Hell's Belle (13 page)

I rinsed my face, rubbing at the dried mascara. My hair hung lank and snared, like the start of dreadlocks. I considered rinsing it out in the sink, but the sound of Babe's teakettle whistling caught my attention. I could use a cup of something hot. I pulled on a pair of warm wool socks, gathered up my wet clothes and headed into the kitchen, where I placed my boots on the radiator to dry. I neatly folded my salvageable clothes and placed them on the table. I mourned my shirt and dropped it in the trash.

"Go in the living room," Babe said. She poured steaming water from the kettle into a teapot. "I'll be right there."

I skulked back to the living room. Frankie arrived while I was cleaning up. He and Dr. O were talking in hushed tones by the fireplace.

"Hey," I gave a little wave as I plopped, exhausted, onto the couch. I slipped an afghan over my shoulders. I wanted to rest my head on the arm of the couch, but knew I would fall asleep in an instant.

Frankie sat beside me and pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, looking intently at the scar. His fingers touched it gently. The scar ignited again, fire surging through it. I shuddered and instinctively pushed his hand away. Frankie nodded at Dr. O. He gave my hand a squeeze.

Babe walked into the room, balancing a tray filled with a teapot, mugs, and a plate piled high with hastily prepared sandwiches. She poured out the tea and passed the mugs around. My fingers curled around the hot mug as peppermint steam filled up my nose. I started to relax.

Then I noticed that Babe, Dr. O and Frankie were all looking at me intently. If felt like an intervention.

"What?" I picked up a sandwich and took a bite.
Ham and cheese.

"Nina, we need to talk," Babe said gently, motioning for Frankie to move so she could sit down next to me. Dr. O nodded encouragement at both of us, as Frankie moved back to the fireplace, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

I shrank back a little. "About?" This felt weird.

"About your mom...." She twisted her lips.

"And my dad?" I finished for her.

"No, about your mom." Babe held her breath for a minute. "And me..."

"Am I going to need the tequila for this?" I squinted. Frankie nodded and bolted into the kitchen. I heard his heavy boots clomp down the stairs to the bar.

"Nina, honey, I didn't want to say anything until I was sure," she began. She twisted her moonstone ring around on her finger. "Okay, there is no other way to do this than just tell you. Your mom...and me...well...we're witches, dear."

I blinked. "Witches. Like broomsticks? And pointy hats?"

Frankie returned and placed the tequila bottle and four shot glasses on the table. He poured out shots.

Babe sighed. "Now, Nina, that's like saying Frankie here is Dracula."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled just enough to show his fangs. Yeah, he could be a bit of a cliché.

"Seriously? And you didn't tell me because?" I crossed my arms and glared at them.

Babe sighed again and looked at Dr. O. "You can blame me for that, Nina."

Dr. O sat on the coffee table, across from Babe, making sure to keep some distance between us. "I wanted to see if you had the gene first,” Babe continued. “We weren't sure, with the vampire gene so pronounced in you, that the witch DNA would manifest. We really did not think you could carry both and survive."

"That's a shitload of power in that little body, Nina," Frankie offered enthusiastically as he raised his tequila shot. "Cheers!"

"And that's exactly why we didn't think it was possible," Dr. O chimed in, giving Frankie a dirty look.

"And now you think that it can...because?" I sipped the tequila. I felt a little nauseated and lightheaded by the news, so slamming down the shot was out of the question. Unfortunately.

Babe reached over to me and gently touched the scar on my neck. "Because of this. You heal rapidly, Nina, but the knife? The scar? You were struck by a witch's blade. That this scar isn’t healing tells me that the witch in you has manifested."

I shook my head. "I don't get it. Why would this knife affect me any different than any other? You can buy the damn thing at the
botanica Downcity. They sold one to Max! And he's no witch. Or wizard. Or warlock. Or whatever."

I finished the shot of tequila. Frankie dutifully poured another.

