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    His Own Angel Book Three
    His Own Angel Book Three
    His Own Angel Book Three
    Ebook272 pages4 hours

    His Own Angel Book Three

    By Odette C. Bell

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    About this ebook

    She needs to rest. No, really – she needs a holiday from the breakneck life of being a magical private eye.
    But there’s no rest for the wicked, as they say.
    When a general of Hell appears looking for her, Lizzie is thrust into a fight for her life and her city. Cut off from her friends, out of luck and on the run, she’s forced to make compromises. Fateful ones.
    ....
    A light-romance urban-fantasy, His Own Angel follows a magical private eye and her charming vampire handler fighting to save their city from the darkest side of power. If you love your fiction with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab His Own Angel Book Three today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOdette C. Bell
    Release dateJun 3, 2016
    ISBN9781311618726
    His Own Angel Book Three

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      His Own Angel Book Three - Odette C. Bell

      Chapter 1

      So this was it.

      I was an angel, apparently. A creation born of light, but not necessarily of good.

      It had been several days. To be honest, I’d barely left Mr. Marvelous’s shop. And Marvelous, thank god, hadn’t kicked me out. In fact, he’d barely shrugged when he’d found out I was an angel. Giving further credence to the fact he’d already known.

      He’d slapped his hands together, smoothed his hair back, and announced with some delight that this would definitely lead to an increase in cases. Having a rookie dispatch a powerful vampire was one thing. Having an angel do it, another.

      He’d already changed the shop’s promotional material. Again. Though he’d grumbled a couple of times about spending the year’s budget on merchandise, he was happy as Larry.

      Me? I was trying to wrap my head around this.

      Benson was true to his word. He helped with the media.

      There was no way to stop it, though. I’d had an obvious, graphic fight with another angel in the middle of the city.

      But Benson had smoothed away the rest. All the charges against me had been dropped and the truth behind the glass murders finally revealed.

      Considering my breakneck adventures over the last few weeks, I actually took several days off. I didn’t go out of the store and just moved around in my pajamas, only changing when Sarah bothered to visit.

      She was ecstatic. Over the frigging moon. Her best friend and ex-roommate was technically the right hand of God.

      There was something infectious about her happiness, something that could wipe away the reality of the situation for a few seconds.

      Reality, however, couldn’t be kept at bay forever. That was the lesson the angel had taught me.

      And though I was enjoying this mini holiday, it wouldn’t last.

      It wouldn’t last, because something was coming, wasn’t it? Van Edgerton, before he died, made a deal. He’d broken something called Regulation 12.

      I was having a hard time finding out exactly what Regulation 12 was. Whenever I asked Mr. Marvelous, he changed the subject.

      It was already 10 o’clock in the morning, and I was just rousing.

      I could hear Mr. Marvelous in his office, having a rowdy argument with the copy center over changing his printed letterheads. Marvelous wanted to update the design – which was a magnifying glass held by a burning hand – to include a pair of angel wings.

      Despite the fact I’d only been working here three weeks, he was making me a full partner. After all, I’d solved the glass murders and wrapped up the greatest cold case of his career.

      There was something about how normally Mr. Marvelous was taking this situation that allowed me to relax into it. It stopped my mind from spiraling into despair every other second.

      Tugging up the hem of my flannelette PJ top, I scratched my stomach, walked into the kitchen, pulled open the fridge with the toe of my foot, grabbed the milk out, and turned.

      Benson was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a broadsheet.

      He was dressed better than I’d ever seen him. Which was saying something considering he was the style icon of the city.

      Jesus, I spat. When did you sneak in?

      He slowly folded up the broadsheet. I didn’t sneak in. I used the door.

      I watched him, heart settling but only into the familiar flutter it always shifted towards whenever I saw Benson these days. Though it had been a busy three days since the angel attack, I’d seen him plenty. Every day, in fact. He was trying to explain things. The history of magic. Angels. What really happened to the priest.

      It was like he’d turned over a new leaf. Or something better. He finally saw me as someone worthy of trust.

      It made my stomach itchy and my back tingly just to realize our relationship was changing.

      He barely glanced at what I was wearing but did nod towards the milk. I thought I told you to eat more substantially now. Your body has gone through a shock. You can’t subsist on milk and biscuits, even if that’s all Mr. Marvelous buys.

      I awkwardly tugged down the hem of my flannelette top.

