Hell's Belle (29 page)

Her eyes glazed, as if she’d heard it all before. No doubt she had. Risa had been dogging her steps for hours. “I can hold my own.”

I cinched up another strap then gave her a once-over. Brittan had pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Her jeans had been ripped in a fashionable way, but the holes also allowed more freedom of movement.
Clever.

I laughed softly. “Trust me, I know. You just finished kicking my ass, remember?” I rubbed my backside with an exaggerated grimace. She laughed too, and we shared a smile. Brittan had a nice smile. I could see why Risa was so taken. I didn’t have lustful feelings for her, but I felt a connection. Like I’d felt to Becca and even hearing about Isabella Richmond.

A low growl came from the corner. Oh yeah, Risa was a goner. Brittan gave her a look of pure consternation. No doubt Brittan had been told she would be a liability in a fight. And she would. I couldn’t sugarcoat that. The others would be busy protecting the Weres from the sorcerer’s magic. They couldn’t also protect Brittan. But she didn’t need to hear that again. She was a fighter. A survivor, if I wasn’t mistaken. She needed a goal. A purpose. She needed a reason to stay inside that didn’t have to do with her own safety. I had that feeling again—as if this was going to change everything—but I carried on, unable to see how a few words might affect anything more than a hurt girl’s spirit.

Smiling, I turned Brittan toward a mirror we used when weight training, hoping I had read my audience correctly. “How’s that look?” My change of subject threw her. Confused, Brittan sheathed then unsheathed the sword, testing its resistance. She nodded her approval then began to undo the straps. My hands stilled hers. I redid the buckles. “Keep it. The sword, the sheath—they’re yours.”

“I couldn’t.” Brittan sighed, pulling the harness over her head. “I won’t owe anyone, anything.”

The
again
was left unspoken, but I heard it, nevertheless.

Everyone has a security blanket. They just came in different forms. I could tell Brittan wanted to keep the sword. She
needed
to keep it. But she wasn’t going to allow herself to. And I wouldn’t force her. I’d been in her shoes once. Brittan held the sword out, balanced across her palms.

“Why would you give something like this to someone you’d just met?”

I took the sheathed weapon and examined the leather, sliding the shining blade out. “You know, my grandfather made this case.” After all these years, the brown hide was still smooth and supple. “His brother forged and folded the steel. It was necessary in those days.” The flawless blade—still strong and sharp—felt nearly weightless. “It was hard to explain the purchase of swords in the post-Civil War period. They were good men who worked hard and lived long lives.” The runes etched into the steel were still clear, untouched by time. Her brows drew down at the timeframe. “Witches live long lives. Our generations are more spread out than those of humans. But to answer your question…this has been in my family for a long time. It’s precious. Some might consider it valuable. But it’s still just a thing, and that’s never worth more than a life. My mother taught me that.” I pushed the sword back into its home, passing it back as I’d received it—balanced across my palms. I held it there, waiting for its new owner to take possession.

Brittan looked at it with dark, doubtful eyes. I continued, “A thing is just a thing. A gift is just a gift. And one is not necessarily the other. A person doesn’t need a reason to give the latter. And there doesn’t have to be strings attached or debts owed with the giving.” They were words I’d heard often but only now understood. “But if you want to consider it something more, then consider it payment. I’ll give you something precious, if you’ll use it to protect something I consider far more valuable.”

“Payment for what…to protect my own hide? I’d do that freely.” Brittan’s lips joked, but her eyes were wary as they moved from the sword to something behind me and back again. The mirror showed Risa slipping guns away into places I couldn’t fathom a harness fitting.

I chuckled. “That too. But no, I want you to keep an eye on Aunt Helena. She’ll never admit it, but she worries when I’m involved in anything more dangerous than a game of tic-tac-toe. So this next twenty-four, forty-eight hours is going to be hell on her. Keep her safe. Keep her occupied. Most especially, keep her inside the wards, and these are yours. Do you believe it a fair exchange?” I smiled, but my voice was deep and serious.

Brittan stood there for several moments, looking from me to the weapon in my hands to the activity behind us, and then out the sliding glass doors leading to the garden, finally saying, “Let’s see. You want me to stick around this house for the next day or two with a bunch of hot, sweaty muscle-bound types, let your aunt stuff me with home cooking, and play with all your cool weapons, one of which you’re giving me?”

