Hell's Belle (15 page)

Taking advantage of his hesitation, I pulled the knife out from under me with my right hand, twisted around and swung it away from my body and up my left side. I plunged it into the side of his neck. I hit him with so much force that he flew off me and slammed into a parked car about 15 feet away.

I jumped to my feet, feeling the small trickle of warm blood slip down my neck. I brushed at it, a smear streaked down my hand. Marcello stood on the car, the knife protruding from his neck. He smiled and pulled the knife out, pointed it in my direction and winked.

Marcello was centuries old, so he was strong and he was fast. He rushed towards me, the bloody knife lashing quickly as he attempted to cut me to ribbons.

Then I heard a roar behind me.

I fell to one knee as Marcello sliced at my neck. I ducked just in time. Dog sailed in the air, over my head. She sunk her teeth into Marcello's arm, the one holding the knife. I heard bones snap and the sound of metal skidding on pavement as the knife landed on the ground.

Bone protruded from Marcello's arm as Dog snarled at him. He slowly retreated from her. I snatched up the knife, and slipped it into my weapons vest. Marcello put a few feet between him and Dog, then, moving swiftly, he vanished.

I dropped to the ground, shaking. Dog padded over to me and licked at my face. I hugged her tightly around the neck.

"You are the best Hell Hound ever," I stroked her ears.

She flopped down beside me and rolled on her back, her feet kicking about in the air. In return for saving my ass, all she wanted was a belly rub.

Footsteps came up fast behind me. Babe, Frankie, Alfonso and Dr. O rushed to us. Babe looked worn out.

"Guess you reversed his curse?" I asked her.

"It wasn't a very good curse either. He may be a powerful vampire but he's an amateur witch." She sniffed. I kind of loved that my aunt was a magic snob.

Dr. O plopped himself down on the other side of Dog, stroking her head. "He isn't meant to be a witch. He's getting help from somewhere."

"He had another knife with him," I said. I plucked the weapon out of my vest. "Could that be what's aiding him?"

"I'm not sure, but it's a consideration."

Frankie was staring at me intently. "What's with you?" I asked.

"You were bitten." He pointed at my neck.

"Just a small puncture. I'll heal in an hour," I said casually.

Frankie knelt beside me and pushed my head to the side, looking at the wound. His fingers brushed it lightly. It sent chills through my body. He cocked an eyebrow at me and crossed him arms.

"I am
fine
," I muttered.

"Right then," he nodded, standing up. "So when did you get a dog?"

I smiled and stroked Dog's jet-black fur. Frankie tentatively reached out to pet her too, but her body stiffened and she responded with a low growl.

He yanked his hand back. "Well, I guess that's that then," he said clearing his throat. "Shall we go home? I think I have had enough for one night."

"Nina's not going home," Max’s voice boomed behind me. Before I could turn around, he reached around and grabbed both of my hands, twisting my arms behind my back. The familiar snap of handcuffs echoed in the parking garage, and my wrists immediately itched from the metal. Dog's growl turned downright vicious, but, at the shake of my head, she held back.

"What the hell?" I craned my neck around, hoping to catch Max's eye. He wasn't serious, was he?

"I have to bring you in, Nina." His voice was low, gruff.

"For what?" This was ridiculous. I just helped save his ass and now he was hauling me in?

"I need to bring you in for questioning for 16 separate murders," Max said in the most measured, almost clinical way.

Frankie leapt to his feet. "Oh come on!"

"Now, Max, really," Dr.
O said, reaching into his pocket. I caught the corner of his Department of Defense badge peeking out.

Shaking his head, Max pulled out his
Glock, training it between Dr. O and Frankie. "Hands where I can see them. Both of you."

In the distance, police sirens were blaring, the noise getting closer.

"Forget it, Doc," I said flatly. "Let him bring me in. They have nothing."

"We'll get you out in an hour," Babe said. She glared hard at Max.

Frankie nodded in agreement.

"Just get Dog home and fed, okay?" I asked.

Tires screeched. With his hands on my arms, Max swung me around and pushed me toward a waiting cop car.

"You just made the biggest mistake of your career," I muttered.

"Really?" he snorted.

"Really," I responded. With his hand on my head, he guided me into the back of the police car and slammed the door shut.

"See you at the station," he said to no one in particular. He knocked twice on the roof of the car and motioned for the cop in the driver’s seat to go. We peeled out of the parking garage.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. Was it really just a few hours ago that I was all dolled up and ready for a fancy dinner with this guy? Now I was soaked through with Holy Water, snake snot, ghost goo, and, of course, blood. And my date was escorting me to the police station on murder charges.

See why I don't go on dates? Someone always ends up in handcuffs, and not the fun kind.

CHAPTER 21

I was stripped of my weapons as soon as I entered the building. The cops raised their eyebrows at my gun and wrist blades. They laughed out loud at the wooden stakes.

My police escort dumped me in a dingy, gray interrogation room. I stared at the mirror, looking past my rather scary reflection. After battling an older-than-dirt vampire twice and a hotel full of ghosts, I looked pretty beat up. I was sure Max was studying me from behind the safety of the one-way glass. I was tempted to stick out my tongue.

The staring contest lasted a good hour before he came into the room. The handcuffs made my wrists itch, and I was desperate for some cold water. A cup of coffee wouldn't have hurt either; I was exhausted. But Max came in empty handed.

