Hell's Belle (5 page)

I grinned. I loved that death didn't take that particular pain away.

While he was down, I hauled ass to the mountain of scrap metal and grabbed at the rustiest piece I could find. But the jagged piece I snatched sliced my wrist and blood sprayed out.

Vampire Cop forgot all about his aching testicles at the smell of blood. As I awkwardly wrapped my bloody wrist in my scarf, he rushed me. He pinned me against the metal mountain, which moaned when he pressed my body into it.

He gripped my neck with his left hand, and pulled my right wrist to his mouth. I yelped in pain when he bit down. His fangs pushed through my flesh and he began sucking.

I groaned as his opiate-laced saliva forced its way into my body, slowly turning the excruciating pain into intense pleasure. With my body limp, Vampire Cop raised his face, wiping my blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. He smiled. His fangs dripped blood. He dropped his hand from my neck and fumbled under my leather jacket. He ripped at my t-shirt, groping for my breasts.

Like most newly turned, Vampire Cop couldn't separate blood lust from sexual desire. They were linked. He pushed against me, and I could feel his erection through our layers of clothes. His extreme hardness was one more side effect turning Dracula. I had heard that it made sex unbelievable. But I wasn't interested in finding out if this was true, especially not from Vampire Cop. I preferred my dudes with a heartbeat. 

With the lure of sex as a distraction, I made my move. My vampire metabolism pushed the drugs quickly through my system, so the opiate-induced pleasure wasn't as prolonged. I shuddered as his hand brushed against my nipple. I pushed my pelvis into his. Satisfied that he was fully distracted, I reached for the jagged metal that caused this commotion in the first place.

Gripping the metal tightly, I gave Vampire Cop a strong shove. He stumbled back about three feet, looking stunned, his cock hanging out of his pants. Before he could react, I swung the piece of metal through his neck. The jagged teeth of the rusty metal cut into him, and then force took over. His head dropped to the ground, then his body crumpled down after it.

My legs gave out, and I slid to the pavement. Taking deep breaths, I tried to control my shaking. I still had more work to do. I was only halfway done to really destroying Vampire Cop. I still needed to cut out his heart and burn it.

Gathering myself together, I crawled to his body. Kneeling over the torso, I shoved my fist through the chest cavity with all my strength, shattering the ribcage. I plunged my makeshift metal weapon through his skin, digging out the heart. I reached in and pulled it out.

Still unsteady, I got to my feet and staggered to a barrel several yards away. I tossed in the heart, then went back to my bike and pulled lighter fluid and a match from my saddlebag. Returning to the barrel, I sprayed the fluid and dropped in a lit match. An inhuman shriek pierced the cold air, and Vampire Cop’s body turned to dust, leaving a rumpled pile of clothes behind. At least that part of a vampire kill wasn't messy.

Tossing his uniform into the burning barrel, I said a quick prayer. I wasn't religious by any stretch, but it was the best way I could show respect. He was a human being once. There were people in his life
who loved him. We were close in age; he could have been a friend. He could have hung out at Babe's. He didn't want to become a monster. It was forced on him. He was a casualty of war.

Pushing the senselessness of it all out of my mind, I straddled my bike. I could hear the cops telling grisly jokes in voices too loud, trying to ignore the depravity around them. Death hung in the air, threatening to suffocate all of us. They were already denying what was right in front of them. It was easy to ignore the noise of my battle with Vampire Cop. We really were just things that went bump in the night. Funny how the human mind can play tricks.

I turned the ignition. The engine purred. Passing 7-Eleven, I saw Stoner Clerk out front smoking a joint, staring down the road at the cop lights. He was so mesmerized, and stoned, he didn’t notice me at all. The despair of the city weighed heavily that night. And, the cops looked like dinner. The fight left me with low blood sugar. Again. I had to eat something before I vamped out. I peeled off towards the blinking neon of Fantasy Island.

CHAPTER 6

It was close to five in the morning by the time I got home. I was grateful for the silence in my apartment. I was reeling from the events of the past few hours.

I dropped my helmet on the kitchen table, and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. I sighed longingly at the sight of my bed, tucked into the far corner of my loft. But instead of throwing myself on it, I gingerly walked around piles of unopened moving boxes to my ancient armoire styled with Gothic flourishes that held court at the foot of my bed. Promising myself I would unpack one more box tomorrow, I dropped to the floor and reached into a hidden bottom compartment and pulled out a long, narrow box. I took a deep breath and opened it.