I nodded several times sharply, returning her sudden impish grin.
Uh-oh. What had I gotten myself into?

Brittan snatched the sword from my hand and slung it over her head so quickly I thought she might pull something. “Call me Brit.”

“Okay, Brit. Does that mean you’ll take the job?” I held out my hand.

“Throw in free Wi-Fi and a massage, and you’ve got a deal.” She grabbed my hand, pumping it up and down.

I retrieved my hand, laughed and stuck my thumbs in my pockets. “The Wi-Fi I can do. You’re on your own for the rest.” A glance over my shoulder showed that Risa’s patience had run out. I began to make a fast exit, but Brittan’s hand on my elbow stopped me. I turned, looking at her expectantly.

“And Cate, thanks.”

I heard the catch in her throat before her hand dropped. I just nodded and walked away as Risa stalked toward us. It was time to head outside anyway.

All of us but Aunt Helena and Brit left the house. When we reached the wards, I removed my suppression amulets and passed them to Mynx, who took the discs without a word. Although diminished, I could still feel the phers influence. But once the battle began, I’d be able to focus past my body’s needs.

Jacq opened a ward door, and we stepped through. The pines around the house stood like shadowy, silent sentries. It was another bright, hot day with an endless blue sky. Was it any wonder that we had so many demons running around? They probably felt at home. Mississippi in May was as hot as hell—with seventy percent humidity added in for good measure. I took a deep breath of fresh, muggy air, sweet with honeysuckle and felt the heat making me stronger.

Goddess, I loved this state.

Chapter Sixteen

“Magic can bond like blood. Blood can bond like magic. The two together can create a conduit for untold power…or chaos, depending upon your perspective.”

—Phoenix D’Artanian, former leader of the Draig

For the second time in less than a week, I was looking at a dead man who didn’t know when to just lie down and let the nice people cover him in dirt.

The raptors had been early. We’d barely finished tromping through the woods to the desired spot before they arrived. I’d picked this clearing because it was in a direct path to the ward doors but also because it was beside the creek that twisted around our property before finally feeding into a large pond beyond the back gardens.

There would be a lot of magic flying, including my fire. Maybe that sounds surprising, considering I would be fighting alongside Fera and the Weres, but I’d been thinking for months that it was time to stop hiding. Learning about my family’s deception and my demon father had been the last straw. Of course, that didn’t mean I was ready to walk down NOLA’s streets juggling fireballs and spouting Demonish. I’d be cautious and not make things easy for the Council. Or in this case, I’d wait until I was far away from the others before calling the flames. But I’d been born with these powers for a reason.

It was time that I put them to good use.

So, with fire and the magic spheres everyone would be tossing (well, everyone but the Weres), we had to be careful. The recent heat had parched the ground cover. The clearing was easily double the length of a football field, with the creek another few hundred yards away through a dense section of pine, oak and scraggly bushes. Close enough that water could be magically diverted to extinguish any out-of-control blazes. I didn’t plan to beat these guys just to lose the house in a forest fire.

The raptors emerged from the dark woods, hurtling toward us at a phenomenal speed, and we divided up. One immortal with each Were. Each pair would take on a raptor. In truth, I was worried about the Weres, especially Becca. They had no way to protect against magic, which left Jacq, Mynx and Fera handicapped. They would have to fight and keep an eye on our allies. Fera had suggested having the Weres run in circles so the others could pick off the raptors as they gave chase. While joking, it was her way of telling the Weres that they’d either be an asset or a liability. Only time would determine which.

The approaching raptors slowed, but even from a distance I could see the intelligence in their eyes. Mynx had been right when she’d called them reptilian. They had wrinkled bluish-gray hides and ran on two legs with wide, sweeping tails for balance. There were only holes where their ears should have been. If not for their blue color, I would’ve thought they were animatronics from that movie about cloned dinosaurs run amok. I had just enough time to note that their long snouts held row after row of sharp, jagged teeth. Then they were upon us.

