Codename W Book Four

By Odette C. Bell

The fight for everything is here. The city, the realms, Xavier’s heart – Bessie could lose it all if she can’t find her strength when it matters most.
Kane has waited to marry her and claim her power his whole life. And it’s time for Bessie to find out why. Some battles are won on strength alone, but with the stakes this high, only the truth can see her through to victory.
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A light romance urban fantasy, Codename W follows a journalist and her fated vampire fighting through a shadowy city to solve even darker crimes. If you love your fiction with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab Codename W Book Four today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.
Codename W is the 2nd Your True Vampire series. In a world where vampires know their true love at first sight, love brings trouble. Packed with action, wit, humor, and a dash of romance, you can read them separately, so plunge in today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Aug 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005879440

Book preview

Chapter 1

Bessie was dead. She was certain she was dead. But… she wasn’t.

One of her eyes kept twitching open. She lay in a puddle of her own blood.

She warily stared to her left and right.

Then she closed her eyes. She fell unconscious again. She couldn’t tell you how many times she did this, swaying back and forth from the edge of death like a sail that didn’t know if it would be torn to shreds by the wind or if it had the strength to hold on, after all.

Bessie felt so empty. Whenever she woke long enough to tune in to her body, it was like it had been replaced by a vacuum. All of the sensations and emotions that had once filled her up had been swept away. Now everything was cold, everything was empty, and everything was… over.

Even if Bessie wasn’t dead yet, statistics told her that she certainly would die soon. As she blearily opened one eye again, her eyelashes dragged through her blood and she stared down at the puddle that had gathered underneath her prone form.

Just how much blood had she lost? And more importantly, how much could she possibly have left in her body?

She closed her eyes again. She waited for sleep to come. Her final rest.

But it did not.

The wind kept rushing through the open section of the castle by her side. This seemed like an awfully simple place compared to the central tower of ghost city. But she needed to remember something, even if it would be likely the last recollection she would ever scrounge. This was an alien planet. Or at least, another dimension. It was where Kane came from. And… it would possess all of his secrets.

Bessie didn’t know why that of all things could make her blink her eyes open once more. Did she honestly think that finding out information on Kane would be important now? She’d crossed that bridge. She’d also burnt it up and buried it under the river of regret. Bessie was almost dead. She’d abandoned Xavier. She’d failed to prevent the attack on Parlor City. And the Other….

No. The Other wasn’t here yet. By coming here, she’d stopped the Other’s attack. It would not have swept over the ghost city. Not without her to feast upon.

Bessie had at least… saved everyone over there.

But she sure as heck couldn’t hope to save herself.

She went to move her hand. What a big mistake. It felt like somebody had deboned her. Then, just to be mischievous, they’d replaced her bones with papier-mâché. She could try to move, but the cost would be cracking herself in half.

Her eyes twitched open again. Then she stared through the bloody haze of her broken attention at the portrait of Kane once more.

This had to have been painted some time ago. He didn’t look as unhinged as he did these days.

But still, it was most definitely the same man.

And perhaps she could see the beginnings of his victory over the ghost realm in his steely gaze.

He… God knows why he’d chosen to go to the ghost realm in the first place. Yeah, okay, it was likely power, but why would anyone put up with so much risk? It wasn’t like the ghost realm came for free. You had a hell of a cost to pay as its king.

Why pay it? There were other easier ways to get power out there.

Unless… Kane had something big he was running from, some reason he needed to clutch at the greatest power source in existence, even if it would cost him his freedom.

These questions led Bessie. They were similar to the questions that had been leading her her entire life. Whenever she had lain awake in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, overcome by the disappearance of her parents, it’d always been questions that had pulled her out of that state. They were the greatest ropes in existence. Even on her darkest nights, they’d always pulled her back into the light.

And even now, on the edge of frigging death, they did the same.

Kane was such a closed book. As a master of manipulation, she doubted she even saw his true emotions most of the time. It was very clear that he needed to keep his true side hidden from people. So whatever was in this castle… he would’ve tried to hide it with all his might.

Bessie was here right now. She’d never get this opportunity again, and yes, she’d actually thought that. But for that to be true, she would honestly have to think that there would be a future and she would be in it.

