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

by Karen Greco

  I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to me. My uncertainty disappeared in a new cascade of vampire-enhanced hormones. He wrapped his arm around me, his mouth tentative even as his soft lips pressed on mine. I ran my tongue over his fangs, feeling their deadly point. Frankie shuddered in pleasure, and then his own tongue swept along mine and control slipped from me, my hunger for him growing. Our fangs were an erogenous zone?

  "Nina, wait," Frankie said, holding me at arms length.

  “I can't wait any longer," I panted. Desire overwhelmed me. My need to feel his touch boarded on obsessive. While my pragmatic mind attempted to reign itself in, my emotions overruled logic. " We need to do this. I need to do this."

  "Why?" he whispered, pulling me to him, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

  “Because it’s the only time I feel human,” I whispered.

  His body relaxed into me. “I’m sorry, love. I wanted you to be human for a good long time.”

  "I’m not human anymore," I said, driving my nails into the mattress.

  "No, you're not," he said, regret dimpling his face. "And your human life was cut short, and I am so sorry that I couldn’t do anything to stop it."

  His expression withered, and he pulled me to him. Our bodies were held together without the violent, desperate force of vampire. Instead, he molded his body around me and placed his mouth on mine. Frankie was my rock. He was my best friend. He was my conscience. He was, indeed, my soul.

  Frankie's usually sharp moves were languid as he settled me against the mattress and stretched his body out beside me, our lips never separating. His hand moved under my robe, circling the skin on my stomach with light strokes. My own fingers wrapped into his overgrown black hair, slipping like silk against my hand. I leaned into Frankie and hooked my leg to his while his fingers inched up my body, sending small jolts of anticipation through me. My body relaxed into the mattress. I'd forgotten how comfortable it was after spending months at Babe's apartment above the bar. Now that I needed the vampire security of the factory, I'd be moving back.

  "Nina? You okay?" Frankie asked, aware that my mind had wandered.

  "Yes, I am okay," I said, voice shaking.

  He levered up on one elbow while one hand remained a warm comfort on my belly. "Then why do you sound like you're about to go all weepy then?"

  I pressed my head into his chest so he wouldn't see how close to weepy I really was. "Because this is the most human I've felt in a long time," I said, my voice quiet.

  His mouth covered mine again, but the hunger was gone. Instead, his hand gentled along my skin, moving in languid strokes down my belly. His hands found my center and, gentler still, his deft fingers teased me. This time I opened to him, took all of him into me. No arguments, no Casper dropping in. Just us.

  I brought my hips to meet his, our bodies in synch. I pressed my fingers into his back as he brought me closer to climax with each thrust. Frankie groaned as we reached the precipice, and I pressed against him, pushing him deeper into me, allowing him into the deepest recesses of my body, trusting that he would always do right by me. Always care about me. Always stay with me.

  Frankie’s movements became more urgent. His fangs pressed into my neck, the small nips at my skin driving me over the edge. With a final shudder, we both collapsed in a relieved heap, our bodies still intertwined.

  Frankie pressed his lips to the top of my head. "You are safe, love," he whispered. "You are."

  25

  I stared into the dark woods from the side window as we drove the dark and twisty roads out to the farm. The waning moon didn't throw much light, and the headlights on Max's SUV were killed. Although Leila would hear us coming, we hoped the lack of light would dampen her night vision. Of course, it meant our eyesight wasn't on point either. The trees blended with the darkness to create indecipherable misshapen lumps.

  Frankie kept shifting in his seat behind me, the sound of his clothes rustling against the leather of the oversized SUV's interior. The quiet interior of the car filled with his worry and more than a hint of frustration. My own nerves played along with his. Even Max kept his eyes on the road with his lips pressed thin.

  "I'll be fine," I whispered, more to myself than to either one of them. We were going in without much of a plan. Some potion concoction Gramps handed me before we hit the road was my only witchy weapon. I wasn't even really sure what it did. Gramps called it Plan B. Not terribly helpful when Plan A wasn't exactly sorted, but Frankie and I were stocked up with all manner of sharp objects. Plan A it was!

