Hell's Belle (8 page)

As I moved under the stinging spray, my mind kept returning to the mirrored woman’s last glimpse and the amused smile lingering on her face. Like after Jup’s warning, I had questions. Really they were the same questions with only a change of subject. My mind flashed again to that smile and her bright hungry eyes. What was it that the woman in the mirror knew that I didn’t? And how much was it going to cost me to find out?

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like either answer.

I quickly rinsed off, changed into my favorite pair of frayed holey jeans and sage-green hoodie, and brushed my hair before knotting it into a chignon. I might not make the cover of
VQ
, the Vamp’s fashion mag, but at least I smelled better.

There was something very disarming about Jacqueline Slone. But disarming didn’t mean unarmed. I strapped a small knife above my right ankle. My libido might be on a pher-induced roller coaster, but that didn’t make me stupid. Jacq didn’t appear armed. But then, I’d taken a thorough look and never determined where she’d pulled that badge from.

On my way downstairs I stopped in my aunt’s study for a copy of the case file and the medallion I’d taken off Bob’s body. The kitchen was empty when I returned. Jacq had removed the tea ball from the kettle before it could become overly strong. Considerate, considering I’d deserted her for far longer than planned. I put the file and medallion on the tray and went in search of my errant guest.

My bare feet made little noise as I padded into our family den. I found Jacq there, standing by my Grams’ old black piano, staring at the family photos spread across its top. She had picked up the cat. Hex purred contentedly as Jacq absentmindedly stroked her fur. Apparently even feline vessels of unholy power found this woman attractive. Jacq focused on a photo of me and my mom taken when I was five, her expression inscrutable. She gestured to the piano. “Do you play?”

“Very little, but my mother played beautifully.” The words simply slipped out. I looked away, using the distraction of setting the tray on the scarred trunk we used as a coffee table to clear the sudden lump from my throat. I stood, my own mask firmly in place, saying lightly, “I see you’ve met Hexamina, Satan incarnate, evil sorceress, and all around bad kitty.” I gestured to the cat, who was enjoying herself a little too much, before signaling Jacq to sit.

Jacq placed the cat on the floor. “She seems nice.”

Aunt Helena would’ve found my snort of derision most unladylike but Jacq merely smiled. People thought we Delacys were joking when we commented about Hex being a vessel of unholy power, a hell-cat, evil spawn, etc. Eventually Jacqueline Slone would find out for herself. If she was lucky, all her limbs would still be attached after the epiphany.

We had an old cream-striped couch and two brown leather armchairs cozied around the brick fireplace. What the pieces lacked in beauty they more than made up with comfort. The only thing from this decade was the flat screen hanging over the fireplace and the nearby sound system. It was too hot a night for a fire, but the recessed lighting and café latte walls kept the atmosphere warm.

Jacq sat on the couch with one leg out along it and the other, crooked at the knee, resting on the couch cushions. I pulled a chair a little closer and sat.

While we drank orange spice tea I filled her in on everything from my fight with Bob to the five girls’ disappearances and deaths. Viewing the photos, she wore a hardened cop’s mask of cold professionalism.

I was surprised when she pointed at the rift bearers, saying, “That explains why Fera picked a guardian for this.”

The fact that we were guardians was a closely kept secret. Jacq knew, too? Who else in the Council knew? And was it the result of my recent advertising? Now was not the time to ask. This woman had the type of poker face only someone who’d lived centuries could perfect. But I’d eventually learn to read her. And then I’d ask the questions battering at the locked doors in my mind.

Finally, we came to the black medallion. Brow creased, Jacq silently traced the gold and silver engravings, lost in thought. “This,” she pointed to what looked like an ancient temple with a large moon hanging low over it, “could be for an Elite house. This one,” she turned the medallion and ran her thumb across the other side’s sun symbol, “looks familiar. It also represents an Elite house, but I cannot place it.”

Only demon nobles were considered Elite. That meant it bore the symbols of two highborn demon families. There were several small magical surges as she checked the metal for residue. I knew what she would find.

“It could be a talisman,” Jacq said. “They’re homing beacons to help the Elite focus during gate travel. For more than that, you’ll have to take it to a Demonology expert.”