She….

Her fingers twitched. She stared at them.

They twitched again.

Her focus sharpened even more.

All she had to do was stand. And then… okay, let’s not skip too far ahead. When she stood, she would figure out what to do next. One step at a time.

Literally.

Bessie, in a blast of effort, actually managed to bring one foot up. Gosh, did she sway. The point was, she half got to her feet. And she didn’t fall over.

She stared blearily at the painting again. She used it as a reason to pull herself up.

Finally she made it to her feet. Then she promptly fell back down to her knees. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that she immediately pushed up and rocked back to her feet.

She would not be forced down for long.

She breathed hard. Finally, gritting her teeth, she sliced her gaze down. She stared at her stomach. It… honestly wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Somehow magic had been healing her while she’d been swaying in and out of consciousness. She no longer actively oozed blood. That said, she could be on death’s door again real soon if you so much as tapped her in the wrong place.

She moved toward the painting warily.

She could turn around and try to focus on the rest of this strange castle first, but she understood how her body worked right now. She’d made a bargain with it. It wanted her to answer the questions that were filling her mind. If she tried to do anything else, she’d black out.

So… the questions would be answered.

She reached the wall.

There was a fireplace just underneath it.

As Bessie stumbled against the hearth, one or two drops of her blood leaked out. They landed on the logs. Immediately, they crackled into life.

Bessie hadn’t realized this, but she was perilously cold. As the fire roared in front of her, thankfully completely contained by the stone hearth, it still bled its blessed heat out.

She could’ve melted against it. Instead, she reached up onto the tips of her toes, and she touched the portrait of Kane. It was enormous. It was easily as big as a car. It meant that even from here, even with bleary senses, she could still focus on his features.

He was wearing some kind of uniform. Some kind of regal uniform, if she was any judge.

Prince Kane wasn’t… actually a prince, was he?

She didn’t know why she had to touch the painting, but she knew she absolutely did. And maybe there was a good reason for that, because as her fingers slid down it, she accidentally allowed a little bit more of her blood to leak out.

Something shimmered into place just underneath the painting. It was a plaque.

Prince Kane Theodore Archer the Second. She muttered that out loud.

She… had his full name now. And that… gave her exactly nothing. It was intriguing, and if she ever made it back to him, she might be able to use it as ammunition against him, but it certainly didn’t begin to answer the questions that continued to swamp her. The very same questions that were the only things that could keep her alive.

She moved back.

Then she pushed forward again.

Maybe there was more on the plaque, and perhaps it just needed a little more blood? She smeared some over the painting now. It crackled into life.

Crap. It wasn’t just a painting, see. Apparently, it was a door. It manifested right in front of her face in a rush of sparks and magic.

The good thing about her blood was she didn’t necessarily have to concentrate on it for it to practice magic. It was like seriously powerful jet fuel. Use it, and it would get you to where you needed to go without you having to pay that much attention to it. Wait, was that how jet fuel worked? It didn’t matter. All Bessie could do was go through with simple tasks, and smearing her blood on the painting was something she could manage easily.

As the paint daubs twisted and morphed into a door, an outline of power shot over the frame. Then the canvas peeled back.

Bessie was so surprised by the sound that she jolted. She didn’t fall, and she twisted up in time to see a real door appear.

It seemed to lead to the rest of the castle – this long narrow corridor lined with art and closed doors.

What… what is this place?

She reached toward it. Her fingers froze.

This place was the castle of one of the most consummate illusionists in the entire freaking universe. Kane wasn’t here anymore, but what if he’d cast illusion spells on it that still remained?

Bessie didn’t want to have complex thoughts right now. She wanted to go back to passing out, thank you very much. But she still had to force her brain to figure out what to do next.

Make a mistake, collapse again, and she wouldn’t get up.

She stared at the doorway through the painting.

She’d only found it with her blood. And her blood could fight through most things, including Kane’s illusion magic.

So she had to take a punt.

But there was a problem. The door was up the wall. She’d have to clamber onto the fireplace to get to it.

In Bessie’s current state, that would be like trying to pilot a plane without a windscreen. She would be guaranteed to crash.

She took a step back.

She looked at her hand.