      If Benson was the style king, then I was the complete opposite. The style pauper. The kid who dressed in hand-me-downs, overly large tops, and scraps of rags. Okay. Not the latter. But I sure as heck felt like a sack of cloth standing next to him.

      Are you alright, Elizabeth? You’re dancing from foot to foot.

      Why can’t you call ahead before you show up? At least give me a chance to change out of my pajamas?

      He shrugged. I don’t really care what you wear.

      Before my heart could sink, he flicked me a smile.

      William Benson had smiled at me long before I’d become an angel. He’d always been charming. He’d always been perfectly poised.

      These smiles? God, they were different.

      Just how different I couldn’t quite tell yet.

      I swallowed at that thought as I pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bench and sat down, tugging at the hem of my flannelette top again only to realize I was pulling the collar down.

      Clearing my throat, I neatened it and flicked my now extremely long white hair over my shoulder.

      I’d tried cutting it yesterday.

      It would not be cut.

      Aside from the hair, you couldn’t tell that I wasn’t human. With the hair, however, it was like a bright neon sign displaying to everyone that I came from the otherworld.

      It didn’t so much look like spun silk anymore as actual tiny shafts of light. Yet it was softer than the softest silk.

      I shifted it over my shoulder. It caught Benson’s attention. My stomach kind of trembled at his watchful gaze, but it didn’t last.

      He thrust a hand into his pocket and pulled something out.

      He handed it to me.

      What’s this? Not another contract, is it? I asked playfully.

      Benson gave nothing away.

      Considering he was a vampire, it probably was a contract.

      I brought it forward and read it.

      It was a kind of invitation. Possibly.

      It was an address, a time, and a set of instructions – bizarre ones.

      I cleared my throat. No, really, what is this?

      He seemed uncomfortable as he smoothed his tie down. It’s an invitation.

      To what?

      The Higher Council.

      I stiffened. I’d only ever heard of the Higher Council once – when I’d eavesdropped on an otherwise secret conversation between Benson and Melissa Fortuna.

      Benson frowned. You’ve heard of them?

      Ah, no, I lied.

      Benson was a vampire, and technically he should pick up my lie easily. He’d be able to smell it.

      But I was an angel now, and I was no longer so easy to read.

      I tucked my hair behind my ears and smiled, hoping it wasn’t too obvious.

      It just seems important, that’s all, I explained as I cleared my throat heartily.

      Benson paused, then nodded. It wasn’t an entirely certain move. It revealed a scrap of something that shouldn’t be there – a part of Benson’s personality I was just starting to learn about. His weak side.

      He may be the strongest vampire in Hope City, but he wasn’t God. There were things he couldn’t stop – forces he couldn’t control.

      He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You need to follow those instructions very carefully. Show up at the allotted time. Try to dress decently, he added without glancing at my outfit at all.

      Thanks, but I won’t have time. I’m pretty sure Mr. Marvelous wants to introduce me to the other PIs in the city. He says they are competition, but they’re still our brothers. I think he just wants to show me off.

      Benson shook his head. When I said that was an invitation, I forgot to mention it’s one you can’t pass up. The Higher Council has requested to meet you, and you have no option but to follow through with that request.

      I started to laugh. I stopped. This isn’t a joke, is it?

      When have I ever joked with you, Lizzie? he asked directly.

      It was a good point.

      Benson was a lot of things, but funny wasn’t one of them.

      My stomach began to curdle. What is this group? Why do they want to see me?

      They are the elite governing body of the magical races.

      In Hope City? I asked innocently.

      He shook his head. In the world.

      I spluttered on a sip of my milk, choking so hard I had to ball up a fist and slam it into my chest. When I regained enough composure to breathe, I balked. You’re joking, right?

      As I’ve already said, I don’t joke. And to answer your other question, they want to see you because you are an angel.

      My stomach clenched, and I shifted forward quickly. What are they going to do with me?

      Benson brought up a hand in a placating move. It’s nothing like that. You are an extremely powerful angel, even if you did give up Edgar Price’s sword. You’re still a force to be reckoned with. And every force to be reckoned with must be registered through the Council.

      I made a face. Do I have to pay some kind of fee or something?

      Benson may not make jokes, but he was never averse to laughing when he saw something funny.

      Pushing the broadsheet out of the way, he leaned forward and chuckled through a smile. Why would you need to pay a registration fee for being an angel?