"Believe it or not, on a molecular level, witch DNA is stronger than vampire’s," Dr. O said, putting his hands over Babe's. She was shaking. "That your body cannot heal the knife wound is the witch DNA rising to the surface."

Plus," Frankie jumped in, "when I told Dr. O about our sparring match, that pretty much sealed the deal. Nina, you were fighting me with your witch power, not your vampire power. How else could you pin me to a wall without touching me?"

"So those books in the attic...." I trailed off. My eyes felt as wide as saucers.

Babe nodded. "Those are our family's
Grimoires.”

“Our family’s what?” I asked.

“Grimoires. It’s our books of magic, passed down through the generations. I hid them away after your mother died."

God, this was so weird. "So, Auntie, you are no longer...witchy?"

Babe laughed softly. "I am still a witch, Nina. I just practice simple, easy spells. I don't want to attract attention."

"Attention. Right." I pounded the second shot back, and motioned at Frankie to refill my glass.

"Remember how Christina Tucci broke out in that rash when she refused to pay her brother's bar tab?" Babe nodded knowingly. "That's a good hex. I have to remember to teach you that one."

My circuits were overloading. I dropped my head in my hands. I was a living vampire and a witch. My Aunt Babette was apparently a witch, able to cause embarrassing rashes and fell vampires. I was so far removed from normal.

Frankie perched next to me on the arm of the couch and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "For the record, I think it's cool. And I say that knowing full well you could probably kill me without a wooden stake."

"So there's a rainbow in all this?" I rolled my eyes.

Frankie grinned.

"Do I get a wand?" I asked sarcastically.

"No," Babe sighed. "You know vampires are stereotyped. Why would witches be any different? No wands, no pointy hats. Definitely no broomsticks. Please, I don't need you falling off the roof thinking my kitchen broom can zoom you down the block."

"OK," I sighed, "So I am a witch. Can we move on now?"

"Not quite," Dr. O replied. He looked deep in thought. "Marcello is here, and we think he's being assisted by witches. As a vampire, he should not have been able to touch that blade."

“Wait? Vampires can’t touch the blade?” I asked. “How can I touch my dad’s? How could he have touched it?”

“His was spelled so vampires could,” Babe explained.

“How?” I pushed.

“We don’t know.” Dr. O stared at Babe. “But a witch must have spelled Marcello’s blade.”

"So those two women he was with the other night were probably witches," I mused, my brain beginning to kick into gear.

Babe nodded. "He hit you with that blade for a reason. Now they know who you are, and after tonight, what you are capable of doing."

"Tonight?" Dr. O looked at Babe quizzically.

As Babe got Dr. O up to speed, I slipped into the kitchen. I dug out a can of cheap beer and a grabbed a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips off the counter.

"Are you okay?" Frankie followed me. He was leaning against the doorway, his lanky six-foot plus frame filling it.

I nodded and popped open the beer. I didn't really care that I'd wake up with one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

"Babe just rocked my world." I took a swig. "But yeah, I am okay. I think."

"So, what now?" He took the beer out of my hands and helped himself to a fast chug. "Babe trains you up a bit, maybe?"

I shrugged and held out my hand for the can. He handed it back just as a huge crash from the bar boomed up the staircase. I jumped at the noise and dropped the beer, which sprayed all over the floor.

"Shit," I groaned. "And I forgot about Max!"

I raced downstairs and skittered to a stop in front of Alfonso. He was standing over Max, who was out cold. One of Babe's mysterious cobalt bottles was on the bar next to him.

Babe's voice called down the stairs. "Al, what happened?"

"I gave him the stuff, just like you said!" Alfonso yelled back at her.

"Bring him up here!" she ordered.

Alfonso raised his eyebrows and looked at me.

He grinned and said, “Lumen.” The lights in the bar dimmed.

Hot damn. Al was a witch too. One word of Latin and he could turn off the lights.