A talisman? That fit but didn’t explain why it had been in Sarkoph’s possession. “Thank you. Unfortunately, my Aunt Helena is stumped and she’s an expert in most things demonic.” I met Jacq’s eyes over my tea, noticing little flecks of dark blue, nearly black, in the gray. After a moment, I realized I was staring, and the object of my fixed attention had noticed. Jacq met my gaze with a slight half-smile.

I busied myself refilling our empty teacups, continuing my explanation, “My aunt did email photos to a few colleagues. Maybe they can provide more information. I was just hoping for faster answers. Guess I’ll have to practice patience.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t offer more.” Jacq gave me a full-blown smile.

For the second time today, I nearly choked on my drink. It wasn’t right that this woman should look so good
and
have a dimple in one cheek. I barely avoided shooting an embarrassing stream of hot tea out my nose. Fortunately, when she leaned forward to return the medallion, the only liquid in my mouth was a healthy amount of drool. I caught a peek of cleavage and shifted uncomfortably in my chair, moving my eyes to where Jacq’s hand rested on mine before we both pulled away. My skin
zinged
where our hands had brushed. Was it magic, chemistry, or both? I hurried to finish my explanation, hoping she’d attribute my once again flushed skin to a fresh infusion of hot tea.

I said, “Oh, but you have. We hadn’t considered the possibility. Maybe we’ll know more when someone replies to my aunt’s email. Until then, there’s not much hope of solving this mystery.” I tapped the metal still warm from her body. It felt nice resting in my palm, and I curled my fingers around it. I smiled into gray eyes, darkened nearly to black. “At least, not without catching a demon and tickle-torturing the information out of him.” I tried for a moment of levity but had an ominous feeling as the words left my mouth. “And there never seems to be one of those around when you need ’em.”

Chapter Five

“I thought it was true love? How could he go back to her?”

“Really, my dear, you’re just an A-plus. Did you truly think he’d leave his O-neg wife for you?”

—
As the Blood Turns,
Nighttime’s most popular Soap Opera

Day Four

“Mr. Richmond, please…” I passed the distraught man seated across from my old cherry desk a tissue. “Tell me how I can help.” I kept my voice low, soothing, pushing my exhaustion away. It had been another long night. Due to the late hour, Jacq had made a good argument for crashing on our couch rather than make the drive back to her home near NOLA. She didn’t seem the type to slit our throats in the night, so I’d been persuaded.

The pher-induced lust had left me achy, needy, and confused as hell. My sleep had been fitful…especially knowing the accidental object of my desire was just downstairs. I’d really needed sleep and knew, from years of going to bed alone, a quick cure. But I’d made no move to satisfy my body’s demands, that sort of pleasure seeming hollow. Thankfully, the pher level had dropped during the night. And although I had a headache from lack of sleep, my body was almost my own again. I wasn’t reacting to the middle-aged Mr. Richmond, which boded well for my next meeting with the tempting Jacqueline Slone. I brought my thoughts back to Mr. Richmond, who was trying to quietly blow his nose.

He tucked the tissue away, focusing his red-rimmed eyes on me. His voice seemed calmer as he said, “My daughter Isabella called me last night.” He passed me a picture of a pretty young brunette with her father’s hazel eyes then clenched his hands. “She was upset. I didn’t understand what she was saying. I told her to calm down and explain.” His words were tumbling out. “Maybe if I’d just left then for Hattiesburg…” He shook his head as if forcing those thoughts away. “She said there wasn’t enough time, asked me to pack. She was coming home. We’d leave together. She was so…scared.” His voice slowed.

We both waited while his breath shuddered in and out. Finally he said, “I told her I would come get her, to wait there, but she kept saying she had to leave right then.”

Mr. Richmond looked at his hands. My heart ached for him already, and we weren’t through the entire story. I watched his hands clench and unclench.

“So I waited, but Isabella never made it home.”

Just then, Mynx walked in with a tray loaded with my aunt’s brown sugar pound cake and two steaming cups. Most people would consider ten in the morning too early for something so rich, but our family was a big believer in the Southern tradition of soothing grief (and every other ailment) with food. Fortunately, witches had high metabolisms. Mynx sat the tray down on a side table as I said, “Mr. Richmond, I’d like to introduce you to my distant cousin and business partner, Mynx Delacy.” They’d met when he’d barged into our offices, but no formal introduction had been made. Mynx smiled slightly. Maybe it was from calling her a cousin when she was actually my ancestor’s cat familiar…or maybe because I’d finally convinced her to take the more-than-deserved title of partner. Goddess knows we wouldn’t make it around here without her. Now we just needed a new secretary.

