Hell's Belles. Jackie Kessler

hand paused, fingers buried in her cotton panties. “Now?”

      “Now.”

      With a sigh, she stood and padded out of the room, her open nightshirt flapping around her like a robe.

      Okay, she’d give me the shield, I’d drink the nasty brew, and everything would be fine—

      A small buzz whined in my ears. I tensed, sitting up straight as I tentatively reached out, stretching my power…

      …and was slapped away.

      Shit! I stole a glance out the window. It was still dark out, but the sky already had that lush purple look that meant sunrise was right around the corner. The humans were waking up. A stray car or two motored by, mortals on their way to somewhere; across the street, a light was on in an upstairs room.

      And somewhere out there, my pursuer had honed in on me. I didn’t know how much time I had before I was found—maybe a few minutes, maybe as much as an hour. In my hands, the mug of witch’s brew trembled.

      Caitlin walked back into the room, her eyes vacant, her arms wrapped around a blue towel. “I brought it for you…”

      Excellent. With both the potion and the talisman in my possession, I could make like a shepherd and get the flock out of there. I wasn’t about to put Caitlin at risk, especially not after that blessed oath she’d made me say. Last thing I needed was for the Hecate to come after me; there’s nothing like a deity with a hair up its ass to really take the spring out of one’s step. “Much obliged, sweetie.”

      I grabbed the bundle from her hands—a bit too roughly, because she blinked once, blinked again and said, “Jesse…? What—”

      The buzzing in my ears turned into a full-blown scream just as something slammed against Caitlin’s front door: BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

      Casting aside all hints of subtlety, I hurled my power at Caitlin. She gasped, then a dazed look settled over her as she swayed on her feet.

      “Hear only my voice, Caitlin,” I commanded her, somehow keeping my voice steady. “Lie down on the couch and close your eyes.”

      Glancing at the door, I saw it still held. For now. Nothing had burst through, which meant Caitlin’s ward was way, way stronger than I’d hoped it would be. The beastie outside was only knocking; out of either respect for the witch’s power or out of fear for her patron goddess, my hunter was being polite. That meant I had a moment or two to spare. Yay, me.

      Turning back to my enchanted witch, I was going to tell her to sleep, but instead I gave her a small gift. I hadn’t meant to lead trouble to her door; the least I could do was show her a good time. “Picture your fantasy lover, the one whom you’ve always wanted. Your lover is here with you, Caitlin. Your lover is with you now, kissing you up and down.”

      She moaned, her body arching, her exposed flesh dimpling from the touch of her imaginary partner. Another crash sounded against the door, like something huge and heavy pounding against it. BOOM! The demon outside was getting impatient. Had to be a male; we females were used to waiting.

      Over the noise I said, “Let your lover seduce you, Caitlin. Give yourself over completely, with no restraint.” In a burst of inspiration I added, “When you climax, you will forget I was ever here. And then you’ll sleep for the rest of the day.”

      Letting out a cry of pleasure, she moved her body, arms reaching up to encircle nothing.

      I’d say that getting Caitlin out of a rampaging demon’s way safely counted as me helping her when she needed it. All debts were cancelled.

      Again, a BOOM!!! against the door, which buckled slightly from the force. I was out of time.

      “Right,” I said aloud, the wrapped shield in one hand, the steaming mug in the other. “Bottom’s up.” And I gulped down the potion.

      Chapter 2

      Caitlin’s House (II)

      I’ve slurped on monkey brains when doing a stint in Taiwan. I’ve feasted on sweetbreads in France, when one particular client was a chef with exotic appetites. I’ve even forced down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, all in the name of doing the job.

      But never, in all of my existence, have I had to stomach milk.

      I quaffed the brew, screwing my eyes shut and pretending there was lemon curdling the mixture, making it palatable. At least the blood and ivory offset the taste somewhat.

      With the last gulp, I felt the liquid explode into raw magic, bursting through my body from the inside out. I screamed as heat seared over me, fusing my outer shell to my true demonic form. Pressure bubbled in my limbs as blood and bone and muscle transformed from parody to reality, from infernal to human. Sparks danced across my skin in a wild jitterbug, standing my body hair on end as I felt—really felt—every nerve ending tingle. From my scalp to my toes, and everywhere in between, my flesh sang with life, a song resonating with agony and ecstasy. My scream cut off as I gasped, breathed…

      …and crashed to the floor, whimpering, wrapping my arms around my torso. Fuuuuuck. That hurt!

      I couldn’t do anything but tremble as a million sensations hit me at once. Smell, more than anything—a stench of sweat and shit and milk and blood, all mixed into an organic perfume that assaulted my nostrils. Taste—the tangy, salty flavor of my perspiration and sharp sweetness of my blood as I bit through my bottom lip…and fuuuuuuck, the feeling of that bite—bless me, that stung!

      A backbeat to my pain was the chill of cool air kissing my skin; the solidness of the wooden floor, and above it the thick bands of the area rug, bumpy and uncomfortable against my bare legs; the undertow of gravity pulling me down, anchoring me to the ground, giving weight to my hands, my breasts, my head….

      Wetness seeped from my eyes. Raising a hand, I wiped away the fluid, assuming it was blood; with my luck, I’d probably sprung a leak. I stared, dumbstruck, at the water that glistened on my fingers. Tears. Actual tears.

      Unholy Hell, the witch really did it. Her nasty potion turned me into a mortal.

      On the couch, Caitlin let out a series of gasps, ending with a scream of triumphant pleasure. Outside the house, an earth-moving BAM! BAM! BAM!!! rattled my teeth and sent candlesticks flying from the windowsill as something massive connected with the warded front door.

      Taking a shuddering breath—and marveling over not having to remember to breathe—I looked up. The door still held, but the wood appeared stressed, as if it could splinter with the slightest breeze. On the sofa, the witch sighed in contentment, and her head lolled to the side, her thick curls eclipsing her face. Lights out for Caitlin.

      I quickly unfolded the towel. Lying on the blue terry-cloth, a thick silver chain winked at me. Clasped to it was a single, large green gem in the shape of an eye. Even in the soft lighting of Caitlin’s living room, the verdant color shone clearly, brightly. Not emerald, which would have been a deeper green; maybe peridot.

      Biting my lip, then wincing from the fresh bout of pain that brought, I braced myself as I touched the chain.

      Nothing. No burst of flame. No instant disintegration.

      The door groaned, buckling as the being outside struck it again. Two of the metal locks snapped off, landing near my bare feet. Caitlin’s wards wouldn’t hold much longer.

      Blowing out a nervous breath, I grazed the gemstone with the tip of my finger.

      Still no reaction. Either the shield was defective, or I was completely human. From the way overwhelming terror was turning my new blood to ice, I decided to run with the “completely human” scenario.

      Now or never.

      I grasped the chain and dropped the necklace over my head. The green stone slipped between my breasts. Gooseflesh dotting my skin, I stood on shaky legs and turned to the door.

      Showtime.

      I