I headed toward the man following the raptors. One of the blue reptiles moved to intercept, and Jacq pushed it from my path with a pulse of silver magic. She nodded as I passed before turning her attention back to the creature who was now heading for Rom. Jacq didn’t like that I was taking on the man, a sorcerer, alone, but this was my house…my territory.
Mine.
I would always be at the forefront when protecting it. Still, I didn’t relish the thought of dying—not for a house, not for territory…not even for honor. Which was just another reason I hadn’t become one of the honor-equals-life Weres. If I got in over my head, I’d say “Fuck honor” and run. Unless, of course, I was in the company of my aunt. Then I’d keep my comments to myself and run. Until then, I had a job to do.

I set my sights on the sorcerer. He stood near the wood’s edge, tossing black-magic from behind his monsters. I dodged a black orb and pulled my sword, calling the flames. As I left the others behind, I heard the rapid
pop, pop, pop
of automatic gunfire then cursing. A louder rumble sounded, and for a moment I thought Rom had been holding out on me about the rocket launcher. Then I realized it was thunder.

A storm was approaching. In the last ten minutes, the temperature had dropped by at least ten degrees. Dodging blast after black-magic blast, I moved quickly. Tall grass whipped against my knees. Patches of sweet clover crushed beneath my feet. All the while, I never took my eyes off the lean, sandy-haired man’s broken, red-brown smile. Lightning flashed in the distance, but I didn’t spare the sky a glance. I’d learned my lesson during the hellhound battle about turning your attention from an enemy.

Of course, I didn’t have to look to know certain things. The sudden cease in gunfire and Rom’s repeated shouts of “God damn it!” painted a pretty good picture. The tigers had finally figured out that lead projectiles didn’t do shit against Otherworld creatures. Jacq had temporarily spelled their swords with her deadly silver runes, so if the tigers bothered to use their “big-ass” knives as Risa put it, they’d at least do some damage.

Twenty yards from my goal I slowed, sauntering closer to my enemy, still dodging an occasional black orb. This one was strong. Much stronger than Sarkoph, he seemed to have an endless supply of the blasted things. During my zigzag across the meadow, I’d counted ten aimed at myself, several narrowly missing, and I’d heard the others shout as black missiles rained down.

From Fera’s description, we were certain this sorcerer wasn’t Nicodemus, which meant we needed him alive so he could lead us back to Nicky-boy, Isabella and the missing boys. The most harmless in appearance, I had taken the job of distracting the unknown sorcerer until the rest of my group could defeat the raptors and magically circle him. But as I got closer it looked like capturing him alive would be impossible.

He was already dead.

The smell hit me just as I recognized his face, confirming one of my worst fears. Suddenly aware of the threat my nearness posed, he turned to face me. I stopped only a few feet away. We stood under a pine’s boughs, the first at the mouth of a trail that led to the creek. I raised my sword, giving a salute. Then I said calmly, not letting my distress show, “Hello, Peter. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Less than thirty-six hours ago, I’d stared at a picture of this man standing beside Wellsy. This sorcerer’s connection to our neighbor and family friend was too much to be ignored. Peter’s empty black eyes swiveled in my direction, black-magic ball in his hand all but forgotten. I stifled a shudder and smiled. “That is your name, isn’t it?” I stepped around him carefully, keeping my distance. I’d cast all four wards of protection on myself, with fire magic no less. But that didn’t mean I would give him a free shot. Besides, the wards were situated slightly beyond my body, leaving some big gaps.

Peter warily eyed the fiery tears falling from my blade to the grass. His neck turned nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, following my movement. Oh yeah, he was well past the benchmark for creepiness and about to round the corner toward putrefying. If I hadn’t already noticed the rotting clothes, atrophied muscles and purplish skin, the neck contortions would’ve been a dead giveaway. Not even the most accomplished yogi could twist his head on his spine until his nose sat between his shoulder blades. That wasn’t human.

And Peter Traylor had been human. I’d pulled up his bio along with that of the other man and woman who’d been with Wellsy in that coal mine. Traylor had a wife and a son and was an employee of the Virginia Tourism Board. He’d disappeared right after the photo had been taken. The newspaper had gotten those details right, but someone had been wrong when they’d said that he’d been alive after climbing out of that collapsed shaft. Those eyes were as dead and soulless now as they’d been in that photo. Eyes just like those of the two men pictured beside him—the men who’d also escaped that mine, one of which had been our neighbor, Wellsy.