He sat down opposite me. "You sure pack quite an arsenal."

I shrugged. "I am legally permitted to carry those."

He shifted forward. "I didn't see any paperwork."

"Babe's bringing it."
I smiled tensely. "Is she here yet?"

"Right now, I ask the questions."

"Then ask me a question," I shot back. I was tired and testy.

"Okay then. Why were you carrying a small armory on your person?"

"Have you let me call my lawyer yet?"

"You aren't under arrest. Yet."

"Then I suggest you charge me with something."

He stormed out of the room. I dropped my forehead on the table and groaned.

When Max came back, he dropped a knife that looked like the one Marcello pulled on me.

"Do you recognize this?" He leaned on the table with both his hands, peering down at me.

"Yes, it was in the crime scene pictures you showed me."

"Have you seen it anywhere else?"

I shrugged. "It was used on me tonight. Max, you have no idea--"

He slammed his hands down on the table. "What don't I know, Nina
?!”

I looked at him in silence.

"What I do know is that we both almost got killed tonight, I blacked out a large chunk of the evening, and when I came to, I see you and that weird skinny guy getting awfully close in the parking garage. So now you tell me what I don't know."

"I was being attacked. Again. My god, just
uncuff me, will you?" I slouched back in my seat.

That made him snort.

"Seriously, Max. Let me out of these cuffs."

He ignored me. "Where else have you seen this knife?"

"You got this all wrong.” I twisted my hands around, trying to satisfy the itch from the cuffs.

"This has been linked to at least one murder scene, and it was just like the knife used in the attack on you at the bar. So what aren't you telling me?"

"I am telling you to let me go."

"Damn it, Nina!" He slammed his hands down on the table again. It made me jump. "I am trying to protect you."

I didn't mean to laugh. Honestly. But I was so tired that it was exactly what I did.

"This is protecting me? That's fucking rich."

Max paced the room, agitation in every footfall. "Cut the bullshit, Nina."

"No, Max, you cut the bullshit. You know damn well that I was at the ER with you two nights ago when those murders happened. So there is no way you can pin any of this on me." My patience had officially worn thin.

"But you know what this knife is, don't you?" He kept on fishing.

"Yes, it's the knife that was used on me in the bar attack. Are we done here?"

"No. Why did I find this knife in a botanica?"

"Because that's where they sell them?" I offered.

But now he caught my attention. I always thought my dad's antique knife was a rare artifact. And it was being carried in a crappy downtown botanica?

He dropped it on the table. It clanged and bounced like it was made of a cheap metal, not the heavy iron that my dad's knife was forged with.

"How did this cheap piece do so much damage?" I forgot myself and said it out loud.

Max's expression changed from pissed off to self-righteous. I expected him to bellow "ah ha!" at any moment.

"You're right." He smartly held back his I-told-you-so. "That's the only difference. The metal on the knife found at the crime scene was pure silver. This is a silver plate replica."

"And a replica means the original is some sort of antique?"

He scoffed. "The owner of the botanica on Westminster Street didn't know anything about its origin, just that she thinks it's pretty."

So that's what he was doing at the
botanica.

"What made you go in there to look for it?" I asked. 

"The scroll work on the hilt is entwined snakes. It looked like it could be Satanic, so I figured I'd check it out with a botanica."

I sighed and dropped my head closer to the table to get a better look at the knife. Of course, he saw snakes and thought Satanic. But symbolically, snakes mean knowledge and they are not demonic at all. But they are affiliated with witchcraft.

“May I look at it more closely?” I asked.

When he nodded, I lifted my hands, holding my cuffed wrists out. “It’ll be easier for me to look at it without these.”

Max reluctantly removed the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists, which had a lovely rash from the metal, and he pushed the knife towards me. It felt strange in my hands. I looked closely at the scrollwork and saw that it was different from mine. The snakeheads on my knife were missing.

"Was the knife you found at the crime scene the same knife that was used on me in the bar?" I asked. Marcello's knife was definitely not this tin replica. The drag on my neck felt substantial. A tin piece couldn't do that.

"We don't know. The only blood match was to the victims..."

"But he could have cleaned it." I guess I finished his thought, because he nodded.

I dropped the knife on the table. "What do you want from me, Max?" 

"I think you know more than you are letting on. I think that the attack in the bar was not a random attack," he said, crossing his arms. His eyes bore into me. "And I think that these serial killings are connected somehow to what happened to you."

"You have quite an imagination, Agent." I pushed the knife across the table to him. "But I'm afraid there isn't much I can help you with. So are you going to release me or what?"

I stood up, and Max jumped to his feet as well. He grabbed my arm and yanked me out of my chair, across the table towards him, my forearm on his chest.

"Watch it," I cautioned. I could feel his muscular chest under his shirt, his heart beating just under my wrist. My face was close to his neck, and I could see his carotid artery pulsing. My fangs began to slip into place. I closed my eyes and took a breath, trying to center myself so I didn’t lose control.

Shaking my head, I pushed myself back in my seat. "Am I free to go now?"

"I'll take you home," he said.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." I shrunk back in my chair. I didn’t trust myself not to bite him.

"Nina, it's after four in the morning." He stood there, looking practical. "You need a ride."

"Babe, or Dr. O...they should be here," I stammered.

"I told them you wouldn't be released until morning." He at least had the courtesy to look sheepish.

Guess our date wasn't quite over yet.