The heavy iron dagger had an ornate silver hilt of entwined serpents shaped into an ancient Gothic cross. The blade, curved and sharp, caught the dim light with a glint as I unsheathed it. It was my father's dagger.

The dagger, like the armoire, was one of the few possessions left by my parents. The dagger was from my father's original family, forged somewhere in Italy during the time of the early Medicis. Babe had told me wild stories about it over the years -- that it was forged from the fires of hell or something. She never liked it, but she never really told me why. I had no clue if her hellfire stories were true, but I knew it was special -- magical in some way. And Marcello had its twin. It was rusted and dented and worse for wear, but I was certain it was the same mystical weapon. And it slashed me.

"I knew it looked familiar," I muttered to the dagger, as if it could talk to me.

I put the blade back in its sheath. But instead of returning it to the armoire, I slipped it into a special compartment built into my boot. I had no idea why I wanted it close, but I knew it was time to put it to work.

I headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I stripped out of my clothes and stood in front of the mirror to investigate the damage. My neck burned where the blade had cut me, and there was still a red mark where it sliced my skin. It was odd for a wound to linger that long, but maybe it was just rust. I’d have to see. Otherwise, all the bruises from the fight had healed. I'd clean up fine. I just looked exhausted.

I placed a bath bomb into the shower, stepped under the hot spray, grateful to finally be able to clean the stale beer out of my hair. I leaned against the cool tile wall of the stall and took deep breaths, inhaling the eucalyptus scent. It helped me focus.

It had been a crap night: attacked by a vampire, almost
outed as a supernatural freak myself, sliced with my blade's twin, almost went all Dracula on Max in the ER because fresh blood was flowing. Oh and I had a run-in with a ghost.

What. The. Fuck.

I lathered up my hair, rubbing my head gently since I was apparently mildly concussed.

Assuming that Babe got a hold of Dr. O, and assuming he thought this merited a "drop everything" attitude, I could expect my team to get into Providence in the next 24 hours. Thinking of them made me smile. Apart from Babe, they were the only family I had.

After my parents died and my aunt realized that she couldn't care for a part-vampire baby, she took me to Dr. O, who had been working with my dad. Dr. Lochlan O'Malley was in charge of Blood Ops, our unit of the top-secret government program. It fell under the purview of the Department of Defense. BO. No kidding.

Most Blood Ops members lived on an army base in the middle of the Nevada desert. That's where I was brought up, training for battle with all sorts of supernatural monsters and learning how to control my vampire instincts. I was "home schooled" by an elite team of educators, most of
whom happened to be werewolves. Werewolves specifically were often extremely intelligent and had extraordinary discipline. Most other were creatures were as unruly as vampires.

Members of the Blood Ops unit watch for signs of supernatural crime. For example, most unsolved murders are usually the act of supernatural forces. But these cases don't necessarily go cold. Blood Ops investigates, and if the crime is supernatural, we dish out something closer to vigilante justice. Often a silver bullet, an incantation, or a stake takes care of the problem. Trial by jury and all that is impossible. The only way to restrain a rogue supernatural creature is to destroy it. 

Did I stake a friend of Marcello's and now he's looking for revenge? No idea how he could connect it with me. Blood Ops members operate in the shadows, but then again, so do vampires like Marcello. The creatures we hunt are kind of aware we exist, but we are almost more like lore and legend then an actual, real threat. We are the fairy tales their maker’s told them to keep them in check, sort of the "scared straight" of the preternatural world. Most of our bad guys are genuinely surprised when we show up to take them down. 

So I wasn’t convinced that Marcello had a beef with me because of my Blood Ops affiliation. But since it was where I spent the past 30 years of my life, what else could it be? I haven't been in Providence long enough to piss anyone off.

The Blood Op members that can mainstream, like myself, live among humans. I returned to my hometown of Providence, for instance, because it was turning into a hotbed of supernatural activity. That, and Babe wanted me to come home and help run the bar, which she co-owned with my mom. After Mom died, the bar became half mine. Moving to Providence was the first time I had ever lived away from the Blood Ops base since I was a baby. Weird that coming "home" was more like leaving home. I didn't really miss the desert, but I definitely missed my friends.

I tilted my head into the spray of the showerhead and rinsed my hair. The soapy water cascaded down my back. I picked up the bar of soap and began to lather my body.

