so damn Catholic, Dougherty," Dr. O snapped. "That's always been your problem." The priest crossed his arms and looked sufficiently chagrined. Dr. O winked at me and I gave his hand a small squeeze. "But, Nina, I agree with your grandfather. This is not a spell you should attempt."

  I started to protest when I heard Darcy, Matty and Frankie come in through the door, their loud chatter carrying through the apartment. The three were arguing about how best to put up the draping. Frankie sauntered in, his smile widening when he saw that Dr. O was awake. He tossed me the blood bag, which I caught with one hand, and came over to give Dr. O a careful hug.

  "Won't be long now," Frankie said as he straightened, nodding towards the windows. I imagined the pitch black outside transitioning to a deep shade of grey. My body went numb as I thought about my arm burning from a sliver of sunlight that came into my room after I turned. But I was newly undead then. Butterflies danced in my empty stomach. I can do this.

  I bit open the blood bag and pounded the stuff in one shot. Frankie raised one eyebrow but kept his mouth shut.

  Dr. O cleared his throat. "Nina, don't do the spell. There's no reason to do the spell."

  I made a face and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'd say keeping you alive is a big reason."

  His chuckle was wheezy. "I'm old, Nina. I may be older than Frankie, if you can imagine. I've had my time on this earth."

  I leaned my hip against the table and stared down at him, willing myself not to cry. "But I haven't had enough time with you."

  He squeezed my hand again. My fingers felt small, being crushed in his. "Learning how to let go is part of growing."

  "I've grown quite enough over the past few months," I said, a tear running down my cheek as I thought of Babe.

  "Yes, you did. So did I," he said, sadness blanketing his face. "But the blessing is we had her to begin with. Babe...Me...we served our purpose on this earth. We watched you grow into the woman you are right now. Vampire and all." His eyes twinkled, and he motioned me to come close to him.

  I bent over him, my ear near his mouth.

  His soft breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "And now you have the love of a good vampire. That's more than enough."

  My face flushed and I straightened. Avoiding Frankie's eyes, I forced a smile only to keep the ugly-cry at bay. Back stiff, I turned to look at the draping over the windows. The edges looked lighter, spring's grey morning breaking fast.

  I released Dr. O's hand and crossed to the kitchen counter where Gramps placed a box of spell supplies. I began to pick through the candles, choosing a red one for vitality. Gramps sidled up beside me and busied himself with some herbs. My shoulders eased down from my ears while I used Gramps' ceremonial knife to carve runes into the wax, grateful that I didn’t have to do this spell alone. It was complicated, and required me to run like hell out of the apartment before I resembled barbecue.

  "You're not listening to him," Father Dougherty said, his eyes wide.

  I barely glanced up at him. "If I have a chance to save him, I'm doing it."

  "But that will upset the natural balance," he said, his voice edged with steely resolve.

  "Leave the natural balance to us witches, Padre," Gramps said, patting at his pockets in search of a cigarette.

  "No smoking in my apartment," I warned.

  He loosed a string of Spanish swears that turned Father Dougherty's ears beet red.

  "I don't agree with this," the priest said. "This is not the natural order."

  I slammed an open palm down on the counter. "Leila is the one who messed with the natural order! If she didn't syphon out his magic, he'd be fine. We are righting her wrong!"

  "The whole thing is madness," Father Dougherty continued as though I didn't say anything. "We are not meant to live forever."

  "Tell that to Frankie," I said. "You're going on what? Seven hundred years, give or take a few decades?"

  "Maybe humans aren't meant to," Frankie added. "But we're not human, none of us."

  "My oldest friend, you shunned our magic...," Dr. O explained.

  "Silence, Lachlan, please," the priest said.

  "...and joined the clergy to try to atone for it," Dr. O continued, ignoring the priest's protests.

  "You're not well," Farther Dougherty insisted. "You're speaking nonsense."

  "I speak truth," Dr. O said. His rising voice resonated through the room. "You fear your magic and that's why you hate it."

  I raised my eyes to look between the two old friends. The priest looked stunned, like Dr. O slapped him. And, in a way, he did.

  Dr. O turned his head towards me. "This is your cautionary tale, Nina. We all have both magic and monsters inside us, just like you. The trick is to fear neither. Only then you learn to wield it with benevolence. Even the dark parts." He nodded at Gramps, who tilted his head towards Dr. O in deference.

  I cleared my throat. "Then I'm doing this spell so I don't fear it."