As testament to his extreme distress, Mr. Richmond stared into his coffee, not sparing Mynx’s gorgeous body a second glance. Mynx silently left, hopefully to go keep Jacq out of trouble. Our clients’ cases were confidential. The last thing I needed was the law present. It didn’t matter that she was out of uniform. A po-po could hide in a clown suit and the people in this area would still see a cop with a red nose and big shoes.

I picked up my tea, sipping my favorite spiced chai. We sat in silence while Mr. Richmond gathered his thoughts. I wanted to reassure him that there was nothing he could’ve done differently. Rushing to Hattiesburg wouldn’t have halted his daughter’s disappearance. But platitudes would have to wait. We hadn’t reached the point where he’d trust my judgment. Plus, I had the sinking feeling that I needed to hear the rest of this tale.

Fera’s case had been on my mind all morning. Nicodemus hadn’t yet opened a gate, so he must need something. More power and another victim were the obvious answer. I’d been on the phone with my local contact at the PD to see if any girls were missing when Mynx had announced Mr. Richmond’s arrival. There were no scheduled appointments for today, which was why my loosely knotted hair was still damp against my shirt. But when the panic-stricken father had told Mynx his daughter was missing, she’d shuffled him into my office. I was looking for a girl to go missing, and he had one. Mynx, like all the Delacys, didn’t believe in coincidences.

After another moment, a steadier Mr. Richmond continued, “I waited, but Isabella never showed. I called her cell over and over with no answer. Part of me didn’t want to leave in case she showed up. What if she’d forgotten her phone? I could pass her on the road and never realize it. I waited four hours, enough time for Isabella to get from her apartment in The Burg to our house in NOLA. I called her boyfriend, Kyle. He tends bar at a club in NOLA. Kyle was at work and hadn’t heard from her. I couldn’t wait anymore.”

I jotted notes, nodding for him to continue.

“My daughter’s a creature of habit. She always takes the same routes. I followed the roads, stopping every time I saw a car pulled over in either lane.” He released a humorless laugh. “I ran across another girl my daughter’s age whose car had broken down. I called her a tow, but I never saw my Iza. When I made it to her apartment, it was empty. Her car was there. Kyle arrived soon after with some of the club’s bouncers, and they began to search for her.” He paused, put aside his untouched coffee, looked at me then looked away.

Why the sudden hesitation? Undoubtedly everything he’d said so far had been true, but we were about to get into some difficult questions. I didn’t like taking a job knowing only half the facts—case in point: Sunday’s run for the Kin.

“Mr. Richmond, I understood that your daughter was upset and is now missing,” I paused, waiting for his downcast eyes to meet mine. “But what brings you to my agency instead of the police?” Clients usually came to me weeks after the PD had exhausted their own resources. It didn’t bother me to be the second or third option. This was a poor area. No one wanted to pay a PI if the law would help them for free.

Before I could finish my question, I had a foreboding. Trouble was approaching. Just as Aunt Helena walked in, Mr. Richmond pulled a crumpled scrap of newspaper from his pocket. My stomach dropped, recognizing the ad as he placed it on my desk. The words “Now Taking Supernatural as well as Natural Cases” seemed to jump off the page, catching my aunt’s eye. This was the ad we’d fought over yesterday, the version I’d neglected to mention placing in The Burg’s paper.

Aunt Helena’s easy smile faltered. She not-so-gently shooed Hex from a chair and gracefully sat. I would’ve felt sorry for the cat if she hadn’t been evil incarnate. Other than to introduce herself and pat Mr. Richmond’s knee, Aunt Helena was silent. Hex, on the other hand, protested her cruel treatment loudly as she stalked from the room. I waved for Mr. Richmond to continue.

“You see, my Iza has very unique abilities.” His hands fisted. “The police wouldn’t be able to help me. And even if they could, I’m not sure they’d bother.”

I hid my frown. If I wasn’t mistaken, the man sitting before me was human. I didn’t sense even a smidgen of magical ability, but I wasn’t surprised by his claim. The PD’s Supernatural Crimes Units only handled magical cases against humans. If Isabella was Supernatural and missing she was the Council’s responsibility. But obviously, her father had his reasons for not seeking their help. Reasons he finally looked ready to share.