Hell's Belle (8 page)

CHAPTER 10

My head throbbed. I knew if I opened my eyes, light would pour in and make it worse. I could hear faint whispering somewhere in the room, but I couldn't make out the voice. It wasn't familiar, and I strained to make out what it was saying, which made my head ache even more.

"I can't hear you," I muttered.

Then I felt the cold thickness of plasma melt into my body. "No
no no no no! Get out of here," I growled. "I will not share my body with a ghost."

I was trying to keep my emotions in check and be firm about it, which was hard to do. Ghosts thrive on the adrenaline that pumps through humans when emotions run high, which is why possessed people are usually angry. But if you appear too weak, the ghost could try to push you into submission to keep the shell. Dealing with a ghost inside a body was delicate. I was not thrilled that this was happening.

Now that the ghost was inside my body, I could hear him loud and clear. "I need your help," he said.

"And I should help you... Why?" I took a sharp intake of breath when a searing pain sliced my head like a razor blade. Casper felt it too -- I felt his plasma push out of me for a brief moment.

"Please," he said sounding scared. "You're the only one who can see me. And hear me."

“Oh come on,” I moaned. “Find someone else to haunt.”

“No, you’re it.” His fear was giving way to annoyance. “Believe me, I tried.”

Well crap. I had heard about ghosts attaching themselves to people, but I had very little experience with it. When Blood Ops came across possessions, we’d call in an exorcist and leave it to the professionals. But he was
body-jumping, not possessing, so he obviously wasn’t interested in controlling me.

"Why are you attached to me?" That thought was kind of creepy. “Does it have something to do with the hospital?”

"I was murdered," he pushed on quickly.

"Well, duh." I felt bad and all but my head was killing me. I hated being possessed.

"He'll kill more of us," he said as panic edged into his voice. It wasn't helping my head at all.

“More of who?” I asked. Did he know the connection between the victims? “How many more of you are there?”

“Not me. More of
us
!” His frustration at me ricocheted through my head.

“Us?” I pressed my hands against my forehead. “Who
is us? Friends? Relatives? What?”

I felt him try to shake his head. Well, he was really trying to move my head and I was not going to let him do that. My brain would rattle.

"What do you want me to do about it?" My headache was making me more short-tempered than usual. Plus, I had a freaking ghost in my body. I was allowed to be bitchy.

"I want you to stop it, Nina," he said testily. Clearly he was in bad mood too. Of course, he was just brutally murdered, but I think my headache was bothering him too.

I took a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen would help ease our pain. "Whoever you are, this is a human problem. I can't interfere."

"Not human. El
curandero," he panted. “From Veracruz.”

“You?” I asked, startled.

“Us. All of us.”

My heart skipped. He was a
curandero, a healer, a Mexican white witch. This must be serious if he was coming to a vampire to help. There wasn't a lot of love between vampires and witches, particularly el curandero. And I doubted those feelings changed in death.

Babe's salty Spanish curse punctured my ears, and I felt the plasma lift out of me. I smiled slightly, relief flooding my body as Casper left me. I rolled onto my side. A wave of nausea hit me, and I quickly rolled onto my back again, groaning.

A cool, damp cloth scented with ginger was gently applied to my forehead. It inhaled the soothing scent and carefully opened my eyes, expecting to see Babe's worried face. Instead Frankie was beside me, gently pressing the compress to my head. The centuries-old vampire looked a little scared.

"What happened?" I murmured, not daring to speak much louder.

"I have no idea," Frankie shook his head and squeezed my hand, which I didn't realize he was holding. It was cold, not uncomfortably so but slightly jarring.

I groaned as a tried to sit up. His arm flew across my chest, and gently pushed me back down.

"You just went pale and passed out," he stroked my hair. "You've been out cold for over an hour."

"When did you eat last?" Babe chimed in. She sounded far away.

I shrugged.

"Great." I could hear her tap-tap-tapping her nails on the kitchen counter. The noise sounded like it was inside my throbbing head. "
Lochlan, why is this happening? This is not supposed to be happening."

I squinted open my eyes to look at her, and the dim candles felt like a blinding spotlight. I snapped them shut immediately.

"What's not supposed to be happening?" I muttered.

"Your blackouts, Love," Frankie whispered back. "Vampires don't blackout."

