Hell Bent Book Three

By Odette C. Bell

Mary just made the mistake of her life. And it wasn’t kissing Vincent.
She’s proven she has the power to fight demons. So the Devil will send more. Especially now she rests on the edge of the prophecy like a car teetering on a cliff.
But Lucifer is the least of her troubles. Theodore hasn’t forgotten her and will burn Bridgetown down to bring her to his side.
There’ll be nowhere to run. But maybe this level I witch is done fleeing. Maybe it’s time Mary turns and punches back.
....
Hell Bent follows a plucky witch and the vampire forcing her to fight for him in a battle to save the city from a dark tournament. If you love your urban fantasies with action, wit, and a splash of romance, grab Hell Bent Book Three today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Feb 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005035181

Book preview

Chapter 1

Mary

There’s only so long you can keep kissing someone who isn’t kissing you back.

The heat of the moment didn’t matter. The fact Mary had survived, despite the odds, became irrelevant. As Vincent stiffened as if she’d dumped him in ice, she pulled away.

It was fortunately before the electronic screen could pick her up and show her epic mistake to the crowd.

A second later, it showed footage of her, the champion’s cup spinning above her head.

Vincent… he was still frozen, still looked at her as if he had no idea what she’d done and why she’d done it.

Crap.

Frederick made it up to her, quickly curling around her legs. She wanted an excuse to do anything with her hands other than to grab Vincent, so she clutched her cat up, holding him a little too tightly.

Mistress, don’t touch me with that hand, Frederick hissed.

What hand?

Your left hand. It feels… like being grabbed up by a star.

Mary dropped him.

There was utter chaos. Weirdly, a lot of it wasn’t directed at her.

Theodore fought Vincent. Bates was by Vincent’s side. Other families had gotten involved, too.

… Which meant that Mary could just slip out of here.

There was no point hanging around, right? She’d done her part. She’d fought the demon. And as she sliced her gaze down to her left hand and confirmed the magic was still there, she realized she had semi-permanently removed her restriction.

It was time to go home.

She turned. She surreptitiously took several steps away, then jumped down from the ring. When no one stopped her, she shrugged, pulled her hair over her face, and just walked away through the crowd. They screamed with rage. She could hear the Devil rising through them.

She needed to get out of here sooner rather than later.

Mistress, what are you doing? We need to stick around and talk to—

You’re always the one telling me we’re on our own. I finally get that, Mary said childishly. She certainly didn’t touch her lips. She kept her arms locked beside her, her hands coiled into such tight fists, she could’ve forced the knuckles backward through her palms.

Nobody tried to get in her way. She saw the crazed gazes of several members of the crowd, and she shuddered badly.

They didn’t look like they’d get their minds back. Presumably, when the tournament ended and they returned to the city streets above, they’d remember who they were. Or would they be scarred for life this time? What if the Devil’s hatred had flooded into them, crushed their psyches, and left them as husks?

Don’t think about it, she thought to herself. She just had to concentrate on walking forward. She reached the section of wall Bates had used to escape. She confusedly tried to figure out how to get out, then looked down at her left hand. She shrugged and went to punch the concrete.

Frederick darted in front of her. Let me, he muttered.

But—

I believe it is best to have that checked over first. Also, I do not think it would be good for Bridgetown if you were to make permanent gaps in this wall. It could allow the Devil further in.

Frederick had a point. She hung back and watched as he jumped around several times until he found enough magic to force the door to create itself.

Then they walked through.

Mary was the one to close the door, and her hand got stuck on the handle. She should just open it, run down to Vincent, and demand an explanation.

An explanation for what, though? He didn’t have to give one. As for the rest of what had happened here? Her priority was to get to Celeste to figure out what was wrong with her.

The rest? Well, the rest would just continue, wouldn’t it? Nothing would change the fact the Devil still planned to claim Bridgetown.

With that dark promise falling on her shoulders, she strode past Frederick. He stared confusedly back at the door, too. Shouldn’t we at least tell someone we’re going? They may worry that you’ve been kidnapped again.

Mary froze. She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. Just text Vincent or something.

I don’t have his number.

She shoved a hand into her pocket. Miraculously, her phone was fine even though she’d had one heck of a fight with a level V demon. And no, she still hadn’t wrapped her head around that.