      My cheeks reddened. You said I’d have to be registered. I thought it’d be something like the local council, like registering your dog or something.

      That was the wrong thing to say.

      Benson tried hard to swallow his smile but failed. I assure you, Elizabeth, you do not need to be registered like a dog. And there will be no fee. You will, however, his demeanor changed in a snap, have to be careful.

      My back tightened, and I sat straighter. Careful of what?

      There are different factions in the Council. All of the different races are represented. There are also a few angels, too.

      I pressed a hand into a fist and pushed it against my lips. I spoke through my stiff fingers, What? What are they going to do to me?

      Again he pulled up a hand in a placating move. Nothing. I think.

      You think? A few days ago, you told me to be careful. You told me that there will be more half fallen angels out there searching for my light. Now you’re telling me I have to register with more of my own kind? You’ll be there, won’t you? I suddenly snapped, changing the conversation so quickly it was a surprise I didn’t get whiplash.

      Benson gave a confused half smile. I’m honored that you want me there, Elizabeth, but I can’t accompany you. I haven’t been summoned. You have.

      That was exactly not what I wanted to hear.

      I made no attempt whatsoever to hide the disappointment crumpling my features and slackening my cheeks.

      When Sarah had come to see me in the past several days, she’d picked up on something. The same thing I was now having an awful lot of trouble hiding.

      My feelings for Benson kept growing. Sarah had given me a little advice as she’d leaned over and patted my knee. Play hard to get. Don’t let him know I was interested in him.

      That would be easy for someone like Sarah. Me? I couldn’t control my stupid cheeks around him. They became iridescent without the slightest warning.

      He leaned back in his chair and nodded low. Elizabeth, it won’t be that bad. It is very, very unlikely a half-fallen angel would be able to make it to the Higher Council. It’s much, much more likely that they’ve called you to find out where your allegiances lie. His tone changed. It became harder.

      I shivered. Allegiances?

      For the coming war, he said simply.

      In the past three days, he hadn’t mentioned it. I thanked him for that. Because it allowed me to rest.

      Now as he sat across from me and locked me in his serious gaze, I couldn’t hide from it anymore.

      I knew I grew as pale as a blizzard. So… so… it’s coming, is it?

      Benson shrugged. It was an easy move. It all depends on what happens next. If we can find out just how Van Edgerton broke Regulation 12, we may be able to stop it.

      So how do we do that? I mean, I can’t profess to be a particularly good private eye, but surely there’s something I can do?

      Go and meet the Higher Council first, Benson said as he pointed at the piece of paper he’d handed me. Everything else can wait.

      He stood up, pushed the stool back, ensured it was flush against the bench, picked up the broadsheet, and tucked it under his arm.

      Before he turned to walk away, he glanced at me.

      Zap. Zing. Whatever you want to call it – I felt something. Maybe he wasn’t aware of it, but he was doing it again. Oh, boy, was he doing it again – trying to fold me into the arms that were his gaze.

      Once upon a time, it had bothered me. Now I couldn’t stop the smile that locked in place over my lips.

      Benson appeared confused. What’s that for?

      Nothing. No, not nothing, I corrected in a garbled mess of words. Thank you.

      For what? He tipped his head to the side.

      I clasped my hands together as if I was about to recite a prayer. Suddenly I couldn’t face him, and my eyes darted around the room. Just thank you, I said without summarizing anything at all.

      Benson let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t dismissive. It wasn’t arrogant. It was something I couldn’t understand yet. I’ll see you when you get back. Remember, follow the instructions precisely.

      I glanced at the piece of paper, eyes darting over the weird instructions once more. Hold on, what are they— I looked up.

      He was already gone.

      Benson? William? I ran out to the hallway.

      Nothing.

      I sighed, smiled, and turned back to my milk.

      Chapter 2

      The cases were flowing in. Marvelous kept telling me he’d never seen so much work.

      Though he was inundated with missing cats, missing persons, thefts, and every other level of crime you could think of, I’d specifically requested to work on another case. And considering I’d single-handedly solved the glass murders, he’d let me.

      It was time to look into Van Edgerton’s breach of Regulation 12.

      Benson hadn’t asked me to look into this case, and I knew full well other people – including the mysterious Melissa Fortuna – were already working on it.

      That didn’t change my resolve.