"But humans do, Frankie. Half human, remember? I think I just need to eat more or something." I tried to focus on slowing my breath. It kept my mind off the dull ache in my head that the ghost had just left.

Babe's tapping stopped suddenly.

"Did you feel that, too?" Dr. O's resonant whisper carried across the room.

I forced my eyes open very slowly and looked at them. Babe was frozen, only her eyes moved, searching the room. Dr. O cocked his head, listening. He took a few tentative steps, feeling the air around him.

Babe released the breath she had been holding. "We are old and paranoid," she muttered. The teakettle began to sing, and she busied herself making tea. Dr. O sat down at my long redwood slab dining table. He looked exhausted.

I knew my headaches were from Casper
body-jumping into me, and maybe my blackouts too. But I didn’t want to mention it to them yet. I didn’t want them to freak out and try an exorcism. Witnessing a real live exorcism in LA three years ago kind of put me off of them. Besides, if Casper knew something about the murders, he needed to stick around.

"What time is it?" I closed my eyes again, wondering if my friendly ghost would return.

"Getting on to 3 AM, I believe," Frankie said. He rearranged the wet towel on my forehead, finding a cool spot.

"Did you get a chance to check out your room?" We were still a few hours from dawn, but I wanted to make sure Frankie was okay. Better to know now if something was wrong with it.

"It's lovely," he pressed the towel a little too firmly.

"Frankie!" I pushed at his hand and opened my eyes, breathing through a wave of nausea. "You didn't even check it, did you?"

When I took over the building, I built an apartment in the basement specifically for Frankie. It was as safe as he could get without being truly underground. And he hadn't bothered to give it a glance. I built a special room next door to him for Darcy’s banshee wailing. If he had seen his apartment, he would have noticed the room, and he would be whining about his sensitive vampire hearing.

I was fairly certain that no sunlight could get into his apartment, but I would have felt better if he had given it the once over earlier, in case we had to come up with a Plan B to make adjustments to the space.

"Nina," Frankie sighed. "I trust you. You know what you are doing. I am sure it's fine."

Babe crossed the kitchen and placed a tray with a teapot and mug on the coffee table in front of the couch. She poured out the pungent brew, while Frankie helped me into a sitting position.

"You will drink this, and you will like it," she said firmly.

"What is it?" I asked timidly. Did I really want to know?

"It will make you feel better, that's what it is." Babe looked stern.

Wrapping my hands around the mug, I inhaled the steam, wrinkling my nose at the peculiar smell. I looked over at Dr. O. His lips twitched as he stifled a laugh. Babe pulled herself taller, put her hands on her hips, and pursed her lips. I sipped it cautiously. My nose wrinkled involuntarily. It tasted awful.

Dr. O couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "It's henbane."

I spit a mouthful of the tea back into the cup. "You gave me poison?" I gasped.

"Oh for Christsakes," Babe crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Yeah, it's poison. But the quantity won't harm you and it'll make your headache go away."

"Along with all other feeling," Dr. O said, looking pointedly at Babe.

"Lochlan, please. Back in the day, your people put this in beer and drank it for kicks." She rolled her eyes. "God, it's the tiniest of tiny amounts."

Dr. O shook his head at her, grumbling "henbane" while he followed her to my kitchen.

"Who were you talking to, Love?" Frankie took the mug from my hands. He sniffed the brew. "Oh, that's awful!" Wrinkling his nose, he placed it on the coffee table, out of arms reach.

"When?" I slipped back down to a horizontal position on the couch.

"Just now, before you woke up." Frankie lifted my head gently and shifted a bit. He placed my head back down, resting it in his lap. Pressing the compress against my skin again, he reached out with his other hand and grasped my fingers.

"I guess it was a dream?" I said cautiously.

I didn't want to tell him about Casper yet. I never had any affinity for the dead, never showed any aptitude in dealing with spirits or poltergeists. Humans sure, but not the dead. Not only could I see a ghost, but he could body-jump me so easily? Even mediums with the innate talent to channel the dead couldn't do it without their rituals. Yet here I was, just channeling a dead guy whenever he felt like a chat.

"Quite a dream," Frankie said. He played with my fingers. "Someone was following you, someone was murdered. And I'd swear you were talking to a dead guy."