I closed my eyes and for a split second imagined how Max's muscular arms would feel wrapped around my body.

Max was FBI. I was jarred back to reality. I wondered if that would make it harder or easier to hide Blood Ops from him. Relationships were complicated enough. I’d had a few one-
nighters in my time, but I clocked more intimate time with my Rabbit vibrator than with a flesh-and-blood man.

A life like mine made it impossible to have any sort of relationship. It was hard to answer the "so what do you do" question. "Hunter of all things inexplicable" sounded a bit mad. "Blood Ops Agent" sounded absurd. And let's not even get into the vampire thing.

Relationships were definitely an issue.

I turned off the shower, grabbed a fluffy green towel off the rack and wrapped it around myself. Thinking about Max was way more fun than thinking about Marcello. But dealing with Marcello was clearly more important.

He was definitely after me, but there wasn't a clear reason why. Most vampires stayed out of the spotlight, attacking in alleyways and on deserted streets. Or they seduce you and attack in the privacy of your own home. An attack in the open was rare. Marcello seemed like a rogue. But more important, why was a rogue targeting me?

I padded back to my armoire and opened it again, this time pulling out an oversized t-shirt. After shimmying into it, I climbed into my bed, snuggling into my down comforter.

I suspected the answers about Marcello had more to do with me than with a vampire I staked. Wasn't it weird that I returned home after 30 years essentially undercover in Blood Ops to get attacked by a rogue vamp? I thought so. And then there was the knife -- a near replica of the one that belonged to my father. I had never seen one like it before, and then this clown shows up at Babe’s, stabbing at me with the damn thing. I spent a lot of years hanging around Vegas, so I was a betting girl, and I’d double down on this having something to do with my murdered parents.

Babe, Dr. O and Frankie were my only links to my past. I hoped one of them had some answers.

My mind began to drift, and I fell into a fitful sleep.

CHAPTER 7

Babe was in her usual position at the end of the bar when I arrived by late afternoon. Plywood covered the hole where the window once was. A few regulars -- a bunch of old men who lived in the neighborhood, including Alfonso the drunk -- were dotted along the distressed wooden bar, nursing their drinks and chattering about crime statistics while they leafed through the newspaper.
Babe’s may be a college dive bar at night, but the daytime is reserved for the old-time neighborhood guys.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and plopped down on the stool next to Babe.

"Business as usual," Babe said with a nod. "Just a little more cave-like in here than we're used to."

"Well, you know I always appreciate that," I smiled. "Did you find Dr. O?"

"Said he'd fly out on the jet last night, while Frankie was still -- " Babe pursed her lips. "Able."

"Good," I nodded.

Frankie was full-vampire. The majority of them weren't depraved blood suckers. Hell, Frankie was descended from nobility.

Frankie and the rest of my crew would arrive once the sun went down, which was soon. The sky was already turning a vibrant pink, and a cold wind was kicking up.

I glanced up at the muted television. Ami Bertrand was back on the tube.

"Turn that up, will
ya, Nina?" Alfonso hollered from his stool. I vaulted the bar and snatched the remote, turning up the volume. Then I gave him a refill on his beer.

Bertrand's voice was like silk in our ears. "It's a shame that the good citizens of this fair city, a city founded by a renegade, an outcast, have had to tolerate a political insider for all these years. He bought and sold your freedom ten times over..."

Alfonse blew a raspberry at the television.

"What do you make of that, Alfonso?" I asked.

"I don't like him, and I don't trust him." Alfonse sipped his beer thoughtfully. "But he'll win the special election."

His fellow regulars whooped and laughed at him.

Alfonso just shook his head and grunted. "What do you think, Senorita Babe?" he called out at the end of the bar.

"Al, you know I am way too old to be a senorita," she chuckled. "But you're right, he'll win."

"Shut that fool off, would ya?" Alfonso went back to his newspaper. I hit the mute button again and began slicing lemons for the night crowd.

"Nina, how are you feeling?" Babe looked at me over the rim of her glasses, which were sitting on the tip of her nose.

"Eh, okay," I sighed. There was no point in lying to Babe. She always knew when I wasn't telling her the truth. I hadn’t slept well. Marcello kept invading my dreams, taunting me with images of a fire. I didn't recognize where, and I didn't see anyone in the fire, but I could hear screams. I wasn't sure if it was the mild concussion giving me nightmares or if he was getting into my head. Some of the older vamps could do that, and it was one of the abilities that freaked me right out. In case it was the latter, I pretty much stayed up all night.