Al headed up the stars, leaving Max crumpled on the sawdust-covered floor. I stared at him, my mouth hung open in absolute shock.

"Don't worry, Nina," Frankie's voice echoed down the staircase, pulling me out of my stupor. "I'll clean up your beer mess."

I took a breath, heaved Max's limp body over my shoulder and hauled him up the stairs. This was going to be one long-ass night.

CHAPTER 19

It took less than an hour to sort out a short-term plan, just enough time for Babe to cook up an antidote for whatever Alfonso had given Max to make him pass out. We all crowded in her kitchen since she insisted I watch her. I had to get comfortable working potions, she said. But it looked like she was boiling some freaky soup that smelled like old socks. I stared at her while she worked up the spell, but didn't absorb any of it.

Frankie and Alfonso took Max back to the Biltmore with one of Babe's cobalt bottles filled with the antidote and a few spooky-looking talismans. They were wards designed to keep the supernatural mob that convened at the hotel out of his room, she explained. Since Frankie and Al were supernatural themselves, they risked being attacked. And as I learned firsthand, pissed-off poltergeists were no joke. There was a reason why we called in the priests to deal with them. 

Babe gave Frankie and Al very specific instructions on where to set up the talismans and what Al needed to chant. They were to tip the liquid in the bottle into Max’s mouth right after and then come back to my apartment building to meet up with us. 

We needed to regroup there since the sun was going to be rising soon and Frankie needed to get underground before daylight. I assumed he could feed at one of the clubs near the hotel -- there were always willing donors around places like that, especially when Frankie laid on the vampire charm.

I was stuffed into the back of Babe's Fiat 500, a giant pot on my lap. Oh who are we kidding, it was a goddamned
cauldron
. It was a welcome-to-the-coven gift from my aunt.

The cauldron balanced on top of more giant
Grimoires that Babe insisted on returning to my possession. I sulked the entire ride back to my apartment. 

My crankiness melted a bit when the light from the garage illuminated the bright shining eyes of the stray dog I’d fed earlier. Her pink tongue hung out panting, as if she had just run a marathon. I unfolded myself from the back seat, stuffed the pot along with the oversized books into Dr. O's arms, and walked out of the garage and knelt by the scraggy ball of fur. She stuffed her head under my chin and nuzzled into my neck.

"Hey Dog," I said sweetly. In absence of a proper name, Dog would have to do. I extracted her head and scratched behind her ears. She felt wet. "Rough night for you too, huh?"

She licked my hand.

"Well, come on." I stood and walked back to the open door. This time, there was no hesitation as she trotted right next to me into the building. I closed the garage door behind us.

Babe gave me a funny look as we passed her and headed down the hallway and into my apartment. She and Dr. O trailed behind us.

Once inside, I filled a large bowl with water and put it on the floor in the kitchen. She lapped it up happily as I dug through the fridge looking for something to feed her, coming up empty.

Dr. O warily knelt down to get a better look at Dog. "When did she show up?"

Babe was hovering by the stove, grinning.

"The other night," I said with a shrug.

Dr. O smiled at Dog who gave him a little lick and pawed playfully at his hand. He nodded at Babe.

She stepped toward Dog with her hand out. Dog gave it a sniff and then let Babe smooth the fur along her strong head. "You have a Hell Hound as your familiar."

I burst out laughing as I looked into the expectant brown eyes gazing up at me. Hell Hound. Please.

Dr. O sighed. "You didn't pay much attention in my mythology lectures, did you?"

I cringed. Truthfully, I spent much of his mythology lectures plotting ways to kick Frankie's ass, who was my fight instructor at the time. I figured ass-kicking would be more useful in the field than mythology.

"If you had been paying attention you would have known that this beautiful animal is indeed a Hell Hound, and that Hell Hounds are not necessarily evil." Dr. O crossed his arms.