  Max took a sharp right and inched up the long dirt driveway. The first floor of the old farmhouse glowed with candlelight in the distance. The greying, dilapidated wood missing in some spots wasn't so obvious in the darkness. The faint orange glow from candles made the property look almost charming.

  "May as well turn on the headlights," I said, slumping against the seat. "She knows we're coming."

  Max killed the engine and we stared at the house about a quarter mile up a gently graded slope. "How can you be so sure?" Max's voice broke the eerie silence.

  "Candlelight," Frankie said. He stared at the house, his gaze weary. "It feels like she put out the welcome mat."

  "This is the first place we'd look for her, with or without Chuck's tip off," I agreed. "And she knows it."

  Frankie reached behind him, checking the stakes nestled in the small of his back. "You ready?"

  I nodded. "As I'll ever be."

  I reached for the door handle but Max stretched his arm across the passenger seat, pinning me to my spot. "Wait a minute."

  Frankie went motionless behind Max, like a predator stalking prey. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "You cannot go in there without your grandfather," Max explained, craning his neck to keep an eye on Frankie.

  "We don't have time for Gramps," I said. I shoved at his arm and flashed a fang, a slow simmer of anger threatening to turn to a rolling boil. "She's in there now. And we can't risk her taking off."

  Gramps was finessing a spell to put a temporary damper on Leila's magic. The one thing the battle at the prison told us was that she was more lethal as a witch than a vamp. Without her juiced up mojo, she’d be just another vampire to bring down. But it was a complicated potion, and Gramps was still working on it when we left, Mary Jane's missile clock ticking.

  Max relaxed back into his own seat but he didn't ease up. "So you're just going to go in there and do what exactly? How will you bring her down?"

  "Drive a stake in her," I said, narrowing my eyes.

  He crossed his arms and smirked at me. "You have to bring her in alive," he reminded me.

  "Because that worked out so well the last time," I shot back before pushing the door open.

  “You can’t fail, Nina,” he said, settling a hand on my arm, to keep me from leaving. "Mary Jane's not bluffing. She will give the order to fire those missiles if it comes to that."

  "If it comes to that," Frankie said. "The missiles will be a mercy."

  "That is exactly why we need to go in now," I said, shaking Max’s hand off my arm. "What if Gramps doesn't make it in time? This is the last shot we have, and we're taking it."

  I climbed down from the raised cab of the SUV before Max could argue. Frankie and I had a failsafe, and it centered around ripping out Leila's heart. Max wasn't going to like that. Or rather, Mary Jane wasn't going to like that. But Max, intent on keeping the boss lady happy, would make us wait for Gramps and his spell. What if the spell didn't arrive in time? What if it didn't work? Taking her down while her magic was flowing was not a simple task. It would take time that Mary Jane wasn't giving us.

  Frankie jumped out the backseat and followed me up the dirt drive. I pulled out my cellphone and texted Chuck to know we arrived and were setting the wheels into motion. It was a courtesy more than anything, and a reminder for him and his nest to stay hidden in their bunker. The last thing I needed to worry about was Leila taking out a nest of Betas who had no de
fenses against humans, never mind the vampire-witch hybrid superpowers that she possessed.

  "You good?" Frankie asked, matching my slowing pace as the front porch loomed just ahead.

  "We don't really have a plan," I admitted, slipping my fingers into the cuffs of my leather biker jacket, double-checking that my blades were spring loaded and ready to go.

  "When have our plans ever really worked to our advantage anyway?" he asked, flashing me a sexy grin that rippled through my entire body.

  I stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch and turned towards him. I pressed my hand against his cheek. “After this is over, let’s try a date night.”

  "And there's my incentive to not die twice," he said, taking my hand and giving it a fast squeeze. We started up the stairs in tandem. I hadn't been in the house since Leila's psychotic boyfriend nearly killed me here a few months ago. Frankie had to bind me to him so that his vampire immortality could keep me alive. My sense memory recalled every creak in the wood, as well as the rotting floorboard on the fourth step.