"Once the gang arrives, you go home," Babe said firmly. "You need time with them, and you need time to rest. You could've have taken tonight off, you know."

I knew, but I hated leaving her alone at the bar at night. Babe was a tough broad, but the neighborhood was a little rough around the edges, and she wasn't as young as she used to be.

"Promise you'll close up early if it's dead," I said, giving her a look.

"Yes, Boss." Babe grinned.

I didn't believe her. "I'll ask Dr. O to hang around and keep an eye on you then."

The door to Babe's flung open. I squinted at the motley crew who stood at the threshold.

An older gentleman with a tweedy coat and a professorial air strode into the bar. At his heels was a tall man with pale skin and long black hair that accentuated cerulean-blue eyes. With his long black leather coat, he looked like a rock star. That was Frankie.

I vaulted the bar and landed in front of them, Babe not far behind me.

"Nina," Dr. O said, pulling me to him and holding me tightly.

The tweed of his jacket was a little itchy, but the hug felt really good.

"You look lovely,” Dr. O continued. “Being home has done some good, I see."

Babe turned in time to catch a kiss from Dr. O and their embrace lingered for a moment before she turned to hug Frankie.

With the greetings out of the way, we moved to the empty tables away from the bar.

Frankie slid his arm around my waist as we walked, a faint accent hinted at his European background. "What the hell is going on here?"

Frankie looked no older than me, but he was probably close to 500 years old and one of the most dangerous vamps I had ever come across. He was also a talented tinkerer and built my custom motorcycle. And he was one of my best friends.

"Where's Darcy?" I asked him, realizing that my other best friend was missing.

"That time of the month," Frankie smiled slyly.

That sucked. Darcy was our tactical support and resident computer genius. I was waiting for months for her to wire up my new Blood Ops home base here in Providence, and hook up my loft with some sweet electronics. But she was also a banshee, putting her out of commission for a few days a month so she could go somewhere safe to wail to her heart’s content. Descended from the Tuatha De'Dannan, a race of Irish fairies, the myth is that banshees are the omen of death for one family. In truth it’s the sound of the banshee’s wail that kills a person who is suffering some sort of heartbreak. And in Darcy’s case, it’s usually men. Darcy finds the heartsick men and wails for them. It’s a nasty business for her, particularly since the Blood Ops base was so close to Las Vegas. Hearts were breaking all over that city at any given time.

Knowing that they would be joining me here in Providence, I had a room next to Frankie's apartment built out for this purpose. Of course, I wasn't going to tell Frankie about it until it was too late. He'd piss and moan about having to listen to her shrieks, even though I had the rooms soundproofed. He’d claim vampire hearing, but that’s sort of a load of bullshit. I spared no expense on the soundproofing. My dad was a 700-year-old vampire who amassed quite a fortune over the centuries. I was his sole heir. I could afford to build it right.

"Do you guys know a Marcello?" I asked as we settled down at a round table, not far from where Marcello attacked.

"Why?" Frankie asked. He looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.

"So you do know him," I said. I felt a small wave of relief. "He was the one who attacked me last night, right here. Spoke the ancient language to me. He knows what I am, and more importantly,
who
I am. But I know nothing about him, which puts me at a real disadvantage."

Dr. O shook his head. "So Marcello's here. I thought he might show up when he caught scent of you, but he put a lot of pieces together faster than I thought he was capable."

My patience was running thin. "So you
both
know him? Mind telling
me
who he is?"


Frankie hesitated. "He's a hit man."

"A vampire hit man?" I crossed my arms. Had the mafia taken over the vampire population or something?

Dr. O hesitated. "We think Marcello killed your parents."

I actually felt the blood drain from my face.

Dr. O continued. "Marcello didn't order the kill. That much we are sure of. He is simply a hired gun."

"So why is he after me?" I felt my fangs start to burst through my gums. Wrapping my arms around myself, I pressed my nails into my arms to force myself to stay seated. What I really wanted to do was run out of the bar, track Marcello down, and drive a stake through him.

"Because you came back. Apparently he has been waiting for you." Dr. O said, looking chagrined.

That response was infuriatingly cryptic.