I hate it when I disappoint Dr. O, but I was still feeling a little rebellious. "I thought she was a Rottweiler. And what's all this crap about ‘a familiar?’"

It was Babe's turn to sigh and look annoyed. "Apparently, you weren't paying much attention in your history of witchcraft courses either."

"Well, actually," Dr. O said, looking positively chagrined. "I didn't push too much witchcraft on her."

Babe's eyes were so wide I thought they were going to pop out of her head. "How
could
you?" she choked out. "You knew she could show witch tendencies."

"There was such a slim chance..." Dr. O trailed off as I cleared my throat.

"Yeah, you guys can argue about my education later." My patience was wearing thin. "What's ‘a familiar?’"

"A familiar is an animal that is a witch’s closest companion. They are different things to different witches, and looking at the size of yours I’d say you have a protector.” Babe pointed at Dog, whose ears perked up at the attention.

"Great," I replied. "What do I do with her?"

Babe looked angrily at Dr. O.

"I bet you taught her all about Druid history," she snapped before turning to me. "She's your ally. She will try to keep you safe, serve as an extra pair of eyes and ears. She will be the most trustworthy partner you could ever want."

Dr. O nodded in agreement. "She is actually the best familiar you could ask for." He smoothed her fur and felt her muscular physique. "She is a Church Grim, a guardian spirit. This dog will fight for you to the death."

Babe snorted. "Of course she is. Familiars are always well matched to their charges."

"But Auntie, you don't have any pets," I blurted out.

Babe's angry eyes softened. "What about Cookie Puss?"

"The
bar
cat?"

Cookie Puss was a tiny black and white cat that let out monster hisses if anyone who wasn't Babe tried to go near her. She was so feral every veterinarian in the state refused to see her.

"She's more than a good mouser," Babe smiled.

I looked at Dog, who by now was sick of all the talking. She made herself comfortable on the couch. And before I could boot her off the cushions, she stretched out and yawned. I flopped down next to her and she dropped her huge head in my lap.

Absently scratching her ears, I thought about Casper. He claimed to be a witch. A witch's blade was found at his murder scene. And I, apparently, was a witch.

"Babe," I began, closing my eyes in hopes that the exhaustion would pass. "Did these serial killings happen before I came into town?"

Babe shrugged. "I don't know. You've been here what, four months?"

"Since the start of fall semester, so yeah, about that."

"I think they started about a month after you arrived. Yes, closer to Halloween," she said, growing more certain. "I remember thinking it was fittingly frightening for the civilians given the season."

"I think someone is targeting witches," I said. I continued petting Dog absently.

Dr. O steepled his fingers together and looked at me intently. "Why do you think that?"

"Because a spirit of one of the victims is hanging around." I didn't want to say the next part out loud. "Talking to me."

Babe laughed. "Nina, you know spirits can't talk."

"They can communicate in your head if the ghost jumps in your body." I shuddered as I said it.

It was Babe's turn to look alarmed. "You’ve been possessed?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds bad," I said, feeling indignant. "He's just trying to communicate."

Dr. O looked more excited than concerned, so I focused on him. "Well, what did he say?"

"That he was a
curandero. And that everyone murdered were witches. And I think he knew I was a witch."

Dr. O looked at Babe. "Did you know any of the victims?"

Babe shook her head. "No. Al and I pretty much stick to
ourselves. The covens popping up are usually just New Age wiccans, no one with true witch blood. But curandero? That is Mexican. And that means Catemaco."

I nodded. “He said he was from Veracruz.”

Babe sank down into the couch across from me. Catemaco was where my grandfather –- Babe’s and my mother’s father -- was from. It was the place she took me to briefly after my parents were killed.

Babe suddenly looked very old and tired. "Any idea how old your ghost is, Nina?"

"Young. Around 19, 20 maybe. I didn't see him alive, and it's kind of hard to judge when they are ghosts. Why?"