  Frankie paused in front of the door, and a sense of unease sliced through me. He reached for the door handle, turning the nob easily. A chill shivered up and down my spine and I gave my head a curt shake. This didn't feel right.

  Frankie gave me a one shoulder shrug. There was nothing we could do but open the door. If we walked away, Mary Jane would rain hellfire on the entire state, taking out humans and nonhumans alike. For a split second, I considered the ramifications of walking away. We were close enough to the state line and could cross into Connecticut in a matter of minutes.

  "We're better than that love," Frankie whispered, as if reading my mind and becoming my conscience. "We've got a job to do, so let's get on with it." He reached for me with his free arm and pulled me to him. "I'm with you, always," he said before his lips pressed on mine, leaving a soft, sweet promise that he would stay by my side and see me through this fight, no matter what.

  He pushed the door open and I cringed when its rusty hinges screamed our arrival. We both paused at the threshold, seeing a line of wilted carnations littering the floor, their stems pointing the way towards the kitchen. I wrinkled my nose at their moldy perfume.

  "Finally!" Leila's voice called out from that direction. "The guest of honor has arrived."

  I placed one foot into the house, hesitating when my snake tattoo gave a small rattle of warning before the energy of Leila's magic prickled my skin.

  "Spelled," I mouthed to Frankie, jumping quickly through the ward on the door. Frankie tried to follow, but was snapped back by an invisible barrier.

  "Won't work," Leila called from the kitchen. "That ward keeps out anyone non-witchy."

  I brought my gaze to the doorway, focusing on the center, remembering what Gramps said about magic and energy. The molecules dancing together had to be there, I just needed to learn how to see them. My peripheral vision dimmed as I stared intently into the open space, willing myself to see what wasn't obvious. I stepped back into it, pausing at the threshold to allow the magic to wash over me. I closed my eyes and felt its thrumming, over and around my body, the snake following its patterns of movement. In my mind’s eye, I imagined seeing the energy that crawled over my skin, my nerves on fire. When I didn't think I could hold onto the magic any longer, I stepped out of the ward and snapped my eyes open. I gasped, watching black-tinted undulations moving like sound waves across the door. I pulled my arms around my middle, gaping at the once empty doorway in shock. It worked. I actually saw the magic.

  "Nina?" Frankie's low voice brought me back to myself. Shaking off my shock, I examined the waves for a hole, some spot in the ward that had a weakness we could exploit, but the spell was tight. There was no way I'd be able to take it down.

  "Call Gramps," I mouthed to Frankie. If he was more than 15 minutes behind us, I was screwed.

  "I don't like this," he mouthed back, giving me a desperate look as he inched back down the stairs.

  I flashed him what I hoped was a reassuring grin, though it felt more like a grimace than a smile. I closed the door on him, my way of telling him to go back to the car until Gramps could deal with the ward. He didn't need to listen to Leila massacre me if that's what it came down to. I was on my own.

  Even though my feet were light on the wood, the aged boards creaked under my weight. I sidestepped a gaping hole in the floor, shifting towards the leaded glass windows, giving me a limited view of the kitchen. Ice ran down my spine when I saw that Leila was not alone in there. I reached into my jacket, fingers brushing the stakes nestled into holsters. I felt the outline of the runes Frankie carved into one, the etched magic once saving my ass from a demon. Sparks lit my fingertips, the fire sending small jolts through my neurons, telling me that this was the weapon that was supposed to work on witches. Good thing, since it was the last etched stake I had. The other three were plain old Hawthorne wood.

  Tilting my chin up, I strode into the kitchen, hoping my faux confidence would turn into the real thing. But it drained when I saw four witches seated at the Formica kitchen table. "Crap," I muttered, my heart sinking when I saw that Casper's mom was among the group.

  She opened her eyes wide as she recognized me, and I returned it with a quick headshake. Leila had snatched part of the coven, but she had no idea that she’d captured the mother of my favorite ghost. No point in alerting her to that.