Babe looked alarmed. "Nina, maybe you should go back to the Nevada..." She met Dr. O's eyes.

I sighed and reached for Babe's hand, pressing it against my cheek. "Auntie Babe, I love you. But I am so staying here to stake this bastard." I had been waiting for 30 years for this kill. It was all I thought about during the hours of the Blood Ops physical training. He was so mine.

"Nina, you have no idea what vampires like Marcello are capable of." Babe was edging towards hysteria. "And your dad was supposed to be unstoppable!"

I dug in my heels. "Dr. O, you agreed I could come home because some weird supernatural something is apparently setting up shop, remember? You said that the time had finally come for me to be here, to help out Babe, and keep an eye on the activity."

For two years, I wanted to leave the desert and come home. Home. I wanted to have a life outside of Blood Ops. I wanted to try to run my mom’s bar. Babe was growing old, and I barely spent any time with her. My history was here, what was left of my family was here. And this is where I chose to be. Hell, I earned it.

"But that was before we knew that Marcello was still hanging around," Babe said, her voice rising. She wasn't giving in without a fight. "Now we know he’s here, so I need you to go back to Nevada. Let them send another team out to deal with this other stuff."

It was all I could do to keep from stomping my feet. "You can't be serious!"

"You are your father's daughter," Dr. O said with a chuckle. "He wouldn't have passed up this fight either."

"Yeah, and look where that got him," Babe said. Her dark eyes were blazing with anger.

A far-off look on his face, Frankie spoke up at last. "But you need to know what to do after you catch him. At least I can help with that." He was filled with bitterness. I sometimes forget that Dad was Frankie's mentor and they spent centuries on the run together.

"I guess it's settled," Dr. O said, but Babe yanked him back to the table.

"Not so fast, Lochlan," she hissed. I had never seen Babe look so angry.

"Auntie Babette," I began, choking back tears. "I know what you did for me..."

"Do you?" Babe asked. "Really, did Lochlan tell you the whole story?"

"Babette..." Dr. O tried to stop her.

Babe refused to stop. "How we were on the run, how this thing and his so-called family kept finding us? How so many more were killed while we were running?"

I knew Babe had tried to take care of me, but I always assumed taking care of a half-breed had been too much for a young, single woman. I had no idea she was running from a vampire.

Babe was shooting daggers at Dr. O with her eyes. "So you never told her how she ended up with you?"

Before Dr. O could answer, Babe stood up and stalked away.

Dr. O began to rise, but I stopped him. "Let her go," I stood. "I'll deal with her when she has a chance to think it all through. Let me get you guys something to drink. Beer?"

"Guinness?" Dr. O nodded and smiled appreciatively.

Babe stormed off to the stock room, and the bar was filling up with the post-exam college crowd. Talking to her would have wait. I filled a few simple draft orders from the college students filtering in before filling two pints of Guinness from the tap. I rolled my head from side to side during the slow pour. My neck and upper back were killing me from last night. And my neck was still red and raw from the knife wound, which was weird. I usually heal at warp speed.

I grabbed the pints and walked them over to the table, setting them down in front of Dr. O and Frankie. Dr. O was absorbed in conversation with two college kids. They sounded like religious studies majors, and since they barely noticed the beers in front of them, the conversation was probably getting heated. I headed back towards the bar, but Frankie caught my wrist.

"What's this?" He pointed to his own neck, while looking at mine.

"Nothing," I shrugged, and tried to move away, but he wouldn't let go.

"I don't think so." He raised his eyebrows.

"Frankie..." I warned as I tried to yank my hand away.
Vampires and their goddamn death grips.

The door opened with a burst of cold air, and Frankie dropped my wrist. Since I was already pulling against it, the surprise release sent me stumbling backward at a good clip. Muttering several choice words under my breath, I ran straight into Max's muscular shoulder, bounced off of him and landed squarely on my ass.

"Ow!" I yelled, more out of shock than pain. But dammit now my tail bone was throbbing.

"Oh shit!" Max exclaimed, staring down at me. He rubbed his shoulder where my forehead met it. "You have a solid head!" He offered me a hand up.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head. I wasn't ready to move just yet. I stared at the worn wood floor and hoped I wouldn't be picking splinters out of my ass later.

Max squatted down beside me, "You alright?"

I nodded, feeling a rush of air on my back. Frankie was now hovering, with a tiny smirk turning the corners of his mouth upwards.