She went to text Bates but realized she didn’t have the finger coordination. She also didn’t have the energy, so she tossed her phone to Frederick.

He caught it in a bubble of power. Mistress?

You text him. I’m too tired.

Why don’t you wish to see them?

… So Frederick hadn’t seen her kissing Vincent, then? Or was he being coy about it?

Didn’t matter. Mary knew what she had to do. And for the first time since her warped destiny had unraveled in front of her, she realized one thing.

Not only did she know what she had to do. Maybe, underneath the veneer of her crappy personality, she had the power to do it, too.

Swallowing hard, they soon made it up to a street.

Mary blinked up into the night.

Then she frigging froze when she heard far-off police sirens.

She locked a hand over her mouth. Oh my God. She shrank sideways, quickly found the mouth of an alleyway, and ducked behind a dumpster.

Did you forget that you were on the run? Frederick asked casually. He had that tone he used when he didn’t care that Mary was getting in trouble. You know, the tone he’d used when he’d just watched as she’d buried herself in embarrassment in front of Hammerstead?

Yeah, well, the next time she ran into Hammerstead, she’d be in a heck of a lot more trouble. Trespassing on Theodore’s property was one thing. A pretty minor thing. Escaping police custody? God.

She had no idea what to do.

I have already texted Bates. Frederick sidled up to her and handed her the phone.

Her fingers froze around it, refusing to move. She got a twitch of energy, and she shoved the phone back in her pocket. She clenched her teeth. Where the heck do I go?

Perhaps you should go back to the station and explain—

She stared daggers into his eyes. Explain what? That I’m involved in a crazy bloodletting tournament? The Devil’s targeting me himself? Theodore did all of this to capture me? Yeah, that’ll go down well. How about I just run? she asked, and she meant it.

Her gut clenched, her nerves twisting hard. She crammed a hand on her belly. She looked up at the sky. What, did she think she could just turn into a bird? Maybe she’d hop on a plane instead? She could flee to another country even….

Maybe I really should just get out—

You can’t leave, Mary, someone said in a dead voice behind her.

Mary hadn’t known someone was there. And neither had Frederick because he turned around so fast, his tail could’ve blown off.

But there… stood none other than Vincent.

He approached them warily from behind, his cufflinks undone, his sleeves rolled up, and a look of… yeah, she didn’t want to go there.

He showed a disappointment you reserved for one complete screwup in your life.

She cast her gaze down to the dumpster, then went to push away and back off into the street, but she stopped herself.

She lifted her hands. You’re here to take me back to jail, ha?

He shot her a confused look. His eyebrows peaked as he waited for her to come to her senses.

The only thing she wanted to do was run.

It’d never been more attractive before. Yep, she now had removed part of her restriction, and she’d made a dent in the Devil’s numbers. But nothing seemed the same anymore.

Especially as that disappointed glare only became more intense. Mary, you wouldn’t honestly run, would you?

Yeah, yeah, she would. She thought of doing it right now, in fact. She took another step back, but that would be when she hit a Styrofoam cup of all things. It screwed up her balance, and the next thing she knew, she thumped hard onto her side. You know, her side? The same one sliced right through with a demon wing? She grabbed it. It was still covered in blood. She looked at it like… she didn’t even know what blood was.

Vincent, the vampire? Oh, he knew what blood was.

He reached her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up. He intensely pressed his hand over her injury.

Not that he rammed it there. All the intensity came from his gaze. The way his eyes widened, then focused, the way his head receded back slightly, then pushed in closer.

… Vincent?

To answer your question, I will ensure the police understand there were untoward circumstances.

She could only stare into his eyes. It took an age for the rest of her brain to work. It literally took five seconds until she muttered, Untoward?

I will claim that you were attacked in the cell and you had to escape.

Is that… is that really a good idea? Won’t they ask questions?

Yes. I will ensure I give them good answers. He stared at her with even more intensity.

She wasn’t prepared for the heat blazing in his eyes. You could put a blast door between it and her, or you could put 20, but it wouldn’t matter. It would burn right through.

Why… did she get the impression he meant more than one thing right now?

Did her mind go back to the kiss? Of course it did. It jerked right into that memory, re-creating every detail. It mightn’t have lasted long, and her brain might’ve been undergoing the effects of a pretty fresh demon fight, but she’d still picked up all the right details, from the hard line of his lips and jaw, to the crackle of magic beneath.