  "There you are, darling," she said, her voice dripping the saccharine to match her smile. A lopsided cake covered by birthday candles and haphazardly applied white frosting sat in the center of the table. The candles flared up at every shift in the air as Leila flitted around the table, dropping paper plates in front of the witches. They tracked her with their eyes and, given their stillness, it was a good bet that she spelled them immobile. Their arms and legs remained unbound. "I feel terrible that I missed so many of your birthdays," she continued. "So I thought we could make up for all of them."

  She stopped moving and the candles settled down to a flicker. "I have a confession to make," she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I'm not the best baker. But I can cook up a storm." She cocked her head, surveying my response to that. "Nothing? No?"

  Babe always said that you could always tell if a witch was good with magic through how good she was as a cook. Spelling was a metaphorical mix of textures and flavors, and witches who understood the magic of cooking would understand to the magic of spell crafting.

  "At least you tried," I said coolly, refusing to let her rattle me. I moved around the perimeter of the room, my eyes moving between the cake, Leila, and the four witches immobile in their chairs, the only outlet for their terror through their eyes.

  "The birthday girl cuts the cake," she said, snatching a knife from the counter.

  "I'm not hungry," I said, watching her fidget with the sharp blade.

  She swiped the knife in a circular motion, coming dangerously close to one of the witches, who shut her eyes tight in response.

  "What are you doing with these witches?" I asked.

  "Aren't these witches part of your coven?" she asked, eyes widening in mock surprise. "You mean you don't have a coven? How very sad for you. And dangerous." She drew out the last syllable; the snake-like sound caused my tattoo to shake its rattle in warning. She pressed the knife against the neck of Mariana, Casper’s mom. "So what you're saying is we don't need them anymore."

  Gramps' warning about remaining coven-less ricocheted through my head. Sending an anxious glance over to Casper's mom, I rocked onto the balls of my feet. I was ready to pounce, my eyes tracking on the knife. "What good will killing them do? That's not a spelled knife. It can't steal their power."

  "No it won't, darling," she said. "But killing them sure would be fun."

  She plunged the knife into the cake and the candles extinguished in the whoosh of air from the movement. She hacked into the cake on the other side and pulled out a sloppy slice, plopping it onto a paper plate. She pushed it towards me, and I gla
nced at the white cake.

  "Funfetti would have been fine," I said, blinking at the dry, white cake. It looked like there were maggots writhing in the pastry. I suppressed a shudder. "Thanks, Leila, but I'm on a liquid diet these days."

  "Call me Mom," she said, her green eyes—so much like mine it was like looking in a mirror—were as cold as marbles.

  "I don't think so," I said. My eyes darted back to the knife as she flicked it. A blob of frosting landed on the table in front of Mariana. I had to figure out how to break the spell Leila had on the witches. If they could channel magic with me, we could defeat her.

  "You called my sister ‘aunt,’ didn't you?" she asked.

  "It takes more than blood to make a family, lady," I responded, glaring at her.

  The witches’ eyes tracked Leila as she stalked around the table. I followed in her wake, keeping a good deal of space between us. Her eyes went brighter, fangs peeking out from under her lip. Her copper hair, so much like mine, shifted in a wind as she began to draw on her power. Was she going to throw a spell or bite?

  Vampire speed kicking in, Leila snatched the nearest witch. Before I could react, she brought the knife straight across her throat. Mariana's scream over seeing her sister slain punctured the eerie silence, breaking me out of my shock. I rushed to the witch, still frozen by Leila's spell, her eyes trapped in a silent scream as blood poured out of the wound. I pressed my hand over it, a futile effort to staunch the gush of blood.

  Dammit. My mind raced for a counter-spell, and my worry rose as she methodically moved to the next witch. Warding off a repeat attack, I scrambled onto the table. Pushing my body between Leila and the witch, I shielded my heart and braced myself for the knife to slice into me. I yelped in surprise a pair of sharp fangs punctured my neck instead of a blade.

  Leila released my neck almost as quick as she bit into it. She scrambled backwards. "You little bitch," she cried, spitting blood from her mouth. "So it is true."