"Because you are rather famous in
Catemaco," Dr. O said. He settled in next to Babe and put his arm around her slumped shoulders.

I stared at both of them. “Why am I famous in
Catemaco?”

Babe looked defeated. “You know I tried to take you there after your parents died.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And you hated being back in Mexico and couldn’t take care of me on your own and my grandparents were too old to help.”

“All lies,” Babe sighed. “Marcello followed us, followed
you
, to Catemaco, but I thought that on our ancestral lands, the power of my family could destroy him. But while we were able to protect you, he started killing other infants.”

She choked back a sob, so Dr. O continued. “The Veracruz witches were frightened and angry. They knew you were born of a vampire. Their city was warded to keep vampires out, so they didn’t believe there could be a vampire in their city. So they thought you were sucking the blood from the other babies. They were going to kill you. Babe called me for help, and a Blood Ops team was able to extract you.”

“If Veracruz was warded, how did he get in?” I asked.

“That was the question, wasn’t it,” Dr. O gave a small humorless laugh. “He was aided by witches. He had to be. Just like now.” 

Dog sat up and growled, the hair on her back standing on end. The temperature dropped suddenly and I caught -- not sight exactly, more like a feeling -- of Casper.

"Oh no you don't!" I stood up as pressure blasted at me. I tried to push him away, for all the good that did me. Dog continued to growl, by then snarling and showing off some pretty impressive fangs.

I felt Casper’s ethereal body push directly into mine. A sudden explosion of pain ripped into my head as the usual ghost-induced migraine took hold.

"Do you have to do this now?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Sorry." I felt him shrug. "Only way to communicate."

I growled at him, just like Dog. "Then what do you want?"

"Hotel." His urgency was quickening my pulse. "Problem."

"What problem?" I was trying to breathe through the headache. It was very hard to focus.

"Spirits angry. Talismans."

Right, okay. They don't like the talismans. No surprise there.

"Your friends. Are. Trapped!" He began to push against me, forcing me to my feet. Between the momentum and my headache, I promptly fell to the floor.

I needed more information. "Trapped where?" I asked.

"Room."

Trapped in a hotel room?

"What will free them?" He better know, because I sure as hell didn't.

"Chant," he said, pushing me to my feet. "I know it."

Great. I guess he was coming with me.

"Will you get out of my head at least so I can drive?"

I felt a whoosh of relief as he pushed himself out of my body.

I opened my eyes and blinked against the light. Dog was still growling but was much more low-key about it. Babe and Dr. O were just staring at me incredulously.

Dr. O broke the uncomfortable silence. "Well, I haven't seen a possession quite like that in a long time. What did he want?"

"It sounds like Frankie and Al ran into some problems at the Biltmore. The freaks don't like your Talismans."

"Dammit!" Babe muttered. "Al forgot to cast a shielding spell on them before they walked in.”

"We've got to get there and get them out." I walked to my armoire and yanked it opened. "We're running out of night, and Frankie has to get underground before he fries." Vampires and sunlight don’t mix.

I pulled my gear out of the armoire and stripped off Babe's yoga pants and flannel.

I threw on a chain mail shirt, which made knifing me or, even more important, staking me difficult. Layered on top of the chain mail was a fitted leather vest that had tons compartments to hold paraphernalia -- a bottle of Holy Water, blessed wooden stakes, and a container of salt. I slipped my sterling silver cross over my head, wincing at the sting on my chest when it hit my skin. I could wear the cross but my vampire genetics made it burn a bit going on.

Next were wrist sheaths Frankie made for me when I graduated from training. Adjusting the well-worn leather cuffs onto my arms always made me smile. The narrow, sterling silver blades snugged into them were soaked in Holy Water and blessed by a priest. But Frankie was the consummate tinkerer so the blades were spring loaded. They tucked up into the sheaths and with the press of a button they shot out over my hands, keeping the blades secure (and my hands free to grab) as I used them. They were my favorite weapons.