We need to go to Celeste. Right now. And we need to decide, he jerked his gaze down to her left hand, if that is there to stay.

My hand?

He looked at her, his piercing gaze telling her this was no time for jokes. Especially lame ones. Your restriction. If it truly has been removed permanently from your left hand… this changes things.

This… changes things? Why did she slow her words all the way down? Why did she dart her gaze left and right, left and right? And critically, why did she get just that little bit closer? You know, close enough that, with barely any more effort, she could rock forward once more, give in to her body, and kiss him again?

You have to hide that, Mary, from Hammerstead, from any friends, from the entire city.

Most of the city’s involved in the tournament.

No. A proportion of Bridgetown’s magical families are involved in the tournament. Remember, there are over two million souls here—

She thought of what the Devil had told her before she defeated that demon.

She hissed. For the first time, she felt the pain. Her mind made room for it, and boy did it flood back in. It pushed into every nook and cranny, cramming out the rest of her thoughts, the rest of her strength, too.

With a gasp, she wobbled, and she rocked forward.

Vincent was right there, right in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist, bringing that intense gaze even closer.

What had she said earlier? That even ten blast doors wouldn’t protect her from it? You know what, even if she had that kind of protection, she wouldn’t use it. She wanted to face this, always had.

She also had a pressing date with her doctor.

She wheezed.

But not as much as Vincent did. His eyes assessed her injury. She leaked new blood. It slid between his fingers, interrupting his magic somehow, forcing it to crackle over his hands, even up his arms and across his rolled-up sleeves. I need to take you to Celeste. Now.

Where is your car? Shouldn’t we be discreet before you contact Hammerstead?

There’s no time for that.

He picked her up.

Maybe she expected it. But her mind didn’t work right. Not when she was this close to Vincent. As soon as he locked his arms underneath her legs, she spluttered like a kid. No. Worse than that. A baby bird.

It brought her right up close and personal with his sharp, angled jaw and the look in his eyes.

He muttered something under his breath. Just one curt, strong word that cut through the air, called to his magic, and saw it rise off him like steam.

As the wisps of smoke curled around her, Frederick jumped close. Don’t forget me.

In another cloud of magic, they were spirited away.

They arrived right in the hospital. Better than that, it was the same room Mary always used.

What—

Vincent settled her down on the bed.

She stupidly, idiotically grabbed hold of his sleeve, preventing him from moving back.

What, was this where she should apologize? Oh yeah, this was definitely where she should apologize. Her lips desperately wanted to do other things.

Too much had gone on. She wasn’t even looking for answers anymore. She just wanted sweet release.

She sure as heck wouldn’t get it.

Vincent looked at her seriously. You need to be looked at by Celeste now. Demon injuries… normal people cannot survive demon injuries long.

That made her drop his sleeve as fast as someone realizing they’d just picked up a snake.

She secured her arm around her middle, locking her fingers close to, but not on top of, her injury. Normal people?

I’ll go get Celeste, he said judiciously, adding nothing more.

Mary sat there, colder than ever, waiting for Celeste to arrive. It could only have been a minute or two, but that didn’t matter. It dragged on and on. Honestly, she didn’t need much time to go over the fight. Ever since she’d left the tournament, it’d repeated in her head, forming a vortex of destruction.

She locked a hand on her forehead, dragged her nails down, grabbed her neck, then slipped her fingers over her trapezius. I can’t believe….

You can’t believe what? That you kissed Vincent and he rejected you? He was smart—

You saw that? Mary hissed. You didn’t mention anything.

You did it in front of the entire crowd. I imagine every person in Bridgetown saw it.

But nobody reacted.

No. At the time, they were dealing with an influx of Devil energy. Do not think that means they will have forgotten the incident, though.

Mary rubbed her head hard. Any harder, she’d start a fire.

I can’t believe—

You’re so pathetic?

Yeah, Mary had wanted to say those words, but hearing Frederick speak them arrogantly made her defensive.

I’m sorry, pathetic? Did you see what I did? She leaned in a little too threateningly. By that, she meant she brought her left hand up. She didn’t intend to. And honest to God, she’d forgotten about the restriction. Her mind was elsewhere.