She was still connected to her blood.

Though it probably wasn’t recommended to practice magic like this, she had no option.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. It wasn’t that hard to snag hold of her blood, nor was it particularly hard to grab hold of the painting with it. With a groan that sounded like she was grabbing up a massive boulder, she pulled the painting off the wall. It shuddered as if it was unlocking from some mechanism, and it moved toward her. And yeah, that was just as frightening as it sounded. As a massive, massive version of Kane was now getting up in her face. Fortunately this one wouldn’t snarl and press its forehead against her, though.

She set the painting down in front of her. She wanted to stay here in front of the crackling fire, but she knew she couldn’t.

The fire, on the other hand, rapidly turned out to be more than just burning wood. It shone through the doorway from behind, lighting it up differently.

Previously, it had looked as if it was a doorway into a standard corridor. But now, wherever the crackling flames illuminated, Bessie saw different details. It was as if… the flames could blast through Kane’s illusion.

Bessie could keep using her blood to do the same, but she didn’t have to tell you that there’d soon come a time when that would be impossible. It was a finite resource, and she honestly didn’t want to make herself weaker just to find out Kane’s every secret.

She darted around the painting. It remained exactly where it was. Fortunately not every single log in the fire was large. One or two were quite small. And they were only burning at one end. Trying to protect herself with a few charges of magic, Bessie snapped one up. The fire burned brightly. But it did not march down the log.

Bessie had just claimed that she wouldn’t use more of her blood, but only a drop would suffice now. She cast a ring around the top of the log. She focused until she programmed it to only burn above that ring. Below it, the wood would be fine. For below would be her tender little hand.

She turned around. She walked in front of the painting. If she’d bothered to think about it, she would’ve realized that she was rather competent on her feet again. Okay, put a balance beam in front of her, and she’d fall over. She certainly couldn’t run. The point was, she wasn’t staggering anymore, and she’d take that victory, however small.

Tilting her head back and frowning, she faced the doorway with new eyes.

All right. It’s now or never. She walked inside. Immediately, she landed down in a clean corridor. She turned, just knowing in her heart of hearts the door would’ve closed, but it hadn’t. She could see the cold outer sections of the castle.

She turned. She faced the corridor. She pulled her lantern up higher. And reliably, wherever its flames threw light, she saw different details. She walked down the corridor. Her footfall was loud but getting lighter as she no longer staggered.

Bessie could sense a story here.

The corridor was long but quite narrow. There was art on the walls, but all of it was exactly the same. And you guessed it, they were all Prince Kane’s frigging portrait. The paintings all showed him from different angles, but it was the same sanctimonious man.

In each one, he got a little older. And the older he got, the darker the look in his eyes became.

Bessie could be making this up, considering these were painted portraits and all, but she imagined the shadows his eyes cast became deeper and all the darker.

It didn’t take long until she came across a set of stairs. They were stately, and they swept down to a large bottom level. She went to take them, but she darted her face up. There was an open window to the side. And there, protecting it, was a stone gargoyle.

Bessie waited, heart beating harder. Knowing her luck, the gargoyle would burst into life, and she would have to fight, again, just after crawling back from the edge of death. But it didn’t. It seemed to be nothing but a mere decoration.

… It was one she’d seen before. Similar gargoyles protected the palace in ghost city. Had Kane brought them from here?

… Maybe not. This gargoyle didn’t protect the tower from what was inside. Instead, it was directed inward, almost as if it was attempting to keep something locked in here.

That was a strangely cold thought, and it made energy race down her back.

Shivering, she finally walked down the first step.

Bessie kept her head inclined to the side as she stared at the gargoyle. It stared back. Honestly, its eyes might not be open, but she felt intelligence behind them, nonetheless. She made it down another few steps, and she reluctantly twisted her head around and concentrated forward. In her current state, she wouldn’t be surprised if she slipped and fell down the stairs. It would just add to her growing list of injuries.

It wasn’t until she made it down ten steps that she heard the unmistakable sound of stone moving over stone. Honestly, Bessie had fought enough gargoyles now that she knew exactly how they moved.

She whipped her head up in time.

She’d seen something out of her peripheral vision, but she certainly