  "Nina," he started, "don't fear the darkness, yes, but remember there is a natural order."

  "To hell with the natural order," Gramps barked. "The sun's coming up. We need to do this. Now."

  He lit the rune-carved candle then held out his hand to me. I clasped onto him, the energy from his body moving from his fingers into my hand, jolting through my body.

  "Sacred fire, give him strength..." Gramps began the spell, using his free to hand to pepper herbs into the flame.

  "Sacred earth, give him spirit," I continued, picking up the herbs with my fingertips and spreading them over the candle, the flame sparking up. The air filled with the thick scent of incense.

  Gramps and I alternated the spellcasting, and my stomach fluttered as we closed in on the denouement. Magic was quite theatrical, I realized, turning over the next steps of the spell in my mind. Frankie would swing the thick drapes back, allowing sunlight to stream into the room. The idea was that the light energy from the sun would heal Dr. O's psychic wounds and restore his magic. The physical wounds needed medical attention but that would come later — he lost more magic than blood. The spell was a gamble. Dr. O's magic was ancient magic, and this spell was decidedly not. But we hoped the runes carved into the candle would make up for it.

  Dr. O reached out and grabbed Father Dougherty's hand just as we uttered the final line, "Sacred sun, give him life." I bounced on my toes, ready to run. Frankie pulled on the drape. Sunlight spilled from the top of the window, and my skin immediately prickled as blisters began to erupt.

  Dammit, I hesitated, and now I had less than milliseconds to get the hell out. My body jerked into motion. I was too young to have the grace and fluidity of someone like Frankie and my herky-jerky moves were an affront to the vampire mythology. Just as I dove for the black draping around the door, Dr. O's voice boomed out, speaking in ancient Celtic. Stopping short, I slammed into the wall to kill my momentum and got a mouthful of brick dust as my impact crushed the red clay. The sky went pitch black and the air in the apartment crackled, the electricity going out. The candle flickered and then extinguished.

  I turned to Dr. O. His silhouette told me he was sitting up on the table. Father Dougherty stood beside him, shoulders hunched and hands on the edge of the table, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

  Frankie's voice broke through the shocked silence. "That wasn't the spell, was it?"

  "That was definitely not our spell," I said, my voice cracked in surprise. "What the hell just happened?"

  "I'll be dammed," Gramps said, chuckling. "You clever old coot." There was a sound of liquid sloshing as Gramps pulled his flask out of a pocket. The smell of tequila hit my nose.

  "I don't understand," I said, brushing crumbled brick off my clothes as I moved towards the lumps their bodies made. My ey
es were fighting to find some sliver of light to grasp onto, which was how our night vision worked. But the darkness was total.

  Dr. O forced an eclipse.

  "Put the draping back up, Frankie," Dr. O said. "The sun will come back soon."

  "What just happened?" I repeated, shuffling forward, following their voices. I caught a sliver of sunlight returning just as Frankie pulled the draping back over the window. The kitchen lights flickered back on. Whatever Dr. O did was strong enough to cut the power.

  "You son of a bitch!"

  My eyes went wide at Father Dougherty's rough language. The normally sedate priest looked like he was ready to commit murder. My eyes tracked to his target, Dr. O, whose shoulders slumped over, the wrinkles that cut into his face even more defined. His skin was dry and had a crepe-y appearance. Was Dr. O aging?

  He lifted his head and saw my searching expression. "Yes, Nina, I am simply an old man now."

  "I don't understand—" I started.

  Father Dougherty interrupted, his hands balled into fists. "You selfish son of a bitch. I didn't want your magic!"

  "I had no choice, old friend," Dr. O said, his face drooped with regret. "I know it's not what you wished, but it's what is necessary."

  "You held the magic just fine," the priest said, eyes welling with tears.

  "I held the bulk of your magic for too long," Dr. O said quietly. "It was time for you to take the burden."

  The younger-by-not-much priest dropped his chin towards his chest in deference.

  "I didn't think you could do that," I said, realization washing over me.

  "Do what?" Frankie asked. He started the question from across the room, but was by my side when he finished it.

  "Dr. O took the bulk of Father Dougherty's magic on himself," I started.

  "Why?" Frankie asked the miserable-looking priest.

  The priest sighed. "I was a reluctant Druid. I didn't want to live with the magic. It felt unclean."

  "So you simply took his magic on along with your own?" Frankie asked Dr. O, who simply nodded.