Frederick hadn’t. He leaped back, just like a cat who’d seen a dog. Mistress, be careful with that, he chided seriously, his voice vibrating with fear.

Mary gulped. She lifted her hand. She stared at it. Careful she was not. Using her right hand, she poked at it industriously.

Mistress, he chided again. That thing is alive with power, he hissed. I’m confident in saying that I have never seen such a display. Do not poke it like that.

It’s weird. You know, it doesn’t feel any different, she muttered.

Trust me, it is different. Even I do not possess power like that.

You’re a brand-new familiar.

Then let me put this another way—

I can’t think of another person in Bridgetown who possesses power like that, Celeste said, picking up the conversation from outside. She strode in, a frown etched across her lips. She didn’t come close to Mary, and that was a telling sign. She paused several meters away and frowned at Mary’s hand.

Do something, Vincent hissed.

I am, she said as she crossed her arms and decidedly did nothing at all.

You are? Mary’s voice shook.

Yes. I’m getting out of the way of a natural process.

Mary’s fear ignited, and she read that the wrong way. What, did Celeste think Mary would die now she’d met the Devil? Was it like leaving an animal struck on the side of the road to die a natural death?

As fear jolted through Mary, so too did power. It, of course, focused on her left hand. It glowed a little more brightly.

That made Vincent hiss even louder. Celeste—

She yanked up a hand and spread her fingers wide to silence him. I know what I’m doing, Vincent.

You appear to be doing nothing at all.

Indeed. Because I believe that injury, in time, will heal on its own.

It was given by a demon wing. A level V demon wing, Vincent said, every word getting faster, emotions leaking into them like freshly let blood.

Indeed. We have enough information to conclude that Mary is not normal.

There they went again, claiming Mary wasn’t normal. Here’s the thing. They wouldn’t tell Mary what she was instead.

A new wave of nerves struck her. It started in her stomach, ricocheted up to her head, then pounded back down into her stomach. It felt as if she’d swallowed a category five cyclone. She crunched forward on the bed.

She went to lock her arms over her middle, but Vincent jolted. You shouldn’t touch yourself with your left hand.

Celeste snorted. You can touch whatever you want with it. That said, be very circumspect before you touch living things.

Celeste had just come to Mary’s defense, but then she had backtracked so devastatingly completely that Mary’s mouth opened wide. What do you mean don’t touch living things? Why? What’s wrong with this hand? What magic is it? It’s not demonic, is it? I’m a demon, aren’t I? All that slipped out so quickly, you could’ve put a wall in front of it, but it would have just blasted right through said wall. You could’ve built a city in front of it. It would’ve burnt the foundations of every building.

Celeste just listened. Then laughed – nothing more than a quick, biting chuckle that shook her shoulders once. Do you look like a demon, Mary? I imagine you’ve seen enough now to draw an association.

Celeste’s apparent attempt at humor derailed Mary. Her mouth opened even wider. I… don’t know. But demon objects don’t hurt me as much as they should.

Demon objects? Celeste asked, obviously confused.

Vincent took a bodily step away from her.

Big mistake. Celeste never missed a thing. She arched her head over her shoulder. What are you two not telling me?

Mary suspected Vincent would’ve handed the scalpel over to the police by now. Or at the very least put it in a magical vampire lockup. He cast some spell on his pocket, then carefully reached a hand inside. He drew the scalpel out by the hilt, touching it only with two fingers as if it disgusted him.

Celeste might’ve acted all casual before, but her eyes widened, and she jolted back. Why on earth do you have an object with demon blood? Is that a forever-blood spell? Where did you get that?

Mary lifted a hand, the fingers shaking. It wasn’t out of weakness, just shame. It was me. I found it in St Patrick’s Hospital. I also used it to remove a necromancer’s power. And it… okay, you’ve got to understand that this sounded good at the time.

What? Is that, Celeste rocked forward but didn’t dare get too close to the blade, your own blood on that blade, Mary Lou?

Mary flinched, locked both hands over her face, and hid behind them. And yeah, that meant she got quite up close and personal with her left hand. It… didn’t feel weird. Strangely, it felt like this was the true state of her hand. Her normal left hand? That was the aberration.

She rubbed her eyes.

Vincent hissed again and tried to slip the demon scalpel back into his pocket.

Don’t do that, Celeste said, her voice kicking up wildly.