I sat up quickly, and the room rolled. I groaned and gripped Frankie's knee as a wave of nausea hit me again. "In case you didn't notice, things have been a bit stressful around here."

"Nina!" Babe rushed from the kitchen. "Put your head back down!"

My stomach twisted. My battle with the nausea lost, and I stumbled to the bathroom.

"I blame the henbane!" Dr. O called after me.

CHAPTER 11

It was just past 9 AM when my eyes fluttered open. I snuggled deeper into the covers and shut my eyes again. Certainly, no one would blame me if I spent the day in bed. It had been a rough night, for sure.

The enticing aroma of coffee wafting from the kitchen proved a stronger pull than my soft and warm bed. Let's hear it for auto-brew! I rolled out from under the covers, pulling a throw blanket over my shoulders, and shuffled, still a little unsure of my footing, into my kitchen and towards the heavenly scent.

A note with Frankie's beautifully embellished script was propped against the coffee maker. I admired the carefully calligraphic lines. They don't teach writing like that anymore.

Notice I remembered the coffee. I hope I did it right.

I'll see you tonight. We have work to do.

I smiled. He finally mastered the coffee machine.

I poured my first cup when my cell phone chirped. It was Babe.

"
Hola, Auntie," I smiled into the receiver.

"Auntie yourself," Babe sighed. "You gave us a hell of a scare, Nina."

"I know. Sorry." I poured some cream into the coffee and watched the color fade to a lovely caramel. I sipped the hot liquid carefully.

"Are you in bed?"
A rhythmic tic, tic, tic of Babe tapping her nails on the phone made me wince. That woman was a bundle of kinetic energy.

"No." I rubbed my scalp and yawned.

"Lochlan wants you in bed." Babe was firm about this.

"Like that's even possible," I huffed into the receiver. "Did you know there's a pile of books on my living room floor in some weird language that no one can read?"

I could hear Babe clicking her tongue. "Of course I know about the books, Nina."

Babe's reaction took me by complete surprise, and I spilled coffee all over the kitchen counter. I grabbed a dishtowel and started mopping up the mess, the phone cradled in my shoulder.

"What are those books, Babe?" I asked.

"I just didn't think they mattered..." She sounded a little distant, distracted, and I could hear pages turning in the background.

"What are you hiding?" I felt last night's migraine twinge at my temples.

"Look," she snapped back to attention. "I'll explain it all once I figure it out myself. But Frankie and
Lochlan agreed that I need to deal with the books first."

I was spectacularly annoyed now. The throbbing at my temples was beginning to pick up a techno beat. "Am I going to be the last to know?"

"I promise to tell you everything, but not now." Babe was trying to be soothing. It wasn't working. "Look in the fridge, there's a steak in there. Lochlan said to cook for breakfast. He thinks the headache was triggered from not enough protein and wants you to eat more of it. It's been marinating all night, just the way you like it."

I sighed. My annoyance slipped away. It was hard to stay mad at my aunt, especially when she marinated my steaks in tomatoes with cumin, garlic, chilies and the other smells that reminded me of my too-brief childhood spent in
Catemaco. I didn't remember a whole lot from that time, but that marinade was unforgettable.

"How do I cook it again?" I was hopeless in the kitchen. Babe claimed it was for lack of trying. She said genetically
speaking, I should be a five-star chef.

"Grape Seed Oil on the grill pan, heat it until it's sizzling. Sear the steak for a few very short minutes on each side. Two minutes each should keep it nice and bloody," she rattled off her usual directions. "And don't forget to let it sit for a few minutes before you cut into it. Make a few eggs while you are waiting."

"Got it," I said, pulling the grill pan out of the cabinet and placing it on the stove. If bloody beef gets rid of these headaches, I'll happily sear away.

"I'll call you later," Babe said. "I have some research to do myself."

"Right." I was slamming the cabinets, looking for the oil.

"Cabinet to the right of the stove, up top." I could almost hear her roll her eyes.

"Got it, thanks." I grabbed the bottle of oil, and in a very slick second, it slipped out of my hands. Vampire reflexes kicked in, and I caught it on the way down without missing a beat. "Do you need help at the bar today?"

"Don't worry about the bar. I have it covered."

And she clicked off the line without a goodbye.

Babe sure was acting peculiar. But she left me a marinating steak, so she definitely still loved me.