      I was starting to appreciate that I had an edge. It wasn’t just the wings – it was my doggedness. A quality I hadn’t even been aware of a couple of months ago, but one I now appreciated was the only reason I was still alive.

      I had a hunch about Van Edgerton’s case. And that hunch was to do with Susan Smith. Though her case was technically closed, there were a few loose ends.

      If I was lucky, those loose ends might hide the truth.

      After I’d showered and dressed, cramming myself into my trench coat, I headed straight for the door.

      Though it had only been less than a week since my fight with Edgar Price, I was a heck of a lot less scared of the otherworld section of town than I’d once been. Because it seemed the otherworld section of town was out-of-its-mind frightened about me.

      As I nipped into the laneway, crammed myself into the beast, and pulled out onto the road, several werewolves rammed their bikes onto the pavement to get away from me.

      It could be easy to get used to their reactions – to their fear.

      I wouldn’t let myself. It was incalculably dangerous. Edgar Price would have been used to fear, too. He would have fed off it. It would have been the foundation of his righteous power. So I was sure to offer the werewolves a friendly, courteous wave as I negotiated the corner at the end of the street onto one of the main roads.

      Mr. Marvelous was heading interstate on a major case, leaving his fine establishment in my tender hands for a whole week. He’d told me, with some measure of pride, that he wouldn’t even imagine giving me such responsibility if I hadn’t proven myself.

      I crammed my thumb into my mouth and chewed my nail industriously as I drove casually through town.

      Ordinary Lizzie Luck was not the kind of girl who drove without both hands locked on the wheel and both eyes locked on the road.

      This wasn’t an ordinary car, though. Not only did most sensible magical creatures get the heck out of the way as it roared past, but we’d updated the beast’s crash detectors so it could almost drive itself.

      A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of Susan’s apartment. To think it’d only been two weeks since I attended to her murder. Two weeks. It felt like two years. So much had been crammed into the last 14 days, I was like a completely different person.

      In some ways.

      In other ways, I hadn’t changed at all.

      As I pulled up along the curb, I saw the mound of flowers propped up against the apartment’s walls. A cross, too. They reminded me with one guttural, heart-pounding punch that someone had died.

      Patting a hand on my stomach, trying but failing to settle it, I got out of the car.

      Instantly I felt the magic. Though it should have dissipated by now, it hadn’t. This street had seen something dark, and it would remember it for years to come.

      Rather than head into the building, I walked around it to the spot in the laneway where I’d seen the magical bleed. Two weeks ago, I’d been so caught up with catching Van Edgerton, I’d forgotten about this clue. I’d stood here for a full 10 minutes, watching a magical bleed in space oozing green goo into the sewers.

      From what I’d been reading of Grim’s Magical Workbook, there would now be no way to track down what spell that leak had sprung from. For an ordinary practitioner. But I wasn’t ordinary.

      I could appreciate how much of a massive gamble this was, but if I could find some way of figuring out just what happened to Susan Smith using my angel powers, it would be worth it.

      Cramming a hand on my stomach and tapping it lightly, I chased away my nerves.

      I began to walk up and down the street methodically – somewhat like what I imagined a real private eye would do.

      I peered from the styrofoam cups that littered the small section of grass outside the apartment, over to the pavement where I’d seen the magical bleed.

      Soon enough I got down on my hands and knees and actually sniffed.

      I was careful to ensure no one was around me. With my white hair, there was no way I could hide my appearance. And the last thing Benson needed was for a picture of me sniffing the pavement to hit the morning tabloids. There was only so much crazy you could cover up with a charming smile.

      Rapidly realizing I wouldn’t be able to sniff out the truth, I did the one thing I’d come here to do.

      With a loud, heavy swallow that advertised my nerves to half the city, I pushed over the grass to a vent in the side of the building. The same vent I’d kicked, crawled inside, and met Susan Smith within.

      As I got down on my knees and traced a finger over the warped metal of the vent, I felt a flicker. A single charge of magic remained.

      That’s it. I sucked a muffled breath through my teeth. You can do this.

      A couple of weeks ago, it would have taken me a heck of a lot of self-talk before I could’ve scrounged the courage to enter a magical vent.

      Now I barely blinked as I pried back the vent and shifted into the opening.

      I set my magical senses to full. They may be new, but I could appreciate they were still powerful.

      I could almost taste the remnants of Susan’s ghost. It was like a mixture of raw onion, acetic acid, and coal. It made me gag as I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth.

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