This is a hospital—

Indeed it is. And I think you’ll find that I’m better off dealing with patients than you are. Return it to the owner. She pointed a stiff pale finger at Mary.

Mary frowned. What? You want me to… have it back? It’s because I’m a demon, isn’t it? She tried to stop herself from spiraling down again, but she couldn’t.

Seriously. She had to belong to the Devil. How else could she fight necromancers and demons?

Nobody thinks you belong to the Devil, Mary. But you mixed your blood with that, and it means you’re uniquely capable of controlling the spell, including the darkness associated with the demon blood. You will do so now. This is a hospital. I have other patients to care for.

Mary moved to jerk off the bed to get the scalpel, but Vincent ran over, mincing his steps like he was in trouble, and Celeste was his principal. He handed the scalpel over reverentially. Mary took it. She didn’t know what other people felt when they grabbed it. But… it was natural to her. She twisted it around in her grip, frowned, then shoved it into her pocket.

It didn’t slice through the fabric.

… Wait, it didn’t slice through the fabric. It was seriously sharp, and it had enough magic on board that it could fight through a horde of gargoyles.

So why didn’t it cut through her measly trouser fabric again?

I can see you have your questions, Celeste said as she crossed her arms. She hadn’t touched the demon scalpel, but she still appeared to clean her fingers over her rumpled white jacket first. I can only answer a few. You joined your blood with it. So now you can control its darkness. It will become your unique weapon. Don’t lose it, she added gravely. A forever-blood spell is an exceptionally rare thing. Especially one cast on demon blood. I shouldn’t have to tell you that every necromancer in the country would want to get their hands on that. Every dark practitioner, too. Hell, even some practitioners between the light and dark would still sell their houses and their souls for that thing.

Mary’s nose scrunched, her brow crunching down. Why? I mean, sorry, I get it, demon blood is useful. But—

There are things you can do with demon blood that you can’t do with any other substance. They can be powerful catalysts for spells. And, Mary, she said, letting out this long-suffering sigh that suggested she’d known Mary for years, not for a week and a bit, you—

Added my blood to it. Wait, does that mean there’s a forever spell cast on my blood, too? Am I constantly leaking? She grabbed her arms like she’d find a puncture wound hidden under her jacket somewhere.

Celeste shook her head. How much blood did you give the scalpel?

A drop or two.

It means those drops will permanently be suspended in the demon blood. No one can destroy it.

Oh, Mary said, nodding like she understood. Then she surreptitiously slid her gaze back to Vincent.

The entire time, he’d stared at her. Were those questions lined up behind his piercing gaze? And yeah, she shouldn’t have to tell you what those questions wanted to ask.

Feeling self-conscious, she rubbed her face with her left hand.

Should she really do that? Vincent demanded.

Celeste snorted. It’s her own body. She can do what she wants with it. But like I said, her voice dropped gravely, you must be careful about touching living things.

Mary made the face that deserved. Why? Don’t tell me I can kill people—

That would be up to you. But your magic may disrupt their magic. Strong magic can do that.

Great. It’s my left hand. How am I going to stop myself from touching things? Am I going to be like Midas from now on?

Midas killed himself, for his magic worked on his own body too, Frederick corrected her. No. You will likely just need some form of outer restriction cast on your hand to ensure it blocks your magic from other people. He turned and looked expectantly at Celeste.

Celeste nodded. I can already think of a suitable medical prosthesis.

Prosthesis?

In this case, it would look like nothing more than a silk glove.

Mary frowned slightly. It would look weird walking around with a single silk glove, especially considering the only other clothes she owned were a raggedy stinky jacket and threadbare pajamas. Whatever. This was the least of her troubles.

She swallowed. Then she looked down at the hand, then up at Celeste. She pointedly faced her injury. The same injury… dear God, the same one already healing on its own.

Celeste got an expression that said she’d been right as Mary desperately plucked at her injury.

What? Mary spluttered. How on earth could it heal already? I felt that demon attack me. It sliced me right down to the bone. This….

I wouldn’t say that this shouldn’t be happening. It all depends on what you are, Mary. Celeste got a certain look in her eyes. She’d no longer beat about the bush and tell Mary she wasn’t normal.

Nope. It was time for Mary to find out what she was.

You’d think she’d sit straight, her eyes would widen,